Pastor Scott's Thoughts

Can the Church Find Unity? - Reflections After Reading Peter Leithart's "The End of Protestantism"

There are books for me that earn the distinction of having messed with my imagination. I recently finished reading Peter Leithart's book The End of Protestantism: Pursuing Unity in a Fragmented Church, and even in the midst of reading it I knew he was messing me up in so many good ways. This is my first Leithart read, but I'm already deep into my second. I got tired of seeing him in the footnotes of some of my favorite writers and so decided to take him on myself. I highly recommend this one for pastors and those who care deeply about the future of the church globally.

The book begins with a Biblical call to unity in the church and a deep confession and recognition that our current state of division is not what Jesus prayed for and desired - nor is it what the world needs in order to be able to see that a new creation is breaking in. The second section is an amazing exploration on the rise of denominationalism since the Reformation. Although Leithart acknowledges some of the very good things that have happened due to the explosion of denominations, he offers a remarkably insightful critique of not only the inherent flaws of a global Church divided by denominations, but also of the unique American varieties of denominations and non-denominational movements. (His critique of the American church is worth the price of the book). In the last third of the book Leithart not only imagines what a globally unified church might look like, but he also points to current moments of upheaval and change as signs that perhaps God is working to bring about the unity Christ prayed for and toward which the Spirit is moving. For Leithart, what may seem like a tearing down and an up-rooting may be the beginnings of God's new planting of unity.

There is so much in The End of Protestantism that is worthing pondering and debating. But here are three thoughts or reflections that I have had since finishing the book that I can't quite get away from.

First, reading the book made me realize that I have very little imagination for unity. At one point Leithart writes, "Paul expected - demanded - that the church's unity be visible in table fellowship, in loyalties and allegiances, in the names Christians adopt for themselves. The unity of the church is not an invisible reality that renders visible things irrelevant. It is future reality that gives present actions their orientation and meaning. Things are what they are as anticipations of what they will be" (p. 19). I have said similar things in sermons about Paul. The great apostle could not imagine starting a church for Gentiles and another for Jews. For those two divided groups to find unity in the Spirit was, for Paul, a sign that the new creation was breaking in.

I preach those things... but in reading the book I realized I don't really have an imagination for ecclesiological unity. I confess that I have settled for trying to be a leader in a small fragment of the Body of Christ, but I have very little imagination for actual Christian unity. The unity of the Church is clearly part of the immeasurably more than I currently have the ability to hope or imagine.

Second, Leithart's exposition of the American church exposes that what is best about the American church is also killing it. Leithart argues that the two things that make the American church unique are its commitment to civil religion and its connection to the market. Again, the chapter on the American church is SO GOOD. I have said so much and have gotten in so much trouble for wanting the American church to separate itself from its history of nationalistic idolatry that I'm going to leave it alone here. 

However, Leithart argues that part of what has made the American church "great" (or at least more alive than the European church) is the way it has been shaped by a market economy. For Leithart, the European church slowly separated itself from the older state church monopolies. In America, however, the church - following a market economy - kept innovating and offering itself in new and ever more "relevant" forms to possible constituents (or customers). On the one hand, this was great because it kept the church flowing with new energy and ideas. But on the other hand, it formed people into the very thing it was offering. People ceased to become worshippers and members and rather became consumers of faith and the customers of an ever more innovative church. As I often say, the church ceased to become something we are and became a place people go (to shop for the goods of Jesus). Here are a couple of my favorite quotes:

American denominationalism was not the end point of a long process of de-monopolization, as it has been in Europe. It is the original condition of American Christianity... In a pluralist situation religion becomes a shopping mall, and when religious consumers realize they are making choices, they also realize that their choices might have been different. Religion becomes relative rather than absolute, subjective rather than objectively given. Religion weakens. Tolerance increases. Zeal cools (p. 65).

Recent studies of American religion have emphasized its consumerist character: Americans shop for churches. Again, that is not a flaw but a design feature of American Christianity. It dissolves the norms of doctrine and practice, transforming them from norms into consumer options. Our divisions come to seem "normal," the "natural expression of a Christian marketplace with churches representing different options for a variety of spiritual tastes." A marketplace ideology thus "can anesthetize us to the wound of division." And it seduces us into thinking of the church, or our particular brand of church, as a consumer choice (p. 79).

There is so much here to think about. If Leithart is correct, what has made the American church "great" is the imprint of the market (and its placating American individualism). But that is also what has turned pastors into managers and worshippers into consumers. Our people leave for the new and exciting because that is what we have formed them to do. That's how we "got" them in the first place. This is the American church's version of Frankenstein's monster.

Finally, I am struck by the conviction that God may be tearing down and destroying so that he can replant and build up something new. I was reading a blog from another pastor a few weeks ago decrying the declining stats of the North American church (in this case the Church of the Nazarene). The focus was thoughtful, but it was also a typical American response to the problem. The Nazarene Church in North America is declining because we have failed to keep up with change. We have not been innovative. We have not dared to be creative. We have failed to pay attention to the needs (more likely wants) of the coming generations...

I don't doubt that at some level all of that is true. But I will admit to being exhausted of trying to throw only technical and market solutions to what may indeed be spiritual and theological problems. The problem may indeed be the message we are offering and not just the hipness, relevance, and cultural savvy of the messenger.

However, more than that, the gnawing feeling I have - and that Leithart raises as a possibility - is that our nationalistic, homogenous, market-driven forms of Christianity are in the process of being torn down by God, so that a people that better reflects the unifying prayer of Jesus and the "unity in diversity" work of the Spirit of Pentecost can be planted and re-built. What we may be experiencing is not just the failure of culturally uncreative pastors but the birth pangs of a new creation. 

As I have said elsewhere in writing about exile, no one wants to be a leader during times that resemble exile. I would rather be on Solomon's retirement plan for priests than hiding in a cave with Elijah. But if this is a time of contraction for the American church so that we can relearn faithfulness, or if this is a time in which denominations are falling apart so that the beauty of a holy, unified, diverse, and global church might be re-birthed... blessed be the name of the Lord. He gives a takes away... My heart will choose to say. Lord, blessed be your name.

I sincerely hope that is not the case. Maybe the answer is offering fewer theology and more leadership courses in seminary. (I fear that attitude only exacerbates the very problem that is killing us). But it could be the case that God is up to something new.

I hope God can give me the imagination for it. And I hope I get to serve long enough to see some of that unity come to fruition.

A Lament for a New Liturgical Year: Based on Isaiah 64

My message this morning for the first Sunday of Advent was from Isaiah 64:1-9. The text is part of a lengthy lament as the prophet implores God to tear open the heavens and come down.

The lament eventually turns to confession and a realization that the Jerusalem rubble surrounding the Judeans is a consequence of their disobedience and sin. They have nowhere to turn. No hope for a future.

Translators tend to put an extra space – a gap – between verses seven and eight. On the other side of that gap of despair comes a word of grace that breaks through the darkness… YET

That “yet” (or in the CEB “But now...”) is Judah’s gift of faith to us all. That beautiful “yet” rends the chains of hopelessness. That magnificent “yet” turns the action away from Judah and their sin and moves the action squarely onto God and his presence, God and his action, God and his character.

The “yet” proclaims that we are not:

• Just disobedient slaves in the grip of an offended master.
• Law-breakers in the condemning glare of an unsympathetic judge.
• Products of a cosmic accident living isolated lives with no ultimate meaning or purpose.
• Simply sinners in the hands of an angry God (sorry Jonathan Edwards).

We are instead (v. 8):

• Children of a loyal parent whose love runs too deep to abandon their children to fate.
• Clay in the hands of a magnificent potter, who uses even the worst of our rubble to create masterful works of art.

A lament is an odd way to begin a new year – even a liturgical one.

