The Subversive Church

A Question of Faith

2007-06-22T22:24:00.000-04:00

It's been a really long week, and my brain is mushy, but I want to get this down before I forget it.

An old friend called last night, and we talked for thirty minutes or so. I'm afraid I wasn't much of a conversationalist - mushy brain and all - but along the way, he said something I needed to hear.

He was describing an upcoming transition, and all the difficult decisions it would entail for him and his family, but said, "You know, God doesn't want us to be consumed with this stuff. He wants us to be consumed with Him."

I've been consumed with a lot of things recently, and I'm afraid my Lord and Savior hasn't made the list very often. Ironically, one of the things that's consumed most of my time and brain cycles has been a quest for tangible fruit - ha! - in my spiritual life. It's like I've been trying so hard to grow a few grapes on my little branch that I've lost my connection to the vine.

So the question, really, is one of faith. Am I willing to give up trying to fill in all my little spiritual check-boxes in order to focus on God? "But seek ye first His kingdom, and His righteousness, and all these things will be added as well...?"

Kicking myself. Maybe.

2007-05-21T18:30:00.000-04:00

I still wonder if I should be kicking myself right now.

It was a good weekend. I got together, for maybe the last time, with a large group of my friends from college. We hung out together on the river, cooked a great meal, then sat around the fire and told stories till the wee hours. We even broke out a few guitars and sang bad old songs from the old days.

I had been praying for this weekend for along time. You see, as far as I know, none of those friends of mine are believers. Especially since this may have been the last time I'll see them all together, I wanted to take the chance to share with them the hope I have in Jesus, the reason I'm following God's call on my life. I prayed in earnest for that one moment, when the evening was quiet and the time was just right, and somebody asked, "So, why exactly are you doing what you're doing?" You know, one of those 'WITNESS HERE' moments, when you know you've been put there just to share the Gospel.

And the moment never came.

Oh, there were plenty of opportunities. There were plenty of conversational lulls within which I could have spoken up, "So, uhh, y'all are probably wondering why I'm doing what I'm doing..." But I never did. It never seemed right. And now that chance is gone, and we're all back home again, living our separate lives.

So I'm wondering if I should be kicking myself. Did I wisely resist the temptation to force something that wasn't there, or did I just chicken out? On the one hand, tact is important. I want my friends to know that I care about them for who they are, not just as targets for evangelism. On the other hand, tact is hard. It's much easier just to tiptoe around a subject, perhaps never even bringing it up at all. It's more comfortable for them and for me to just ignore my faith, to ignore the difference between us and 'just get along.' But if that's all I'm doing, then what good am I? If my faith is without works, is it really dead?

A Hard Teaching

2007-02-02T17:41:00.000-05:00

"This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?" - John 6:60

I've been chewing on this one for a while now. See, I'm finding that reading and understanding God's Word isn't as simple as it's made out to be. It's not like other books. Usually, if I put my mind to it, I can slog my way through something and understand most any book I've read (except maybe Milbank - that guy's impenetrable). But the Bible can be elusive... in parts, anyway. Not that I don't get any of it, but all the time I'm going back and reading a passage or book I know I've read a dozen times, and seeing things for the first time. Stuff I must have just glossed over the last eleven times I read it.

Of course the Bible is all true, valid, inerrant, whatever. But I wonder if sometimes we see some parts of it more readily than we see others because it's easier for us to understand, to break down into a simple do/don't rule. For example, 1 Tim 2:12, "I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent," is an easy teaching, in its own way. Straightforward, clear, easy to parse into a rule. The Bible says not to allow women to teach, therefore a female professor of Hebrew at a co-ed seminary is clearly acting contrary to Biblical principles, and must be dismissed at once. Easy. Easy to defend, anyway, and hard to argue against without "arguing against the Bible."

But how about 1 Thessalonians 5:12-15: "Now we ask you, brothers, to respect those who work hard among you, who are over you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else."

This, my friends, is a hard teaching. Not many easy rules in there, nothing to hold up our actions (or the actions of others) and point out obvious discrepancies. Hard to make a case, say, that firing a professor for being female violates the rule of "holding workers in the highest regard in love," especially when one can just say, "Of course I hold her in the highest regard... and she's still fired."

I've been convicted in the last few months about those parts of God's Word that don't parse easily. I used to sort of skim over passages about being kind, gentle, loving and whatnot, and think to myself "Yadda yadda yadda, be nice, whatever..." I didn't treat them as actual rules for living, but more like cliches, platitudes. Like saying, "Have a nice day!" A nice sentiment, but not hard theology, not a firm doctrine for Christian living. But now I wonder...

