It's been awhile since I've been here.
I haven't gone super-introvert, rest assured. I've been back at school and teaching has dominated much of my 6 am-5pm waking hours. Because blogging is an art that requires rest to feed one's mossy thoughts, I've had a devil of a time getting some scraped together for anything post-worthy.
Relax. It's not about the crisis in Ferguson, although I've talked and prayed about that with my students. I just think matters like that are best left to face-to-face discussion and it wouldn't be productive for me to engage in that matter on the Internet.
No. Recently, our family borrowed the Darren Aronofsky-directed biblical epic Noah, starring Russell Crowe as the eponymous patriarch. And we watched it. Twice. I'm not here to debate the critics' assessment of the film. I can see why they give it generally positive reviews, given the visual effects and the re-creation of the antediluvian world.
Was I troubled by Noah? Yes.
Was I untroubled by Noah? Yes.
Am I hopeful about Noah? Yes.
Do you think I'm an insane split personality? Likely, but let me explain.
As I viewed the film, I found myself viewing it simultaneously through three sets of eyes. This required a heavy dose of sifting and thinking through the details, but I managed. The three perspectives were that of (1) a biblical traditionalist, (2) a cinematic realist, and (3) a practical idealist. So...each one in turn. And as always, you're free to disagree with me on any or all points. I'll take the first perspective today and then hit the next two in subsequent posts.
(1) The biblical traditionalist in me saw much in Noah that troubled me. As someone who has a high level of confidence in the Bible (keeping in mind we take seriously what the Bible intends to say about itself and not what we try to make it say that might not be there), there were some things that had me saying "What?"
First, what they did right. The guy's name was Noah. And there was a flood. Hit that nail on the head.
Now, the bad news. I was intrigued by how there seemed to be a push on how evil was spread by city life, by a less pristine lifestyle, and that increasing industrialization was implied as being parasitic and the locus of burgeoning evil. Don't get me wrong. I think we are charged to be stewards of God's earth, to fashion it and take dominion as in creating a work of art, not to exploit things. But to limit evil to just that is to miss the cosmic dimensions of what sin really does. Evil affects everything. The reason why Romans tells us the whole creation is groaning is because there is something about this world that we know something's broken and it needs fixed. And that is not limited to the workplace, but to the human heart, and it extends to the soil that desperately tries to bring forth food and to the animal kingdom that engages in cold, barbaric struggle alongside any nurturing element. In the film, Noah views it as God's justice to eliminate humanity, going so far as to swear that he will kill his granddaughters once born, implying that a world run by animals will be one of innocence. And the film strays from any sense of humans being made--as God himself so aptly states in Genesis 1--in His image, reflecting God's nature to a limited degree and representing him on earth.
The idea of salvation is skewed. God is pictured as a capricious being who demands perfection and can turn gears in the blink of an eye. Now sometimes in life it appears God can do so--we don't fully know the ways of the Almighty--and we can be baffled by God's ways. No reasonable person should doubt that. And God does demand perfection...the truth is that for us to grasp that, we must grasp on to Christ in faith, trusting in his perfection in life and in death. But the one-sided view of God--called "the Creator"--is that of brutal judge, a silent partner in the cosmic dance who communicates at best through visions that could pass for acid trips (not that I have the experience to know) or who--as the antagonist Tubal-Cain screams--has orphaned humanity. By contrast, Scripture says that undeserving Noah did not earn favor in God's eyes, but rather "discovered grace in the eyes of the Lord" (Genesis 6:8). The Biblical picture is not that God needs us, but he does want us. And he loves us, not because we've struggled to earn it, but--as my friend Cameron Kirker once said--he loves us simply because he loves us.
Also, I was troubled by no sense of a positive ethic of the creation mandate found in Genesis 1, of God's command to "be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth...have dominion". Basically, the idea comes out that "dominion" must mean domination. That can happen, but these are not automatically overlapping concepts. Yes, there is an ecological side to our place in this world, and that is in with a lot of other fun, vibrant stuff wrapped up in Genesis 1. God is saying, "Make an art gallery out of the fun stuff I've given you, which--by the way--is good stuff." Sin and evil can drive people to use good things for bad purposes, but that is not God's intent. Watching Noah you wonder if God ever intended his creation to have joy or rapturous excitement in their creative capacities.
I was somewhat disturbed by Noah's capricious back-and-forth, turn-on-a-dime personality as the movie wore on. He changes his mind on the fate of their group in the ark as you can see his eyes growing more bizarre and disengaged, like the flood's massive PTSD potential has burst forth and he's given up.
There are some other minor details that--while not heretical--had me face-palming at points. The aged Methusaleh, Noah's grandfather (played by Anthony Hopkins) seems to be in the plot more for comic relief than anything else. The vicious Tubal-Cain, son of the murderous Lamech of the evil family line of the also-murderous Cain, is injected and spliced into the story when there's no evidence he would have been around the territory raising hell; at least, the Bible is notably silent on who were the lead evildoing personalities.
Still, there were some redeeming qualities in some portrayals. When Tubal-Cain shouted, "A man isn't ruled by the heavens! He's ruled by his will!", I thought, You know, that kind of gets closer to the heart of the unfaithfulness, pride, and rebellion at the core of sinfulness. Although, as I mentioned above, the Noah-as-PTSD-victim wasn't necessarily a helpful portrayal, the film does make an honest attempt of showing Noah as a flawed patriarch and humanizing him rather than elevating him to automatic sainthood. There is an earthiness to the character that our Sunday School stories attempt to sanitize from our youth (how many of us were steeped in the Genesis 9 account of Noah's drunken and fleshly exhibition, for example?)
