This week, Lynne and I enjoyed a visit from the department chairman of Talbot School of Theology, my alma mater in Southern California. Mick and his wife Rolane Boersma minister to graduates by scheduling annual trips to visit the alum in a given geographic location. Dr. Boersma also taught several of my classes in pastoral ministry when I was working on my M. Div. degree.
One of the things I shared with Dr. Boersma is my gratitude for his role in instilling in us students an intangible "thing" - an immeasurable quality that so many Talbot graduates have that defines how we view all of ministry. It's hard to explain, but it's an entire understanding of the role of the pastor. I'm not saying we're necessarily better pastors than those from other seminaries, but that this immeasurable "thing" makes us better pastors than we would be otherwise.
As we have moved from place to place, I've met a lot of pastors who studied in a variety of seminaries. Many have it, even though they didn't attend Talbot. But many are missing that intangible "thing." Talbot is one of the few schools that, in my experience, consistently produces pastors who have it. More than a few times I've run into a Talbot graduate who I didn't know while in school, but feel a stronger connection within 15 minutes than I have with some pastors I've known for years. It's that intangible "thing."
Dr. Boersma (along with many other faithful men and women who teach at Talbot) is particularly responsible for instilling this intangible "thing" in thousands of graduates over the 25 years he's served so far at Talbot. For that, I am unceasingly grateful to him.
I'm glad for the opportunity to tell him that face-to-face.
Consider talking with those who have invested so much in you and tell them how you appreciate who they are and what they've done.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
I Swear
The Ten Commandments includes the "biggies" - murder, lying, adultery, idolatry. And ... not taking the Lord's name in vain. Most commonly, people take this to mean to not use God's name as part of a swear phrase, or even to not make a vow using God's name. Have you ever wondered why that one made the list of "biggies"? It seems so much less crucial than the others.
First, let's challenge the idea of what it means. Is the main idea really "don't use God's name when you swear"? Certainly, that doesn't please God, but is that it? Is it about not making vows using His name? That's also something we know is displeasing to Him. And I think that both of these ideas are part of what is meant. But also consider that at the time the commandment was given, the people of Israel, for the first time, were taking God's name for themselves - a nation called by His name. It would be greatly displeasing to God if they were to do that in vain - to be a nation called by God's name, but lived in a way that was drastically contrary to the character of God.
Second, this raises the question about swearing. If this commandment is not primarily about swearing, what should a Christian do about using swear words? Certainly, there's no evil in a certain sequence of vocal sounds. We cannot be made unclean by forming certain words, can we?
Given that we know some people will be offended by words we use, to then still use those words is to choose to knowingly offend others. It is true that offending others is sometimes necessary for a greater good, but that's rarely the case. To choose offensive words is often showing disrespect to another person, and doing so knowingly.
On the other hand, choosing to avoid commonly offensive words is an easy way to stand out against the crowd, to attach the name of Christ to something better than the common. When we have the freedom to use questionable words, but choose not to, we can distinguish ourselves from the commonness that surrounds us. Without being judgmental, we can easily display something better. Some words are "uglier" than others - we can choose to "beautify" our surroundings, or add to the ugliness.
More importantly, the idea of holiness means that we're shooting for the bull's eye. We should not be content with just being inside the lines, but we should persistently pursue the center of the target. The words we choose can either be those that keep us just inside the lines, or words that drive toward the center. Only Christ can make us holy, but pursuing holiness means pursuing the best and purest - even in the words we choose.
Finally, consider Eph 5:4 Neither should there be vulgar speech, foolish talk, or coarse jesting – all of which are out of character – but rather thanksgiving. Without the legalism of listing which words are allowed and which are not, clearly the principle here is to adopt habits of language that edify, not words and phrases that are coarse or vulgar. This also includes "substitute" swear words we tend to use (I know I do).
Do we have freedom in Christ? Of course. But this freedom includes the freedom to find ways to reflect the character of Christ. I am by no means a great example of this, but the words we choose are tools we have to either reflect Christ's character more, or to reflect the common and vulgar around us. Let us not use our words in vain.
