Hills worth dying on.

Part 2:  What Essential Tenets are NOT...


Before I jump into trying to explain my convictions behind a statement of Essential Tenets of the Reformed faith, I want to say a little about what such a statement should NOT do.  This is important because there has been considerable resistance among Presbyterians regarding the idea of a list of Essential Tenets.  This has been surprising to me.  But as I've thought about it, it seems to me that much of the resistance comes from misunderstandings about what such a list would do.

1.  Some will say that we cannot identify a list of the essential tenets of the faith because God alone is Lord of the conscience.  This is an historic phrase from our tradition and it is a good one.  Certainly, it is God and God alone whom may bind our theological conscience in terms of what we should believe.  We can fully affirm this statement, especially as understood in its full context.  John Calvin believed that there are primary (non-negotiable) matters of theological conviction, and secondary matters.  The primary principles related to (1) the proper worship of God and (2) “the source from which salvation is to be obtained.”  Other matters (such as church government) were secondary.

In response:  Essential Tenets do not bind the conscience where it ought be free.
It is precisely in matters of faith and worship, where the scriptures have spoken clearly, that we are BOUND by the scriptures and are not free.  In every area that is NOT an Essential, then yes, God alone shall bind our conscience and our beliefs.  In terms of the Essentials, these are the convictions that we have held as true and non-negotiable throughout our history.

2.  Others oppose a list of Essential Tenets out of a fear that they will be used as an exclusionary list of required beliefs.  This is often refered to as a subscription approach.   One must “subscribe” to every thing we believe in order to be a part of our fellowship.

In response, Essential Tenets are not a subscription document.  They are not an attempt to identify what every Presbyterian ought to believe about every issue.  Essential Tenets are not an exhaustive checklist of required beliefs.  Essential Tenets will never be used as a criteria for membership.  Prospective members will still be asked only if they trust Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, turn away from sin and rely on God’s grace, and will be active participants in our covenant community of faith.

In terms of identifying people for ordained offices in the church, however, Essential Tenets could and should serve as a useful guide for committees to use in determining if a person’s beliefs, regarding the foundational truths of the faith, fall within the orthodox boundaries of our Reformed Christian tradition.

3.  Those who are opposed to any effort to identify a list of essential tenets will often insist that such a list diminishes the Confessions.  As Presbyterians, we place great significance on our Book of Confessions - the historic documents that explain our faith.   We believe that these Confessions are “authentic and reliable expositions of what Scripture leads us to believe and do.”  Opponents of any list of essential tenets will say that it is enough to be familiar with the Confessions and to be guided by them.

In response:  Essential Tenets are NOT a replacement for the Confessions.
Richard Mouw suggests that we have fallen into a historical museum approach to understanding the Confessions.  We use words like “guided by” or “look to”.  You go into a museum and spend some time looking at the exhibits.  Perhaps you pick up an aesthetic sensitivity to the items being displayed.  You walk out feeling as if you learned something.

It seems to me that this is actually the most likely way to diminish the Confessions.  As Reformed Christians, we are after something more from our interactions with and reliance on the Confessions.  If they are “authentic and reliable expositions of Scripture,” then we ought to engage the Confessions with a sense of humility and a desire to be taught, shaped, even transformed.  Perhaps we engage the Confessions in the same way that we engage a sermon we listen to on Sunday morning.  

Essential Tenets does not diminish the Confessions in any way.  Instead, the Confessions are simply a summary of the foundational convictions that are embedded throughout those very Confessions in the first place.  Should one enter into a study of the Confessions with a list of the Essential Tenets in hand, that person would discover, on virtually every page, why these Tenets can and should be called “Essential.”

4.  Essential Tenets are not the end of the story.  They are not enough.  They don’t say anything about alot of things that are critically important.  These Essential Tenets are not an attempt to say everything that ought to be said about what we ought to think or do.  They are, instead, an attempt to identify the foundational convictions (the center pole if you will) around which we will build (in our Spirit led, covenant communities) our life together as people of God.


Next - my list.

Hills worth dying on.

The Essential Tenets of the Faith - An introduction.

"Do you sincerely receive and adopt the essential tenets of the Reformed faith..."  That is #3 in the list of 9 questions that make up my ordination vows.  I answered gladly, "I do."

But the bigger question is...what did I actually say yes to?  There is no official list of what those essential tenets actually are.  There have been many attempts to develop such a list.  Some presbyteries have adopted official statements on what they believe are the essential tenets of the faith.  But in many other presbyteries, and on the denominational level, any movement towards identifying the essential tenets of the faith has been  met with significant opposition.  At my very first Presbytery meeting here in Southeastern Illinois, we were divided into groups to talk about a motion to adopt the Essential Tenets document that was put together by San Diego Presbytery.  In our group, I took a risk and spoke up first to say that I'd always found it strange that I was asked in my ordination vows to sincerely receive and adopt a set of beliefs that no one will actually identify.  I spent the rest of the meeting listening to the group bash the idea of trying to tell someone what they ought to believe.

It has been suggested that our current approach leaves us in a position similar to that of the European Union.  The nations of the EU have a shared currency (the euro) but each nation has been allowed to develop their own fiscal policies.  Each nation in the EU has taken different approaches to how they understand and implement the use of their shared currency.  They have the same currency, but don't use it in the same way.  And this has significantly undermined the stability of the EU, from a financial perspective.  How can they grow when their own perspectives undermine each other?

Presbyterians suffer from a similar problem, though with a bit of a twist.  Though we, in theory, have the same currency (Jesus Christ), we have very different perspectives on how we understand the implications and underpinnings of faith.  The bigger challenge is that we cannot even agree on our "currency," which is to say our core convictions about Jesus Christ.

Our inability or refusal to identify the core, shared content of our faith makes it increasingly more difficult to move forward together (as churches, as presbyteries, even as a denomination) in terms of working out how we connect with and support one another and even moreso - how we share in mission together.  (Side point - when I say "share in mission," I'm not remotely talking about mission projects or sponsoring missionaries.  I'm talking about shared understanding of the mission of God and how we are to be people of that mission.)