And I couldn't help but get a frisson of I Peter 3 that I found particularly impressive in the film. Noting the judgment will come in the form of water instead of fire, Noah says, "Fire consumes all, water cleanses." The words of St. Peter vividly rushed to mind:
"For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit, in which he went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison, because they formerly did not obey, when God's patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which...eight persons were brought safely through water. Baptism, which corresponds to this, saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ."
Yes, from a biblical traditionalist's vantage point, I was troubled by much, but there were some "Aha!" moments in the midst that mitigated the disappointment.
Next time, the cinematic realist in me will take the stage, and that side is much more okay with the film.
But you'll have to wait a few days.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Ten Years of Vows With the Only Refuge
Ten years ago today, I stood in a church in Salisbury, North Carolina, and affirmed solemn vows that would mark the course of the rest of my life.
To answer your next query, Christy and I were already married with two children, so these weren't our marriage vows. The sanctuary was playing host to a worship service that involved my ordination to the ministry as a Presbyterian clergyman. It was a day that was a blur, as almost all the members of the small congregation that I would serve were there.
It was a church revitalization project that would become more daunting in the weeks and months ahead, as it always does after the honeymoon period. I was entering public ministry with a head full of dreams that I prayed aligned with God's own, as well as with a firm hope that if one preached the Bible faithfully and reached out to others, God would give your church whatever reproducing it needed for that time.
Things didn't quite turn out that way over the following fifteen months. I haven't been able to seriously consider going back into church ministry since then, mainly because teaching fits better (and sometimes I joke that I'm holding out for the Anglicans to make a better offer). But in looking back on that day, I found that what was shared and implored when I was ordained was not for me when I served as a pastor in Salisbury. It was meant for the rest of my life. If there was a theme for the day, it was a spot-on match with the words of St. John Chrysostom when he said, "My work is like that of a man who is constantly cleaning a patch of earth into which a muddy stream is forever flowing."
One memory of that afternoon came from Jamie Hunt. Jamie has since retired as the senior pastor of Coddle Creek Presbyterian Church, just a half hour west of where we were gathered that day. In all my dealings with Jamie, I have found him to be a gracious Southern gentleman and who never turned down someone in need. Jamie gave the charge to me as the incoming pastor and new ordinand. He didn't back down from what I would face in the time ahead--and it made me wonder if he had an inkling about it. But his point was that there would be some bomb craters and bullets given enough time. And sometimes I would be leading and then looking back before realizing I was the only one trying to take the hill. But if God wanted me there, God would sustain me, Jamie said. Yet what is right and good is not necessarily popular, even with God's people. "The day may come," he said, pointing at me with pastoral affection, "when you may have to stand alone."
The other memory of that time occurred later that evening. My father, who is still going in ministry like the Energizer bunny, was the one I asked to preach at the service. It also happened to be thirty-five years to the same weekend when he was ordained in a small Presbyterian church in northeast Kansas (which, no offense to Tar Heels everywhere, I would take over North Carolina any day of the week). Dad left a note behind when he and Mom left, and I still have that letter to this day because it has driven so much of what I do in my job as an Ethics teacher or an occasional preacher.
Dad began by admitting he'd been thinking for some time about the biblical picture of "the man of God with the Word of God", who stands--as it were--with "only" the Word.
Dad continued, "That is where I pray you take your stand, with no reason to be ashamed...It is an amazing pleasure to be with you at your ordination. It is thirty-five years ago this weekend when I was in your position. As I look back, I can't claim many ripe successes. I can honestly say that a ministry under the Word is neither highly lauded nor particularly easy. But it is the only refuge for you and God's people...You and Christy are ever in our prayers."
Those words and the truth behind them sustained me through the failure and frustration of my labors until we were delivered to another field of fruitful ministry. For whatever reason, knowing about that "only refuge", kept me plowing back into the Bible, trying to preach it as carefully and compassionately as I could, and God would do whatever he did, and that would be fine. The perspective Dad gave was extraordinarily liberating. And in a world of ministerial moral failure due to either sexual proclivities or heavy-handed tactics (I brushed on this in my "open letter" post), it peels back all the man-made layers of supposed success and forces one to rely on Christ. Which is the point of faith all along.
Since that day, I've seen others enter the ministry. I used to think of it as a celebration of God's provision. Now I feel more like we're back in 1914 commissioning British lads to go off to the trenches of Ypres, Vimy Ridge, and Passchendaele. Ordination is a starting line, not a finish line, and my celebration is always cautious, if it arises at all.
But whenever I pass on hope and advice, I use my dad's words. A couple years back, the husband of one of my former students had landed a position as discipleship pastor at a church near Indianapolis. We had corresponded leading up to this (and now have the added cyber-fellowship of being Facebook friends and Twitter followers) and as he was set to embark on his new endeavor, I felt it only right to send Tom a letter to encourage him.
And nothing else made more sense in it than echoing my father words: A ministry under the Word is neither highly lauded, nor particularly easy, but it is the only refuge for you and God's people.
Ten years since that day, and that refuge is becoming more a part of me than it was before.
To answer your next query, Christy and I were already married with two children, so these weren't our marriage vows. The sanctuary was playing host to a worship service that involved my ordination to the ministry as a Presbyterian clergyman. It was a day that was a blur, as almost all the members of the small congregation that I would serve were there.
It was a church revitalization project that would become more daunting in the weeks and months ahead, as it always does after the honeymoon period. I was entering public ministry with a head full of dreams that I prayed aligned with God's own, as well as with a firm hope that if one preached the Bible faithfully and reached out to others, God would give your church whatever reproducing it needed for that time.
Things didn't quite turn out that way over the following fifteen months. I haven't been able to seriously consider going back into church ministry since then, mainly because teaching fits better (and sometimes I joke that I'm holding out for the Anglicans to make a better offer). But in looking back on that day, I found that what was shared and implored when I was ordained was not for me when I served as a pastor in Salisbury. It was meant for the rest of my life. If there was a theme for the day, it was a spot-on match with the words of St. John Chrysostom when he said, "My work is like that of a man who is constantly cleaning a patch of earth into which a muddy stream is forever flowing."