• The culture begins the New Year with a list of resolutions. The church begins with prayers of confession.
• The culture begins with Dick Clark’s rockin’ hits. The church begins with advent laments in minor keys.
• The culture begins with millions of lights in Time’s Square. The church begins with the simplicity of one candle on a wreath.
• The culture welcomes a New Year with confetti. The church enters in ashes.
• The culture toasts the turning of the calendar with champagne. The church gathers around a cup of suffering.

So in that spirit and in the Spirit of Isaiah 64, I wrote the following Lament for a New Liturgical Year.

 

A LAMENT FOR A NEW LITURGICAL YEAR (2017-18 YEAR B)

O, God if you would only tear open the heavens and come down!

Come and shake us out of our apathy.

Come and unite us with your compassion.

Come and heal us with your presence.

We have had enough of our rubble.

Our rubble is not made of fragmented stones from fallen city walls and a devastated Temple. Our rubble is more subtle, but just as real. It is the rubble of a world turned in upon itself.

We are tired, God.

We are tired of being at war with our neighbor.

We are tired of tyrants who turn citizens into desperate refugees.

We are tired of fearing the stranger.

We are tired of the continual threat of destruction.

We are tired of people misusing their positions of power against others.

We are tired of acts of terror – and tired of our failure to imagine any other way to respond than the creation of terror in return.

We are tired of how our lusts and the distortion of our desires erode every relationship and destroy the lives of our children.

We are tired of greed and the way it forms systems that benefit the few on the backs of the many.

We are tired of our bluster, pride, and arrogance. Our divisive political rhetoric is pushing us to the point of exhaustion.

We are tired of keeping up appearances and expending all our energy for things that will not last.

We are tired of the idols of amusement that sedate us into apathy.

We are tired of drowning in information while starving for wisdom.

We are tired of floods, quakes, and winds. We cannot take any more death, and destruction. And we are tired of that deep inner sense of fear that we are unwittingly awakening those primeval forces of chaos that we cannot control.

With Judah, we begin a new year sitting in the rubble our sinfulness has made… morally, emotionally, spiritually and physically exhausted to the point of despair…

We have fallen into a gap of iniquity that seems to be swallowing all of creation in with it…

YET… YET… You are our Father.

YET… YET… You are the potter… we are your clay.

So we gather around your table reminded that you are present in our suffering.

But more than that, we gather around your table - not in fear of scarcity - but in the abundance of Advent hope that... 

Your light can penetrate the darkness of our despair…

Your goodness can overcome the chaos of our evil…

Your grace can transform the rubble of our sin…

Your life can make all things new.

We come around your table of grace as prisoners of hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who had been given to us.

An Ode to the Virtuous Layman

Today at Nampa College Church we held a memorial service for Gene Clark. Over the last two years, Gene has been a blessing in my life as a pastor. Each time I saw him at church, at home, or in the hospital, I was always greeted with a smile, with warmth, and usually with a reminder that I am his favorite pastor.

I struggled to find the right text to describe Gene and his love of God and his care for the church. And so I wrote something a bit theologically risky – perhaps even borderline heretical. I rewrote a well-known biblical text in Gene’s honor.

Historically, the church - although more often than not led by men - has found its day-to-day life sustained by the presence of its faithful women. Every church has a long list of saintly women who have been the lifeblood of every congregation. Pastors know that the second most important Sunday of the year - after Easter - is Mother’s Day. Father’s Day on the other hand… is not so important. People come to worship with their mothers. People skip church and go to the baseball game or go play 18 holes with their fathers.

Nevertheless, every great church I have been a part of or led has had at least one great layman – a man who is or was faithful, persistent, and steady. I promise you that every pastor can name that key layman who kept the church going before you arrived, supported the church while you were there, and kept the church moving after you left. The names of those men were always revered in my house: names like Paul Hill, John Wordsworth, Norm Hagen, Dave Peterson, Mike Bell, Rusty Williams, Phil Lindquist, Neil Rimington, Larry Rench, Chuck Young, Henry Yu… and now most recently Gene Clark.

So I’d like to take one of the great odes in Scripture – Proverbs 31 - and reframe it in Gene’s honor and in the honor of the great laymen I have known in my life. The great sage of biblical wisdom is correct; every husband desperately needs a virtuous wife. But I’m here to tell you: every pastor desperately needs a virtuous layman.

An Ode to a Virtuous Layman (Based on Proverbs 31)

A virtuous layman, how does one find him?

His value is far above pearls.

His worth is far above gold.

His pastor trusts him with all the church’s secrets.

In him the pastor has a spiritual wingman, a holy sidekick, a righteous partner-in-crime.

A virtuous layman fills a pastor’s ministry with many blessings and few headaches.

A virtuous layman always rounds up when they tithe.

He always shows up for church work-days.

He never forgets pastor appreciation month, and he cares for the pastor like they are part of his family.

He is the first to arrive on Sunday morning to make sure the lights and heat are on.

When the big snow comes, he shows up before dark with his gloves and his shovel.

You never have to worry about leaving him in charge of the resources;

His integrity, honesty, and stewardship are never questioned.

The virtuous layman is always thinking about the church’s wellbeing.

In board meetings he consistently brings the right balance of caution and faith.

He doesn’t always need to be heard, but when he speaks people listen because they know it will be with wisdom and courage.

He doesn’t expect others to do things he won’t do.

The virtuous layman offers his back and his sweat and not just his checkbook.

His heart is sensitive to God.

He says “amen” in the right places.

He’s not afraid to kneel at the altar.

He prays with authority.

The virtuous layman always keeps a good seat ready for the poor.

He is eager for the church’s resources to be extended out in mission.

He keeps a watchful eye on the church building. He maintains God’s house with the same care and concern he gives his own.

He has keys to every room in the church. He knows how to set up tables, turn on the lights, work the vacuum, and run the sound system.

He maintains a commercial license so he can drive the youth to camp.

The merchants in town honor and respect the virtuous layman.

They all know which church he belongs to; he invites his friends regularly.

The civic leaders respect him and wish there were more men like him in town.

The virtuous layman loves and nurtures his family.

His children think of the church as a second home.

They have heard him talk regularly about his love for God.

His grandchildren honor the legacy of faith he has given them.

His children are blessed by his faithfulness

His wife knows he is a person of integrity.

Although things aren’t always run the way he would like, the virtuous layman has a positive word to say about what’s happening at the church.

Even in troubling times, he refuses to be a source of division.

The church is full of all kinds of people,

But faithful laymen - like Gene Clark – you surpass them all!

Church hoppers are fleeting.

Senior pastors will come and go.

But a virtuous layman who fears the LORD is to be most highly praised.

Let him enter into his rest in Christ’s presence.

Let his deeds be honored in God’s courts.

May he hear from the Lord’s mouth: “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

On the Road to Indy: In Praise of Denominationalism #GA2017

Deb and I arrived late last night for ten days of Nazarene General Assembly meetings in Indianapolis. I feel somewhat embarrassed about my sense of excitement. It is not a good era (at least in America) to be overly committed to one's denomination. American Christians increasingly identify themselves as intentionally non-denominational. The fastest growing churches tend to be independent or non-denominational. Denominations of all kinds are frequently perceived as repressive more than helpful, and too often they probably have been.

I've been a part of conversations in person and on-line leading up to General Assembly that lament what is perceived to be a decreasing level of interest on the part of the average lay-person (and probably pastor too) in the decisions or discussions that will seem so important within the Convention Center in Indy over the next two weeks to those present. As one longtime Nazarene said to me recently, "I'm not sure most people at our church could recognize a General Superintendent if they met one... or be impressed if they did."

Caring deeply for one's denomination seems to be a bit out of vogue. There are times I feel like I'm trying to sell 8-track tapes in an iPod world.

So here are some reasons I think the next two weeks matter.

I'm suspicious of non-denominational accountability.

