Back In The Saddle

Ah…a week away on a mission trip and another of vacation and I’m finally back in the office. This week our church is having VBS, but I ended up withdrawing from the class I was planning to take at Northern Seminary. My intent was to audit the class. One, it was much cheaper to audit, and two, there was a lot of weekly work to do, plus I was only taking it because of an interest in the subject, not the grade.

Nevertheless, I got the required reading and have actually finished one of the books - The Cambridge Companion to Postmodern Theology, edited by Kevin Vanhoozer. Reading that one got me interested all over again in a book I’ve had on my reading list for a while, but have never gotten around to: Beyond Foundationalism: Shaping Theology in a Postmodern Context, by John Franke and Stanley Grenz, so I’m one chapter into that one now. I suspect what I’ve read so far will generate a few posts over the summer. In addition, I have The Postmodern God: A Theological Reader which is edited by Graham Ward and I’ve gotten through one chapter of Stanley Hauerwas’ book A Better Hope: Resources for a Church Confronting Capitalism, Democracy, and Postmodernity.

While all of that should provide some food for fodder, I’ll try not to get too technical in the discussion of them. It’s pretty heavy philosophy/theology and while I enjoy that sort of thing, I’m aware that many don’t. Hopefully there will be some practical things that come to the front that can be discussed here without us all feeling like we’re in a college class room.

Here are some things that are on my mind right now, some related to my current reading and some not: Read more

Spiritual Lessons - Learning The Hard Way

Several months ago I was having a conversation with a man who has been in church and in church leadership most of his life. He’s been a prominent figure in his church. We were discussing one of the specific teachings of Jesus. It was one of those passages that I imagine he’s taught from at church at some time in the past. Toward the end of the conversation he said these words that took me by surprise: “Sometimes that just doesn’t work in real life.”

Now, it didn’t really surprise me that he said that. To be honest I think a lot of people in church think those very thoughts about some of the difficult teachings of Scripture on a regular basis. Love your enemy? Turn the other cheek? If your enemy is hungry give him something to eat, if he’s thirsty give him something to drink. They sound good in Sunday School, but not so much at home, at work, in Wal-Mart or anywhere else we might call “real life.” That’s really no surprise. What surprised me is that he admitted it publicly. Read more

The Church - Autonomous?

Those churches that are a part of the "free-church" tradition have, for several hundred years, advocated a principle called "local church autonomy."  I can hear those words ringing in my head all the way back to my childhood in the Baptist church.  But it isn’t unique to Baptists.  John Hammett notes that there are more than 50 Christian denominations in America that practice "local church autonomy" and/or some form of congregational rule - a form of government in which the local congregation has the final say in doctrinal and practical matters.

Interestingly, James K. A. Smith suggests that the language of "local church autonomy" didn’t appear until after the philosophy of Immanuel Kant gained notoriety.  Kant advocated the "autonomous self" as a foundation for human experience.  It is this Kantian idea of autonomy that provides a common foundation for both liberal and fundamentalist streams of the theological spectrum.  It’s true.  There isn’t a fundamental difference in the fountain from which sprang John R. Rice and John Shelby Spong.  It was the fountain of autonomy.

Hammett qualifies local church autonomy with the phrase "under the authority of Christ."  But he then goes on to explain that the foundation of this notion is rooted in a belief that every believer possesses the Holy Spirit and that the Spirit speaks through each one, not some privileged number out of the group.  Now, I’m very much inclined to agree with him, but what I wonder is why we stop at the local church?  Isn’t the Spirit present in believers outside of that one local church?  Does the Spirit not also speak to/through those believers?  Is there a good reason we limit the "authority" of the Spirit’s voice spoken to/through those other believers other than that our names are on different local church rolls?

Hammett stipulates that there is no external ecclesiastical body outside of the local church to which the local church is answerable in an authoritative way, but I’m not talking about ecclesiastical bodies.  I’m talking about individual, Spirit-filled believers.  Yes, the New Testament shows us examples of local churches choosing their own leaders, determining doctrinal matters and administering their own church discipline.  But what is often ignored (or glossed over) is that the writers of the New Testament (some apostles, others not) don’t appear to be writing nice suggestions to the churches they addressed.  On one occasion the apostle Paul writes about a "rule" of his that applies to "all the churches."  As mentioned in an earlier post, the apostle John indicates that Demetrius erred because he was not submitting to John’s authority (and possibly the authority of others) and that when John arrived on the scene he would take appropriate action (3 John 9-10).  Yes, these two are apostles, but in a striking admission even Hammett acknowledges that Titus (a non-apostle) had a similar authority (the authority to appoint church leadership in a church to which he did not personally belong) and notes that he had such an authority due to his close relationship to the apostle Paul.