Presbyterians often use the metaphor of a "Big Tent" to describe our denomination.  It is big enough to contain many different perspectives and opinions.  I genuinely believe that is one of the strengths of our denomination.  However, if we cannot identify and agree on the poles that hold up that tent, then we are not under a tent at all.  Instead, we are all wallowing around under a great, suffocating blanket of confusion.

I have come to believe that we desperately need to be able to identify the essential tenets of our faith.  Theology matters.  The content of our faith matters.  Not every theological expression is appropriate or acceptable.  There are some core convictions which support the big tent of our faith.  To be sure, within the bounds of those core convictions, there is tremendous room for different perspectives.  But I've grown to believe that it is precisely those essential tenets that create the room within which we can have the other hard conversations in the first place.

Over the next 2 weeks, I'll be blogging my thoughts on these Essential Tenets.  I hope you'll feel free to chime in.  I don't pretend to have final answers to these questions.  In fact, tomorrow's post will talk about what a list of essential tenets is not, and what it cannot do.

Peace

Slow down, you dern speeder.

I'm driving to work this morning, off in my own little world.  I think I was actually having an imaginary conversation (out loud - hand gestures and all) with someone I don't really want to talk to.  As I'm driving along talking animatedly, all of a sudden I notice a police car parked on a side street just to my right, looking right at me.  I look down at the speedometer and I'm going 42 in a 35.  I know I'm about to get totally busted.

As I pass the officer, I make eye contact and actually mouth the words, "Sorry" to him.  Because that will help, right?  I drive on past, just waiting for him to pull out behind me with lights on.

But he doesn't.  He let me go.  (See - saying sorry DOES help!)  I could barely believe it.  The cop showed me mercy.

Not 2 blocks later, as I'm very carefully driving the speed limit, I get passed by another car who was probably going at least 43.  And, I'm not kidding, my first thought as I watch the guy pass me is, "Where's a cop when you need one?"

I get shown mercy and not 30 seconds later want to see someone else denied that very same mercy.

Well, at that point I'm feeling a little ashamed of myself, when all of a sudden I realize that this is exactly what we do in the church.  All too often, we are quite content to enjoy our church experience and we just don't make much of an effort to invite others to come and taste and see the goodness of life with Christ.  We've been shown incredible mercy by God and we don't care much if others get to experience that mercy too.

The real measure of our gratitude for what God has done is what we then do in response.

Because God has shown us so much grace and mercy, may we be compelled to invite others into that same experience of grace and mercy.

The best valet service in the world.

Don Miller reposted this article on his blog.  I love this story.  As Don says, this story makes me want to work an awful lot harder at serving people.  Incredible stuff.  

OK, church, how can we learn from this?

Reprinted from The Today Show food column called “Bites.” It lives here.

By Wilson Rothman

My birthday tradition of the past few years has been a visit to Canlis, one of Seattle’s mainstays for celebration seekers and the well-to-do. Founded in 1950, it’s outlasted most of its competition, yet manages to stay fresh — it recently received culinary accolades in both Food & Wine and Saveur. The food is surprising and exquisite, the wine pairings are perfect. So why, whenever I describe Canlis to friends, do I always end up going on and on about the valet parking?

It’s simple in the way the best magic tricks are: When you pull into their carport, a friendly guy in a jacket and sneakers greets you, takes your keys and vanishes with your car. No tickets, no names, no nothing. Then, two or three hours later, as you’re walking out the huge glass doors, your car glides up. Glides up. It isn’t waiting there for you, but is easing in just as you are easing out.

Now let me say that Canlis isn’t one of those cute little restaurants with eight tables where the owner is also cooking all the food. It has the capability of serving hundreds, with a huge dining room, a piano bar and multiple private party spaces. The first time my wife and I went, there was, in addition to the restaurant’s typical business, a gathering of 100 people in an upstairs room, arriving and leaving in large clusters.

How in hell can they park and retrieve all of those cars, without one single ticket or name? The tech nerd in me got to brainstorming possibilities.

Maybe closed-circuit cameras throughout the restaurant could help valets track the movement of guests. Perhaps they screenshot you walking through the door, and digitally assign your keys to that image.

Or maybe it’s based on payment: Assuming they somehow manage to confirm your name or table with the hostess, what if they got an instant message when you pay your check, alerting them to ready your vehicle?

I could go on — something to do with proximity-detecting lasers, or perhaps RFID tags secretly stuck onto your clothing — but instead I decided that the best bet was to ask. I called up co-owner and third-generation scion Mark Canlis, and begged him to divulge the secret.

“I’ll tell you, and you’ll tell everyone else, but no one will believe it,” Canlis said to me. “They [his valet-parking crew] care a whole lot more than anybody else does.” What’s that supposed to mean?

“For 60 years, someone has stood out there, welcomed the cars in, shook the guests’ hands and let them in the restaurant,” Canlis said. “There are no tickets, there’s no fancy computer system, no chits, no counting cars, no secret book. They just remember. The whole thing is from memory.”

Canlis does admit that there’s a lot of secret chatter happening outside what he calls “the bubble,” the happy place where each party remains oblivious to the frantic work of the staff. If you look hard enough, you can spot valets on the prowl, and even notice a few blind spots where servers could tip off the car jockeys to the status of a given diner.

But back in the beginning, there really was a magic trick, or at least a magician.

Canlis 

Dick Sprinkle was in charge of valet parking at Canlis from 1950 to 1990.

“In the early days, when my granddad opened the restaurant, he called his buddy Dick Sprinkle in. Essentially he had a photographic memory. He remembered your wife, and your next wife, and all your children. He knew when you upgraded from one car to another,” Canlis said.

Sprinkle’s total recall capabilities proved that large-scale valet parking could be done without tickets or names, but when it came time to replace him, they couldn’t exactly advertise for another valet-parking savant. Sprinkle’s replacement, Shawn Leuckel, had to teach himself — and his whole staff — how to pull it off without superhuman powers.

“Shawn does not have a photographic memory, he just practices,” Canlis said. “He’s hired 30 or 40 guys [since joining in the 1980s], and every one of them learns. They work their tails off.”