I'm writing this, thinking that the brother who lives according to the Biblical command in 1 Thess 5:12-15 would never be so callous as to fire a fellow worker in Christ (at a seminary, not a church!) because she was female. Yet I read Philippians 2:3, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves," and think about my conceit in imagining that I have a better handle on Christ-like behavior than my brothers who fired the professor. Do I consider them better than myself? Paul says I should! Ah, but this is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?

A Truly Private Prayer Language

2006-11-18T18:31:00.000-05:00

If you have been following the debate in our convention regarding Private Prayer Languages (PPLs), I encourage you to read Alan Cross' series of posts on his blog (pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, and pt 4). He argues persuasively, and biblically, for a continuationalist viewpoint, or the belief that the miraculous gifts of the Spirit as described in the New Testament are still extant today. Of course, in doing so he also argues strongly against our mission board's current policy against the use of a PPL by missionaries or staff.

Many others have commented on this policy already, and I will not add to the fray here. But I do want to say something about private prayer langauges.

Prayer is a funny thing. Once we get beyond rote prayer, which certainly has its place, prayer becomes a kind of conversation with God. To an outside observer, though, it looks like we're talking to ourselves. We may have our eyes closed or not, speaking out loud or not, but in most cases there is no audible response from our Lord. Verbally, it's one-way communication.

But of course, we know that it's not just talking to the ceiling. Prayer is truly two-way communication, in that the Holy Spirit talks to our spirit. We hear Him in our hearts, and are comforted, or chastised, or directed. There is communication happening that does not involve the actual words I say, or hear.

When prayer is at its best, I often find myself putting into words what I hear the Spirit saying. That is, I share a concern, or question, or doubt, and the Lord responds. I then articulate what I feel, and can understand what the Spirit is saying by listening to my own words. It's the Lord speaking, but He uses my own prayer to talk to me. I understand, then, that what I am really doing when I 'speak' my prayer is translating. Prayer, at those times, is not a verbal communication at all, but a spiritual one. The actual words I use are at best an approximation of what I have prayed, and of what the Lord answered.

I really think that what happens in prayer, underneath the English words I use, is a heavenly language, a way that my spirit communicates with the Holy Spirit. I'm just translating.

But you know how, when you learn a new (earthly) language, you spend a long time translating in your head as you speak it? Like say you learn Italian, but for a long time, even after you're completely fluent in Italian, you still think in English, and translate as you go? Eventually, they say (I have never experienced this), your new langauge gets so natural that you don't have to translate anymore. You simply think in Italian. I think our prayer is the same way. In so many ways I am still a novice speaker of the language of prayer. I have to think in English, then let my spirit translate. But some people, who have grown far closer to Christ than I am now, are so practiced in the language of prayer that they don't need to translate.

I think that's what Paul was talking abaout in Romans 8:26-27, when he said, "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will."

On reflection, I have done this. It happens when I give up trying to pray, and release the spirit within me to pray by itself. When I get out of the way, my spirit groans. And God hears my prayer. Is that a private prayer language?

Keepin' It Real

2006-11-16T22:25:00.000-05:00

One of the greatest, most sublime joys I have found in my old age is that of listening to my iPod while washing dishes. It's the only time I get to use it, because I'm usually otherwise in class, working or watching my two kids. It's especially nice because, since the iPod headphones are too small for me and keep falling out, I use the Sennheiser HD-280 cans I use for audio editing, which are huge, closed-back 'phones that block out everything but the music. The kids are in bed, my wife is doing other chores, and I'm dancing in front of the sink, lip sync'ing and doing dishes.

The best part of the iPod, in my estimation, is the numerous ways to organize and arrange the listening experience. You can set up your own playlists, listen to whole albums, or - and this is my favorite - just listen to every song in order, alphabetically. My iPod currently has 508 songs so there's enough material I'm never sure what comes next. I find particular joy in the random, sometimes humorous juxtaposition of songs.

For example, yesterday over dishes I was somewhere in the G's, listening to Caedmon's Call singing God of Wonders. What a beautiful song, what a beautiful rendition... all the way into the distorted opening riffs of Blue Oyster Cult's Godzilla.
With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound
He pulls the spitting high-tension wires down... Godzilla!

Today's was even better. I was grooving to Vineyard's Hallelujah (Your Love Is Amazing), when the next thing I hear is the inimitable voice of Kermit the Frog:
"The time has come to answer that question that has baffled mankind through the ages; namely, can the frog tap-dance? The answer is... Hit it!"
If you haven't heard Kermit sing Happy Feet, then you haven't truly lived. But just about the time I'm grinning like a fool, getting my dishtowel wet trying to tap-dance while washing dishes, Switchfoot follows up Happy Feet with Happy Is A Yuppy Word.