One memory of that afternoon came from Jamie Hunt. Jamie has since retired as the senior pastor of Coddle Creek Presbyterian Church, just a half hour west of where we were gathered that day. In all my dealings with Jamie, I have found him to be a gracious Southern gentleman and who never turned down someone in need. Jamie gave the charge to me as the incoming pastor and new ordinand. He didn't back down from what I would face in the time ahead--and it made me wonder if he had an inkling about it. But his point was that there would be some bomb craters and bullets given enough time. And sometimes I would be leading and then looking back before realizing I was the only one trying to take the hill. But if God wanted me there, God would sustain me, Jamie said. Yet what is right and good is not necessarily popular, even with God's people. "The day may come," he said, pointing at me with pastoral affection, "when you may have to stand alone."
The other memory of that time occurred later that evening. My father, who is still going in ministry like the Energizer bunny, was the one I asked to preach at the service. It also happened to be thirty-five years to the same weekend when he was ordained in a small Presbyterian church in northeast Kansas (which, no offense to Tar Heels everywhere, I would take over North Carolina any day of the week). Dad left a note behind when he and Mom left, and I still have that letter to this day because it has driven so much of what I do in my job as an Ethics teacher or an occasional preacher.
Dad began by admitting he'd been thinking for some time about the biblical picture of "the man of God with the Word of God", who stands--as it were--with "only" the Word.
Dad continued, "That is where I pray you take your stand, with no reason to be ashamed...It is an amazing pleasure to be with you at your ordination. It is thirty-five years ago this weekend when I was in your position. As I look back, I can't claim many ripe successes. I can honestly say that a ministry under the Word is neither highly lauded nor particularly easy. But it is the only refuge for you and God's people...You and Christy are ever in our prayers."
Those words and the truth behind them sustained me through the failure and frustration of my labors until we were delivered to another field of fruitful ministry. For whatever reason, knowing about that "only refuge", kept me plowing back into the Bible, trying to preach it as carefully and compassionately as I could, and God would do whatever he did, and that would be fine. The perspective Dad gave was extraordinarily liberating. And in a world of ministerial moral failure due to either sexual proclivities or heavy-handed tactics (I brushed on this in my "open letter" post), it peels back all the man-made layers of supposed success and forces one to rely on Christ. Which is the point of faith all along.
Since that day, I've seen others enter the ministry. I used to think of it as a celebration of God's provision. Now I feel more like we're back in 1914 commissioning British lads to go off to the trenches of Ypres, Vimy Ridge, and Passchendaele. Ordination is a starting line, not a finish line, and my celebration is always cautious, if it arises at all.
But whenever I pass on hope and advice, I use my dad's words. A couple years back, the husband of one of my former students had landed a position as discipleship pastor at a church near Indianapolis. We had corresponded leading up to this (and now have the added cyber-fellowship of being Facebook friends and Twitter followers) and as he was set to embark on his new endeavor, I felt it only right to send Tom a letter to encourage him.
And nothing else made more sense in it than echoing my father words: A ministry under the Word is neither highly lauded, nor particularly easy, but it is the only refuge for you and God's people.
Ten years since that day, and that refuge is becoming more a part of me than it was before.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Forgiveness: Wishing Your Enemy Well
Sometime back I posted about an individual who had wronged me professionally in a church situation some time back. This person had recently been convicted in court of sexual abuse charges and is now going to prison for the rest of my life. While the sexual abuse wasn't against me, I was thankful that justice was done given the thorough conviction of guilt. I had moved on from the church shenanigans and since I'm serving elsewhere, I had what I believed to be detached observer's view and one that merely had commented that this was God's way of breaking the teeth of the wicked (Psalm 3:7). And that was it.
In truth, I knew that wasn't it. There was something wrong with the way I had written the post and I knew it. Why--when I believed to have put all this professional pain and anger behind me--did I feel like I was carrying something around that, while not painful, was still like an extra annoying weight that I didn't need to transport.
I started to think maybe I should re-think things.
That's when a wise friend and former colleague emailed me, telling me he had read my post and sincerely felt my pain. But he urged me to consider the following:
Ask the Lord if you have forgiven this guy and love your enemy.
Ask the Lord if He would have finished the post the way it was finished.
Yeah, the Holy Spirit was speaking through my friend.
Whatever this guy from North Carolina had done to me and others was in the past and I needed to act like it. But there was more. My friend had asked me if I could love my enemy...of course, Jesus said we'd have enemies (see the Sermon on the Mount)...but one of the criteria of love (however the intensity or shape of it) is willingness to forgive.
Forgiveness is entirely in my court, in other words.
It means to be willing to not let the wrong done to control me. It means saying that whatever was done, God saw it, God has covered it by his justice and not mine, and that's that.
But it goes deeper than that. It means first of all dropping the weight of resentment--whether it be a handbag or a suitcase full of dumbbells--and refusing to carry it around for one minute longer. It makes no sense to live life holding on to the anger and resentment. You know those rolling walkways in airports where people can just stop walking and glide from spot to spot? I've noticed so many times that people refuse to take a break when gliding on the ground, and they hold on to their luggage and refuse to lay it down.
I always have thought that was odd, until I realized through my friend's words that I was doing the exact same thing.
Resentment is a choice. Willfully carrying around this kind of smoldering flame is done on purpose. And so is refusing to do likewise.
I have come to realize that this man in prison doesn't need my resentment and anger. It won't set him free.
And it won't set me free. And I need to be free as well and not allow this to control me.
But the final piece of the puzzle came from remembering something Rob Bell said. Yes, my traditionally theologically conservative friends will point out problems with quoting Rob Bell, and of course, there's areas where Rob and I would disagree. But that's immaterial here, because one thing Rob has said on forgiveness is a gold mine. It's within his NOOMA video called "Luggage" that he says that part of forgiving someone else means "I have to wish that person well."