What’s the point of this, when it would be so easy to just hand out tickets? “The whole feel of the restaurant is that you’re coming to our home. Why would I turn you into a number? It’s not fine dining, it’s not service. I am shocked when I go to a restaurant and they turn me into a number.”

Even Canlis himself, on occasion, has to park cars. He says the staff doesn’t necessarily expect him to be as skilled as Dick Sprinkle, but he’s got to hold his own. “I have to be proficient. I can successfully memorize my five cars. I had to practice that. You know, 3 Series BMW with the really dirty wheels; Asian gentleman, super sharp suit, open collar, blue Jetta; tattered pair of jeans, huge scrape across the car.”

For the valets, the game of memory continues all night long. “‘Here comes table 23, she’s got the red dress on, he’s got the Armani suit. This one? No, this one!’ And they tear off running,” Canlis said. “Their uniform includes running shoes — they run a lot.”

Re-thinking Sunday Mornings

"Worship is not so much what we do, but what we let God do in and for us." - Eugene Peterson.


It is incredibly difficult to divorce ourselves from the tendency to evaluate based on our personal preferences.  Virtually every aspect of our culture is driven by this tendency.  Perhaps it is the fact that, as consumers, we have so many choices (arguably more than any previous generation ever): an infinite variety of options for just about every conceivable product or service.

Whatever the reason, it's pretty obvious - we are master consumers and our consumption is shaped by our deeply felt personal preferences.

Even on Sunday mornings.  I'd bet that if we're honest, most of us evaluate a worship service on any given Sunday based on how good the sermon was, or the music, or the coffee.  Shoot, I know I do that.  This is not to say that we shouldn't strive for excellence.  We absolutely should.  But...I can't help but think that when we are in evaluation mode during worship, our minds might not be focused on the right things.

When I read the above quote, I was instantly convicted.

Here's the question I'm asking myself - and I'm inviting you to ask yourself as well:  What if I walked out of a worship service and allowed myself only one evaluation:  "How effectively and completely did I open my heart to allow God to work in me?" What if I walked into a worship service with excitement, wondering what God would do in me that morning?   I wonder how different our experience of worship might be if we were that focused on giving God full access to our hearts.

What do you think?  Do you experience this tendency while sitting in a worship service?  Is it possible to step out of our consumer mindset?  How might we challenge each other toward that goal?

Spiritual Dieting

In the book of John, a conversation is recorded between John the Baptist and his disciples.  Jesus has just begun his public ministry and John's disciples are basically struggling with jealousy.  The crowds that previously were being baptized by John are now going over and listening to Jesus and being baptized by Jesus.  John responds to his disciples with this quote:

He must increase, I must decrease.

Less of me, more of Jesus.
This is, in a short and simple phrase, the heart of discipleship.  Paul says it a little differently when he talks about dying to self and living or Christ.  In the book of Luke, Jesus gets at the same idea when he says, "Deny yourself and take up your cross daily."

Less of me, more of Jesus.
How often do you approach your relationship with Jesus this way?  How often do we invite God to shine a spotlight into our hearts and reveal the tendencies, the habits, the attitudes, the behaviors that need to decrease?

But here's the thing.  This is NOT just about trying to stop doing things.  It's about Jesus INCREASING in me.  It's about a more fruitful life.  It's about more peace, more joy, more purpose.  It's about an ever increasing awareness of God's presence and God's plans for me.

The bottom line is that until we decrease (until we get out of the way), there isn't room in our lives for more of Jesus.  So I decrease, in order that Christ may increase.

Today, I challenge you to ask God what it might look like for you to clear a little space (loose a little "weight") so that there is a little more room for Christ in you.

Raising the bar for Ordination?

Last week, the ordination vows changed in our denomination.  The previous standard required that candidates for ordination practice “fidelity in marriage between a man and a woman or chastity in singleness.”

The new statement on the standards of ordination reads:

“Standards for ordained service reflect the church’s desire to submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life (G-1.0000). The governing body responsible for ordination and/or installation (G.14.0240; G-14.0450) shall examine each candidate’s calling, gifts, preparation, and suitability for the responsibilities of office. The examination shall include, but not be limited to, a determination of the candidate’s ability and commitment to fulfill all requirements as expressed in the constitutional questions for ordination and installation (W-4.4003). Governing bodies shall be guided by Scripture and the confessions in applying standards to individual candidates.”

The basic result of this vote is that decisions regarding ordination will be made by local churches and Presbyteries, as opposed to the previous clause in our Book of Order specifically prohibiting the ordination of avowed, practicing homosexuals.  Our denomination has been hotly debating this issue for 3 decades and we remain deeply divided over this question.  Without question, this decision will result in joyful celebration for some; and it will cause grieving and distress among others.  I suspect that the media will make much of the decision (and I suspect that little of that will be fair or accurate).  It is my hope that we will be able to process this decision with grace and humility, making an effort to honor one another’s opinions and perspectives.

Right now, my intent is not to add more noise to the debate regarding God’s heart or the biblical standard regarding homosexuality.  Right now, I simply want to point out something compelling that I see in the new standards for ordination.

I think that in some respects we actually raised the bar.  With one single phrase in the new standards, I believe we elevated the conversation on what is required of a candidate for ordination.


The compelling phrase for me is: “Joyful submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ.”

As I reflect on my own ordination experience and on countless conversations with others either going through the ordination process or serving on a committee overseeing candidates for ordination, I have rarely heard of anyone being asked about or encouraged regarding the idea of submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ.  We are asked to confess that Jesus is Lord.  But, if we are honest, throughout the ordination process, that is simply assumed, at best.  

The new language for ordination standards roots the whole idea of ordination in a tremendously significant framework:  submission to Christ’s Lordship.

This past week, without realizing that the deciding votes were being cast, I started work on a sermon about the fall and the nature of sin.  The Genesis 3 account of Adam and Eve could perhaps be summarized as the decision to reject the Lordship of God.  God asked one thing of them - that they let him be God; that they let God tell them what is right and wrong; that they trust him as the source of truth and knowledge and goodness and life.  

But in taking the forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve chose to decide for themselves.  They rejected the Lordship of God and set themselves firmly on the throne of their hearts.