Recently, I was in a conversation with a couple of friends who were mocking me a bit about being Nazarene. They are both part of cool non-denom churches with chic one-word names and sort of perceive me as quaint. They were asking me all sorts of (cynical) questions about General Assembly and what goes on there... One of them asked, "Does it bother you to be part of a people who vote on their theology?"

It was meant as a "gotcha" slam.

In one of those rare moments when the right answer came at the right moment, I responded, "As opposed to what? Getting the chance to make up my own theology, start my own church, and remain accountable to nothing but the consumer habits of the American worshiper?"

I went on to explain how difficult a process it is for the theology of Church of the Nazarene to change. But more than that, I explained how theology - although rooted in the authority of God's self-revelation (as recorded in the Scripture) and in the history of the Christian faith - is always alive and (like Jesus) being incarnated over and over again in new cultural contexts. I also debunked the myth for them that any church (independent or otherwise) "just preaches the Bible." Every act of teaching, preaching, or even reading the Bible involves interpretation. Just the act of translating the Bible into English involves all kinds of acts of interpretation. NO ONE JUST PREACHES THE BIBLE WITHOUT INTERPRETATION. So the question is do you want to interpret the Word by yourself, or do you want to let a whole bunch of faithful friends (living and dead) from around the world and from different social and political contexts help out and hold you accountable?

I think I'm fairly smart and educated, and I try to be as faithful to God's Word as I know how to be, but I don't trust myself enough to interpret without being intimately tied to a people called the church.

The Church is global but it is lived locally.

The Church of Jesus Christ is much bigger than the Church of the Nazarene and it is obviously dwarfs our little gatherings at Nampa College Church. Yet at the same time not only my experience of, but my opportunity to be the Body of Christ is lived out most clearly through NCC and the CoN. And there is something about being the Body of Christ that can only be learned through the practice of being stuck with other parts.

A person doesn't need to enter into marriage to experience physical intimacy or to procreate, but there is something that a person can only learn - there is something a personal can only become - through living a life of covenant with another person in marriage and in a family.

It may be possible to be a Christian without being committed to stick it out with one particular local church or without connecting to a larger movement like a denomination. But there is something that a person (that the Body of Christ) can only become through living a life of joy and sorrow, forgiveness and transformation, accountability and grace with a particular people called church.

I know I will sound old when I say this, but I sort of miss the days when people were Nazarene and when they moved to a town they found the closest Nazarene church and joined in. As a father of four kids, I get wanting to find a church - no matter the denomination - where my family feels connected and looks forward to being a part. But let's admit that we've become a different kind of people (and we've radically changed the nature of the local church) because we walk into a church wondering what they can give to us as a family rather than asking how the gifts we bring to the body as a family can edify the church.

I've been bought with a price.

I'm also excited to be at General Assembly because I feel obligated to pay something back. I think I would feel this way if I was Free Methodist, Wesleyan, Presbyterian, or some other tribe. The Nazarenes birthed me, raised me, educated me, and are now they're stuck with me.

In all seriousness, there are times when I am struck but an overwhelming sense of gratitude for all the people who've invested in time, in buildings, in curriculum, in education, in prayer, in patience and in countless other ways to the church simply out of love and commitment to Christ. Especially as a person whose entire family ahead of me and now even after me are in ministry, I am constantly in awe of God's goodness expressed through his people. I owe a debt to the people called the Church of the Nazarene that I can never fully repay.

Like any family of origin, the Church of the Nazarene has it's own unique dysfunctions, but I wouldn't be who I am without it. So hand me a ballot...

Is the Church In Here or Out There?: 5 Random Thoughts on Faithful Presence by David Fitch

Each year I try to choose a book for the church staff and board to read and reflect on together. This year we are reading David Fitch’s latest book, Faithful Presence. I would encourage you to read it also.

Fitch borrows the term Faithful Presence from James Davison Hunter’s influential book, To Change the World. In TCTW, Hunter argues that the best way for the church to “change the world” is for devoted followers of Jesus to live and work in culture-forming institutions as a faithful presence. That sounds great, but what Fitch does is ask the follow up questions, “What does faithful presence actually look like?” And perhaps more important Fitch asks, “How might our churches themselves be changed so as to be capable of faithful presence?” (p. 13).

The book focuses on the call for the church to recognize, participate in, and witness to the presence of the risen Christ in the world, and it suggests seven key disciplines – Eucharist, reconciliation, proclamation of the gospel, being present with the “least of these,” being present to children, the fivefold gifting of the Body of Christ, and (kingdom) prayer – for practicing Christ’s presence.

Five Random Thoughts:

1. I’m tired of the false dichotomy between ecclesiology and mission.

Although the whole book is helpful, the section that I wish many of my pastor colleagues could or would hear is Fitch’s articulation of “the three circles” from which the church lives out the seven disciplines. He labels these three circles as the close circle (the circle of the committed church living in mutual submission to one another), the dotted circle (the extended relationships of the believer in which the Christian disciple is host), and the half circle (the wide open sphere where Christ’s presence goes with us into the broken and hurting world). [You can see a diagram of the three circles above David’s head in the attached picture].

What I found helpful about thinking through the three circles is that they try to get the church past what Fitch calls the maintenance or the exhaustion options. The maintenance option is church life lived almost exclusively in the close circle. “When we separate what happens in the close-circle gathering from the rest of life, we inevitably focus on doing the disciplines correctly, smoothly, professionally, and conveniently… In the process we get cut off from engaging the surrounding neighborhoods of God’s presence. We can even become insulated and defensive” (p. 41). Yet in the exhaustion mode, “we focus entirely on the half circles of our lives and disregard the close circle of his presence, we close ourselves off from the very foundation of God manifesting himself in the world… We end up relying on our own efforts to solve the problems of the world” (p. 42).

The church has to get past this false dichotomy between the close circle of ecclesiology and the half circle of mission. It is not only okay but also necessary for the church to be a peculiar people with a particular mission. What isn’t okay is to be peculiar without a mission, or to be “missional” without being peculiar. Fitch’s three circles help us get past that unnecessary divide.

2. I really love the doctrine of prevenient grace (the doctrine that says God’s grace goes before us not just in our lives but in the world).

Prevenient grace means that God’s Spirit is already at work in the world. That doesn’t take the onus of the church to be at work in the world. Rather, it means that our primary work as the church is to have the eyes to see God’s hand at work, to have the willingness to participate in that work, and to have the courage to witness to that work. We are not God’s sole presence in the world. We are, however, the primary witness to God’s presence in the world. To borrow one of my over used sermon illustrations: we go into the world to see and to proclaim, “It’s Him again!”

3. I wish the church would exchange the language of programs for practices.

I am really tired of being in pastor’s meetings and discussing which programs “are working” in our local church. It would be much more valuable for us to share the practices that are forming us as a people faithful to God and to the divine mission of redemption.

4. The church has to keep hearing the mystery that as it is present to the poor and to children, Christ is uniquely present to the church.

I loved those two chapters in the book. I know in my head the theological mystery of Christ’s presence among the “least of these.” I just wish I knew it better in my bones through experience and practice.

