What an annoying jerk!
Last evening, I was sitting in a Starbucks waiting to meet with one of the guys, reading my book. My nose was buried in a chapter describing how the primary attribute of any person is not comprised of his faults, but from the image of God that He has placed in each one of us. The image of God, the book claims, defines us and gives us an inherent value that no amount of negative characteristics can wipe out.
As if on cue to test the theory, the table behind me was promptly occupied by a man, a woman, and the woman's daughter. The man surpassed annoying in less than 10 seconds, and built on his accomplishment from there. I began to wonder if the chapter referred to every single human being except one.
He interrupted, he was loud, and he clearly didn't listen much to others. He spoke to the girl, who looked to be about 11, in a manner less mature than she responded with. He complained about the trouble he was having with the unemployment office because they "claimed" he resigned his previous job, as he then went on to describe how he left the job of his own accord rather than get fired. (At least he didn't resign.) As he worked on his $4.50 drink (paid for by the woman), he whined that because of the unemployment office, he could not afford to take the woman out to dinner. Which he then immediately followed with a suggestion to the girl that the two of them spend the entire next day at the pool working on their tans. When the woman and daughter left, he made sure that the girl kissed him. I think the rest of the people in the coffeehouse heard my alarm bells going off.
It was therefore particularly difficult to get through that chapter of the book and give it any credibility at all. The chapter described people worse than this yahoo, but they (though real) were mere characters on a page to me. This guy was fouling my air.
Is it really true that everyone has inherent value just because they bear the image of God? Does this guy? Forget the monsters of human history - I need to resolve this idea with this guy before I can accept it as true.
First, there is the false assumption that my list of character flaws, annoying ways, and sins is somehow more meritorious than his. I'm not annoying in his ways, so I must be more deserving of this inherent value than he is. Even if I would score more favorably on some universal annoyance scale, it is false to say that I therefore have more of the image of God than he.
Second, this inherent value comes from an external source (God), while our horrible, annoying characteristics come from an internal source. If the value is external, and if that external source is unchanging, then everyone must have the same inherent, high value, no matter how unpleasantly the internal source spoils the environment it occupies.
Third, if I in any way limit the reach of the inherent value we receive from God's image, then I limit the reach of grace. I have no such authority.
So, the challenge for me is how to appreciate that jerk's inherent value. At this point, it's not his issue, but mine. The reason I have trouble with this is internal to me, independent of him. It's because I have yet to fully embrace how effectively God's image brings inherent value to everyone who bears it. It's because I have my standards that people must meet before I value them, placing a Law on them of my own device.
The chapter wasn't wrong. My attitude is.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
I Warned You Not to Put These Two Together
Two beloved passages of Scripture, memorized, quoted, read for encouragement, recited at weddings, but not often put together. That's a bit odd, since they are about the same topic.
The first passage: Love your neighbor as yourself (Mt 19:19; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27; Ro 13:9; Ga 5:14; Jas 2:8). Jesus calls this the second greatest commandment of all, second only to loving the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. That must be pretty important!
The second passage: The "love chapter" (1 Cor 13), which is best remembered from verse 4 on: Love is patient, love is kind, ... It's a lovely verse to think of with your sweetheart in mind.
However, I don't think I've ever heard these two great passages put together. Let's give it a try:
Think of your neighbors. Include people of a different faith or political stripe. Think of the not-so-nice neighbors. Think of the people in our communities who end up in the news. Reread this combined passage with these neighbors in mind. Yeah ... those neighbors. Go ahead ... reread it. I'll wait.
Now, go love your neighbor as yourself.
The first passage: Love your neighbor as yourself (Mt 19:19; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27; Ro 13:9; Ga 5:14; Jas 2:8). Jesus calls this the second greatest commandment of all, second only to loving the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. That must be pretty important!
The second passage: The "love chapter" (1 Cor 13), which is best remembered from verse 4 on: Love is patient, love is kind, ... It's a lovely verse to think of with your sweetheart in mind.