That was the sin of the Fall.  And it might be suggested that it is the nature of the sin in each of our own hearts.  We are quite sure that we know what is best for us; We consider ourselves able to fully provide for ourselves; in practice - we have no real need for God.  We have claimed that role for ourselves.

The new ordination standards call for “joyful submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ.”  The implications are, frankly, all encompassing.  In essence, it means that for the pastor (or candidate for ordination, or for the Christian, frankly) a foundational part of my journey towards Christ is learning to identify the dark corners of my life where I have maintained control.  Joyful submission means that I am passionately enthusiastic about looking for ways I have not yet allowed Jesus Christ to be the author of my life.  It means examining every habit, every thought, every action, every attitude and holding it up to the light of Christ, asking God to redeem it and transform it in the image of Christ for the purposes of his kingdom.

What is exempt?  Nothing.

It includes my spending habits and my budget.

It includes my eating habits and my health.

It includes the way I drive and it includes what I drive.

It includes the way I speak.


It includes how I engage with my kids when I get home.


It includes the time I spend on my smart phone when I get home.

It includes what I look at on my laptop. 

It includes how I reach out to my next door neighbor.


It includes how I speak on the golf course and in the pub.

In includes my friendships.


It includes my marriage.

And yes it includes, even as a married man, my sexuality.

In each and every area, I am called and bound to joyfully submit to the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

In each and every area, I am compelled to ask “Jesus, I give this area of my life to you.  It is not my own.  It is yours. What would you have me do?  How can I live it for your glory.” 

In each and every area, to pray “Not my will, but thine.”

This is a tremendously high bar. 

Obviously we are not asking those wishing to be ordained to have successfully surrendered every area.  That is the essence of the lifelong journey of discipleship.  But we are, absolutely and without question, asking candidates for ordination to pledge and demonstrate that they will constantly try.  We are holding up, as the very root of ordination and the very heart of the disciple, submitting to Christ.  

Are we truly willing to ask this question of one another?  Are we genuinely committed to challenging each other to this standard?  I hope so.  Because I need help getting there.  I need the encouragement and the accountability and the challenge of my peers.  Without it, I am not sure I will pursue it with the steadfastness it deserves.  

It’s a high bar.  If we really mean it, I think I like it.

Checking my attitude...

A friend on Facebook posted recently with this update:

When it comes to being community, there is a fine line between being a prophet in your own "hometown" and just being an jerk.

In terms of "being community," I took this words in the context of being a faith community.  Certainly there are many other levels of community.  My softball team is becoming a level of community for me.  And these words are true in every level of community.

But these words hit home for me in the context of church.

See, I like to think of myself as playing the role of the prophet.  (think Old Testament prophet here).  I feel like it's my "calling" to speak to the status quo and challenge the accepted norms.  It's hard for me to sit quietly when I see people or groups settling for something that's so far below what could be possible.  I love to point out what could be.  Maybe even what should be.  I love to encourage people to see differently, think differently, live differently.  I feel deeply that a part of my role in the faith community is to call people back to whole-hearted reliance on and connectedness to God.

But my friend is right.  There is a fine line between "being a prophet" and just "being a jerk."

Often times, I'm just a jerk.  And I'm sorry about that.  (I actually mean sorry - as in I intend to try my best, with God's help, to not do that again.)  I also want to invite you to call me on it.  "Hey bro, you're slipping off to the wrong side of the line." or maybe "Come on back to community, prophet boy." I'll laugh and nod and agree with you.

OK, all that said, I am who I am.  As long as you'll have me, you're going to have a pastor who resists easy answers because the hard answer might be better.  You'll have me saying uncomfortable things, because Jesus didn't die for us to be comfortable.  You'll have me pushing and pulling and calling and challenging because I believe in the deepest chamber of my soul that God is inviting us into possibilities that are so much greater than what we settle for.

Hopefully, I'll keep it on the line.

A bigger piece of the cake?

Mal Nygren was the senior pastor of our church from 1954 until 1990.  He had a huge impact on our church and on our community and is much loved still today.

In 2000, he wrote a wonderful booklet celebrating 150 years of our church history.  It is really moving to read story after story of our church sending groups of our own members out into the community.  He describes the experience of our church planting several other churches in the area.  It is really a story to be proud of.

But as he describes different ways of thinking about church growth, one paragraph really stood out for me:

A church that grows entirely by taking members away from existing churches isn't growing at all.  It isn't baking a bigger pie.  It is simply cutting a larger piece for itself. 

I love that sentiment.  I desperately hope that we grow, as a church.  But I am not interested in growth by "stealing sheep" from other churches.  I hope we grow because God is using us to reach out to and connect with people who are disconnected from the body of Christ.  As we continue to push ourselves to invite people in, can we agree to focus on inviting the disconnected rather than trying to pry people away from the place they've already been planted?

Thanks for the reminder Rev. Nygren!

A long overdue thanks

From today's Launch Blast:

I found myself reading John 5 this morning.  When I read, I try to pay attention to any phrase that triggers any kind of reaction in me.  Surprise, frustration, intrigue, excitement, doubt, any such response I take as a possible prompt from God.  Then I slow down and focus on that verse.

This morning I was grabbed by this words of Jesus:

“Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest.  Already he who reaps is receiving wages, and is gathering fruit for life eternal; that he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together.  For in this case the saying is true, ‘One sows, and another reaps.’  I sent you to reap that for which you have not labored; others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

Let me just say that I am HUGELY excited about the conversations we are having about the future of our church.  I can hardly keep it in, I’m so excited.  This morning, though, I realized how much of a debt of gratitude I owe the people who have paved the way for those possibilities.  I’m slightly embarrassed at the degree to which I’ve forgotten a critical point.  God used generations of people (from long before I was even a twinkle in my mother’s eye) to prepare this church for each new step of its journey.  And we build our future on the prayer and hard work of those before us.

And today I want to say THANK YOU!!!!