5. If anyone asks you is the church in here or is it out there? The answer is: yes.

 

Favorite Quotes from Faithful Presence:

Hunter, in my opinion, jumps the gun on assuming that such a community can exist without a new kind of formation. If he is calling for the church to change and be a faithful presence in our culture, Hunter skips the question, How might our churches themselves be changed so as to be capable of faithful presence? (p. 13)

The Scriptures, from beginning to end, tell the marvelous story of God returning his presence to all creation. It always was God’s intent to be with his creation in the fullness of his presence. (p. 24)

How does God restore his presence over the whole earth? And what do we have to do with it? …The Bible’s answer to this question is the church. God’s plan is to become present to the world in and through a people, and then invite the world to join with him. (p. 26)

Certainly God is present (and at work) in the whole world… Nonetheless, he becomes uniquely present and visible in (and through) a people: first among his chosen people Israel (concretely symbolized in the temple) and then through Christ in the church, his body. Here among a group of people, his subjects, he is present and brings in his kingdom. (p. 26)

And so submission is always mutual, never unilateral. Indeed, the perceived leader, as Jesus models time and again, must first submit to everyone… Mutual submission is a founding principle of the kingdom. (p. 38)

THE LORD’S TABLE

In this space we submit all of our divisions and personal agendas to Christ’s presence… And an amazing social dynamic breaks forth that can only be described as a new political order subverting all other allegiances. Just as the first tables of the early Christians subverted Rome and Caesar and started a new way of life before the watching world, so this table subverts all other politics of American self-preservation, accumulation, and individualism. (p. 53)

…it extends further through the half circle into the world, where the hurting and broken people live their everyday lives. Into these half circles Christians go, imitating Christ as he enters the homes of the marginalized, the publicans, and the sinners. Here, like Jesus, we go, not as hosts inviting people to our table, but as guests, submitting ourselves to the hospitality of others. (p. 61)

RECONCILIATION

As a pastor I have encountered numerous conflicts within church life. It is an inevitable part of life together. Sometimes when this happens, I am asked to mediate, make a judgment between the two people, and enforce it. What I’ve learned however is that I must openly reject this mode of operating. I must refuse this way of reconciling as if it were from the devil. Instead, I must see this moment as the opportunity to invite these persons into the Holy of Holies, the very presence of Christ. If I do mediate and make a judgment on the conflict, inevitably one person will leave the church and the other stay. If we submit together to what God is doing, God takes us together to somewhere new in our lives and the life of the church. Often we go where we could never have imagined. (p. 76)

In Martin Luther King’s words, it will be nonviolent with the goal of creating a “constructive non-violent tension” in the minds of the public versus a “violent tension.” This constructive nonviolent tension is presence… Christ was crucified and Martin Luther King was assassinated in this tension. But thus is the beginning of true reconciliation. (p. 87)

PROCLAIMING THE GOSPEL

Expository teaching cannot fund imagination for what God is doing in the world. This is a sign that the church is living out Christendom habits, keeping existing Christians reinforced in their current version of Christianity. Sometimes proclaiming the gospel can get replaced with rally speeches for social justice causes or self-help speeches on how Jesus can help us lead an improved and more fulfilled life… These are the signs that we have separated proclaiming the gospel from presence: both our presence among the broken and hurting, and Christ’s presence with us. Exhaustion lies not far behind. (p. 109)

BEING WITH THE LEAST OF THESE

“Poverty is not primarily about money. It is about having no idea what to do and/or having no one with whom to do it. The former I call imagination and the latter I called community. To the extent that our neighborhood had imagination and community, we were not poor. But without imagination and community, no money could help us… The role of the local church is to be a community of imagination [for the kingdom].” – Sam Wells (p. 124).

BEING WITH CHILDREN

Jesus is saying that in entering the space of the child, his presence is here, and to the extent one can submit to his presence, as this child did, a reorientation of the world will begin. Here, in this space of the child, the kingdom will take shape. (p. 140)

THE FIVEFOLD GIFTING

We are inextricably related to one another and must always lead within our respective gift in mutual submission to one another. It appears then that these gifts open up a space socially where people become interdependent, and the Holy Spirit works in that interdependence. Opposed to the striving, competition, and violence of the world, this community is formed by the opposite, the mutual participation in the presence of Christ, who is at the core. (p. 154)

KINGDOM PRAYER

Striving is at the core of life in this world. Prayer dislodges us from the striving and opens up space. Then his kingdom is able to move in. (p. 169)

The church of maintenance will die a slow death as it focuses on the close circle, providing goods and services as efficiently and relevantly as possible to the already existing aging Christians in the church. It cannot help but fail to engage the world. The church of exhaustion, on the other hand, eventually runs out of resources and inspiration. It somehow separates the half circles of our lives, where we meet the broken and hurting, from the encounter with the living, resurrected Christ. As a result we are present in the world with no means to discern his in-breaking presence. We are left to ourselves to do the work of the kingdom. And this church dies the death of exhaustion. Both kinds of churches ultimately fail to engage Christ’s presence in the world and are doomed to wither in the years that lie ahead. (pp. 182-183)

The church therefore cannot be described as only in here, where his people gather to submit to Christ, or out there, where “the least of these” are. It is always birthed among, where the church becomes present with “the least of these.” The church cannot be located exclusively in here, in the close circle, or out there, solely in the half circle. Either option fails to grasp the encounter of the disciples with Christ among the poor. Only in one continuous life lived in all three circles is faithful presence realized. (p. 209)

Merry Subversive Christmas

The Christmas story has never seemed so relevant to me… and so subversive.

Over the weekend people of faith will gather in churches and living rooms – around altars and evergreens – and read the Christ birth narrative from the second chapter of Luke. The story begins with these words: “In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered” (2:1).

I wonder in this year filled with the rhetoric of politics if the church will be able to hear and be disturbed anew by Luke the insurrectionist?

Luke’s story of Christmas is set up in chapter one by two highly revolutionary songs. Mary, the mother of Jesus, sings about how this one she carries not only will but already has, “brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (1:52-53). His relative Zechariah sings about how God has, “raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David” (1:69).

With these songs of rebellion still ringing in our ears, Luke begins by naming the days as those belonging to Emperor Augustus. Of course, Emperor (or Caesar) Augustus wasn’t his real name. His given name was Gaius Octavius. Caesar and Augustus are titles of honor and authority given to a great ruler who for forty-one years brought stability, prosperity, and peace to the empire. The adopted son of Julius Caesar, Augustus had become the model of leadership. From his time in glorious power on, all Roman emperors would live in the shadow of Augustus. The days of their reign would always be compared to the majestic “days of Emperor Augustus.”

These were such good days for the average Roman that they bestowed “god” status to Julius Caesar and conferred such titles to Octavius as August, son of a god, savior of the nation, lord of the world, and prince of peace.

As is the case with all empires, their glory days weren’t glorious for everyone. This empire had exiles, an underclass, people who existed at the margins – today we would call them refugees. The Jews of the first century were perceived by the empire as a problematic group of people who practiced an odd and sometimes violent religion. The Hebrew people’s strict monotheism made them appear to be quaint and anachronistic compared to the modern, progressive, and more intellectual forms of polytheism that had led the state to such heights of military power and economic prominence.

Of course the Jews themselves were not unified. Some wanted to tone down the more demanding edges of faith and find ways to thrive within the civil religion of the empire. Some wanted to find secure places in the desert – away from the paganism of the urban centers – in hopes of being left alone to practice holiness in isolation. Some lived openly pious lives – dressing oddly, praying publically, demanding their religious liberty – expecting that God would see their faithfulness and undo the power of Rome. Others took their zealousness to extremes and used any measures and methods available to create terror for the empire.

When empires don't understand a people they tend to paint them with a broad brush and simply deal with them generically. Usually the best way for an empire to handle religiously odd refugees is to make decrees and laws that register them, destabilize them (keep them moving), control their population growth, violently make an example of zealous rebels, and reap whatever benefits you can from them through labor and taxation.

It is into this marginalized camp of refugees that a child is born. It is to this distrusted conglomeration of religious misfits that a Son is given.

Don’t miss all the seeds of insurrection in Luke’s story: a miraculous birth, messengers brining divine validation, politically stirred up peasants (shepherds), and all kinds of seditious language – a savior, a messiah, a Lord, the world’s true instrument of peace.

For Luke, in Bethlehem a cosmic battle has begun. Unlike Matthew, who makes the birth narrative of Jesus a fight for kingship and lordship among the Jews with Herod as the antagonist, Luke places the significance of the Christ child in the context of “all the world” and makes the antagonist not just a regional governor but he pits king Jesus against the greatest emperor in the history of the civilized world.

Of course, Luke’s Gospel will not only undermine allegiance to the empire, but as the story goes on, Jesus will also subvert the subverters.

