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    Monday
    Sep262016

    The Ascension and the Defeat of Shame

    One of the central ideas within Christianity is that of forgiveness. Christians proclaim the forgiveness of sins, and exhort disciples of Jesus to “forgive as they have been forgiven.” But it is not uncommon to encounter those within a congregation who cannot embrace the forgiveness that has been offered to them, or experience guilt because of their inability to forgive those who have wronged them.

    This is most often so because of the belief that our forgiveness is contingent upon our acceptance of forgiveness, or that an offer of forgiveness hinges on our ability to forgive.

    I am not denying that our acceptance of forgiveness lacks importance, nor that forgiveness is a responsibility and command that Christians should obey. But I am arguing that forgiveness received and granted are acts of faith given in response to the action of God accomplished in and through Jesus Christ. In forgiveness, the emphasis should first be upon what God has done. What we do then naturally follows.

    When we do not forgive as we ought, or when we fall prey to the belief that we are not worthy of forgiveness, we do well to consider Jesus. We consider his action upon the cross, where sin and death was put to death. We think of his great love for us, but also for all of humanity. We consider what he has done, and then find the grace we need to act.

    But we also do well to consider the ascension. On the third day, God vindicated Jesus by raising him from the dead. Our redemption was accomplished on Good Friday and established on Easter Sunday. And even now Jesus reigns.

    In The Face of Forgiveness, Philip D. Jamieson writes:

    The resurrected face of Jesus reveals the finality of God’s victory over sin and death. The empty tomb reveals that there is no return to the downturned face. The Father has lifted Christ’s face and we are now called to look to him. He is no mere example of a good man. He is the living Lord who has overcome all things that would harm us. His is the face that would not look away, even on Friday, and now we know on Sunday that we never will stop looking.

    A verse:

    Our guilt and shame no longer rule,
    We need not look away.
    His face of grace beholds us.
    Emboldened by atoning love, his truth it now enfolds us.
    Dying, rising, reigning now,
    It is Thee, Thou art the way.

    Friday
    Sep232016

    Distracted From What?

    Andrew Sullivan's "My Distraction Sickness--and Yours" has been widely noted this week on social media, though I haven't seen an abundance of comments. The most frequent response I have seen is an amen. The essay is lengthy and worth the time and attention it requires. Read it in one sitting, with no breaks for checking Facebook. Sullivan examines the consequences of life "in the internet," which includes the prospect of losing one's soul. (I think Sullivan means that metaphorically; I do not.)

    In one notable passage Sullivan turns his attention to churches. He has keenly observed that Christian communities have been eager adopters of the various forms of technology that have fueled our constant state of distraction. I would add that evangelical communities, because of their commitments to evangelism and outreach, are representative poster children. Pragmatic concerns have driven decision making in evangelical communities rather than sustained and principled conviction, particularly regarding technology, and the tools have remade the user in their own image. Sullivan says churches would have been better off by remaining committed to quiet places, silence, and contemplative prayer. He writes:

    If the churches came to understand that the greatest threat to faith today is not hedonism but distraction, perhaps they might begin to appeal anew to a frazzled digital generation. Christian leaders seem to think that they need more distraction to counter the distraction. Their services have degenerated into emotional spasms, their spaces drowned with light and noise and locked shut throughout the day, when their darkness and silence might actually draw those whose minds and souls have grown web-weary. But the mysticism of Catholic meditation — of the Rosary, of Benediction, or simple contemplative prayer — is a tradition in search of rediscovery. The monasteries — opened up to more lay visitors — could try to answer to the same needs that the booming yoga movement has increasingly met.

    I agree, if only in part. I am one of the web-weary and digitally frazzled, and I have worked with those who are either fragmented because of their technological addictions or who are well on their way. I do think silence, meditation, and prayer are curative. But the effects of those practices must manifest themselves in the lives of disciples of Jesus. We need souls that are quiet and still, not just church buildings or meditative liturgies.

    We do have a distraction problem, and Sullivan is right to say that our souls suffer. But if we are distracted, we must answer from what, and the corrective must be both practical and curative. It must be restorative for the soul, not as metaphorical construct or literary referent for a scientific understanding of the self, but as a spiritual reality, classically understood. Christians have a robust theological tradition that suggests the self is willfully distracted from God because of sin, and therefore modern technology is only the latest avenue by which our hearts and minds are so easily seduced. Stated differently, this is an old problem in new packaging. Thankfully, there is an old solution that can be freshly applied: renewed attention to God that is passionate, thoughtful, and sustained. In Jesus, we find rest for our souls.