However, I don't think I've ever heard these two great passages put together. Let's give it a try:
4Love is patient with its neighbor, love is kind to its neighbor and is not jealous of its neighbor's stuff; love does not brag to its neighbor and is not arrogant around its neighbor, 5does not act unbecomingly toward its neighbor or its neighbor's spouse; it does not seek its own in competition with its neighbor, is not provoked by its neighbor, does not take into account a wrong suffered by its neighbor, 6does not rejoice in its neighbor's unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth along with its neighbor;7bears all things perpetrated by its neighbor, believes all things for its neighbor's benefit, hopes all things for its neighbor, endures all things by its neighbor.
8Love never fails its neighbor ... 13But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is loving your neighbor as yourself ... second only to loving the Lord your God with all of your heart, mind, soul, and strength.
Think of your neighbors. Include people of a different faith or political stripe. Think of the not-so-nice neighbors. Think of the people in our communities who end up in the news. Reread this combined passage with these neighbors in mind. Yeah ... those neighbors. Go ahead ... reread it. I'll wait.
Now, go love your neighbor as yourself.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Wally Speaks: Being There
The office bore the scars of a neglectful three years. Dimly lit, monochromatically drab with tired furniture that squeaked from old age and piles of forgotten papers, the "pastor's office" housed more artifacts than conversations. It slow-cooked every occasional visitor to help reduce the electric bill, and only a handful of the church's attenders could even tell you where it was. Every Tuesday afternoon for a semester, I traded beads of sweat in that room for the advantage of sitting with the interim pastor, a man worn peaceful over forty years serving others as a pastor and mentor throughout Southern California. He was Wally Norling, and those future pastors he mentored were called "Wally's Boys" (Larry Osborne, for example). Wally passed away in 2010.
I wasn't afforded enough time with Wally to ever warrant the label. But his soft-spoken, confident advice still props up much of what I do and how I do it. The contrast of his seasoned, cool wisdom and that sauna of a tattered room only amplified his gentle words - the church building is merely a prop on a larger stage. More importantly, ministry looks a lot like a mentor and his apprentice sitting together and not at all like a church calendar spilling over with harried activities.
Our paths to these meetings bore no resemblance to one another. He determined to be pastor at age 5, and was a shepherd to his very core all his days. I left behind 15 years of software at age 35 to attend seminary, and was well-versed in all the people skills you'd expect in a computer programmer. I was 40 years his junior, knowing nothing of that which came so effortlessly to him. By the way he answered me, I could usually tell when I accidentally asked a meaningful question. One of my best questions was hatched after my first "pastoral" hospital visit.
A dear, elderly lady had fallen dangerously ill and was only partially responsive, bedridden as she recovered in a rehab facility. Armed with every bit of the bedside manner one gains from coding C++, I fumbled, stuttered, and awkwardly silenced my way through 30 minutes that I later prayed her illness would prevent her from remembering. Happily, she recovered over time ... and never once mentioned that I had visited her. Whether that was illness or grace matters little to me.
In my next meeting with Wally, I managed slightly better verbal skills to mutter a mess of questions asking how to handle such situations - what to say, how to make people feel better, how to help them put illness in great, theological perspective, and so on. In effect, I was asking how to "fix" the situation like I was accustomed to fixing bugs in software.
Wally simply said, "90% of ministry is just being there." A lot like the time he had been spending with me, patiently waiting for one of my questions to be substantive.
Get out a concordance of the Bible. Search for "thou shalt fix." Nothing. No variation, no similar phrase. Search of "one another," and you'll quickly have a long list. Look for how many times the Lord reassures us by simply saying, "I am with you" or "I will be with you" or "I will never leave you." Even the Lord says, "A great deal of My ministry to you is just being with you."
Be there. Put "fixing stuff" way down on the list. Be there when people are sick and non-responsive. Be there when they have gotten fired. Be there when their dog dies. Be there when they are mad at God. Be there when they are drunk, in jail, stranded in the mud of their own creation, or cursing the whole world, including you. Be there when you don't know what to say or what to do. If you can convey that "I'm here to demonstrate that the Lord will never forsake you," you have done 90% of ministry.