It could be that no one else out there in Blogland sees the humor in my iPod playlist. But for me, it's all about keepin' it real. Switchfoot captures so much of what I find myself trying to say but can't, but just when I'm starting to take it all too seriously, Kermit puts it all in perspective with his hap-hap-happy feet.

Being Right

2006-11-13T00:59:00.000-05:00

Let me ask a loaded question:

How important is it to be right?

Let us speak, for instance, of our personal theologies. Each of us has a set of beliefs about who God is, who Jesus is, what He did for us on the cross, what it means to be saved, how it is that we become saved, etc. For the sake of this discussion, let us call our set of personal beliefs and doctrines a "personal theology."

Each Baptist's personal theology is unique, on some level. I mean only that, though we may all affirm the inerrancy and authority of Scripture, yet we read and interpret it differently. Perhaps the differences are small, and most of us agree on the "essentials," but they're different nonetheless.

Our personal theologies differ not only in the details, they also differ on how many details there are. If your experience is anything like mine, you will have added individual beliefs to your belief structure only as you encounter and consider them for the first time. A new Christian (or an immature one) may have only the most basic essentials: Jesus died for my sins, and God raised Him from the dead. If you ask him whether he is a dispensationalist or not, he will only look at you blankly - he's not wrong, he just hasn't thought about it. And of course, the deeper we get into the finer points of doctrine, the more hairs there are to split.

Our personal theology is not only unique in details and content, it is also changing. As we live this life, and "work out our salvation in fear and trembling," our beliefs change. The Holy Spirit is a great schoolmaster, and always has a lesson plan. We read Scripture, and He reveals truths and insights we didn't even know were there. We mature and recognize flaws in our old way of thinking, and are "transformed by the renewing of our mind."

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not saying that there is no right doctrine, that there is no truth, or that there are many "truths" of equal validity. I am saying that it is a very difficult thing to nail down exactly what Truth is, especially when our own ideas about it keep changing. Has anyone ever known the fullness of God's glory? Or do we all as yet see dimly?

In fact, I might go so far as to say that a significant number of the beliefs that you and I hold strongly, that we are just sure of, will we shown in the light of God's glory to be flat out wrong. How do I know this? Because what I believe today is different in any number of ways from what I believed just last year, not to mention five years ago. I have been convicted by the Holy Spirit in the light of God's Word of my pride and self-deceit, and the ways I was not "loving my neighbor." And unless I have just now reached the pinnacle of knowledge and grace (unlikely), I expect the Holy Spirit will continue to show me ways in which my current faith and practice are in error.

So how important is it to be right? Maybe that wasn't the best question. Because it is undoubtedly important that we continue to strive for a fuller understanding of God and His truth. A better question would be, How important is it to win an argument, convincing someone else that we are right, and they are wrong?

We can spend so much time arguing doctrine and practice, and not in an academic sense, but as though the most important task before us is to correct false doctrine. We argue about whether the gift of tongues is still valid, whether it matters who baptized us, whether we should have to sign some paper, whether we can drink alcohol or not, and most tellingly, whether we can worship and witness with anyone who disagrees with us on one of the other points. And that doesn't even touch our arguments with other Christian sects.

I just have to wonder, when I see how much time and effort we spend arguing, is this really what we should be doing?

Just Drifting

2006-10-17T22:59:00.000-04:00

It was a perfect day for canoeing.

The sky was a perfect blue, a light breeze was whispering through the cypress and tupelos, and the air was just cool enough to ward off a sweat. My wife and I had left the kids with the grandparents and taken an hour to explore a millpond. We paddled hard for a while, leaving the dock and mill behind.

The local wildlife was restful, too. We saw a stand of cypress full of sleeping wood storks. A partly submerged log held a family of turtles. A great blue heron took off right in front of us, flapping silently between the trees.

After a while my arms were getting sore, and I felt like, I don't know, like I was missing too much. So I stopped paddling. After a few strokes my wife stopped too. In the clear water we didn't stop, we just... drifted. The canoe grew quiet. I started noticing sounds I hadn't heard before. I could hear the water of the millpond slowly moving downstream. I could hear a swarm of water bugs skittering across the surface. I could hear my heart beating, slowing down. My wife turned around and smiled.

Slowly, slowly, I felt a peace I had been missing for some time. As the canoe finally slowed, then stopped, it occured to me that we weren't making any progress, and that was okay. The place I needed to be in that moment was not further upstream, but right there in that canoe, with the woman I love, basking in the joyous glow of God's creation.

We've been paddling hard in other areas, too, and I think maybe it's time to put down the paddle and drift awhile. We're in the middle of applying to work with a missions agency, and it's a bit overwhelming. We're supposed to be writing autobiographies and formulating our statements of belief, but we're so busy right now doing all the other junk I think maybe we're missing some things. Things we need to hear. Maybe things we have to stop paddling to hear.