First, let's challenge the idea of what it means. Is the main idea really "don't use God's name when you swear"? Certainly, that doesn't please God, but is that it? Is it about not making vows using His name? That's also something we know is displeasing to Him. And I think that both of these ideas are part of what is meant. But also consider that at the time the commandment was given, the people of Israel, for the first time, were taking God's name for themselves - a nation called by His name. It would be greatly displeasing to God if they were to do that in vain - to be a nation called by God's name, but lived in a way that was drastically contrary to the character of God.
Second, this raises the question about swearing. If this commandment is not primarily about swearing, what should a Christian do about using swear words? Certainly, there's no evil in a certain sequence of vocal sounds. We cannot be made unclean by forming certain words, can we?
Given that we know some people will be offended by words we use, to then still use those words is to choose to knowingly offend others. It is true that offending others is sometimes necessary for a greater good, but that's rarely the case. To choose offensive words is often showing disrespect to another person, and doing so knowingly.
On the other hand, choosing to avoid commonly offensive words is an easy way to stand out against the crowd, to attach the name of Christ to something better than the common. When we have the freedom to use questionable words, but choose not to, we can distinguish ourselves from the commonness that surrounds us. Without being judgmental, we can easily display something better. Some words are "uglier" than others - we can choose to "beautify" our surroundings, or add to the ugliness.
More importantly, the idea of holiness means that we're shooting for the bull's eye. We should not be content with just being inside the lines, but we should persistently pursue the center of the target. The words we choose can either be those that keep us just inside the lines, or words that drive toward the center. Only Christ can make us holy, but pursuing holiness means pursuing the best and purest - even in the words we choose.
Finally, consider Eph 5:4 Neither should there be vulgar speech, foolish talk, or coarse jesting – all of which are out of character – but rather thanksgiving. Without the legalism of listing which words are allowed and which are not, clearly the principle here is to adopt habits of language that edify, not words and phrases that are coarse or vulgar. This also includes "substitute" swear words we tend to use (I know I do).
Do we have freedom in Christ? Of course. But this freedom includes the freedom to find ways to reflect the character of Christ. I am by no means a great example of this, but the words we choose are tools we have to either reflect Christ's character more, or to reflect the common and vulgar around us. Let us not use our words in vain.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
In all things, rejoi... you've got to be kidding!
The weekend was one of those rare weekends filled with almost entirely positive events. We had a great time with my folks and my oldest brother visiting, we made great progress on several very important decisions involving my parents, we had a great time in the car driving them to Branson and spending the night playing cards and talking with them. They finished their journey home safely, and we had a fun, casual time away from responsibilities and demands for a few days.
"Almost entirely positive events." When we came back to the car after one last sight-seeing diversion, we found that someone has smashed out one of the car windows and stolen Lynne's purse - right in broad daylight in a parking lot that has frequent traffic. They could have stolen my computer bag, they even could have stolen the entire car, and no one got hurt, but still, we've lost some money and we've inherited a whole lot of hassle. The cost to restore things will be more than the money the thieves netted out of this.
The entire weekend, Lynne had been very careful to put her purse in the trunk. This was the only stop where she thought that hiding it on the floor under a sweater in broad daylight at a busy attraction outside the city would be OK. I certainly thought leaving my computer bag up on the seat in plain view was OK. And it was the last stop of so many stops on this trip. How the thieves found an opening to smash a window in, and then the rest of it out is beyond us. (This also surprised the manager of the facility, who, by the way, was extraordinarily helpful - he even vacuumed out our car for us.) We were gone from the car about 90 minutes, and by no means did our car even look like a cash-rich target.
So, what to make of this? I don't believe in pure accidents. I'm already hesitant to take vacations because they are so much hassle and so expensive (we did OK on both counts, until this event exploded both of them). We had such a positive weekend up until the very last thing. And we almost went to a different attraction than this one. Plus ... I'm already 2 1/2 days behind this week because of the vacation, and now I'm going to lose one or two more days just getting things restored.
God never promises us that we'll understand every event that happens to us, whether "good" or "bad." But He does promise that He has a purpose for every event that happens to us. We sometimes are left with nothing but trust that this is always, always, always true. God never promises that he'll use this somewhere down the road in a way that it'll be obvious that He turned this event into something good, like the person later coming to faith in Christ. But He does promise that He is always, always, always with us in every event, and that He never gets caught by surprise by the things that happen to us.