Jesus will never shy away from the language of “kingdom.” It is a mistake to say the gospel is not political. Augustus cannot be the emperor of our bodies and Jesus the king of our soul. The world and our lives within it (body, soul, and spirit) can have only one true ruler.

But the way of Christ’s kingdom is unfamiliar and peculiar. Augustus redeems through conquest. Jesus redeems through sacrifice. Augustus enacts swift retribution on Rome’s enemies. Jesus invites disciples to love their enemies and pray for their persecutors. Augustus remakes the world through power. Christ brings a new creation through love. Augustus makes peace through the threat of the sword. Jesus brings through embrace of the cross.

This is hard news for refugees and exiles to hear. Not just hard but perhaps even unfair. After watching a special report on the indiscriminate bombings taking place in Aleppo and the intentional targeting of civil relief workers who come in to try and find those trapped in the remaining rubble, I found myself physically sick and emotionally enraged. I even found myself partially sympathetic to the young Turkish assassin who killed the Russian ambassador in an act of futile revenge for the thousands of children who have died in the devastated Syrian city. Overcoming evil with good is not in our nature. It is something that only the Spirit of God can empower a people to do. As Luke will go on to tell the story, it requires a people to make their hero Stephen and not Samson.

My fear for those like myself, who are more closely connected to the empire than to its refugees, is not that the subversive message of Christmas is difficult or hard to hear, but that it is impossible to hear. It’s not that we who dwell in places of relative privilege don’t want to hear it. It’s that we simply are unable to hear it.

I fear that my imagination has been so immersed in and shaped by words like “bigly” that I don't know how to imagine a savior who emerges from Bethlehem. The subversiveness of Christmas is hard to grasp when you live in a nation led by millionaires and billionaires on both the left and right (not because they take power but because they are given power – which by the way says more about us than it does about them).

There is for me, however, a slight glimmer of hope.

Most scholars date the writing of Luke between 80 and 90 CE (some as early as 60-65). If that is the case, then the original readers no longer had Augustus as their emperor. The readers at the end of the first century had not experienced the glory days of Augustus. Instead they had lived through the reigns of such legends of insanity as Caligula (37-41 CE) and Nero (54-68 CE); and they were now living in fear of the narcissistic persecuting zeal of either Titus (79-81 CE) or Domitian (81-96 CE). In other words, whatever hopes the first readers of Luke had placed in the emperor as a global savior and prince of eternal peace certainly had to be severely cracked if not utterly destroyed by then.

Maybe in a strange way at the close of 2016 that’s our hope also. Perhaps at the end of this year of divisive politics and ugly political rhetoric, even those of us who have been more formed by empire than by marginalization are exhausted and ready to place our hopes in an unexpected Lord with a revolutionary political agenda. Perhaps we are so worn-out from the inability of war to bring peace that we might be ready to embrace the cross. Perhaps we are so burned out from the divisiveness of Babel that we are ready to pursue the unity of Pentecost.

I am not optimistic. But I am a prisoner of hope.

As we prepare to gather around altars and evergreens, may the Spirit of God break through our holiday trivialities and give us the ability to hear anew the familiar revolutionary birth story that overturns us all.

Merry subversive Christmas!

Before You Quote Romans 13 One More Time…

Several people, during this tumultuous week, have asked me how they should read and understand Romans 13. I have been glad that they asked because in just these handful of days I’ve heard Paul’s instructions on obedience to civil authorities misused three or four times. So how should Christians read and understand these words from the 13^th chapter of Romans?

Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive its approval; for it is God’s servant for your good…

It seems to me that there are two or three things that Christians ought to clearly affirm from this text.

First, God ordains authority. My favorite two Hebrew words are tohu and bohu. They are those two twin words found in Genesis chapter one that are often translated “formless” and “void.” (In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was tohu and bohu). However, they can also be thought of as the embodiment of chaos. In the Hebrew imagination God has from the beginning been opposed to the forces of chaos. Order is always preferable to anarchy.

For that reason, the existence of positions of authority (including civil authority) is a very good thing. From a biblical perspective it is good that children have parents, students have teachers, churches have pastors, cities have magistrates, nations have kings… etc.

Second, God can bring about his purposes through leaders of various kinds – whether or not they worship or honor him. It is true that the Scripture often interprets God’s working his will through sometimes unwitting vessels. The most significant example is the way the people of God interpreted Babylon’s Nebuchadnezzar as an instrument of God in reforming Judah through the experience of exile. Without question the Scripture often interprets the painful experience of living under the bumbling, arrogant, and idolatrous king Nebuchadnezzar as something God redeemed for the sake of his mission through is people. So just because a leader isn’t expressly Christian doesn’t mean that God can’t be using he or she for his purposes.

Third, Paul’s discussion throughout Romans regarding freedom in Christ from the “law” does not mean that Christians are exempt from the civil law. It would be easy to imagine folk hearing “freedom from the law” and thinking that means all law. Paul wants to be clear that although Christ has set believers free… it might be a good idea to keep paying your taxes.

That being said, the popular interpretation of Romans 13 as somehow commanding Christians to follow the civil authorities as though directly obeying God or exempting Christians from the possibility of civil disobedience and resistance against evil authorities lacks historical and exegetical support. Here are a handful of things to think about when preaching or teaching Romans 13.

First, there are a couple of contexts to consider – cultural and biblical.

Paul’s cultural context was one of constant political resistance and rebellion. It is clear that many of the early Jewish followers of Jesus had started out as zealots. These were people more than willing to commit violence against the civil authorities in an attempt to secure political freedom. Of course, the problem is eventually the Romans tired of the rebels and would stomp out the rebellion as happened with the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. So Romans 13 could and probably should be read in part as Paul saying to the potential Christian extremists of his day, “Stop creating unnecessary trouble for us with the authorities. It is damaging to the church’s reputation and relationship with them and it is getting people killed needlessly.”

Which leads me to the Scriptural context. I have often considered it unfortunate that a chapter break was placed between the end of chapter 12 and the beginning of chapter 13. Here is the end of Romans 12:

Love should be shown without pretending. Hate evil, and hold on to what is good… Bless people who harass you – bless and don’t curse them… Don’t pay back anyone for their evil actions with evil actions, but show respect for what everyone else believes is good. If possible, to the best of your ability, live at peace with all people. Don’t try to get revenge for yourselves, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath. It is written, Revenge belongs to me; I will pay it back says the Lord. Instead if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink. By doing this, you will pile burning coals of fire upon his head. Don’t be defeated by evil, but defeat evil with good. Let every person be subject…

It seems clear to me that Paul’s words about obedience to civil authority are set in the context of moving away from violence as the means through which not only resistance but transformation happens. It doesn’t exclude resistance to authority but it redefines what resistance looks like in the light of the cross.

Second, it seems clear in the broader witness of the Scripture and to some degree even in Romans 13 that a distinction needs to be made between God’s establishment of authority and God’s ordaining of particular authorities. Because God has established the role of authority it is critical that particular leaders or authorities themselves operate in ways that reflect God’s life-giving care or it is right that they are resisted.

Think of all the examples in the bible (beginning with Pharaoh in Exodus and ending with “the Beast” in Revelation) of God’s people recognizing that their primary call is to obey God rather than a particular ruler. Don’t forget, the same apostle who wrote Romans 13 spent an awful lot of time in prison for resisting and disobeying the authorities.

When particular people who become rulers or authorities act in ways that God has ordained authority to operate then they rightly should be honored and obeyed. But when those same rulers cease to use their God-granted authority for his creation ordering purposes it is not only okay to call them to repentance but they should be disobeyed because the believer’s highest obedience is to God and not to any person. Romans 13 should always be read in the light of Revelation 13 - sometimes powers become beastly.