    Some might dismiss that as platitudinous and simplistic. I do not mean it that way. I understand that abstaining from social media, implementing wise practices in order to be present with friends and family, and giving time and focus to prayer, Bible reading, or Christian fellowship requires discipline. The present distractions are not small and seldom, they are immense and pervasive. To acknowledge they exist, however, is a turning point and a beginning, just as repentance is both a first and an ongoing step on the path of discipleship.

    Thursday
    Sep222016

    The Church and the Collective Yes

    Is Jesus Lord, or are the forces of advanced modernity lord? The church that cannot say no to all that contradicts its Lord is a church that is well down the road to cultural defeat and captivity. But the courage to say no has to be followed by an equally clear, courageous and constructive yes--to the Lord himself, to his gospel and his vision of life, humanity and the future, so that Christians can be seen to live differently and to live better in the world of today.

    - Os Guinness, Impossible People: Christian Courage and the Struggle for the Soul of Civilization

    The claim that Christianity in Western civilization faces numerous challenges is uncontroversial, though the ways in which people respond to those challenges are broadly diverse. One option is retreat, the preference of some fundamentalists, who are too often content to create isolated subcommunities of doctrinal and moral purity that fervently condemn those on the outside. Another option is syncretism and assimilation, outcomes which are never embraced or intended outright, but reach fruition over time as Christian communities slowly accommodate themselves to the dominant cultural narratives, a reality that is all too often seen among milquetoast “mainline” Christian denominations. A third response is quietism, a way forward typified by withdrawal from public discourse that may be accompanied by dedication to private piety, but leaves the concerns of the present age largely untouched.

    I have immense respect for the work of Os Guinness. I have read his books and once heard him deliver a lecture while I was a student at The University of Kansas. Guinness works diligently to present orthodox Christian convictions in light of the foremost challenges (some will say threats) of our times, and to do so with a charity and winsomeness that is seldom found within evangelicalism. He also does his best to explain the causes of these challenges, whether they be political, philosophical, social, or theological, and to urge the church toward a steadfast faithfulness to the gospel.

    But the question that remains is that of how. It is one thing to tell people to be faithful, grow in knowledge of the Scriptures, and to pray fervently. Reminding Christian people of their calling to conduct their work to God’s glory or to engage in public discourse is a noble admonition. But what to say, and how to say it, and who to partner with are the practical considerations that most often go unanswered. That is not always their responsibility. The church must heed the voices of her prophets, and turn to the Lord for answers.

    Answers begin to emerge, in part, through local associations. For Christians, this is the church. Or, in any given community, the ecumenical efforts of the body of Christ who are connected within the business or professional communities. Intellectual theorists and academics serve the church well when they help Christians assess their moment, lend understanding, and offer prescriptions. But it is all talk until those prescriptions are field tested, either through action or in prayerful conversation.

    Individuals are not powerless. All of us can live according to Christian convictions. Private prayer is a powerful act. But our best "courageous and constructive yes" to our Lord Jesus Christ is a yes alongside others within Christian fellowship. Together we are better equipped to live according to the commands given by Jesus himself, and to embody his vision in this age and in preparation for the age to come. The church, to the degree we are faithful, also provides a more powerful and compelling no to the ways of the world. It is one thing for the world to be faced with a faithful individual, it is yet another to be confronted by a faithful community. To paraphrase Stanley Hauerwas, the church’s first task is to be the church, thereby making clear that the world is, in fact, the world.

    Challenges will not dissipate entirely and suffering may come. Jesus was plain on that point. But Jesus remains Lord. Take courage. Fear not.

    Wednesday
    Sep212016

    Can Pastors Keep it Real and Lead Well? An Interview with Mandy Smith

    Church leaders are people. This means they possess both strengths and shortcomings. On some days, they fulfill their calling and serve really well. And then there are the days when everything falls apart. Eugene Peterson observed, “Every congregation is a congregation of sinners. As if that weren’t bad enough, they all have sinners for pastors.” Our pastors come with flaws.

    That is not always easy to remember. We compare one minister to another and often have selective memories. Our expectations differ from those of other congregants. We want our pastors to please everyone. Simultaneously our concerns are considered the foremost criteria by which we evaluate our ministers. The way in which pastors choose to lead becomes more complicated when we consider the scene beyond the local context: celebrity pastors, excellent podcasts, and en vogue models of leadership influence our understandings of success. Those models can be too narrow.