I want an answer. But I might not get one. Will I still trust that He's always working together things for good for us? Will I praise Him only when events please me? Will I maintain a Christlike attitude when maliciously aggravated for no good reason? Will I try to make myself feel better with some lame platitude, or will I allow God's purpose to be a mystery for as long as He wants?
And I say all of this knowing full well that there are some in our own church family who persistently suffer worse than this one setback, let alone the living conditions of our orphans in Kenya.
I long for heaven, where this stuff will never bother us again. But God has us here now on purpose. I might not always know what the purpose is, but I know that there is one. And I know it's a good one.
"Almost entirely positive events." When we came back to the car after one last sight-seeing diversion, we found that someone has smashed out one of the car windows and stolen Lynne's purse - right in broad daylight in a parking lot that has frequent traffic. They could have stolen my computer bag, they even could have stolen the entire car, and no one got hurt, but still, we've lost some money and we've inherited a whole lot of hassle. The cost to restore things will be more than the money the thieves netted out of this.
The entire weekend, Lynne had been very careful to put her purse in the trunk. This was the only stop where she thought that hiding it on the floor under a sweater in broad daylight at a busy attraction outside the city would be OK. I certainly thought leaving my computer bag up on the seat in plain view was OK. And it was the last stop of so many stops on this trip. How the thieves found an opening to smash a window in, and then the rest of it out is beyond us. (This also surprised the manager of the facility, who, by the way, was extraordinarily helpful - he even vacuumed out our car for us.) We were gone from the car about 90 minutes, and by no means did our car even look like a cash-rich target.
So, what to make of this? I don't believe in pure accidents. I'm already hesitant to take vacations because they are so much hassle and so expensive (we did OK on both counts, until this event exploded both of them). We had such a positive weekend up until the very last thing. And we almost went to a different attraction than this one. Plus ... I'm already 2 1/2 days behind this week because of the vacation, and now I'm going to lose one or two more days just getting things restored.
God never promises us that we'll understand every event that happens to us, whether "good" or "bad." But He does promise that He has a purpose for every event that happens to us. We sometimes are left with nothing but trust that this is always, always, always true. God never promises that he'll use this somewhere down the road in a way that it'll be obvious that He turned this event into something good, like the person later coming to faith in Christ. But He does promise that He is always, always, always with us in every event, and that He never gets caught by surprise by the things that happen to us.
I want an answer. But I might not get one. Will I still trust that He's always working together things for good for us? Will I praise Him only when events please me? Will I maintain a Christlike attitude when maliciously aggravated for no good reason? Will I try to make myself feel better with some lame platitude, or will I allow God's purpose to be a mystery for as long as He wants?
And I say all of this knowing full well that there are some in our own church family who persistently suffer worse than this one setback, let alone the living conditions of our orphans in Kenya.
I long for heaven, where this stuff will never bother us again. But God has us here now on purpose. I might not always know what the purpose is, but I know that there is one. And I know it's a good one.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Time Management is Mostly about Priority Management
For all the points of the compass, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.
(from the play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead)
(from the play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead)
Other cultures are more event-oriented than time-oriented, meaning that events start when the people involved arrive, not when the clock says so. One of the adjustments missionaries need to make when they live in these cultures is putting aside our Western view of time, learning to live in an event-oriented culture.
We are also a harried, overbusy culture, for the most part. Our smartphone reminders boss us around, telling us where to go when (even given us directions on getting there). "Time management" is a hot topic - there is no lack of literature, websites, and software tools designed to help you manage time - for a fee. Basketball teams need to learn to "work the clock" as time expires. Football games are won and lost on "clock management."
And we feel as though we have too little time for all the things we "must" do.
To say that "I don't have enough time for all the things I need to do" is very close to saying, "God has not given me enough time." Or worse, "God has not given me enough time to do His will." God has not given us infinite time (here), but neither has He given us too little time. He never gives us too little to do His will.
Rather than being time-oriented (which is my nature) or event-oriented (which drives me batty), I'm trying to become more priority-oriented. It starts with the view that God has given me a limited amount of time on purpose, and that He's given me exactly the right amount of time. So, I always have enough time to do His will. But I never have enough time to do all the things I would put on my list.