Third, Christians should be careful to distinguish when the bible is dealing with leaders inside God’s people and those on the outside. This is a challenging hermeneutical point, but there is often a difference between the way the Scripture imagines God’s interaction with Israel’s kings on the one hand and his dealings with the rulers of “the nations” on the other. It’s not that God pays no attention to the rulers of other nations, but the majority of the Scripture thinks about the unique responsibilities of those who lead and represent God’s people.

In the light of my last blog on God’s action and human freedom, I’ve had lots of people quoting passages from the Old Testament to me about God raising up and taking down kings. Thanks for all the proof-texts, but I would argue two things about those passages. On the one hand, those texts are primarily warnings to the leaders of God’s people that they had better align their purposes with God’s purposes because they are accountable to him. Those texts are the biblical equivalent of the old comedy line about parenting: “I brought you into this world and I can take you out…” God is saying, “I gave you this authority. I can take it away.”

On the other hand, those texts are specifically directed to the leaders of God’s people. Today I would be much more apt to read them and apply them to God’s interaction with the leaders of the global Body of Christ than with the leaders of any other particular secular nation. There is a lot of what I call “we confusion” in the use of the Scripture. When the kings of Israel are addressed the “we” is God’s people – which today aligns with the “we” of the church and not with the “we” of America. Getting the right “we” may change the way some of those texts are preached and taught.

Finally, Christian history does not support a simplistic reading of Romans 13. Significant theological voices including Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Wesley, and Bonhoeffer have read and interpreted Paul’s instructions about obeying civil authorities with important interpretive caveats. They each recognized that, in the wrong hands, Romans 13 could be used to validate oppression and sanctify evil. The German Church unfortunately misused Romans 13 in ways that Bonhoeffer and the Confessing Church had to correct.

Many of the people in the last few days who have tried to offer me a simplistic and de-contextualized reading of Romans 13 are from more Reformed Christian traditions where a great deal of theological weight is placed on God’s sovereignty. For that reason I would offer John Calvin’s interpretation of Romans 13. Calvin concluded his commentary on Paul’s great passage this way:

But in that obedience which we hold to be due to the commands of rulers, we must always make the exception, nay, must be particularly careful that it is not incompatible with obedience to Him to whose will the wishes of all kings should be subject, to whose decrees their commands must yield, to whose majesty their scepters must bow. And, indeed, how preposterous were it, in pleasing men, to incur the offense of Him for whose sake you obey men!

The Lord, therefore, is king of kings. When He opens His sacred mouth, He alone is to be heard, instead of all and above all. We are subject to the men who rule over us, but subject only in the Lord. If they command anything against Him let us not pay the least regard to it, nor be moved by all the dignity which they possess as magistrates – a dignity to which no injury is done when it is subordinated to the special and truly supreme power of God.

It would appear to me that some of my Calvinist friends are more Calvinist than Calvin.

I’ll conclude with this final thought. Because I have heard Romans 13 quoted so frequently these last few days I would ask those who are quoting it to examine their motives. I could be wrong, but it is my sense that many Christians are running to that text today as a way of validating their own political position. Again, my memory could be faulty, but I don’t remember a whole lot of American evangelicals offering devotionals and sermons from Romans 13 in 2008 or 2012. (Few of the people whom I’ve heard use the text lately would be willing to admit that their use of the text invalidates the legitimacy of the American Revolution).

When the Scripture is proof-texted to fit our own agenda then it’s not God’s voice we are trying to hear but it is our own voice that we are making divine.

In the days to come all Christians in America (and elsewhere) will continue to have to wrestle with the honor due to the authority that God ordains for the sake of order and peace. But that does not exempt Christians from reminding those authorities that they are servants of the one who has granted all authority. And it does not exempt believers from the commitment to obey God rather than any person.

Proclaiming “Christ is Lord” is NOT Declaring “God is in Control”

As a pastor I am keenly aware that what I think I preach is not always what the congregations hears. I’m sure the Spirit of God has at times used this for good. But I have been uttering a phrase a lot lately that I want to make sure is being heard rightly.

Several times in the months leading up the presidential election – and dozens of times in the last two days since – I have found myself saying, “No matter what the results of America’s presidential election. The Church proclaims that Christ is Lord.” Usually that declaration is met with a resounding “amen” or even applause. When friends post that affirmation on social media it is rightly given dozens of “likes” - which I suppose is a cyber-amen.

However, I have also noticed in the wake of Tuesday’s stunning election results lots of Christian friends posting or stating publically various versions of the phrase, “God is in control.” I would like to be clear that declaring, “Christ is Lord” is not the same thing as proclaiming, “God is in control.” (At least it isn’t what I intend to say).

I would even be so bold as to argue that saying, “God is in control” is not only bad theology but it is a morally dangerous thing for the Church to believe.

I think it is bad theology because it fails to acknowledge the gift and responsibility God has granted to humankind by giving them freewill. Most Christians rightly believe that God has given to all people freewill. That creational gift from God is not only the reason people can and often do act in all kinds of evil ways (and are thus held accountable), but it is also the only way people can truly love God and one another.

But more than being theologically questionable, I think it is a morally dangerous thing to believe. Those Christians in the evangelical community who decided to vote for Donald Trump and help him take up residence in the White House have permission to take credit if over the next four years choosing a former casino owner for a president turns out to be an unusually prescient act inspired by divine wisdom. But if frequently – or even only occasionally – that decision turns out to be a moral and national disaster, those same people don’t have the freedom to throw up their hands and say, “Well, God’s in control.”

I hate it when people throw Hitler into a conversation… But having recently read a history of the German church entitled Arian Jesus, I am reminded that it was that same kind of bad theological rhetoric of God’s deterministic sovereignty that aided otherwise godly people to not only fail to stand up to the Reich’s atrocities but too often to also validate them.

On a side note: I also find the “God is in control” rhetoric really offensive politically and spiritually – no matter which political perspective uses it. One prominent evangelical leader, who over the last several months has been encouraging Christians to support Trump, has been frequently quoted over the last two days declaring things like, “Remember… According to Daniel chapter 2, God chooses the leader.” I don't have space to unpack all that is hermeneutically wrong with that statement, (although it makes me laugh to think of Trump as the new Nebuchadnezzar) but even so, I do find it unbelievably offensive. Because what this person is really saying is, “Hey, you Christians out there who think this was a bad decision… Get over it… Get in line… God has chosen Trump.” (I would by the way be saying the same things to people who would be using the same language to celebrate if Hillary Clinton had won and wanted all the disappointed folk on the right to get with the program).

First of all, it is still really bad theology. But second of all, that same Christian leader has said quite contrary things for the last eight years. For two presidential terms that same pastor has gotten angry at and has encouraged their congregation to resist those on the other side politically who were saying, “God chose Obama.” Apparently, when my team wins God is in control. However, when my team loses, it is due to the wiles of the evil one and all of the world’s principalities and powers.

“God is in control” has the potential to be a theologically manipulative thing people whose party, cause, or perspective happens to be “winning” in the moment say to the disgruntled to try and get them in line. Or it is what believers say when they are unwilling to take responsibility for their part in bad decisions and want to absolve themselves of any negative consequences.

That’s why the church should declare instead: Christ is Lord!

Proclaiming Christ Lord is very different than saying he controlling all the events happening in the world. Here are some of things the Church means when she declares the continued Lordship of Christ:

• No matter what good or bad decisions leaders or nations make, the Church believes that Christ will not stop working until all creation has been redeemed. (For my friends Stephen and Todd: it is in this sense that we can say "God is in control." God will not quit until he has brought all things to his glorious conclusion. But that is different than saying, "God is controlling all things.")
• All earthly leaders have penultimate power and are subject to the judgment and authority of creation’s one true Lord.
• The global Body of Christ exists within many nations. Thus Christians have citizenship responsibilities and obligations wherever they may be located. But their ultimate allegiance has been pledged to Christ and to his kingdom.
• A nation and its leader may place a ban on refugees entering a country, but the Church will always welcome the stranger and believe hospitality is what divides the sheep nations from the goat nations (Matt 25).
• A nation and its leader may work to create various systems of health care and welfare, but the Church will always feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and bring healing to the wounded.
• A nation and its leader may declare war on opposing countries and forces, but the Church will always love enemies and work at overcoming evil with good.
• A nation and its leader may work at protecting and solidifying the somewhat historically arbitrary boundaries drawn between countries, but the Church will always live as though we are all one in Christ Jesus.
• A nation and its leader may legislate various practices pertaining to birth, death, and judgment, but the Church will always value and honor life in its beginning and in its end as a sacred gift. And it will view the goal of justice as reconciliation and not just retribution.