I don't want to miss the important stuff. I don't want to paddle hard upstream, get to where we're "supposed to go," only to find that the whole point of the trip was being in that place where we stop paddling and just listen. If we miss that, what was the point?

So I think were going to put down the paddles and drift awhile. Stop working on all the missions stuff, for a little while. There will be time for all that later. I think that, right now, just drifting is exactly where we're supposed to be.

It's Time They Found Out

2006-10-10T11:00:00.000-04:00

A friend was telling me the other day about her situation at work. She's one of two professing Christians at her workplace, and has been trying to be a witness to her faith. She's paid close attention to the example she gives of living a Christian life. Recently, the other known Christian, an ordained minister, was found to have been embezzling money. And my friend found herself having to defend the faith in light of this other person's actions.

"How can she do that?" they ask her. "She's a minister! Aren't you supposed to be better than that?"

Now my friend feels like all the work she's put into her reputation is shot. She's built a certain level of trust with her coworkers that has now been damaged by her fellow Christian's indiscretion. And she's on the defensive, not sure whether to rationalize this minister's behavior, or say she's must not really be a Christian, or what.

I found myself thinking, if our witness is based on a reputation of goodness and honesty, it sure doesn't take much to tear it down. Isn't that the knock on Christians, in this country anyway? That we talk like we're better than everyone else, but in the end we do all the same stuff? We lie, we cheat. We cheat on our spouses. And the worst part is, it's true! We're still sinners, and you don't have to look too closely at our lives to see it. We may not do the really nasty stuff quite as much as non-Christians, and we're good at hiding the rest, but not one of us can stand up to close scrutiny. We tell lies to make us look better. We curse at people who cut us off in traffic. We're prideful and vain. We gossip. We condemn. We discriminate. If the witness of our faith is that we live better lives, I have to say it just doesn't hold water.

So what is our witness? If I'm in a community, at work or in my neighborhood or at school, and I want to be a witness to the power of Jesus Christ that lives in me, what do I do? I don't think it's enough just to be good and nice and hope people notice. Let's face it, there are better and nicer people than me all over the place, and many of them aren't believers. And for me, I don't think it's being confrontational with the Gospel. You know, yelling at passersby from the street corner, knocking on doors and asking people if they're going to heaven or hell. It's just not me, and it doesn't fit what I see in Scripture. I'm not saying God doesn't call some people to do that, or that it's never effective, I just don't think it's me.

I think the answer is somewhere around loving people, intentionally. Not letting relationships be superficial. It's so easy for me to pleasant and shallow, to say hello and make smalltalk, never to give offense, to be ready to respond honestly about my faith but never to press the issue. And I don't think that's enough. I think I need to make time to spend with my neighbors, time to allow conversations to progress past the weather and the local football team. I've been spending so much time with church people that I haven't developed meaningful relationships with anybody else, and if I'm going to have a real witness to the world, that has to change.

I've spoken with my wife about it, and she feels the same way. We have some new neighbors moving in, and it's a great excuse to throw a party. We're going to build a fire, roast some oysters and really get to know these people we've been living next to. They know I'm in seminary, but I don't think they know I love them. It's time they found out.

Being Wacky on This Side of the Pond

2006-10-06T17:25:00.000-04:00

I came home late the other night from the third session of Share Jesus Without Fear. The kids didn't want to go to bed, it was late and my brain was fried, so it took me a long time to express to my wife what was on my heart. That's okay, she's used to my rambles. It's how I think.

Mostly I've been struck by how little I have spoken of what is most real to me with those who don't know Christ. The Lord has put this burden on me, for a world that is dying without Him, and it's getting heavier. Yet here I sit.

You know, this whole journey started out with discussions about what we were doing with our lives. I remember walking around our snooty neighborhood one night and saying, "This isn't us. We don't belong here." After some prayer and reflection, we both come to realize that the priorities we claimed to have did not match the life we were actually living. We were great at talking the Great Commission, but the evidence of our lives was more American Dream.

Now, five years later, we're working toward foreign missions. That's a big step, right? I mean, taking your family overseas in obedience to God is pretty impressive, huh?

And yet.

The fact is that I'm still living a lot the same way I was five years ago. The changes I thought were so big - quitting my job to go to seminary, moving out of town to a small house, working at a church - are really just a change of scenery. I'm not sure I'm having any more of an impact on the Kingdom of Heaven now than I was five years ago. I like to think my heart has changed, but so far the only evidence is, well, this. This blog. Words. Intentions. And we all know the road Good Intentions paved...

I guess what I'm saying is, it's time for my actions to start matching my heart. Not later, now. Not when I graduate, not when I move to another country, now.