I wasn't afforded enough time with Wally to ever warrant the label. But his soft-spoken, confident advice still props up much of what I do and how I do it. The contrast of his seasoned, cool wisdom and that sauna of a tattered room only amplified his gentle words - the church building is merely a prop on a larger stage. More importantly, ministry looks a lot like a mentor and his apprentice sitting together and not at all like a church calendar spilling over with harried activities.
Our paths to these meetings bore no resemblance to one another. He determined to be pastor at age 5, and was a shepherd to his very core all his days. I left behind 15 years of software at age 35 to attend seminary, and was well-versed in all the people skills you'd expect in a computer programmer. I was 40 years his junior, knowing nothing of that which came so effortlessly to him. By the way he answered me, I could usually tell when I accidentally asked a meaningful question. One of my best questions was hatched after my first "pastoral" hospital visit.
A dear, elderly lady had fallen dangerously ill and was only partially responsive, bedridden as she recovered in a rehab facility. Armed with every bit of the bedside manner one gains from coding C++, I fumbled, stuttered, and awkwardly silenced my way through 30 minutes that I later prayed her illness would prevent her from remembering. Happily, she recovered over time ... and never once mentioned that I had visited her. Whether that was illness or grace matters little to me.
In my next meeting with Wally, I managed slightly better verbal skills to mutter a mess of questions asking how to handle such situations - what to say, how to make people feel better, how to help them put illness in great, theological perspective, and so on. In effect, I was asking how to "fix" the situation like I was accustomed to fixing bugs in software.
Wally simply said, "90% of ministry is just being there." A lot like the time he had been spending with me, patiently waiting for one of my questions to be substantive.
Get out a concordance of the Bible. Search for "thou shalt fix." Nothing. No variation, no similar phrase. Search of "one another," and you'll quickly have a long list. Look for how many times the Lord reassures us by simply saying, "I am with you" or "I will be with you" or "I will never leave you." Even the Lord says, "A great deal of My ministry to you is just being with you."
Be there. Put "fixing stuff" way down on the list. Be there when people are sick and non-responsive. Be there when they have gotten fired. Be there when their dog dies. Be there when they are mad at God. Be there when they are drunk, in jail, stranded in the mud of their own creation, or cursing the whole world, including you. Be there when you don't know what to say or what to do. If you can convey that "I'm here to demonstrate that the Lord will never forsake you," you have done 90% of ministry.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Life Lessons or Life Lessens
Our church family is mourning the recent loss of a dear lady named Margaret. Many knew her quite well, and not a few have known her more than 30 years. However, those who have been with us less than four years or so haven't had as much chance to get to know her. Her last several years were spent mostly within the confines of a care facility, and her ability to be with us steadily diminished with her health. To get to know Margaret in these years required going to her - and that privilege was well worth the trip.
Although I was not with Margaret the hour she passed, Lynne and I were able to spend quite a bit of time with her, her family, and a constant stream of loved ones over her last two days. We were also with her and her husband Pete when he passed almost exactly four years ago. The pastoral responsibilities, as you might imagine, have put me in a number of situations where the pall of death drapes down from the rafters like a curtain.
Those experiences have run the spectrum. There have been peaceful times where underlying confidence of entering into the presence of the Lord buoys the entire experience. There have been times when there remained far more unresolved relational issues than the time left afforded for any real repair, despite frantic attempts to "set things right." There was even one situation where the person was not prepared to die and fought it with everything she had, including some rather disturbing moments of sheer, inconsolable dread.
One thing that has been cemented in me through the collection of these experiences is that death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. First, estrangement from others rivals death. That may sound overstated ... while we're all breathing in and out with some measure of confidence. But when the end for one of the estranged parties is within days or hours, I have seen more grief caused by the ill repair of the relationship than by the parting of death. The regrets that soon follow further exceed the pain of loss. On the other hand, when the relationships are healthy, the last hours are not panicked, largely ineffective stabs at reconciliation. Rather, the loved ones can focus merely on the comfort of and fond memories with the dying.