I could go on and on… But the point my is, to declare that Christ is Lord is not saying that God is in control of every decision – good or bad – that nations and their people make. That is (I believe) simply bad theology and morally dangerous because it has the potential to absolve each of us of our responsibility as people created in God’s image and given a divine mandate to have dominion.

To proclaim the Lordship of Christ means that no matter who lives in the White House or which political party controls the Congress, the Church’s allegiance, worship, and obedience belongs to the One seated on the throne and to the Lamb.

Dying on Unworthy Crosses: Reflections on "Profiles in Courage"

I can only remember a handful of chapels I attended as a college student. But for some reason, the message I remember most clearly was about dying on the right cross. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the speaker (if you’re out there… thank you) but I remember the message clearly. The message was this: You only get one cross to die on in life. So choose carefully a cross worthy of your life.

I have reflected on that message often across almost 30 years.

Courage is often thought of as the opposite of cowardice or timidity, but in classic Aristotelian ethics a virtue – like courage – is actually found as the mean between two extremes. So courage is not the opposite of cowardice it is actually the virtue found in between fearfulness on the one side and something like foolhardiness or recklessness on the other.

If you are a Monty Python and the Holy Grail fan (and if you’re not I can’t help you), think of the contrast between Sir Robin on the one hand and Sir Lancelot on the other.

Sir Robin goes off to search for the grail with his minstrels behind him lauding his bravery as he faces a hilarious array of threats. But when danger does come along he turns and runs. His minstrels now sing about how he bravely ran away… “When danger reared its ugly head… He bravely turned his tail and fled… Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about… And gallantly he chickened out…”

Lancelot on the other hand receives a note - which he (falsely) assumes to be from a damsel in distress. He rushes the castle indiscriminately killing everyone he encounters on the way. Which leads to my favorite line in the movie… “Let’s not bicker and argue over who killed who… This is a happy occasion!”

Python’s classic humor (it’s clear to me they were all philosophy majors in college) is to point to the way these two knights miss the virtue of courage on both extremes. Sir Robin is a coward but Sir Lancelot is foolhardy.

When I was on the east coast last month I had a day to myself and so I visited the Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston. My history nerd side was thrilled and delighted. I had never read his Pulitzer Prize winning book Profiles in Courage and so I picked it up at the gift shop.

Profiles is a book JFK wrote - prior to his presidency – when he was recuperating for several months after extensive back surgery to repair damage that happened while he was in the Navy. It is a wonderful book that primarily focuses on the stories of eight senators (John Quincy Adams, Daniel Webster, Thomas Hart Benton, Sam Houston, Edmund G. Ross, Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar, George Norris, and Robert A. Taft) who each took stances while in the US Senate that cost them their political careers. In each case their decisions were not only brave, but in the light of history, they have been vindicated as to the proper choices.

The book caused me to reflect on how difficult it is to have the wisdom in ministry to know which cross or crosses to risk dying on.

No one wants to fail to stand for the right cause – or more importantly stand with the right people. But I know a lot of young ministers and academics who (I think) sacrificed their careers and their ability to have influence over a long period of time because they chose to die early and often on unworthy crosses.

Especially in a day of social media I am frequently shocked not only by the willingness to run headlong into every issue, but to do so with an extreme lack of tact, wisdom, or acknowledgement of the challenges faced by those in positions of leadership. Like Python’s Lancelot people going charging into the castles of Twitter, Facebook, or NazNet with swords swinging wildly and then are shocked that people are offended or angry – or that their words or tone would have implications upon their ministry or career. It would be as funny as saying, “Let’s not bicker and argue over who killed who…” if the results weren’t often so tragic.

It’s a long story but I recently was given an assessment of my ministry by a set of leaders in the denomination. There was much I learned from it, but I was pleased to see one of the descriptive words used was courageous. I hope that is true. I hope that God helps me to have the virtue of being willing to take up the cross and follow him, even if that means risking position and place.

But I also hope it means that he gives me the wisdom to not become foolhardy or reckless chasing every issue down without tact, patience, and discernment. I love working with young pastors and leaders. I love their passion for justice, mission, and transformation. But I also want to often protect them from dying too early and sacrificing what God could have done through them because they chose an unworthy cross.

Some of my favorite quotes from Profiles in Courage:

A nation which has forgotten the quality of courage which in the past has been brought to public life is not as likely to insist upon or reward that quality in its chosen leaders today – and in fact we have forgotten. 1

We should not be too hasty in condemning all compromise as bad morals. For politics and legislation are not matters for inflexible principles or unattainable ideals. 4

But to decide at which point and on which issue he will risk his career is a difficult and soul-searching decision. 11

We shall need compromises in the days ahead, to be sure. But these will be, or should be, compromises of issues, not of principles. We can compromise our political positions, but not ourselves. 18

I almost literally looked down into my open grave. Friendships, position, fortune, everything that makes life desirable to an ambitious man were about to be swept away by the breath of my mouth, perhaps forever. – Senator Edmund G. Ross 127

I shall ever thank God that in that troubled hour of trial, when many privately confessed that they had sacrificed their judgment and their conscience at the behests of party newspapers and party hate, I had the courage to be true to my oath and my conscience… - Senator James W. Grimes 138

Courage, the universal virtue, is comprehended by us all – but these portraits of courage do not dispel the mysteries of politics… In each of them complexities, inconsistencies and doubts arise to plague us… Motivation, as any psychiatrist will tell us, is always difficult to assess. It is particularly difficult to trace in the murky sea of politics… But in the particular events set forth in the preceding chapters, I am persuaded after long study of the record that the national interest, rather than private or political gain, furnished the basic motivation for the actions of those whose deeds are therein described. 217-218

For without belittling the courage with which men have died, we should not forget those acts of courage with which men – such as the subjects of this book – have lived. The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of a final moment; but it is no less a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy. 224-225

John F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1955).

Every Day Theology: Reflections on Discipleship in the Present Tense by James K.A. Smith

I’ve been slowing making my way through NT Wright’s two massive volumes on the Apostle Paul. His thesis is that Paul offers to the early church a theology (and a pretty amazing one at that). The problem of course is that Paul doesn’t write a systematic theology, he writes letters to churches in order to address the issues they are facing in a particular place at a particular time. Whatever we can say about “Paul’s theology” is gleaned from the way he speaks pastorally to the life of a congregation.

It has often been my experience in academe that there exists a great divide between practical and biblical or systematic (or suppose philosophical) theologians. Not only is there a divide but I would also say there is often a pecking order that places the “pure” theologians well above their “practical” colleagues. I remember once asking a “pure theologian” how what they were talking about might applied to the local church context or might effect the average lay-person. They responded back quickly and harshly, “Don’t make me turn this into a Sunday school lesson!”

I have usually tried to invert that hierarchy. There is no doubt that those who devote themselves to systematic, biblical and philosophical theology are doing a great service to the church. But any nerd can do that. What takes not only brains but some moral fortitude and spirit-led intuition is applying the best of theology into the real life circumstances people face.

That’s why I really enjoyed reading James K.A. (Jamie) Smith’s little book of “reflections on faith and culture” entitled Discipleship in the Present Tense. It is a collect of book reviews, letters, speeches, and blogs addressed to a variety of issues.