Thank you to the past spiritual leaders of our church.  Thanks to people like Mal Nygren and Dale Tutje for laying such a solid faith foundation deep in the hearts of our congregation.  Thanks to session members who spent many long nights wrestling with hard challenges and big ideas, trying to do one thing - discern God’s leading.  Thanks to committees and task forces who, time and time again, prayed and wondered and dreamed about God’s future.  Thanks to you, the members of this congregation, who stuck with us through tough times and uncertainies.  Thanks to those of you with spiritual vision who dared to dream of new possibilities.  Thanks to those with deep faith - who trusted that God would provide and protect us, even as we ventured into new places.  Thanks to the countless prayer warriors who covered our every step in petition to God; yours was probably the most important piece of what brought us to this point.  

As we move forward, I am praying that we would be blessed by God as people of the harvest.  I pray that we see God move mightily, in and through us, to accomplish his redemptive work in the lives of those around us.  And today I pray that we remember with gratitude those before us who tilled the fields and sowed the seed.  Our harvest is also your harvest.  

Thanks!

My 2 cents on bin Laden.

If you're anything like me, you've had more than your fill of people on Facebook and the blogosphere sharing their thoughts on how Christians ought to respond to the news about the death of bin Laden.  I have no intention of adding to the noise.  I'm not sure anything new can be said about it.  But for the sake of honesty, let me just say that I think the actions we took were necessary but not beautiful.  I think it was just, but I don't think it accomplishes justice.  I could say an awful lot more about that, but I think the bottom line for me is that there is a tension here and I think we just have to live in it.  


But the whole debate brings up something that is far more intriguing to me.  It's the idea that the Gospel (the good news regarding Jesus Christ) introduces the possibility of a different kind of response than we might otherwise be able to see or certainly to choose.


There are 2 scripture passages that are deeply relevant and I know you've seen these by now:

• Prov. 24:17 -  If your enemy falls, do not exult; If he trips, let your heart not rejoice 
• Matthew 5:43-45  -  “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,  that you may be children of your Father in heaven.

I met with a friend today who basically told me, if God seriously wants me to love my enemies, I don't think I can be who God wants me to be.  This was a guy who, on a very personal level, has every right and every reason to hate Osama bin Laden.  And yet he finds himself wrestling with the sense that God is asking something more of him.  And he (like me) isn't sure he can find that other response in his heart.

It occurs to me that this is the most spiritually significant point in the entire conversation about bin Laden.  This might be the question that matters the most.  This is hugely important.

It COULD be that we follow a God who more or less leaves us to our own means and basically challenges us to do our best.  The result would be that we just are who we are.  We can do what we can do.  And that's it.  If a certain standard is beyond my reach, then I just settle for what I CAN reach.

But the truth is so much better than that.  We follow a God whose creative work in us continues.  This is amazing - God is intent on my becoming MORE than I currently am.  Through God I find myself able to do MORE than I can currently do.  With God, all kinds of other possibilities open up because our infinitely creative God is able to do so much more than we can possibly imagine.  

This isn't remotely about shame in terms of who we are right now.  No shame allowed here.  This is about God who is constantly dreaming about what is possible in my life - and my own dreams can't even come close to measuring up to what God dreams on my behalf.  

So when I read that love never fails...well, my own vision fails.  My own capacity for love fails.  My ability to love my enemies definitely has its limits.  But GOD'S capacity for love opens up so many other possibilities.  

All of which leaves me thinking, I'm suddenly way less worried about how I should or shouldn't respond to the news of bin Laden's death.  I'm too caught up asking God to show me some of the dreams he might have for me.  I'm too excited exploring some of the things that are possible for me, because of Jesus Christ in me.  

A great quote from the Exponential Conference...

“Here’s the church. Here’s the steeple. Open the door and see all the people.” You know who thought up this memory device? The Devil. The church is not a destination. It is a people. It’s not a building. It is a missionary force." -Rob Wegner

What's in your stable?

My friend Tim pointed me to a great scripture today. This is Proverbs 14:4

"Where no oxen are, the manger is clean.  But much increase comes by the strength of the ox."

Oxen are messy.  And they stink.  Well, maybe its less the oxen that stink as much as it is the by-product of being an oxen.  But oxen are also strong.  They can do an amazing amount of work.  They are steady; they pull hard; they keep on going.

So you've got a choice to make.  You can have oxen (and all the accompanying mess) and experience much increase.  OR you can have a clean barn and no mess, and no growth.  But you can't have both.

I see within the church a desire for "much increase."  I see a longing to make a big difference.  A desire to draw people to God.  A sincere and heartful hope that through us, the Kingdom of Heaven will grow and grow with "much increase."  We want to see ourselves and our church GROW.

But it seems that we get stuck because, as much as we want "much increase," we also want the place to stay clean.  You know what I mean here, right?  We want things nice and neat and orderly.  We want things to stay the same. We want to know what's what.  We want to feel like we're in control.  More than anything, we want things to happen without too much effort or without it requiring too much of me.  We want the growth without the oxen.

So here's what I'm thinking:  I want to see what it looks like when God accomplishes "much increase" in and through us.  I want to be a part of that.  So bring on the oxen.  Bring it on.  Even if it means we have to reconfigure the way we do things.  Even if it means this will be messy and we'll make some mistakes. Even if it means I'm gonna get dirty in the process.

Bring on the oxen.

Do you prefer routine or change?

I'm a creature of habit.  I choose the same restaurants.  I order the same dishes.  I wear the same clothes (since college, my wife reminds me).  I go to the same coffee shop (and sit at the same table).  Boring, right?

In Luke 10 - Jesus sends out 72 of his followers into the villages ahead of him.  He tells them not to move around from house to house (or maybe from restaurant to restaurant).  I'm starting to realize the depth of purpose behind this instruction.  Instead of creating a new "outreach" program that needs a new team to lead it, and volunteers to staff it, and money to resource it, we instead choose to settle into some consistent routines.  And suddenly we find ourselves becoming more available to God and to those around us - and it doesn't require a single ounce of extra energy or effort or time.

What if we decided to visit the same places at the same time every week.  And committed to enter those places open and willing to be useful to God?