Is it just me or did we just take a step toward something very much like "apostolic succession?"  I mean, what about Titus’s close relationships?  Is it that far removed to suggest that the authority conferred upon Titus via his relationship to Paul might be conferred upon others because of their close relationship to Titus who had a close relationship to Paul?

No.  My point is that I don’t believe the New Testament is nearly so clear on "local church autonomy" as it might appear to some of us free-churchers.  Hammett notes that early Baptists were drawn to "associational" ties with one another and that early on the association existed to help advise the church in matters of doctrine and practice.  That function of the association has all but disappeared these days in favor of even greater "autonomy."  The church culture of our present day is not even all that opposed to practically thumbing their nose at such connections.  But as I’ve noted previously, I believe this is unwise.  Alone we are much more prone to error in both belief and practice.  Alone we shut our ears off to a good bit of not only what the Spirit is saying to other believers in other churches, but what the Spirit has been saying to the church for centuries and millennia.

We need to figure out how to recover our ability to hear the Spirit speak through others.  This doesn’t require formal denominational ties as long as we can maintain our connection to the larger church without falling back into some sort of self-reliant place of autonomy when we hear something we might not like or may be difficult to hear.  It also doesn’t mean that every pronouncement of an ecumenical council is authoritative for the church today.  But it means that we recognize that we are organically connected even if we are not organizationally connected.  To thumb our nose at other believers because they are not of the same flavor or brand as us is to thumb our nose at another part of our own body - which is a really odd picture.  I don’t believe we can maintain a position that says we are both organically connected and at the same time autonomous from one another.  The body metaphor that the apostle Paul uses for the church seems to me to require an organic view of the church and renders "local church autonomy" as something that begins to make little Biblical sense.

Providence and God’s Presence

Most days I’m oblivious to the fact that there is such a thing as 5:30 AM.  I’m not a morning person.  Never have been.  Never hope to be.  But a ringing phone will awaken even me at such an hour.

It was the police department.

One of our church members had died.

At 5:30 AM I have enough trouble finding my pants, much less finding God’s presence.  If I can’t find it, though, how will I hope to take it with me as I visit with the family?

I learned a long time ago in Clinical Pastoral Education that those of us in ministry tend to put too much pressure on ourselves to say and do the right thing in a time like this.  Reality is that there is no "right thing" to say or do.  What’s done cannot be undone and the grief and loss will not go away with a well-crafted sentence or two.  Often the simple fact of being there is more than enough.  We do not want to be alone in our grief.  That would heap pain on top of pain.

So I go.  At 5:30 AM I don’t think about taking my Bible with me.  I’m hoping I remembered to brush my teeth.  I’m hoping I can find the apartment in the dark.  My old eyes aren’t what they used to be and they are about half of what they presently are when it’s 5:30 AM and dark.

But now that it’s later in the day I’m reminded of a couple of things I’ve read recently that will help me today.  One came from reading Walter Brueggemann’s Finally Comes The Poet.  In it he mentions that as we look at the history of Israel in the Bible we often notice that, in the midst of their pain and despair, God comes to them nearly always after they have given words to their pain.  They have cried out for help.  In her slavery in Egypt Israel cries out and God says that he has heard the cry of his people, and before long Moses appears on the scene as God’s messenger to bring deliverance.  In smaller ways this scene is repeated time and again as God’s people cry out for help, give voice to their pain, and God hears.

And so this morning we sat around and gave voice to the pain.  There will be many more words and sentences and paragraphs spoken and unspoken that will give voice to the pain in the days and weeks ahead.  Barbara was loved by the children in our church.  She had worked with them in Sunday School and VBS for years upon years.  Many of the children she taught are not children any longer.  Some of them had grown up to work alongside her with succeeding generations.  We will tell our own children today after they get out of school and we expect that they will struggle with what it means and how to voice their own pain.

The second thing I read is the reading from the Psalms in the Book of Common Prayer that is given for this coming Sunday: Psalm 139.

As we struggle with Barbara’s absence and in the midst of it try to find God’s presence it seems Providential that Psalm 139 begs us to read it this week.  And to speak it as our own.  Even today.  Especially today.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

Even so, Lord, be present with us today.
Amen.