Talk about a sucker punch to the spiritual groin area.
A sucker punch I needed, to be honest.
And I'll admit that, hard as it is, I need to wish this person, wrongdoer that he may have been a long time ago, well.
I should want the best for this person.
I need to be able to ask God to redeem what is left ahead for this man. I need to plead with God that He would show this man his continuing need of him, to be forthright and transparent, and to be cleansed anew every day.
And that's when I realized that even though my sins are different, they deserve God's displeasure just as much as this man in a North Carolina prison.
So I want to wish this person well. I don't have the foggiest idea what that means. But God does. And I can let God be God rather than trying to worm my way into that role and make a mess of it.
And in the end, wishing your enemy well is a good place to be. It's definitely a lot less tiring.
In truth, I knew that wasn't it. There was something wrong with the way I had written the post and I knew it. Why--when I believed to have put all this professional pain and anger behind me--did I feel like I was carrying something around that, while not painful, was still like an extra annoying weight that I didn't need to transport.
I started to think maybe I should re-think things.
That's when a wise friend and former colleague emailed me, telling me he had read my post and sincerely felt my pain. But he urged me to consider the following:
Ask the Lord if you have forgiven this guy and love your enemy.
Ask the Lord if He would have finished the post the way it was finished.
Yeah, the Holy Spirit was speaking through my friend.
Whatever this guy from North Carolina had done to me and others was in the past and I needed to act like it. But there was more. My friend had asked me if I could love my enemy...of course, Jesus said we'd have enemies (see the Sermon on the Mount)...but one of the criteria of love (however the intensity or shape of it) is willingness to forgive.
Forgiveness is entirely in my court, in other words.
It means to be willing to not let the wrong done to control me. It means saying that whatever was done, God saw it, God has covered it by his justice and not mine, and that's that.
But it goes deeper than that. It means first of all dropping the weight of resentment--whether it be a handbag or a suitcase full of dumbbells--and refusing to carry it around for one minute longer. It makes no sense to live life holding on to the anger and resentment. You know those rolling walkways in airports where people can just stop walking and glide from spot to spot? I've noticed so many times that people refuse to take a break when gliding on the ground, and they hold on to their luggage and refuse to lay it down.
I always have thought that was odd, until I realized through my friend's words that I was doing the exact same thing.
Resentment is a choice. Willfully carrying around this kind of smoldering flame is done on purpose. And so is refusing to do likewise.
I have come to realize that this man in prison doesn't need my resentment and anger. It won't set him free.
And it won't set me free. And I need to be free as well and not allow this to control me.
But the final piece of the puzzle came from remembering something Rob Bell said. Yes, my traditionally theologically conservative friends will point out problems with quoting Rob Bell, and of course, there's areas where Rob and I would disagree. But that's immaterial here, because one thing Rob has said on forgiveness is a gold mine. It's within his NOOMA video called "Luggage" that he says that part of forgiving someone else means "I have to wish that person well."
Talk about a sucker punch to the spiritual groin area.
A sucker punch I needed, to be honest.
And I'll admit that, hard as it is, I need to wish this person, wrongdoer that he may have been a long time ago, well.
I should want the best for this person.
I need to be able to ask God to redeem what is left ahead for this man. I need to plead with God that He would show this man his continuing need of him, to be forthright and transparent, and to be cleansed anew every day.
And that's when I realized that even though my sins are different, they deserve God's displeasure just as much as this man in a North Carolina prison.
So I want to wish this person well. I don't have the foggiest idea what that means. But God does. And I can let God be God rather than trying to worm my way into that role and make a mess of it.
And in the end, wishing your enemy well is a good place to be. It's definitely a lot less tiring.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
An Open Letter to Mark Driscoll
To Mark Driscoll, preaching pastor of Mars Hill Church,
An online letter is not the place to uproot all the controversial matters that have exploded on the Internet recently. Plagiarism assertions, using church funds to place a book on the New York Times bestseller list, and strong allegations of abusive and narcissistic behavior from many respected allies are much to deal with in a lifetime. You've had to deal with them in less than a year. No need to re-live them in detail here.
Also, I've never attended your church. So I'm not speaking as an inner critic. But then again, you don't need to be elected to public office to share political critique.
I was a pastor for fifteen months and we managed to have a fantastic Scottish revival, which means I grew the church from 75 down to just under 40. So I'm not speaking out of any measure of worldly success.
But I'm a fifth-generation Presbyterian clergyman. And I know a good bit of what makes for a great pastor because my father and grandfather were both great pastors, because they were humble, godly men. Their words were their own, not others. They were content to let God lead their churches and not overwhelm their parishioners with the force of personality because they knew in the long run (and even the short run) that not letting God do things would harm the Gospel.
So while I was disheartened with the using of church funds to secure a bestseller spot, with the plagiarism, and the autocraticism, bombasticness, and blaming a wife for a husband's shameful sin, I was hopeful this wasn't it.
And while it was fourteen years ago, I wasn't expecting to see you go vulgar-heterosexual-Little-Boy in the blogosphere.
A pastor. Doing this. Six years into his pastorate. Holy smokes.
Look, Mark. You'll probably never read this. In case it runs across your laptop monitor or your Smartphone screen by sheer accident, I just think it's fair to say the following:
(1) I want you to minister well. Being a pastor of any church, any size, is tough. It's excruciating. And that's on a good day. My heart goes out to pastors everywhere because I know how the terrain is. When St. John Chrysostom said, "My work is like that of a man trying to clean a patch of ground into which a muddy stream is constantly flowing," he was lowballing things. So I understand that your physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual innards get seriously frayed.