Dream with me for a second about what might happen if we applied this "don't move around" instruction to our day to day lives.  Instead of picking a lunch destination on Wednesday's based on what sounds best to eat that day, I pick the same place every Wednesday.  Mark and I meet there (Jesus sent them out in 2's) and sit at the same table.  And are served by the same waitress.  We even order the same dish, every time: Chicken Pad Thai - extra spicy.  Now she just says, "the usual?"  Eventually we talk about other things.  Turns out we are fans of the same TV show.  We trade theories on what's happening.  After awhile I notice that she always wears a gold cross.  One day I ask, "Hey, you're always wearing that same cross.  What does that mean to you?"  The door opens to all kinds of other conversations.  We start to ask her how we can pray for her.  Turns out her mother back in Thailand is dying.  She's sad that she likely won't make it back there to see her again before she dies.  We pray for her.  We've known her for a year when we start bringing Debbie to lunch with us.  After a few weeks Debbie tells her about a group of women in our church who meet weekly to study the Bible and encourage each other.  A month later, the waitress is coming to that group and feeling cared for and accepted in a way she has never experienced before.  

 I also discover that there are some other folks who eat at this same restaurant every Wednesday as well.  Eventually we cross paths somewhere else and I say, "Hey, don't I see you in Nitaya every Wednesday?"  We begin to talk briefly on Wednesdays.  One day, (even though it feels awkward) I ask this guy if I can share a table with him.  We have a great conversation.  As we start to get to know each other, I'm just listening and asking good questions.  I'm praying for him and praying that God would work through those conversations.  I'm listening for those moments when I feel God nudge me to share something about my life and my faith.  Maybe one of these days I'll tell him about Malawi. I think that will be really compelling to him. I have no idea where this will new friendship will lead.  

To be perfectly honest, when I step back and look at what's happening, I can hardly believe it.  If you had told me I had to go find 2 strangers and develop a friendship in the hopes of being able to speak the love and mercy of Christ into their lives, I don't think I would have even tried.  

But it's happening.  It's happening without requiring a single moment of extra effort.  I'm doing something I would be doing anyway.  Going out to lunch.  But I'm going to lunch with a purpose.  I'm going to lunch as God's partner on a mission.

And it all started by deciding to settle into a routine.

Don't move around from place to place.  Settle in and be available.  Pray that God would use you!  See what happens.

Do you care?

At the last Presbytery meeting we had, the speaker was describing a host of changes that are being proposed for the way we organize ourselves as a denomination.  I'll save you the details.  But it involved such important things as committee names and bureaucratic structures.  After the presentation, someone in the crowd rose and asked if the speaker really believed these changes would help us connect with new people and stop shrinking as a denomination.

The speaker's response was intriguing.  He basically said, "I don't care if we shrink or if we grow.  That's the wrong question."

I can't think of a statement I've heard recent years that I more fully agreed with and at the same time was more disturbed by.

First of all, I absolutely agree that "growing the church" is the wrong scorecard.  I flinch at the idea of a church having "Get Bigger" as its goal.  For one thing, if you are trying to reach people BECAUSE you want to grow your church, it will inevitably come across that way and I don't think it will work.  It's not authentic or gospel focused.  It's dangerous.

But on the other hand, when I thought about the "I don't care if we grow" statement, I couldn't help but think about the fact that the un-churched population in our community is ever expanding.  The number of people who are disconnected from the grace giving body of Christ is growing daily.  There are ever more people missing out on the peace of Christ in their lives.

And we don't care.

Maybe we settle on the "I don't care" option because we're scared to death of the idea of trying to actually have spiritual conversations with our un-churched friends.  Or maybe we lean towards not caring because we aren't really convinced that our unchurched friends are missing out on anything.

Whatever the reason, the "not caring" option stands in stark contrast with the way Paul DOES care in 1 Corinthians 9 - "I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might win some.  I do all these things for the sake of the gospel."

Now here's the thing: Clearly there is a difference between wanting our churches to grow and desperately wanting our neighbor to connect with Jesus Christ.  I don't believe for a second that the presenter at Presbytery doesn't care about people's souls.  It's just that in my very limited experience, the "I don't care" position tends to affect the way we think about both our church AND our neighbor.

I sincerely hope our church grows.  But not because I want a bigger church.  I hope our church grows because we desperately care about our neighbors meeting Jesus.  I hope our church grows because we are doing everything we do for the sake of the gospel.  I hope our church grows as a result of our becoming all things to all people in order to save some.

I hope we care.

CS Lewis telling it like it is.

God works on us in all sorts of ways. But above all, he works on us through each other. People are mirrors, or carriers of Christ to other people. Ususally it is those who know Him that bring Him to others. That is why the church, the whole body of Christians showing Him to one another, is so important. It is so easy to think that the church has a lot of different objects - education, buildings, missions, holding services … the Church exists for no other purpose but to draw people to Christ, to make them little Christs. If they are not doing that, all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible itself, are simply a waste of time. God became man for no other purpose. It is even doubtful, you know, whether the whole universe was created for any other purpose.  - C.S. Lewis

One sentence from this quote really grips me: the idea that everything we have and all that we do is simply a waste of time if we are not living out our core purpose of drawing people to Christ.  Let me say that I am starting with a core assumption: that core purpose of drawing people to Christ has as its focus those who are not connected to Christ.  In other words - what I think Lewis is describing is a church that exists primarily for those who are not yet a part of the church.


As a pastor, it's awfully easy for me to get caught up in all the "church" activity - to the point that I don't even have the opportunity to live out this purpose Lewis is describing.  It's not hard to tell when I'm in that church-centric place.  It's when I call our church to reach out and draw people to Christ - and I don't have my own personal story about trying to do that.


Here's the irony.  Lewis points out that God usually works on us through other Christ followers.  We need to be in community with one another.  BUT sometimes, the activity of the church can actually prevent us from doing the work of the church.  See, our life together isn't our core purpose.  It is only an instrument to equip us for our core purpose.


Sometimes, we need to do less church in order to more of the work of the church.  Make sense?


I understand that as a pastor, it is partly my responsibility to be available to the community of Christ followers that I serve.  But I ask their forgiveness if sometimes I make myself less available so that I can be more available for that work of Christ to which I believe we are called.  Forgive me if I sometimes put myself in places where God can use me to connect with people who are NOT a part of our faith community.  Forgive me if I resist adding more church programming - it is only because I don't want it to get in the way of getting on with the church MISSION.  I hope that doesn't make me less of a pastor in your eyes.  Because I really believe it makes me a better Christ follower.