Given the knowledge that God has given me enough time, now I address the things before me based on priorities. "Priority" is not only determined by the absolute priority of the task, but how important it is to do it soon (which is slightly different than "urgency," found in some literature). Priority is also determined by the value I believe God puts on it, not me. I try to busy myself with what is priority, until my priority is to stop and rest. That way, I'm always about what's most important at the time. (It also frees me to ignore my phone when I'm talking to someone in person - the person in front of me is my priority, not the phone - which, by the way, is very good at taking messages for me.)
This also means that whatever does not get done is OK. Maybe it will become a higher priority later, and then it will get done. Or, it was never priority enough to get done in the first place. I cannot do more than be busy about priorities, and I try not to feel guilty about the things that were never priority enough to do. There will always be things that don't get done. As long as I don't ignore the priority items because I'm busy doing low-priority items, I feel like I'll generally be doing the things God gave me the time to do.
I'm by no means consistent in this thinking, but the more I adopt it, the better I sleep at night - even though my todo list wasn't completed.
Time management is mostly about priority management.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
If you're not willing to be God's steward of it, don't buy it
In last week's message, one of the principles was, If you're not willing to be God's steward of it, don't buy it. Everything we buy, we should understand that we're volunteering to be God's steward of whatever it is. If we're not willing to fulfill the role of being God's steward over something, we have no business buying it. Am I crazy?!? What was I thinking? Am I serious?
I have to admit, this is a tough thought for me. I certainly have not had this attitude for most of my thing-buying career. For those who helped us unpack a year and a half ago, you can verify that we have more things than two people should. We never thought of ourselves as out-of-control shoppers or being caught up in rampant consumerism. And yet, a big truck and a POD were almost not enough to haul our stuff. Ridiculous. And embarrassing. (I take a little solace in the fact that we don't have many nice things, just too many of them. In other words, we've got a lot of junk.)
Asking the stewarding question before buying is an admittedly new thought for me, relatively speaking. But I can't get around it. I can't ignore it, argue against it, or throw it away. It's still there. Kinser, if you're not willing to be God's steward of it, don't buy it. Yeah, I'm crazy. But I'm pretty sure I'm right.
Being God's steward of something does not mean that we need to go to the temple, perform an animal sacrifice, sprinkle it with blood, and dedicate it to the Lord. Neither does not mean that it can only be used for church functions or evangelism.
What does it mean to be God's steward of something, then?
First, it means that I won't use it for sinful purposes. I won't use it for activities that go against God's will or God's mission. But that's pretty obvious (and sadly, not enough to stop us from using things we buy for sinful purposes). Using an object for sinful purposes also includes buying it in a vain effort to draw security, comfort, or meaning out of it, rather than from God alone.
Second, it means that I will use it for things that advance God's purpose. Of course, this can include using something directly for ministry, such as using your car to bring visitors to church. But this also includes "normal" things that God expects us to do - feed and clothe our kids, have guests in our home, give gifts generously, support those in need, educate our kids, keeping informed of what's going on in the world, and a whole host of things.
In short, being a steward of something is to use it as your Master would use it. While on earth, Jesus did a lot of "normal" things with possessions. He wore clothes and sandals that someone had to buy, including during those times when He wasn't actively ministering. He ate food and drank wine. He stayed in homes, both modest and expensive. He ordered take out food once (sort of). He read books, went to weddings, and walked on stone paved roads. Before His ministry began, we assume that he worked in his father's "secular" business. Luke gives us the idea that there was a lot of normalcy during Jesus' upbringing.
But here's the key: all of it contributed somehow to advancing God's Kingdom, directly or indirectly. Everything Jesus did, and therefore everything He did with stuff, He did to advance God's purpose. Even just growing up and being well-fed and healthy allowed Him to minister more effectively. I think it's a fair assumption that Jesus didn't own anything of which He didn't consider Himself to be God's steward.