(2) I have more in common with you than I don't have in common. I'm an intense believer in the complete trustworthiness of the Bible. I want men to be leaders. I want people to be excited about Scripture applied to their lives in all its fullness, in hard-won community, and the spread of both of the above to others. I'm not inclined as you are to the silent, subjugated female gender. I like the fact my wife has discovered a biblical balance of being "submissively feisty". And I think you can call homosexuality a sin without screaming at the sinners.
(3) Sometimes, before you say something or do something, it's helpful to ask (as David Gill suggests in Doing Right) questions like:
(a) Would Jesus do this or question it?
(b) Does it violate clear biblical teaching or Christian tradition?
(c) Would you like it done to you?
(d) Could someone be harmed?
(e) Would you never want to do this in public?
(f) Is it illegal?
(4) Above all, this is a letter with an intense suggestion, as close to a command as I could make it: Resign for two whole years. In fact, things are so deep for you that I would say offer your demission from your ordination and become a layperson once again. The litany of controversy is too strong to be effective. Here's what I'd suggest. During these two years, attend church elsewhere. Don't preach. Don't teach. Don't write. Don't speak at conferences. Chill. Hang out with your kids. Go for long walks with your wife, Grace. Travel on your own expense and go meet with older, seasoned pastors, both well-known and more obscure. Ask them about how to be rooted in humility, in what the Cross has to do with that rootedness. At the end of two years, ask yourself, "Am I ready to see everyone I encounter as Jesus sees them? And am willing to have God be in control of my tongue, first and foremost?" If the answer is anything less than 100%, you need to steer clear of the pastoral ministry.
God will always provide for you, my man. It doesn't have to be at Mars Hill.
Believe me, I'll pray for you.
Shalom,
Luke
An online letter is not the place to uproot all the controversial matters that have exploded on the Internet recently. Plagiarism assertions, using church funds to place a book on the New York Times bestseller list, and strong allegations of abusive and narcissistic behavior from many respected allies are much to deal with in a lifetime. You've had to deal with them in less than a year. No need to re-live them in detail here.
Also, I've never attended your church. So I'm not speaking as an inner critic. But then again, you don't need to be elected to public office to share political critique.
I was a pastor for fifteen months and we managed to have a fantastic Scottish revival, which means I grew the church from 75 down to just under 40. So I'm not speaking out of any measure of worldly success.
But I'm a fifth-generation Presbyterian clergyman. And I know a good bit of what makes for a great pastor because my father and grandfather were both great pastors, because they were humble, godly men. Their words were their own, not others. They were content to let God lead their churches and not overwhelm their parishioners with the force of personality because they knew in the long run (and even the short run) that not letting God do things would harm the Gospel.
So while I was disheartened with the using of church funds to secure a bestseller spot, with the plagiarism, and the autocraticism, bombasticness, and blaming a wife for a husband's shameful sin, I was hopeful this wasn't it.
And while it was fourteen years ago, I wasn't expecting to see you go vulgar-heterosexual-Little-Boy in the blogosphere.
A pastor. Doing this. Six years into his pastorate. Holy smokes.
Look, Mark. You'll probably never read this. In case it runs across your laptop monitor or your Smartphone screen by sheer accident, I just think it's fair to say the following:
(1) I want you to minister well. Being a pastor of any church, any size, is tough. It's excruciating. And that's on a good day. My heart goes out to pastors everywhere because I know how the terrain is. When St. John Chrysostom said, "My work is like that of a man trying to clean a patch of ground into which a muddy stream is constantly flowing," he was lowballing things. So I understand that your physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual innards get seriously frayed.
(2) I have more in common with you than I don't have in common. I'm an intense believer in the complete trustworthiness of the Bible. I want men to be leaders. I want people to be excited about Scripture applied to their lives in all its fullness, in hard-won community, and the spread of both of the above to others. I'm not inclined as you are to the silent, subjugated female gender. I like the fact my wife has discovered a biblical balance of being "submissively feisty". And I think you can call homosexuality a sin without screaming at the sinners.
(3) Sometimes, before you say something or do something, it's helpful to ask (as David Gill suggests in Doing Right) questions like:
(a) Would Jesus do this or question it?
(b) Does it violate clear biblical teaching or Christian tradition?
(c) Would you like it done to you?
(d) Could someone be harmed?
(e) Would you never want to do this in public?
(f) Is it illegal?
(4) Above all, this is a letter with an intense suggestion, as close to a command as I could make it: Resign for two whole years. In fact, things are so deep for you that I would say offer your demission from your ordination and become a layperson once again. The litany of controversy is too strong to be effective. Here's what I'd suggest. During these two years, attend church elsewhere. Don't preach. Don't teach. Don't write. Don't speak at conferences. Chill. Hang out with your kids. Go for long walks with your wife, Grace. Travel on your own expense and go meet with older, seasoned pastors, both well-known and more obscure. Ask them about how to be rooted in humility, in what the Cross has to do with that rootedness. At the end of two years, ask yourself, "Am I ready to see everyone I encounter as Jesus sees them? And am willing to have God be in control of my tongue, first and foremost?" If the answer is anything less than 100%, you need to steer clear of the pastoral ministry.
God will always provide for you, my man. It doesn't have to be at Mars Hill.
Believe me, I'll pray for you.
Shalom,
Luke
The Holy Land Thing
Good heavens, I hate political posts. I'd rather discuss religion because it seems that the conversations I have with others on religion tend to stay civil, even with (especially with?) atheists. But politics seems to bring the axe shot down on a divided community in a very divided nation.
But I think I should say a few things about the present Israel-Hamas struggle. I'll try to keep it as brief as an independent, neo-Libertarian, strict constitutionalist, common sense-ish believer in strong national security can make it.
Got all that? Good.