    The dominant and prevailing understandings of pastoral leadership are insufficient. That’s why we need other voices, not only for the sake of pastors trying to find their place but also for congregants. There is more than one way to be a healthy congregation, and more than one way to lead. It is hard to remember that sometimes.

    Mandy Smith serves as lead pastor of University Christian Church in Cincinnati, Ohio. She is author of The Vulnerable Pastor: How Human Limitations Empower Our Ministry (InterVarsity Press, 2015). Her book is a welcome addition to the broader conversation concerning church leadership. She is forthcoming about her experiences and provides an alternative way of understanding the pastoral task, which includes a profound reliance on God, an openness to the Spirit at work in the congregation and community, and what I’ll describe as holy patience with oneself as God works out his purposes within the life of the minister.

    I’ve read a number of church leadership books, and I found this one unique and valuable. Last week I corresponded with her, and asked a few questions about The Vulnerable Pastor.

    B: I really enjoyed The Vulnerable Pastor. What led you to write the book?

    Most of my writing grows from wishing someone else had written it for me. I’ve felt quite alone in figuring out how to lead and yet still be myself so if there’s any way I can be with someone else as they wrestle with similar questions, it’s my joy to do that. And although it’s risky to put my story out there, it’s worth it for the possibility that I may hear back from readers and find our stories are similar. Although writing can be a solitary task, I see it as one part of a larger conversation. I love that conversation.

    B: One of the commitments I found throughout your book was to the practice of prayer, either liturgically, congregationally, or through a cultivated posture of listening to God throughout your day, whether in conversation, study, or through your writing or art. How does prayer shape the work of a vulnerable pastor?

    If we claim to rely on him, it makes sense that we would engage with him. I have a tendency to claim to need God but then spend most of my time talking about him, planning to do stuff for him, troubleshooting in my own strength, fretting over things that are beyond me. So part of prayer is the words I say but a big part is just the choice to pray, turning from the way I act when I think it’s all up to me and choosing to take on the posture of prayer. The act itself of turning reminds me I’m not alone and it’s okay to ask for help. I need that reminder a lot. In prayer there is no shame in our human limitation.

    B: You spoke of prayer as a reminder that God is with us and responds to our petitions for help, and that prayer itself is a reminder of our limits. I can see how those reminders are helpful for the pastor. How do those reminders influence your relationships with your congregants?

    It’s amazing how the things that we think are so shameful and that we try so hard to hide from congregants often become moments of breakthrough when we let them be seen. As much as we think we serve folks by looking strong and competent, it only perpetuates the impression that we live an unattainable kind of holiness. As leaders we don’t want them to see our doubt, our family troubles, our bad days. But strangely enough, and although it’s always uncomfortable, when I’ve said “I have to be honest with you, I don’t have the answers” others have had a chance to offer ideas--or find grace that they also have questions. When I’ve said “I really am struggling today” others have seen faithfulness does not mean always feeling happy. Of course, there are unhealthy ways to rely on folks we’re supposed to be leading but many of our more human moments can be ways to show that we’re all following the Lord together. Then our role is no longer to be the one they rely on. Instead our role is to model reliance on God. In some ways leading by having it all together and looking strong is harder than modeling reliance on God. In some ways it’s easier.

    B: Your book is notable because of your willingness to shatter any existing delusions of pastoral invincibility and to reveal how human limitations and weaknesses are present in church leaders. How does this kind of vulnerability help the church become more faithful to the gospel, for pastors and congregants?

    If God is not limited by our brokenness, that’s truly good news! Whether it’s to help us live out our call or help us in our parenting or save us from sin, it all feels like the Gospel to me! The world teaches us it’s shameful when we need to rest, get old or sick or can’t fix things or don’t understand. But God is not surprised that we’re human and longs to be shown to us and through us as humans. When we come to terms with the limitations and opportunities in the human nature he gave us, we’re more able to fill our role and let him fill His. And we have a greater appreciation of the work of God-as-human (Jesus) and of God-in-humans (the Spirit).

    B: In the latter half of your book you explore how vulnerability informs your teaching and preaching, and examine the relationship between teaching and the overall process of spiritual formation within the Christian community. What do you mean by “process,” and how does your emphasis on process help those in your congregation grow as disciples of Jesus Christ?