I was a little dismayed when I heard that the missions organization I am working with wants me to tell them about the last person I led to Christ, preferably in the last twelve months. The fact is, I haven't done anything like that, not really. At first I thought it wasn't fair, that it put too much pressure on me, but now... Now I'm glad. Call it what you want, that's a fruit test. And my life simply hasn't measured up. If I'm serious about this being the direction of my life, I need to start living it on this side of the pond, before I ever think about doing it somewhere else.

Sharing Jesus Without Fear

2006-09-26T13:08:00.000-04:00

In our application with a missions sending agency, one of the things we lacked was some sort of formal evangelism training. After much calling around and begging, we finally found a local church willing to let us sit in on their Share Jesus Without Fear class this fall. We have been to one session, and have found the class enjoyable and engaging, and have been encouraged by the host church.

I sympathize with the author, Bill Fay. It's a tragedy how many Christians do not share their faith with anyone outside their church. And I have certainly been guilty of staying put, staying silent when I know we are surrounded by the lost.

But... I keep thinking it's not that simple. I mean, first of all, I don't come into contact with that many non-church people. Most of my friends are Christians, and most of those who aren't live out of town and I seldom see them. I spend most of my time at Church or at school, where everyone claims the name "Christian." I know my neighbors, but not well, since I'm rarely at home. And most of them go to church already.

So if I'm to share Jesus with someone who doesn't know Him, I have to do it with someone who doesn't know me that well, either. How do I do that effectively? (Maybe that's in a later class session, and we'll learn how this week) Do I just walk up to someone I see on the street and say, "Hey buddy, got Jesus?" I know my reaction when someone I don't know tries to force a personal conversation: not good.

Maybe I need to broaden my circle of friends and acquaintances first. I want to make an effort to spend more time with my neighbors, but it's hard right now. Maybe when school's done I'll be able to, but isn't that always an excuse? That we don't have time?

I think that's part of the reason I'm so anxious to go, to get out of the Bible Belt. It seems a lot easier to spend time with non-Christians, and to speak openly of Christ, when I'm surrounded by them - at least that's my memory of college. It just feels like, where I am right now, I have to force opportunities to share Christ, and I'm not comfortable doing that.

Can anybody back that up? Will it get easier, or is this something I need to work out now?

Our target audience

2006-09-12T22:29:00.000-04:00

I came to understand in a new way last week that Jesus didn't come for people like me.

I mean, I know He came for everyone, but rich, white-bread church folk like me weren't precisely his target audience. He came for sinners - you know, adulterous women, embezzling tax collectors, bi-racial multiple divorcees, panhandlers. The kinds of people that never come into my church.

I have known for a while that His target audience should be my target audience, but I didn't know how. We seem to have so little in common that I honestly didn't know where to start. Or maybe it's just that I didn't have enough practice, speanding so much time among my own kind...

So when my class schedule demanded that I fulfill the practicum element of my Master of Divinity not with church ministry, but with a unit of CPE, I was glad. CPE stands for Clinical Pastoral Education. In my case, I will be a chaplain at a local hospital for three months. I will have regular visitation rounds to make, as well as six 24-hour on-call shifts, during which I will be The Guy at the hospital, praying with dying people, calling spouses and parents to tell them their loved ones are in the trauma ward, leading prayer in the Chapel for the families of the sick and injured.

Last Wednesday I followed an on-call chaplain for two and a half hours. In that time I met a young woman crying alone in a neck brace, recovering from a motorcycle accident. I saw a Mexican construction worker with no ID brought into the trauma room following a major head injury caused by a fall. I saw the doctor declare him dead. I met his wife and infant daughter, saw the translator try to explain what had happened, and why the chaplain was there.

This was nothing like the ministry I was used to. I don't want to completely denigrate everything I've done in my church, because I've seen God move there too. Indeed, He called me from there. But this was new. This was real. These are the people Jesus came to save, the wounds He came to heal.

My first on-call shift is Thursday. I feel unprepared, but at the same time I'm eager to spend time with my target audience - with Jesus' target audience. Regular people, regular in their irregularity. People with strange ideas of faith and religion, or with no faith at all. People whose illusions of security were shattered by unforeseen tragedy, or who already know heartache intimately.

I'm not sure what God will do to me, and through me, in the next three months. But it's plain as day that He's at work, that He's got me right where He wants me.

I'll keep you posted.

Why I Haven't Posted

2006-09-05T12:21:00.000-04:00

Hello again. To both of you out there, my apologies for being gone so long.

I was admonished by a good friend the other day for not posting. So here ya go, big guy.