If you are not familiar with Jamie’s more theological (and theoretical works) you should be. (You should especially pour yourself into Desiring the Kingdom). Jamie’s writing has been incredibly formative for me in two areas. First, Jamie has helped me understand more clearly the mandate humans have (as beings formed in God’s image) to be co-creational with God – especially in the formation of culture. The way he applies that to the role of art and aesthetics is especially important for those of us raised in very pietistic settings that were (or are) either suspicious of the arts or only know how to use them instrumentally.

Second, Jamie’s work on humans as homo liturgicus (humankind the worshipers or lovers) has completely reframed my understanding of worship as counter-formation and has given me better lenses to interpret all the ways various “cultural liturgies” mis-form our hearts and desires.

But that’s all his scholarly stuff… And it’s all worth reading. But the truly gifted theologian is able to bring that work to bear on the issues of life and that’s what made Discipleship in the Present Tense fun to read. It is delightful to read such a gifted theologian taking on everything from a high school graduation to worship bands.

Here are some of my favorite insights:

On Redemption and Everyday Life…

But what does redemption look like? For the most part, you’ll know it when you see it, because it looks like flourishing. It looks like a life well lived. It looks like the way things are supposed to be… It looks like abundance for all (p. 7).

For the most part, Spirit-empowered redemption looks like our everyday work done well, out of love, in resonance with God’s desire for his creation – so long as our on-the-ground labor is nested as part of a contribution to systems and structures of flourishing… It should not surprise us that redemption will not always look triumphant. If Jesus comes as the second Adam, who models redemptive culture-making, then in our broken world such cultural labor will look cruciform. But it will also look like hope that is hungry for joy and delight (p. 9).

On Rituals

Because we are embodied creatures of habit – and were created that way by God – we are profoundly shaped by ritual. That’s why ritual can de-form us, too (p. 36).

We need not be afraid of ritual. If we appreciate that God created us as incarnate, embodied creatures, then we will see that his grace is lovingly extended to us in ways that meet us where we are: in the tangible, embodied practice of Spirit-charged rituals (p. 40).

On Christian Schools

Christian education is not meant to be merely a “safe” education… Rather, Christian schools are called to be like Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia: not safe, but good (p. 43).

Christian education is not a merely “private” education. Christian schools are not meant to be elite enclaves for the wealthy. To the extent that Christian schools have become merely pious renditions of prep schools, they have failed to appreciate the radical, biblical calling of Christian education (p. 44).

The center of gravity of the human person isn’t located in the head, it’s located in the gut. So the most formative education is a pedagogy of desire (p. 50).

We need to realize that the competitor for Christian education is not the public schools – it is all the pedagogies of desire that are operative across our culture, in all of the secular liturgies we’re immersed in that covertly form our loves… If an education is going to be Christian, it has to be a re-training of our hearts, a counterformation to these secular liturgies (p. 52).

Christian education is a holistic vision for the formation of the whole person, equipping minds and forming hearts, educating our love by aiming our desire toward God and his kingdom. What should distinguish Christian education is just this holism precisely because a biblical picture of the person helps us appreciate both theory and practice, both cognition and affect, both knowledge and desire (pp. 53-54).

To receive a Christian education is to learn this story, not just as a bit of information stored in our heads, but as an entire imagination that seeps into our bones (p. 56).

On Christian Attempts to “Change the World”

No matter how many Jesus action figures or Hipster Study Bibles we might sell, the battle’s already been lost as soon as such phenomena exist. All we’ve done is carve out a new market sector that extends dominant cultural forces. This is a long way from “changing the world,” despite our rhetoric to the contrary. The world has changed us (p. 68).

Faithful presence, then, is not simply a kind of baptism of Nietzche’s will-to-power in Jesus’s name, bent on seeing Christianity triumph in the culture war. Indeed, faithful presence will often run counter to the strategies of religious politics as currently played. Instead, faithful presence is the church carrying out the creational mandate to make culture (Gen. 1:26-31) in a way that is faithful to God’s desires for creation (p. 70).

On the Criticism of “Hipster Christianity”

[Brett McCracken’s] analysis doesn’t even touch the students I know who, from Christian convictions, have intentionally pursued a lifestyle that rejects the bourgeois consumerism of mass, commercialized culture. They shop at Goodwill and Salvation Army because they have concerns about the injustice of the mass-market clothing industry, because they believe recycling is good stewardship of God’s creation, and frankly, because they’re relatively poor. They’re relatively poor because they’re pursuing work that is meaningful and just and creative and won’t eat them alive, and such work, although not lucrative, gives them time to spend on things that really matter: community, friendship, service, and creative collaboration… The Christian hipsters I know are actually willing to sacrifice the American sacred cow of privacy and independence, living in intentional communities as families and singles, working through all the difficulties and blessings of “life together” as Bonhoeffer describes it… They live the way they do because they are pursuing the good life characterized by well-ordered culture making that is just and conducive to flourishing – and this requires resisting the mass-produced, mass-marketed, and mass-consumed banalities of the corporate ladder, the suburban veneer of so-called success, as well as the irresponsibility of perpetual adolescence that characterizes so many twenty-somethings who imagine life as one big frat house (p. 90-91).

On Art

Instead of asking artists to show us God, we should want them to reveal the world – to expand the world, to make worlds that expand creation with their gifts of co - and subcreative power (p. 99).

Unhooking the arts from a theological instrumentalism also grants space for the arts to reveal the brokenness of creation without being supervised by a banal moralism. A painting or a poem reveals the world with a harrowing attention that will sometimes bring us face-to-face with what we’ve managed to willfully ignore up to that point… Like the book of Esther, God might never show up. Nonetheless, the Creator might best be honored when we face up to the puzzling, mysterious nuances of his creation (p. 100).

On Graduating with “Big Dreams”

Dreaming big is easy. The bigger challenge is to dream small – to draw on the gift of your education to deepen your embeddedness in the gritty realities of everyday life. 137

On the Good and Bad of the Prosperity Gospel

The rhythm of fasting and feasting calls the people of God to bear witness to both of these realities at different times and in different seasons: we rightly celebrate and enjoy God’s abundance, but we also rightly lament and resist injustice and poverty. During days or seasons of fasting – which, in a way, should be the default habit of the church’s sojourn – we say not to abundance as a witness to the fact that so many lack not only abundance but what’s needed just to survive. But during days and seasons of feasting, we enjoy a foretaste of the abundance of the coming kingdom (p. 146).

On Parenting

So baptism is a sign that our homes are open, interdependent households, not closed, nuclear units. Baptism signals that all of us – married or single, parent or child – are part of a larger household that is the church of God, and together, that household has pledged to be one big community of godparents. When you run up against the challenges of parenting, don't be scared to remind the church of the promise it made to you (p. 150).

To become a parent is to promise you’ll love prodigals. Indeed, some days parenting is exactly how God is going to teach you to love your enemies (p. 151)

On Praise Bands

My concern is that we, the church, have unwittingly encouraged you to simply import musical practices into Christian worship that – while they might be appropriate elsewhere – are detrimental to congregational worship. More pointedly… I sometimes worry that we’ve unwittingly encouraged you to import certain forms of performance that are, in effect, secular liturgies and not just neutral methods. Without us realizing it, the dominant practices of performance train us to relate to music (and musicians) in a certain way: as something for our pleasure, as entertainment, as a largely passive experience. The function and goal of music in these secular liturgies is quite different from the function and goal of music in Christian worship (p. 154)

On the Role of Doubt

It seems that those who think permission to doubt is some radically new possibility for Christians are the same people who think that a concern for justice is some secret message of Jesus heretofore hidden from Christianity, when in fact it just means that it was hidden from them in the pietistic enclaves of their early formation. In a similar way, doubt is as old as faith (p. 171).

James K.A. Smith, Discipleship in the Present Tense: Reflections on Faith and Culture (Grand Rapids: The Calvin College Press, 2013).