(1) Yes, I believe in the Palestinian people having a homeland. You have to see Palestinians through the reality that they are a mix of folks. It's not a monolithic Islamic bloc. That's why we have a group of people called Palestinian Christians (hello). Now, of course, it's nice to have a qualification and definition on what is a Palestinian (as that seems to get tossed in the garbage of uncivil debate). But the Palestinian peoples were around for awhile, getting displaced and bumped around and rejected by many nations...nations that don't--by the way--have the name Israel.
(2) There's a difference between the Palestinian people and the Palestinian leadership. A good corollary would be American labor union membership and union leadership. The former you may not agree with entirely but you sympathize with their basic needs. The latter you see as the snakes they are.
(3) The media war shrouds rather than clarifies this conflict. Israel is running a ground invasion, yes, but does anyone in their right mind believe that they are there to annex the Gaza Strip? It is true that tactical missile strikes have taken the lives of innocent victims as collateral damage, but to date, Hamas' legions have been the ones intentionally targeting the innocent in Israel...not that they've been able to get much in past the Iron Dome defense system.
(4) Israel does need to to several things, some of which on the surface appear paradoxical: (a) weigh how difficult the coming days will be, (b) stand firm in the face of relentless pressure of world media opinion, (c) balance the glove of restraint with the hammer of justice, and (d) continue to show the willingness to work with a democratically elected and principled pluralistic Palestinian state.
(5) To evangelical Christians who are unabashedly pro-Israel: Good for you. Just remember that Israel is a vastly secular nation, and for every person there there is a different and variant worldview. And what sort of reaction would you have if dumped in the middle of an LGBT crowd in a bar in Tel Aviv? Hopefully, the grace and mercy of Jesus.
(6) To Hamas: What in heaven's name are you thinking? You hoard resources from the Palestinian people, cause them to live on beans in shanty towns, and use concrete and supplies to dig subterranean tunnels to Israel for the purposes of transporting personnel and weapons for a Rosh Hashannah slaughter? Supplies that could have gone to houses and shopping areas for your own people? Finances that could have gone to medical care for your own people? Does no one see the hypocrisy here?
(7) It's a mess, and it'll stay a mess until people learn the mess solves nothing. But I'd wager my assets that if Israel dropped their weapons in an unconditional cease-fire, it would solve nothing, and Israel would soon cease to exists. If Hamas stopped shooting, there'd be peace for longer than people might guess.
(8) Yes, I have the deepest respect and compassion for those who dream of a Palestinian nation of their own. And yes, I am without respect or compassion for those who seek to achieve that dream via terror.
I'm done.
But I think I should say a few things about the present Israel-Hamas struggle. I'll try to keep it as brief as an independent, neo-Libertarian, strict constitutionalist, common sense-ish believer in strong national security can make it.
Got all that? Good.
(1) Yes, I believe in the Palestinian people having a homeland. You have to see Palestinians through the reality that they are a mix of folks. It's not a monolithic Islamic bloc. That's why we have a group of people called Palestinian Christians (hello). Now, of course, it's nice to have a qualification and definition on what is a Palestinian (as that seems to get tossed in the garbage of uncivil debate). But the Palestinian peoples were around for awhile, getting displaced and bumped around and rejected by many nations...nations that don't--by the way--have the name Israel.
(2) There's a difference between the Palestinian people and the Palestinian leadership. A good corollary would be American labor union membership and union leadership. The former you may not agree with entirely but you sympathize with their basic needs. The latter you see as the snakes they are.
(3) The media war shrouds rather than clarifies this conflict. Israel is running a ground invasion, yes, but does anyone in their right mind believe that they are there to annex the Gaza Strip? It is true that tactical missile strikes have taken the lives of innocent victims as collateral damage, but to date, Hamas' legions have been the ones intentionally targeting the innocent in Israel...not that they've been able to get much in past the Iron Dome defense system.
(4) Israel does need to to several things, some of which on the surface appear paradoxical: (a) weigh how difficult the coming days will be, (b) stand firm in the face of relentless pressure of world media opinion, (c) balance the glove of restraint with the hammer of justice, and (d) continue to show the willingness to work with a democratically elected and principled pluralistic Palestinian state.
(5) To evangelical Christians who are unabashedly pro-Israel: Good for you. Just remember that Israel is a vastly secular nation, and for every person there there is a different and variant worldview. And what sort of reaction would you have if dumped in the middle of an LGBT crowd in a bar in Tel Aviv? Hopefully, the grace and mercy of Jesus.
(6) To Hamas: What in heaven's name are you thinking? You hoard resources from the Palestinian people, cause them to live on beans in shanty towns, and use concrete and supplies to dig subterranean tunnels to Israel for the purposes of transporting personnel and weapons for a Rosh Hashannah slaughter? Supplies that could have gone to houses and shopping areas for your own people? Finances that could have gone to medical care for your own people? Does no one see the hypocrisy here?
(7) It's a mess, and it'll stay a mess until people learn the mess solves nothing. But I'd wager my assets that if Israel dropped their weapons in an unconditional cease-fire, it would solve nothing, and Israel would soon cease to exists. If Hamas stopped shooting, there'd be peace for longer than people might guess.
(8) Yes, I have the deepest respect and compassion for those who dream of a Palestinian nation of their own. And yes, I am without respect or compassion for those who seek to achieve that dream via terror.
I'm done.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
The Mystery is Worth the Time!
I've hacked through some pretty good study time in preparation for tomorrow's sermon on I Kings 17:17-24. It's the passage where Elijah raises the son of the Zarephath widow to life. I find it interesting that this woman is--for all practical intents and purposes--a relatively new convert to faith in God. One wonders then, why God had to bring such horrific suffering on her by taking her son so early during her spiritual journey. She's certainly grasping at straws in the wake of her boy's death.