See, the problem is that I had been using this as a journal to write about what I'm learning, what I see God doing in and around me. I have a dozen "draft" posts ready to go, just... unfinished. But recently, I have been deep in the application process with a missions organization we all know well. And it's not easy. Not the paperwork, but negotiating and building a relationship between two parties (the organization and my family) who may not fully agree on everything. Most issues on which my wife and/or I hold differing views are nonessential, and are correctly viewed as nonessential by both parties. But some issues, apparently, are more essential than I thought.

Forgive me if I am less than forthcoming. I don't want to complain about this organization or my experiences with them, because for the most part my experiences are positive. God is doing some amazing things through this group, and I am confident that I am doing the right thing now. But politics runs deep here, and I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with this organization by blogging. Especially by blogging.

So essentially, I haven't been posting because I have been censoring myself. I'll try to find ways to stay active that are less controversial. Until then... peace.

SDG

The Same Gospel?

2006-07-06T14:38:00.000-04:00

If you went to a public university in the south, you know the guy I'm talking about. He stands outside the student center, or maybe the library, and he always wears a tie. He has a Bible but never seems to open it. He yells a lot. He has a good eye for sin - he seems to see it everywhere. Guys with long hair and girls with short skirts, in particular, are on the express train to hell. And if you ask him why he's yelling at people, he'll tell you it's because he loves them.

That guy was at my university. I talked to him a few times. As a Christian, I could not understand how the Gospel of Christ could lead someone to have so much hatred.

At one point, I asked him how he reconciled his judgment of sinners with Matthew 7:1-5: "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye."

He responded angrily, "I have taken the plank out of my own eye - I haven't sinned in 14 years. That's how I can see your sin so clearly." I would have laughed if it wasn't so sad. He was using Scripture to justify a position in clear opposition to the very Scripture he was quoting. Jesus, it seems to me, was pretty clearly saying that we should not judge, because once we withdraw grace from others, we renounce it ourselves. Was he reading the same Bible I was?

So the other day Marty Duren posted a short piece on fundamentalism at SBC Outpost. Like so many discussions these days, it quickly devolved into a debate on alcohol. Some guy was trying to convince everyone that the resolution was a good idea because alcohol is bad, and we shouldn't be a stumbling block. Which reminded me of that guy in the courtyard at my college.

See, if you actually read Romans 14, you'll find it says, in essence, "Some matters are disputable, and so are reserved to the conscience of the individual. Be considerate of your fellow believers, and allow each one to stand on his own convictions." How does one read this Scripture to say, "Some matters are disputable, and so are reserved to the conscience of the individual. Decide for yourself what your fellow believer's conscience should be in those matters, and make that rule a condition for service?" Are they reading the same Bible I am reading?

As I understand the Gospel Jesus came to preach, it's not about making up rules. It's not about strictly defining what it meant to be "righteous" and "godly" so that one could tell at a glance who was righteous and who wasn't. No, see, the Pharisees already had that system down pat. If Jesus just came to offer a few pointers and corrections on the rules the Pharisees had established, He would have done so. And the Pharisees would have loved Him for it.

Instead Jesus offered a Gospel so much more inclusive, but infinitely harder. So hard, in fact, that it is impossible but for the grace of God. Jesus demanded that we repent, not of the concrete actions of our bodies, but of the sin in our hearts. It was easy enough to not murder. Jesus demanded that we stop hating. It's easy to regulate what we eat and drink. Much harder to regulate what we say, and the heart it reveals.

Let us all resolve not to take the easy road. Let's not wash the outside of the bowl and call it good. Let us instead seek the fruit of the Spirit, and be kind, gentle and self-controlled. Let us forgive one another, as we have been forgiven by God. Let us rejoice in our freedom under Christ, and have the grace to let our brothers and sisters in Christ do the same.

Is sin a problem? Absolutely! It entangles and hinders. It separates God's people from one another. It dishonors the One who died to save us from it. Every day of my life I struggle to renounce the dying body of sin from which I have been saved. Can sin be beaten by following the rules? By no means. Sorry, not that easy. Following all the rules will get you just about as far as the Pharisees got. Yeah, the ones Jesus called "sons of Hell."

How then can we be saved? With man it's impossible. With God all things are possible. That's the Gospel I believe.

Professionals, Metrics and Calvinism

2006-06-29T15:31:00.000-04:00

A while back Stepchild posted about M's who do not belong on the field. I took it not as an indictment of certain people, but as a warning of behaviors and attitudes to be aware of. His description of the Professional caught my attention because I recognized in his critique a tendency to which I am particularly susceptible.

In my former life I was a UNIX systems administrator. My experience taught me to be both flexible and task-oriented - the successful administrator is able to have several medium- to long-term projects simmering on the back burner constantly, working on each when opportunity arises, yet is able to drop everything to respond to an emergency.