A different kind of death spiral

From an NPR story today:  There is a species of army ant that is completely blind.  They get about by sniffing trails left by the ants in front of them. They, in turn, leave chemical trails of their own. The system works smoothly when everybody's going in a straight line in one direction...

But when the lead ants start to loop, bad things can happen. If the ant-in-front loops and intersects with its old trail, the whole crowd then turns in on itself and everybody gets caught in the endless circle.  There are some amazing videos of this phenomenon on Youtube.  Here's a computer simulation:






Apparently, these ants will continue following the leader in an endless circle until they literally starve to death.

So maybe you've realized this about me.  I'm always looking for ways that stories like this can help us see ourselves (and specifically the church) in a new light.  I watch this video and think instantly of our patterns of passing on the faith through the centuries in the church.  Someone ahead of us went a certain direction and so we just keep right on following, forever circling.

Frequently, it seems to me, this happens in the form of tradition.  We've always done it that way.  Never mind that it might not be actually getting us anywhere.  That's just how we do it.  The ants in the death circle would be "freed" almost instantly if just one or two ants could see what was happening and just decided to turn right.  But they can't.  They are too focused on keeping in step with the one who went before them.

Other times, I think, this happens for the exact opposite reason.  We can see plainly that the way we've always done it is leading us in a slow death spiral.  We are desperate to find another way.  We notice someone going off in a new direction and we jump in line and follow.  Even if they are going off in the completely wrong direction, at least they are going somewhere - so we follow.  If you watch a few times, you may notice that the "lead ant" seems to realize that he doesn't know exactly where to go.  He very briefly hesitates, then turns right and circles back until he falls back into his own steps.  Which wouldn't be a big problem except that eventually every other ant ends up following his lead.

Here's the thing.  I don't believe that "creation" was a one time event for God.  I think God is in the business of bringing new things into being.  Breathing life into old dead bones.  Taking things that are broken and making something whole, something new.  Tradition can be a rich and meaningful way to belong, but it without the ability to change and adapt, we will almost certainly find ourselves in a death spiral.  Innovation is absolutely essential, but change for change sake (or simply following the lead of somebody else who charted a new course) can be equally deadly.

The hardest thing of all, but the truest and most important, is to identify the path that God sets before us.  That path will ALWAYS be consistent with the way of Jesus, but it seems equally true to me that it will also always be experiencing newness (new creation, new life, and yes...new direction) based on our particular contexts.

Those ants have me thinking...
I'll probably come back to this soon.

Quit feeding the birds...

I don't know if robins fly south for the winter or not.  But I sure don't see them during the winter.  The last week or so, I've started to see them again in our yard.  Spring's coming!!!

Seeing the robins reminded me a moment last summer behind Aroma coffee shop.  As I sat at one of the outdoor tables reading, I noticed several small birds hopping around on the ground, getting surprisingly close to my chair.  I've got the focus of a hyperactive 8 year old so soon I was just watching the birds.

Pretty soon, I realized that one of the birds was slightly larger.  Then I noticed that even though all the birds were hopping around, the only one that was actually pecking on the ground was this one slightly larger bird.  Finally I noticed that she was actually feeding the other birds.  She was the mother bird and these were her nearly grown, almost ready to fly away, baby birds.

These baby birds looked like they were fully grown.  It took me several minutes of watching to realize they weren't.  They could fly - at least well enough to scoot off to the nearest bush if someone walked by.  But the one thing they couldn't seem to do was feed themselves.

The birds just hopped around, following the mother bird, waiting for her to deposit dropped pieces of bagel into their open mouths.  The mother bird was picking up the crumbs of food from the ground right in front of the baby birds.  On one occasion, a baby bird dropped the morsel her mother put in her mouth.  It fell right at her little feet.  But the baby just sat there and looked at it, until the mother came over, picked up the crumb, and re-deposited it in the baby's mouth.  Even though the food was right in front of them, the baby birds just sat and waited to be fed.

Then I had a startling realization.  (really - I don't have "aha" moments like this often - but this one almost knocked me out of my chair)....

That's exactly how we approach discipleship in the church.

We more or less sit (in the pews perhaps) and wait for someone to deposit the truth in our mouths.  Even though the Bibles are right there in front of us, we don't often open them.  We just wait for it to be fed to us.  And let me be clear, I'm implicating myself here.  I've got this great big fancy Bible sitting here on my desk beside me, right now.  And I'll open it a couple of times a week as I prepare a sermon.  I rarely open it just for the sake of growing in my relationship with Jesus.  

Here's a couple of hard questions:

How much responsibility do you take for your own spiritual growth?

What steps do you take personally (beyond going to a worship service) to grow as a disciple?

All that said, I know there are a bunch of folks in my church who take their journey of discipleship VERY seriously.  They challenge and encourage me.  And I am so grateful for them.  Grateful for YOU!  I think what I most want to say is that I apologize for the times I've simply been an enabler instead of challenging you to run on ahead.  

I'm energized by the idea of being part of a community of people who are giving the term "Empty Nesters" a whole new meaning.

We're folks who aren't sitting in the nest anymore just waiting to be fed.  We've moved out and are chasing after Jesus with as much energy and passion as we can!

Familiarity breeds apathy

I’ve started using the New Zealand Prayer Book in the mornings as a devotional guide.  These prayers and readings are from a very liturgical church tradition.  Somehow these readings feel as if they pull me into a sacred space.  They are proving to be a great way to get started when I sit down at my desk in the morning.

This mornings reading started with one sentence from the Lord’s Prayer:

“Your kingdom come, Your will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

How many times have you spoken those words aloud in worship without giving any thought to what they mean?  These are loaded words.  So full of implication and challenge. They are dangerous.  Well, only if we actually mean what we are praying.

As I thought about those words this morning, it reminded me of the story in Luke when Jesus sent out the 72 ahead of him.  His instructions to them were, whenever they came to a house they were to say, “The Kingdom of heaven is near.”  The Kingdom of Heaven - that’s talking about where God’s will is done on earth.  When Jesus came and lived among us, that was the initiation of the Kingdom of Heaven.  It is no longer just near.  It is here.  We followers of Christ are citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven.  We live in and as a part of this invisible Kingdom that exists right here in the midst of the the earthly place we live.  The church is intended to be an outpost of the Kingdom.  A mission outpost if you will.