I'm sure those of you familiar with the story (or who linked to it above and read it) know of course that Elijah's intervening prayer restored the lad to life. But that's a really shattering time to live through! Why does God do that? Why does he protect people and then perplex them? Why does he preserve life (he had provided food for the widow and son in the previous passage) and then extinguish it...and then give it back? Why the pendulum effect? Doesn't God's mysterious behavior baffle you?
Listen, I say this from within the circle of Christian faith. I think God is off the hook sometimes and yet I still move forward for whatever reason. Why? What keeps me following a Mystery?
(1) Maybe there's something about my personality that I like to dive into something that's not too clear and find clarity. I tend to binge on Sudoku puzzles and find a perverse delight in filling in these 9x9 puzzles where numbers can appear only once in a block or linear sequence. In a way, that kind of mystique doesn't bother me, but it's for a couple of reasons. One, I know there's a solution that makes sense every time. Two, Sudoku puzzles are different from God. You can't restrain God within the lines of a puzzle, or any contraption. He just sort of spills over any reservoir we set to contain him.
As my father said once, "I know two things: The Lord is good, and the Lord is strange. And it's the latter that scares me."
And he's speaking as a believer, too.
(2) On the other hand, I've been less and less inclined to see faith as a precision effort, or as a question-and-answer sequence that makes complete sense, like a car manual that will show you how to fix life if you but follow the diagrams. I don't think this is how God constructed faith as the path to him. In the book of Job, when the eponymous character questions why God allowed him to go through the suffering he did, God doesn't explain it in terms of a game-board-like path. He blows up and says, "I run the universe. Would you like to explain to me how things should go?" Whatever rational explanation is not going to be good for Job. He doesn't need God's answer; he needs God himself.
Leonard Sweet puts it well in his book Jesus Drives Me Crazy! where he says "Life is the living of the Mystery. As one Greek Orthodox theologian puts it, 'We see that it is not the task of Christianity to provide easy answers to every question, but to make us more progressively aware of a mystery. God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder.' What are doctrines but vestibules to the mysteries. To follow Jesus is not a paint-by-numbers path. To follow Jesus is to live the adventure and to experience the mystery of faith."
(3) There's also the sense in which mystery is better because that's how the deepest, most constructive, most loving relationships are built. This is especially true in our cyber-age where we can crumble to the misguided sensation that because we connect with people on Facebook or Twitter, then we know them. Nowhere close. You know what those people deign you to know about how their present themselves; it takes more face-to-face work to make the friendship work. When Christy and I first met, I was--admittedly--a little frustrated because the initial process of getting to know her wasn't as crystal clear and smooth. Then again, I came to discover that I wasn't giving away as much of who I was, either, especially when Christy initiated a heart-to-heart asking if I was comfortable around her. But through those initial weeks we came to recognize that getting to know and enjoy each other took work. And it takes work because people want to be known, but the way it works is that people want to become known. They want others to take the time, to climb the hills of inquiry, the mountains of personhood, and the cliffs of one's past stains and future dreams.
And that's what made dating my future wife so wonderful. I had to take the time and make the effort to know and love her. And it was easy, but only because we both wanted--and still want--to pursue the mystery that is each other.
I'm sure those of you familiar with the story (or who linked to it above and read it) know of course that Elijah's intervening prayer restored the lad to life. But that's a really shattering time to live through! Why does God do that? Why does he protect people and then perplex them? Why does he preserve life (he had provided food for the widow and son in the previous passage) and then extinguish it...and then give it back? Why the pendulum effect? Doesn't God's mysterious behavior baffle you?
Listen, I say this from within the circle of Christian faith. I think God is off the hook sometimes and yet I still move forward for whatever reason. Why? What keeps me following a Mystery?
(1) Maybe there's something about my personality that I like to dive into something that's not too clear and find clarity. I tend to binge on Sudoku puzzles and find a perverse delight in filling in these 9x9 puzzles where numbers can appear only once in a block or linear sequence. In a way, that kind of mystique doesn't bother me, but it's for a couple of reasons. One, I know there's a solution that makes sense every time. Two, Sudoku puzzles are different from God. You can't restrain God within the lines of a puzzle, or any contraption. He just sort of spills over any reservoir we set to contain him.
As my father said once, "I know two things: The Lord is good, and the Lord is strange. And it's the latter that scares me."
And he's speaking as a believer, too.
(2) On the other hand, I've been less and less inclined to see faith as a precision effort, or as a question-and-answer sequence that makes complete sense, like a car manual that will show you how to fix life if you but follow the diagrams. I don't think this is how God constructed faith as the path to him. In the book of Job, when the eponymous character questions why God allowed him to go through the suffering he did, God doesn't explain it in terms of a game-board-like path. He blows up and says, "I run the universe. Would you like to explain to me how things should go?" Whatever rational explanation is not going to be good for Job. He doesn't need God's answer; he needs God himself.
Leonard Sweet puts it well in his book Jesus Drives Me Crazy! where he says "Life is the living of the Mystery. As one Greek Orthodox theologian puts it, 'We see that it is not the task of Christianity to provide easy answers to every question, but to make us more progressively aware of a mystery. God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder.' What are doctrines but vestibules to the mysteries. To follow Jesus is not a paint-by-numbers path. To follow Jesus is to live the adventure and to experience the mystery of faith."
(3) There's also the sense in which mystery is better because that's how the deepest, most constructive, most loving relationships are built. This is especially true in our cyber-age where we can crumble to the misguided sensation that because we connect with people on Facebook or Twitter, then we know them. Nowhere close. You know what those people deign you to know about how their present themselves; it takes more face-to-face work to make the friendship work. When Christy and I first met, I was--admittedly--a little frustrated because the initial process of getting to know her wasn't as crystal clear and smooth. Then again, I came to discover that I wasn't giving away as much of who I was, either, especially when Christy initiated a heart-to-heart asking if I was comfortable around her. But through those initial weeks we came to recognize that getting to know and enjoy each other took work. And it takes work because people want to be known, but the way it works is that people want to become known. They want others to take the time, to climb the hills of inquiry, the mountains of personhood, and the cliffs of one's past stains and future dreams.