The problem I have found is that I have tended to approach ministry at my church the same way. I have projects in mind constantly, so that at any time I have several things I could be doing. I can be flexible enough to adjust my schedule as real ministry needs arise, but my focus remains fixed on projects because of one thing: metrics.

I have an insatiable need to get things done. To be able to cross something off my list and say, "Done!" In fact, I measure my effectiveness by it. When I am "accomplishing" things, I feel I'm doing well, because that's how my effectiveness as a sysadmin was measured. But... as a minister of the Gospel (in some way), what have I really accomplished?

The need for metrics is not reserved to former techies. Pastors and M's do it too, in the form of counting filled pews, or baptisms, or VBS participants, or mission trips taken. It's the need for metrics, in my mind, that drives legalism ancient and modern. The Pharisees made up a bunch of rules precisely to measure their effectiveness. In some ways, we Baptists do the same thing. We all do.

So... not to throw any stones or anything, but is this why some of the more, um, metrics-oriented leaders in the SBC are so vehemently opposed to the idea that God chooses His elect? (full disclosure: I am not a Calvinist. Calvin got more than a couple things wrong. But predestination he got right.) The common rhetoric one hears is that Calvinism stifles missions. There's anecdotal evidence to support the assertion: some Calvinist churches don't do missions at all. But there's such a strong history of Calvinist missions and missionaries (remember the Great Awakening? All those guys were Calvinists) that the stereotype falls apart.

What is plain to me is that the people who say such things cannot imagine why they would be missional themselves if the whole thing were up to God's sovereign choice anyway. Their concept of salvation is wrapped up in the idea of something we do, which is, by the way, why they get caught up in regulating the things other Christians do.

I believe in predesination because I believe God to be sovereign in every way. It is my faith in His sovereignty that is leading me to follow His Great Commission to go to the nations. He is my Adonai, my master and lord. But because He is sovereign, I also have the grace to not worry about metrics. It's not up to me to get the job done. Salvation is His alone - I just go.

A Word Of Caution

2006-06-28T18:39:00.000-04:00

I'm new to this whole blog thing, but my wife reminds me from time to time to be careful when on my soapbox, so... It's time for a word of caution. Mostly for me, but also to many of you out there in Blogville.

I just read a great post on Joe Thorn's blog, Words of Grace, about contextualization. Joe wrote about the issue of contextualizing the Gospel without watering it down, and how it's easy to speak of contextualization on the mission field, but harder in your own home town.

What caught my eye was the commentary from all of us in Bloggerland congratulating Joe on his great post, and how sad it is that so many Baptists out there are scared of the term "contextualization," and how, unlike us, they just don't understand that contextualization is a good and necessary part of evangelism.

I catch myself thinking the same thoughts from time to time. "Why can't they understand? Don't they get it?" Or a quote from me last Sunday over coffee, "I have to question whether anyone who voted for that resolution really understands the Gospel at all."

But the truth is, to the extent they don't understand the fullness of God's glory and mission, we don't really "get it" either. And I was in the same place theologically not so long ago. And yet God was even then molding me, challenging me to stretch my view of Him and His work. Am I to think that I have reached the pinnacle of grace and maturity, that I have no more to learn? Perish the thought!

Instead, I turn again to Romans 14:1-4, 9-12:

1Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters. 2One man's faith allows him to eat everything, but another man, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. 3The man who eats everything must not look down on him who does not, and the man who does not eat everything must not condemn the man who does, for God has accepted him. 4Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.
. . .
9For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living. 10You, then, why do you judge your brother? Or why do you look down on your brother? For we will all stand before God's judgment seat. 11It is written:
" 'As surely as I live,' says the Lord,
'every knee will bow before me;
every tongue will confess to God.' " 12So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God."

When God called me and my family to ministry outside of my local church context, it didn't take me long to start judging those who seemed happy to stay right where they were. "Don't they understand that we're called to Go?" I wondered. "Their complacency demonstrates that they just don't get what the Gospel is all about."

Yet the Lord has shown me clearly (and humiliatingly) that I was wrong to judge. In fact, many of the people I dismissed so quickly are right where God wants them to be right now, doing the work He has for them to do, and giving Him glory for it. Their ministry provided the fertile ground through which called called my family to ministry, and is even now calling us to take the Gospel to those far outside our church. Many of the ones I judged, in fact, are right now more spiritually mature than I may ever be.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying we ought not debate these things, and strive for the truth, and judge for ourselves which is the best way. But for all of us, especially me, a little humility goes a long way.

The Subversive Church, Part One

2006-06-24T22:18:00.000-04:00

I have thought to myself, before joining the blog craze, that I would someday write a book about the Subversive Church. It's been an idea bouncing around in my head for at least a year now - and believe me, there's lots of room in there to bounce.