Books, Books, Books

You know…I had a really long post written out about the relationship of emergent and postmodernism and after I went back and scanned it I realized that even I didn’t want to read all of that. I don’t figure you would either. So here’s one that’s shorter and hopefully sweeter.

If you have any interests in what postmodernism is saying and if it has anything of value for the contemporary church (and I would resoundingly say that it does), then go read James K A Smith’s book Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism. It’s 160 short pages. He attempts to write in a way that is understandable to the average person. At times he succeeds fantastically. I enjoy how he introduces each chapter with a contemporary movie theme to illustrate what he’s going to say. There are several spots where I was left thinking that the “average person” I know would probably find some of the content difficult. I’m pretty average and I found it difficult. Nevertheless, it is more than worth the effort especially if you are engaged in ministry or for that matter if you are a follower of Jesus who is interested in engaging the broader culture around you.

There you have it. I guess that was just one book, wasn’t it?

An Interesting Experiment

What happens when you remove the American flag from a church’s place of worship?

You make some people really uneasy.  So uneasy that they’ll find which closet you hid it in and put it back "where it belongs."

I’m not an unpatriotic guy.  I appreciate the freedoms afforded us in America.  I’m thankful for those who have served our country in various capacities.

But I also have a firm conviction that I am not a true citizen of America.  Now I can hear the voices already: "If you don’t like it here in America go live somewhere else."  Well, I would move to my preferred country of residence except that I’m waiting for God’s timing to transport me there.  You see, of all the countries in this world I like America the best.  I’m just aware of another city that’s even better.  It is one who’s architect and builder is God.  There is a place where the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.  Its flag is not red, white and blue.  Or red and white.  Or black white and green.  Or red and yellow.  Catch my drift?

The kingdom of God subverts every other kingdom.  Including America.  And that’s not a popular thing to say.  After saying such a thing in a sermon I was approached afterwards by one who seemed almost ready to argue over the virtues of living in America.  I would have likely agreed with most everything that person would have said.  In fact, I did agree with everything that person did say that day.  But I was left with the distinct impression that if we had to choose between America and the church some would choose America.  The fact that we can choose both, but subordinate the church to our country says something profound about our country and where some in the church in our country are in terms of the meaning of faith.

The message of the gospel is a radical message.  The most basic confession of that faith is "Jesus is Lord."  What we need to realize is that such a statement necessarily means that Uncle Sam is not.  But do we understand that?  Are we ready and willing to make such a radical claim?

When I removed the American flag I left the Christian flag displayed.  I suspect that were I to have put the Christian flag in a closet somewhere it might still be there.

The Myth of Objectivity

Posting has been a little sparse because I’ve been preoccupied - several funerals in the past two weeks, kids in soccer, cross country and basketball and, of course, the priority of taking in a few OU football games.

Thinking out loud: I believe there is such a thing as "objective" reality - or that there are things as they really are, not just as they are perceived.  I’ve even had friends tell me that they believe I’m one of the most objective people they know (don’t laugh!).  But the moment I say "I know…" doesn’t my knowing become subjective?  After all, I am a subject, not an object.  Thus, my knowing is the knowing of a subject - and thus subjective (by definition, it would seem).  I always have a context and my context will forever be shaped by certain contextual realities - my place of birth, my ethnic origin, my social/economic status, the particular family into which I was born, my educational background and a whole lot more.  My understanding of the world, how it works, who I am, what life is meant to be, are all heavily influenced by that context.

It should seem obvious that a white, middle-class, college educated, 21st Century American, son of a Baptist deacon and loving parents would think differently about the world and how it works than a poor, black, uneducated African, son of an abusive shaman father.  I think it is safe to say that even if the parents were Christian - say a middle-class Chinese laborer who’s mother works in a sweat shop making toys for Mattel.  Would we view the teachings of Scripture differently because of our context?  What makes the American context superior to all others when it comes to understanding something like Scripture?  Or am I wrong that we view it that way?  Because it sure seems to me, especially for Baptists in the south (and I’m broadly including Oklahoma here because of the strong Southern Baptist presence) that we view it that way.

These thoughts generated by a post from David Phillips.