This is not the same thing as just doing what we want, making sure it's not sinful, and then baptizing it as "consistent with God's purpose." It's a mentality that everything I possess as a steward I use for the purpose of advancing God's will in my life and in the lives of others. Furthermore, if I can't use it to advance God's will, then I have no business buying it. As a citizen of God's Kingdom, why would I want to bother with something that does His Kingdom absolutely no good? Why would God want me to have something that does nothing to advance His purpose?
I want to personally explore this idea more. I know I'll be thinking about it the next time I buy something, big or small. And it may mean I need to ... gasp ... throw out some junk.
I have to admit, this is a tough thought for me. I certainly have not had this attitude for most of my thing-buying career. For those who helped us unpack a year and a half ago, you can verify that we have more things than two people should. We never thought of ourselves as out-of-control shoppers or being caught up in rampant consumerism. And yet, a big truck and a POD were almost not enough to haul our stuff. Ridiculous. And embarrassing. (I take a little solace in the fact that we don't have many nice things, just too many of them. In other words, we've got a lot of junk.)
Asking the stewarding question before buying is an admittedly new thought for me, relatively speaking. But I can't get around it. I can't ignore it, argue against it, or throw it away. It's still there. Kinser, if you're not willing to be God's steward of it, don't buy it. Yeah, I'm crazy. But I'm pretty sure I'm right.
Being God's steward of something does not mean that we need to go to the temple, perform an animal sacrifice, sprinkle it with blood, and dedicate it to the Lord. Neither does not mean that it can only be used for church functions or evangelism.
What does it mean to be God's steward of something, then?
First, it means that I won't use it for sinful purposes. I won't use it for activities that go against God's will or God's mission. But that's pretty obvious (and sadly, not enough to stop us from using things we buy for sinful purposes). Using an object for sinful purposes also includes buying it in a vain effort to draw security, comfort, or meaning out of it, rather than from God alone.
Second, it means that I will use it for things that advance God's purpose. Of course, this can include using something directly for ministry, such as using your car to bring visitors to church. But this also includes "normal" things that God expects us to do - feed and clothe our kids, have guests in our home, give gifts generously, support those in need, educate our kids, keeping informed of what's going on in the world, and a whole host of things.
In short, being a steward of something is to use it as your Master would use it. While on earth, Jesus did a lot of "normal" things with possessions. He wore clothes and sandals that someone had to buy, including during those times when He wasn't actively ministering. He ate food and drank wine. He stayed in homes, both modest and expensive. He ordered take out food once (sort of). He read books, went to weddings, and walked on stone paved roads. Before His ministry began, we assume that he worked in his father's "secular" business. Luke gives us the idea that there was a lot of normalcy during Jesus' upbringing.
But here's the key: all of it contributed somehow to advancing God's Kingdom, directly or indirectly. Everything Jesus did, and therefore everything He did with stuff, He did to advance God's purpose. Even just growing up and being well-fed and healthy allowed Him to minister more effectively. I think it's a fair assumption that Jesus didn't own anything of which He didn't consider Himself to be God's steward.
This is not the same thing as just doing what we want, making sure it's not sinful, and then baptizing it as "consistent with God's purpose." It's a mentality that everything I possess as a steward I use for the purpose of advancing God's will in my life and in the lives of others. Furthermore, if I can't use it to advance God's will, then I have no business buying it. As a citizen of God's Kingdom, why would I want to bother with something that does His Kingdom absolutely no good? Why would God want me to have something that does nothing to advance His purpose?
I want to personally explore this idea more. I know I'll be thinking about it the next time I buy something, big or small. And it may mean I need to ... gasp ... throw out some junk.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Who's to Blame?
I'm still having trouble comprehending that it's been 10 years since the disaster on 9/11. Have we really been living in a post-9/11 for a full decade already? Has over 1/5 of my life been lived with this event in our collective psyche? During the kids' message Sunday when I asked them how many were under the age of 10, it struck me how many people there are who have known nothing other than a post-9/11 world.
Over this weekend of remembrance, no little controversy has been stirred in the blogosphere and 24-hour cable ad newsium over who's to blame, and over who is casting blame at others. We want to blame people, and we want to argue with those who blame the wrong people.
Who is to blame?
Of course, many conspiracy theorists claim the U.S. government was behind it all, citing all kinds of suspicious "inconsistencies," and claiming that it was all an elaborate scheme to solidify political power.