It started in a discussion I was having over William Cavanaugh's excellent exploration of liberation theology in Pinochet's Chile, Torture and Eucharist. The problem I have always had with liberation theology is that, whatever its quasi-biblical basis, its means and ends are always entirely political. As though salvation can be achieved by overthrowing an oppressor. As though salvation of a people or nation or community, as opposed to an individual believer, has any meaning.

And yet Cavanaugh makes an excellent point in his study of the Roman Catholic church in Chile, and its response to the brutality of the Pinochet regime. The local church tried for years to remain aloof of local politics, asserting time and again that its concern was for the spiritual welfare of its parishioners, that it could not become entangled in political, or even worse, revolutionary struggle. Yet to remain aloof required the church to stand by while its members and certain other "undesirables" of its community were beaten, tortured and killed.

It was easy at first for me to make the case that the biblical demand is that, yes, we stay out of politics in the church, even at the cost of our lives. But the memory of Nazi Germany gave me pause. I have wondered many times how the church in Germany could stand by silently while Hitler exterminated millions of innocents, even continuing to baptize and administer ordinances to Hitler's army. Their silence was worse than neutral - it was complicit, perhaps even cowardly. The church in Germany should have done something. But what?

I found Cavanaugh's account of Chile to give part of the answer. Subversion. The church is not (or should not be) a political body - it can't meet the government head on. But it can follow its own agenda, not by fighting the policies of the oppressive regime, but by ignoring them. When Pinochet's men tortured someone, the church provided sanctuary and free medical care. When the church learned of a torture facility, they sent people to stand outside with signs that read, "Torture is being done here." They wrote letters, took video, publicized the whole thing. They did not fight Pinochet's regime, they subverted it. They determined to minister to the people in the very teeth of tyranny.

Interestingly, the local diocese in Chile received opposition to its efforts not only from Pinochet, but also from Rome. To be true to its calling to "be Christ" to the local community, the church in Chile was forced into a subversive role toward not only the secular power of its government, but also the religious authority of its denomination. They did not openly oppose the rulings handed down from Rome, but found ways to minister with integrity despite them.

The key to my understanding of what motivated the local church in Chile to flout both secular and religious authority in order to serve its community is integrity. The individual men and women in Chile who made that decision were bound to obey not Pinochet, and not the Pope, but Jesus Christ. They made a collective decision to subvert their organizational authority in the name of Christ.

I know, this is dangerous talk. But it's one with a long and glorious tradition in the history of the Church. How, I wonder, does the idea of subversion apply to our current situation in the Baptist church?

Welcome to Blogville, population: Us.

2006-06-22T18:31:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I really got here because I wanted to post a comment on stepchild's blog, missionsmisunderstood.blogspot.com. But to comment you have to set up a blogger account, and I just hit this little button, and then this big screen opened up, and then I was choosing a template, and then AAAAAAAGGGGgggghhhh.... ... .. . . . . (thud) - here I am. A blogger. Nuts!

But you know, I was probably going to do this someday anyway. So if anyone ever reads this, here's a quick primer on what my blog - The Subversive Church - is all about.

1. The title. This is something I've been turning over in my head for a while. I plan to post again in a few days with what exactly I mean by "subversive church."

2. I think blogs are awesome. I've never blogged before now, but I've been an avid reader for some time. Blogs in many ways represent the essence of postmodernity. They do not pretend to objectivity. They are biased, skewed and slanted in as many ways as there are bloggers. And so one cannot find objective truth by reading one blog alone.

Ah, but one never does read a single blog alone! The point of blogs is that they network. Not only do we tend to read multiple blogs to begin with, but blogs invite commentary, which gives immediate feedback on the validity of a post. I could post something outrageous, like, "Charles Woodson deserved the Heisman." Which everyone knows is false, because Peyton Manning was clearly the better player. But you'd see that in the comments, and so my outrageous post wouldn't live long. And I would lose my blog-cred.

Furthermore, blogs link. My favorite news blog is Instapundit. It's so much better than traditional media because it links to every story, so I can check out the original source myself, and see if I buy what the guy's saying about it. And if there's a correction, or the story is bogus, the mod will post updates or retractions almost instantly. Instapundit has a high degree of blog-cred with me.

3. Finally, I'm really interested in exploring what the Church is doing with this whole blog thing. The group which represents the denomination of which my church is a member just had their annual convention, and some big shots said some nasty things about blogs and bloggers, which, if they wanted to keep me away from blogs, was the last thing they should have done. So now I'm finding a whole community of Christian bloggers I didn't know was there! Sweet. Besides, it supports my theory of Church-as-subversion.

So anyway, there you have it. The Subversive Church. Enjoy!