Kennedy On Death

Most of you will know by now that Dr. D. James Kennedy died last week.  Kennedy made a huge impact on the church in North America.  I often thought he focused too much on warring with the culture in his latter years, but there’s no doubt that he was a strong voice of faith in this country.  I liked listening to him because he seemed so learned in such a broad range of subjects, and he told great stories.  Here’s what he had to say about his own death:

“Now, I know that someday I am going to come to what some people will
say is the end of this life. They will probably put me in a box and
roll me right down here in front of the church, and some people will
gather around, and a few people will cry. But I have told them not to
do that because I don’t want them to cry. I want them to begin the
service with the Doxology and end with the Hallelujah chorus, because I
am not going to be there, and I am not going to be dead. I will be more
alive than I have ever been in my life, and I will be looking down upon
you poor people who are still in the land of dying and have not yet
joined me in the land of the living. And I will be alive forevermore,
in greater health and vitality and joy than ever, ever, I or anyone has
known before.”

We do not grieve like those who have no hope.

[HT: Ed Stetzer]

Christo-fascism?

I just recently ran across this post: The Jig is Up: American Evangelicals and Fascist Seduction by Paul Grabill, pastor of State College Assembly of God in State College, Pennsylvania.  He gives a strong challenge to consider our true allegiance as American Christians.  Check out a few salient quotes:

I’m saying it as clearly as I know how to say it. Christian patriotism
in America has crossed the line into clear idolatry. We evangelicals
are very close to apostasy, and I can tell you that many of our
brothers and sisters around the world can see it. I believe this
idolatry—not Sun Myung Moon, not the DaVinci Code, not Hillary
Clinton–is our our last-days deception. Those other things are bad,
but there’s little danger that evangelicals will be deceived by them.

It ain’t deception if it ain’t seductive.

and then this one:

It’s time for American Christians to repent (turn around). Yes,
liberals need to repent for selling out the core of the gospel, but
conservatives also need to repent of our nationalistic idolatry. Truth
will set us free, not leaders that promise us security by means of an
endless war and torture. Our rage toward the enemies of America has
blinded us. We don’t even recognize God’s Word when we hear it applied
to our times. Can it get worse than that? Jesus said, “My sheep hear my
voice.”

What’s worse, spiritually lost people in America see our hypocrisy when
we don’t. No wonder our evangelism efforts have flat-lined. How can we
convince them of the Truth of Jesus if we aren’t convinced ourselves
(i.e., “What Jesus taught doesn’t work in the ‘real’ world)?

Sadly I’ve actually heard long-time church members who would claim to be spiritually mature believers repeat that last phrase almost verbatim multiple times recently.  The church needs to wake up.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I had a computer meltdown at the office this week.  It wasn’t a total meltdown.  I didn’t lose my data, but the fan on my processor went kerplunk and Dell, who is the only company to make a replacement, no longer makes a replacement.  I could get a used one from them for around $140 or I could get a new, faster PC with more bells and whistles for $400.  I got the new PC.

But I needed Colby to help me get all of my stuff from the old computer to the new one, get it set up so that it runs ok and is properly networked into our system.  Thanks, Colby!

As I was sitting in my office this morning reading commentaries on Hebrews Colby was sitting at my desk working on the new computer.  We started talking about matters of spiritual formation.  He has a background in the medical field and got to talking about brain mapping as it relates to our spiritual formation as well as our intellectual formation and how that relates to issues such as coping, character and values.

KABOOM!  [Yes, that sound you heard was my brain exploding.]

It is interesting to Colby how I can preach a sermon on Sunday and that many of the people will hear something different than what I intend and will even hear it differently than others present.  What was even more interesting to me is that postmodernism says much the same thing, but Colby wasn’t expressing that as a philosophical perspective.  He was expressing it as an observable reality.  It’s just what really does happen.

As one who has been preaching for 26 years I can confirm that it really does happen.  There is a lot that goes into those differences: upbringing, worldview, values, culture, education, life circumstances and much more.  In that context effective communication can be challenging.  Screaming "OBJECTIVE TRUTH" at the tops of our lungs won’t solve the problem, either.  Communication is a matter of both speaking and listening/hearing.

Christians in other parts of the world often hear the Biblical stories differently than those of us in America.  The text doesn’t change, but what gets emphasized often does.  The gospel of Creflo Dollar won’t preach in Chad.  At least not with any long-term credibility (long term, in this case, being about an hour).  Christians in Chad would hardly even think to preach such a message.  Hundreds of ministries across America would.  And for the same reason a gospel of liberation sounds Marxist and repulsive here in America, but sounds like just what the doctor ordered in repressive regimes in places of abject poverty in South America.

All of this makes me wonder what the church in America might have to learn from our brothers and sisters in Christ in other parts of the world.  Can we hear them?  Would we listen if we could?

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