And that's what made dating my future wife so wonderful. I had to take the time and make the effort to know and love her. And it was easy, but only because we both wanted--and still want--to pursue the mystery that is each other.
The Man Makes a Point
Humorist Dave Barry is the god of reason. He's not the God, of course. But he's a decent minor deity when it comes to cutting through the garbage of what surrounds us.
Especially in the world of literature.
If you call Fifty Shades of Grey literature.
The first volume of the Fifty Shades trilogy, which highlights a recent female college graduate caught up in the world of sado-masochistic sexual relationships, became a best-seller for reasons that befuddle me. The first warning for anyone with discerning tastes happens to be that author E.L. James released all three volumes of the trilogy practically on top of each other (go ahead and laugh, that pun was unintentional). When all three books are put out within a year of each other, the whole storyline is satanically crappy.
What self-respecting British author denigrates the name of mystery writer P.D. James by calling herself E.L. James and putting this stuff out?
What British author sets a story in the Pacific Northwest but has the main character, who is American, refer to a backpack in the British way, as a "rucksack"?
Dave Barry--in his phenomenal article at Time Magazine--actually read the book...something I am unwilling to do as I am content to pick up detail secondhand for critique. Anyway, Dave has some other questions.
What author has a girl, in the twenty-first century, complete four years of college with no romantic relationships of any kind up to this point? Why does that girl complete college but not have a computer, not know how to operate one, not have an email account, and be pretty much out to lunch on how the Internet functions? Why are Ana's (the main character) exclamations so juvenile? ("Double crap!") Double crap? What is that?
Even Litany of Secrets went beyond that.
Naturally, she lands a job in the business world with such limited hiring potential. Of course.
I have to be careful when criticizing other authors. I know the hard work that goes into putting a believable story together that still takes people away in an attractional manner. I just don't see that with Fifty Shades of Grey.
Every author is a work in progress, but one thing you don't do is give everything away in description or dialogue about your characters or the storyline. Make the audience work. Respect the reader enough to make sure you are giving clues for them to ascertain what's going on. Show, don't tell.
From what Dave Barry shares in his article, James fails miserably on this count.
So why am I so visceral about Fifty Shades when I can't play fair and read it in order to know what I'm talking about?
Because you don't need to go into politics to have the right to critique Congress or the President. You don't need to procreate in order to speak intelligently about what good parenting might be. And you sure don't need to do heroin to know it's bad for you.
There's a lot of great literature out there. There's even some good, worthwhile writing out there that--while not enduring classics--happens to be thoughtful, well-written fiction and nonfiction. Why people turn to garbage is saying too much about our society.
I was at our local library while Lindsay was volunteering there last Monday. And there was a 60-plus year-old woman reading Fifty Shades of Grey. A woman in her silver years was ingesting an item with as much redeeming value as something between Hitler's dirty underwear and whale dung that sits at the bottom of the ocean.
I'm done with my rant. You need to laugh with truth now. Read Dave Barry's article. Do it now.
Especially in the world of literature.
If you call Fifty Shades of Grey literature.
The first volume of the Fifty Shades trilogy, which highlights a recent female college graduate caught up in the world of sado-masochistic sexual relationships, became a best-seller for reasons that befuddle me. The first warning for anyone with discerning tastes happens to be that author E.L. James released all three volumes of the trilogy practically on top of each other (go ahead and laugh, that pun was unintentional). When all three books are put out within a year of each other, the whole storyline is satanically crappy.
What self-respecting British author denigrates the name of mystery writer P.D. James by calling herself E.L. James and putting this stuff out?
What British author sets a story in the Pacific Northwest but has the main character, who is American, refer to a backpack in the British way, as a "rucksack"?
Dave Barry--in his phenomenal article at Time Magazine--actually read the book...something I am unwilling to do as I am content to pick up detail secondhand for critique. Anyway, Dave has some other questions.
What author has a girl, in the twenty-first century, complete four years of college with no romantic relationships of any kind up to this point? Why does that girl complete college but not have a computer, not know how to operate one, not have an email account, and be pretty much out to lunch on how the Internet functions? Why are Ana's (the main character) exclamations so juvenile? ("Double crap!") Double crap? What is that?
Even Litany of Secrets went beyond that.
Naturally, she lands a job in the business world with such limited hiring potential. Of course.
I have to be careful when criticizing other authors. I know the hard work that goes into putting a believable story together that still takes people away in an attractional manner. I just don't see that with Fifty Shades of Grey.
Every author is a work in progress, but one thing you don't do is give everything away in description or dialogue about your characters or the storyline. Make the audience work. Respect the reader enough to make sure you are giving clues for them to ascertain what's going on. Show, don't tell.
From what Dave Barry shares in his article, James fails miserably on this count.
So why am I so visceral about Fifty Shades when I can't play fair and read it in order to know what I'm talking about?
Because you don't need to go into politics to have the right to critique Congress or the President. You don't need to procreate in order to speak intelligently about what good parenting might be. And you sure don't need to do heroin to know it's bad for you.
There's a lot of great literature out there. There's even some good, worthwhile writing out there that--while not enduring classics--happens to be thoughtful, well-written fiction and nonfiction. Why people turn to garbage is saying too much about our society.
I was at our local library while Lindsay was volunteering there last Monday. And there was a 60-plus year-old woman reading Fifty Shades of Grey. A woman in her silver years was ingesting an item with as much redeeming value as something between Hitler's dirty underwear and whale dung that sits at the bottom of the ocean.
I'm done with my rant. You need to laugh with truth now. Read Dave Barry's article. Do it now.
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