Others blame those who are more lax about national security. They say it was because too many people have gone "soft" on protecting our borders, allowing the plan to hatch in the first place.
Others have blamed the sinfulness and declining morals of Americans - a charge made not only by the unhinged, judgmental fundamentalists, but also by some of the leading religious voices that are normally quite sound. This is God's wrath on sinful America! You and I are to blame, they say, and therefore we should be deeply ashamed of ourselves.
There are those who blame some subsector of the Muslim community. They blame either the "radicals" or those with uncontained political aspirations. They are careful not to blame all Muslims or even Islam itself.
Others blame all of the Muslim community, saying there is no such thing as "non-radical" Islam. Others rush to the other extreme and bark at anyone who would dare include "Islam" of any form when deciding who's at fault.
I think I've heard more people blame all forms of religion more than any other suspect. All such "religious extremists" are equally dangerous, according to this charge. And now, "extremism" is a term that has expanded to include anyone who is "fervent" or even just "serious" about his faith. That means that I am as dangerous as the hijackers.
Perhaps the most talked about blamer this last weekend was a writer who laid the responsibility square on people who were in leadership, like President Bush and Mayor Giuliani - not really blaming them for the event, but for giving us a "decade of shame" of politicizing the whole event. Ironically, the article itself politicized the whole event.
Still others note the demonic nature of that magnitude of evil, and include the fallen spirits among the blameworthy. For a brief time after the event, it was acceptable in a world of tolerance to call something "wrong" or "evil." At minimum, the sinfulness of man is a major factor in what happened.
Would a strong Calvinist even dare to blame God?
Who is to blame?
What I find interesting is how important it is for us to blame someone - anyone at all. The level of heat in these exchanges tells me that there's something in our very core that needs to know who's at fault, so that we can put the blame where it belongs. We've just got to cast blame on someone! What does this drive to place blame tell us about ourselves?
We crave justice. We are appalled and angered by the grave injustice of 9/11, and we need to blame someone so that we can hope and pray for justice to come. It was wrong, we know it was wrong, and we want someone to pay for that wrong. Even many who deny God have an insatiable hunger for justice (a justice that has no definition without God).
Which is why it is so hard for us to comprehend grace. God's grace is that Jesus takes the blame upon himself for all our injustices. And that feels so wrong - Jesus is that last one who should be blamed. But, grace says that Jesus took all the blame, and offers us grace instead. The cross is even bigger than the atrocity of 9/11, and beyond sufficient for everyone who deserves any portion of the blame.
Who is to blame?
Jesus is willing to be. It is the only way that we can survive God's justice. That is the Gospel.
Over this weekend of remembrance, no little controversy has been stirred in the blogosphere and 24-hour cable ad newsium over who's to blame, and over who is casting blame at others. We want to blame people, and we want to argue with those who blame the wrong people.
Who is to blame?
Of course, many conspiracy theorists claim the U.S. government was behind it all, citing all kinds of suspicious "inconsistencies," and claiming that it was all an elaborate scheme to solidify political power.
Others blame those who are more lax about national security. They say it was because too many people have gone "soft" on protecting our borders, allowing the plan to hatch in the first place.
Others have blamed the sinfulness and declining morals of Americans - a charge made not only by the unhinged, judgmental fundamentalists, but also by some of the leading religious voices that are normally quite sound. This is God's wrath on sinful America! You and I are to blame, they say, and therefore we should be deeply ashamed of ourselves.
There are those who blame some subsector of the Muslim community. They blame either the "radicals" or those with uncontained political aspirations. They are careful not to blame all Muslims or even Islam itself.
Others blame all of the Muslim community, saying there is no such thing as "non-radical" Islam. Others rush to the other extreme and bark at anyone who would dare include "Islam" of any form when deciding who's at fault.
I think I've heard more people blame all forms of religion more than any other suspect. All such "religious extremists" are equally dangerous, according to this charge. And now, "extremism" is a term that has expanded to include anyone who is "fervent" or even just "serious" about his faith. That means that I am as dangerous as the hijackers.