    In the western world we’re all about product. Productivity has become sacred. On the other hand, in any creative endeavor (including partnering with God in his recreation of ourselves and this world), the process is significant. How we get there can’t be distinguished from where we’re going. I’ve found that there’s a lot of pressure to arrive--to have all the answers, to be all we should be. But there’s peace to be found in submitting to the humbling process of learning a little at a time. It’s a grace actually--as much as we want it all now, our hearts and minds could not take in the fullness of the goodness and beauty of God all at once! The emphasis on process allows folks in our congregation to set aside the anxious work of creating their own personal brand. Embracing the process gives them grace to trust that whatever God is doing in them is a partnership--a listening and responding to the work of the Spirit. The pressure to arrive gets in the way of the journey and once we’re released from it, we are free to enjoy the unfolding of where God leads us, day by day, together.

    B: Lastly, what words of wisdom would you offer to those actively discerning a call to serve in pastoral ministry/church leadership? And, since I am married to a woman in ministry, do you have any words of wisdom or encouragement specifically for women?

    As we’re discerning a call, we often look at what skills, personality, passions we have and compare it to other people we’ve seen in leadership. But the models of Christian leadership have been very narrow in recent years. We need men and extroverts and management-oriented folks and we also need women and introverts and artists and folks who often feel like outsiders in the church. So my advice to those discerning that call would be: look not only to contemporary spiritual leaders but also to the many models of leaders in scripture--most of whom had good reason to not feel capable (they were too old, too young, too different, not educated etc) and yet were used powerfully by God. There’s supposed to be a moment when something amazing happens and people say “Hmm, that person is not capable of what we just saw. There must be a greater power at work here!” The question is, are we willing to let our limitation be seen so his power can be obvious?

    On the question about women: The world’s way of thinking about our role as women often has to do with our rights. Which, of course, is not the way of the Lord. For a long time I thought in terms of “The church has to give women a chance! It’s our turn!” but the more I learn about this moment in the history of the Western church, the more I say “The church desperately needs what women bring!” As women entering ministry we’re often painfully aware how different we are from leadership norms and can feel like second-class citizens. But the natural skills women often have (don’t want to speak in stereotypes here) which the world sees as weak or unimportant--warmth, collaborative skills, listening, empathy, flexibility, patience, humility, community building, hospitality, openness to difference--are exactly what God wants to use to lead the church through its current identity crisis. The more I read scripture, the more I see the depth of God’s heart, the more I see the power of a woman’s emotional and spiritual energy to express that heart to the world.

    Many thanks to Mandy for joining me and answering my questions. The Vulnerable Pastor is available at Amazon.

    Thursday
    Sep152016

    Teach Us to Pray

    I do not recall who taught me to pray.

    Somehow, some way, I learned. And I am learning.

    My family was a starting point. Church and Sunday school were secondary settings. Together, we prayed. Or, at least I listened. Through listening, I learned reliable words I could try for myself. I also learned there is a God who hears and who is actively engaged with this world, and there is nothing beyond the purview of that God’s care.

    In his essay “Teach Us to Care, and Not to Care,” Eugene Peterson writes:

    Teaching people to pray is teaching them to treat all the occasions of their lives as altars on which they receive his gifts. Teaching people to pray is teaching them that God is the one with whom they have to deal, not just ultimately, and not just generally, but now and in detail.

    Peterson also writes that teaching other people to pray is an expression of care and is “the most central thing,” claiming that access and intimacy with God is “our genius as Christians.” Most often, teaching opportunities emerge when there is need. When there is need, we care, and in caring we enter “a school of prayer.”

    During family gatherings we prayed for one another, for our neighbors, and our nation. We prayed that the will of God would be done. Hardship often led to an increase in letters received, as loved ones would write and offer advice and encouragement, but mostly prayer. Accomplishments and celebrations were given over to thanksgiving and gratitude. Needs were lifted up.

    The church would also pray, that we might know God more fully and completely, and be given the grace and strength needed for obedience and holiness and maturity. The church also taught the great prayers of Scripture. We would pray for the infirm and the dying, the poor and the anxious, who would often be no further away than the next pew. In praying, our hearts would become more attentive to God, and our eyes would be opened to the reality of our neighbor, whom we are called to love. God’s action--God’s response to prayer--often came through the body of Christ, the people called to care.

    In Luke 11:1, the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray. I am asking him still. As we practice what we have learned, we teach, not only in praying but through caring. Our needs are great, but as Christians we serve a God who is greater still. In praying we are taught not only how to speak to God but are given knowledge of the God to whom we are speaking. We are invited to address God “now and in detail,” whatever the circumstances, and to trust in his eternal care.

    Prayer is God’s great gift to us, indispensable for spiritual growth and maturity, and absolutely necessary for the practice of sustained care. But it must be taught, and learned.

    Lord, teach us to pray.