What’s the mission?  God’s will done on Earth as it is in Heaven.  It’s God’s Kingdom expanding and increasing and blessing Earth.  

Jesus said, “The kingdom of God (the church) is like yeast; a woman takes it and mixes it with flour until the dough (the world) is risen.”  

Here’s the biggest implication: We aren’t just here to exist among those around us.  We are called to bless and enrich and invite and embrace those around us. 

We don’t just pray for God’s Kingdom to come.  We work for God’s Kingdom to come.  

We don’t just pray that God’s will be done.  We strive to always do God’s will. 

What might happen if we prayed it....and meant it?

The biggest day in sports...

Well, at least for a huge chunk of crazy college football fans.  Today is National Signing Day - it's the day that high school seniors sign on the dotted line for the school for whom they will play college football.  Really, this is much more than just a one day event.  There are subscription based websites that give fans year round info on prospective athletes.  Otherwise normal adults spend countless hours debating the football potential of teenage guys.

OK, if you're a big football fan, your thinking, what's the big deal.  I'll admit I spend at least an hour today checking on who signed with the University of Georgia (we got two 5 star players and a really good class, overall). 

But I also have to admit, I get a sneaking feeling that there's something not quite right with this whole picture.  What worries me is that we are building a culture in which these kids are valued only for what they can do on the football field.  They are graded and valued on every single aspect of their physical ability.  It all comes down to the fact that your worth only based on what you can do.

You are only as good as what you do.

If I had the chance to speak to these kids, I think I might tell them that I am sorry.  I'm sorry because I know that this ability based sense of value is so fleeting and superficial.  I'm sorry because someday they won't be able to do what they can do.  Some of them won't even "live up to their potential" - they won't be able to cut it on the college football field.  Do they then cease to be valuable?  

At the end of the day, I think this whole Signing Day drama makes me think of my own sense of worth. If I'm honest, I often base my own sense of worth on what I can accomplish.  And when the accomplishment is less than the hope or the expectation, how do you not associate that with your own sense of worth?  

Maybe most important of all is the fact that this performance based sense of value is starkly at odds with what the Bible says.  How's this for a contrast:  before we ever did anything that would even potentially qualify us as deserving of love, God chose us.  God loved us when we were completely unlovable.  Our value comes from the fact that God made us valuable.  And that's the end of the story. 

Dear football recruit.  If you never play another down of football, you are precious in the eyes of God.

I can't drive....55

I wonder if there’s anyone out there as compulsive as I am about this.  I have this driving desire to find the most efficient route possible for my morning commute.  I’ve been working on this for over 3 years now and I think I finally maximized my route for efficiency.  It took an incredible amount of thought and experimentation to figure this out.  It starts at Barkstall where I drop of Kobe.  Turns out it is .8 miles shorter to go through Cherry Hills, instead of backtracking to Curtis.  Then I turn East on Windsor.  I turn left on Mattis if I’ve got the light (otherwise I take Prospect).  Then I turn right on Springfield (because the speed limit is higher than University and there are 2 fewer lights to contend with).  Then left on McKinley (because that avoids the delay at Prospect intersection AND it gets you beyond the school traffic on University).  Next turn right on University and pray you catch the light on Prospect.  Stay on University past Central High and then left on Elm St.  The last time saver is to take the alley between Church and Hill and take it all the way to the church parking lot. It saves about 50 yards and bypasses 2 stop signs.  That’s maximum efficiency.

Compulsive?  Extreme?  Maybe so.  But I don’t think I’m that different from most folks.  Truth be told, our whole culture is driven by a desire for maximizing efficiency.  We want everything to happen as quickly as possible and as smoothly as possible.  Anything that causes us to have to slow down or have to wait, we consider a hassle and a problem.  It becomes something to conquer.  Like my commute.  

But here’s my question this morning: What if quicker isn’t actually better?  What if efficiency isn’t actually the highest value?  What if we are living our lives with some misguided priorities?  What if the drive is as important as the destination?

When I step away from my compulsive desire for an efficient commute, I realize something: God just doesn’t seem to work that way.  

When God was leading the Israelites out of Egypt (a journey that could have been done in a fraction of the time it actually took), God led them around for 40 years.  Another example, in the Psalms, we hear the constant refrain “God how long must we wait?”  David, it seems, was in a hurry too.  But God wasn’t.  

As I thought about all this, it called to mind Jesus journeying with his disciples.  He was never, it seems, in a hurry to get to a destination.  In fact, when a man came and asked Jesus to hurry home with him because the man’s daughter was sick, Jesus was in no hurry whatsoever.  And the girl died before he got there.  Of course, Jesus then raised the girl from the dead.  But, had Jesus been focused on maximum efficiency, that miracle wouldn’t have happened.

I think the point is one that has been made by many before me.  God is in the journey every bit as much as in the destination.  When we are so focused on getting where we are going, we miss seeing God at work in the “in between”.  Maybe we need to slow down and look for what God is up to all around us right now.  Even as we are on the way to somewhere else.  

Sorry if this sounds familiar...

I was reading back through some of our old conversations at the Launch.  This quote continues to feel like it is deeply applicable.  Thoughts?

Jesus's teaching consistently attracted the irreligious while offending the Bible-believing, religious people of his day. However, in the main, our churches today do not have this effect. The kind of outsiders Jesus attracted are not attracted to contemporary churches, even our most avant-garde ones. We tend to draw conservative, buttoned-down, moralistic people. The licentious and liberated or the broken and marginal avoid church. That can only mean one thing. If the preaching of our ministers and the practice of our parishioners do not have the same effect on people that Jesus had, then we must not be declaring the same message that Jesus did. If our churches aren't appealing to younger brothers, they must be more full of elder brothers than we'd like to think.

by Tim Keller in The Prodigal God, 14-15.

Who do you think we attract?
Who maybe SHOULD we be attracting?
Why don't we?