Perhaps the most talked about blamer this last weekend was a writer who laid the responsibility square on people who were in leadership, like President Bush and Mayor Giuliani - not really blaming them for the event, but for giving us a "decade of shame" of politicizing the whole event. Ironically, the article itself politicized the whole event.
Still others note the demonic nature of that magnitude of evil, and include the fallen spirits among the blameworthy. For a brief time after the event, it was acceptable in a world of tolerance to call something "wrong" or "evil." At minimum, the sinfulness of man is a major factor in what happened.
Would a strong Calvinist even dare to blame God?
Who is to blame?
What I find interesting is how important it is for us to blame someone - anyone at all. The level of heat in these exchanges tells me that there's something in our very core that needs to know who's at fault, so that we can put the blame where it belongs. We've just got to cast blame on someone! What does this drive to place blame tell us about ourselves?
We crave justice. We are appalled and angered by the grave injustice of 9/11, and we need to blame someone so that we can hope and pray for justice to come. It was wrong, we know it was wrong, and we want someone to pay for that wrong. Even many who deny God have an insatiable hunger for justice (a justice that has no definition without God).
Which is why it is so hard for us to comprehend grace. God's grace is that Jesus takes the blame upon himself for all our injustices. And that feels so wrong - Jesus is that last one who should be blamed. But, grace says that Jesus took all the blame, and offers us grace instead. The cross is even bigger than the atrocity of 9/11, and beyond sufficient for everyone who deserves any portion of the blame.
Who is to blame?
Jesus is willing to be. It is the only way that we can survive God's justice. That is the Gospel.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I don't wanna waste your time, Pastor, but ...
Sometimes church folks are too nice. (Of course, sometimes they are too un-nice!) There are times when good-natured, well-intentioned people are a little too considerate. For example, when someone wants to have some time with me to talk about something important to him. Often times, people will say something like, "I don't want to waste your time, Pastor, but..." I hear that phrase a couple of times a month at least, and I really do appreciate the sentiment behind it. People are being considerate of the panoply of responsibilities that I have (which may be different from, but likely does not outnumber, everyone else's set of responsibilities).
The only instance when this is a real issue is when that considerate attitude prevents someone from asking me for the time we need. Out of a generous concern for me, sometimes people just don't even ask. The result is that we never get to talk.
First of all, it's not my time. I don't own the time that I spend for the church. God owns all my time, and the church deserves every hour that we've agreed I would give to the church. The needs of the church are directly or indirectly what I should be spending my time on. And managing programs is less important than talking with real, live people with real world issues.
Second, I'm able to say "no" when I really don't have the time. And I'm pretty good at scheduling which meetings I have when. I am not afraid to tell you that my time is already committed, and I refuse to consistently schedule blocks of meetings back-to-back-to-back. Just because you ask for my time doesn't mean I automatically have it to give in the coming week. Furthermore, the Elders are in the habit of making sure I'm balancing my time for the responsibilities they want me to invest in. In short, it doesn't hurt to ask!
Third, here is a list of some things I do not consider to be time wasters:
- Getting to know more about your life and history
- Discussing theological questions
- Hearing what you'd like prayer for
- Talking out difficulties
- Sharing a meal or a cup of coffee
- Hearing your plans and dreams
- Hearing about your kids
- Attending your kids' events
- And many more...
However, I'm not the Pollyanna who says there are no time wasters. There most certainly are! It's precisely because this time belongs to God and His work that I guard against them. For example:
- Talking only about sports, politics, or the weather, but never getting to more serious topics
- Talking about pop culture for more than 12 milliseconds
- Hearing about the same problems for the umpteenth time when the person is not even trying to make changes (that last phrase is crucial - I don't mind dealing with the same issues if there's some sense of trying to make positive changes)
- Gossip or trash talking or whining or blamecasting
If someone is in the habit of wasting time, then they won't get much of my time. I'm pleased that Grace Fellowship is not a collection of time wasters.
One of the greatest privileges that a pastor has is that we get to share the most real parts of life with people. We don't have all the answers, and we get in trouble when we pretend that we do. But we are often allowed into the realest part of life and are given the opportunity to help. My goal is to simply urge people into that space where God is more at work in their lives. If I can help people get into that space, then I consider myself to be wildly successful.
Don't be too considerate - you won't be "wasting" my time.
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