Second, estrangement from God far exceeds death. While we're strong and eager, we may ignore God or even shake our fists at Him. But He is eternal, and our bodies are temporal. There will always come a time when we are too weak, too close to passing, to even form a fist to shake at Him. The confidence that death is nothingness teeters ... "What if?" When one is estranged from God, there is no external surety that what lies ahead is better. On the other hand, a healthy relationship with the Lord stirs a sense of eager anticipation beneath the immediacy of loss.
The reality of impending death for each of us gives us a choice: Life Lessons or Life Lessens. Either death teaches us lessons about life, especially about our relationships with others and with God, or life lessens - it becomes less valuable. In that case, death does not enrich the days we have left. In that case, death just robs those days of deep joy, peace, and love they could otherwise contain.
I've seen enough death to appreciate life, but not cling to it more than everything else. Because I have seen a number of deaths, I value more my relationships with others and with the Lord. Death can be our tutor, or it can be just a thief.
Although I was not with Margaret the hour she passed, Lynne and I were able to spend quite a bit of time with her, her family, and a constant stream of loved ones over her last two days. We were also with her and her husband Pete when he passed almost exactly four years ago. The pastoral responsibilities, as you might imagine, have put me in a number of situations where the pall of death drapes down from the rafters like a curtain.
Those experiences have run the spectrum. There have been peaceful times where underlying confidence of entering into the presence of the Lord buoys the entire experience. There have been times when there remained far more unresolved relational issues than the time left afforded for any real repair, despite frantic attempts to "set things right." There was even one situation where the person was not prepared to die and fought it with everything she had, including some rather disturbing moments of sheer, inconsolable dread.
One thing that has been cemented in me through the collection of these experiences is that death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. First, estrangement from others rivals death. That may sound overstated ... while we're all breathing in and out with some measure of confidence. But when the end for one of the estranged parties is within days or hours, I have seen more grief caused by the ill repair of the relationship than by the parting of death. The regrets that soon follow further exceed the pain of loss. On the other hand, when the relationships are healthy, the last hours are not panicked, largely ineffective stabs at reconciliation. Rather, the loved ones can focus merely on the comfort of and fond memories with the dying.
Second, estrangement from God far exceeds death. While we're strong and eager, we may ignore God or even shake our fists at Him. But He is eternal, and our bodies are temporal. There will always come a time when we are too weak, too close to passing, to even form a fist to shake at Him. The confidence that death is nothingness teeters ... "What if?" When one is estranged from God, there is no external surety that what lies ahead is better. On the other hand, a healthy relationship with the Lord stirs a sense of eager anticipation beneath the immediacy of loss.
The reality of impending death for each of us gives us a choice: Life Lessons or Life Lessens. Either death teaches us lessons about life, especially about our relationships with others and with God, or life lessens - it becomes less valuable. In that case, death does not enrich the days we have left. In that case, death just robs those days of deep joy, peace, and love they could otherwise contain.
I've seen enough death to appreciate life, but not cling to it more than everything else. Because I have seen a number of deaths, I value more my relationships with others and with the Lord. Death can be our tutor, or it can be just a thief.
Monday, May 19, 2014
There's this great restaurant I don't want you to know about
We found the greatest Italian restaurant! We were just rambling around looking for some place we've never been before, and actually got a little turned around. But then Lynne saw something as we passed by and said we should try it. So we turned around, parked the car, went in, and gave it a try. Bar none, the best Italian food we've ever had!!! (And we're kind of picky about Italian food.)
But I don't want to tell you about it. We're not going to tell you what's on the menu, where it is, or even the name of the place. Trust us - it's awesome food. We plan on eating there regularly. The owner is very nice and welcoming. But ... we're just going to keep this information to ourselves.
You see, what if Italian cuisine offends you? Maybe you really can't stand Italian food. You were forced to eat really bad Italian food as a kid, and now just the mention of Italian food makes you mad. We wouldn't want you to be offended.
Besides, who am I to tell you where you should eat? You're a grown adult and can make your own choices. You know how to find restaurants. Just because we like this place doesn't mean you should like this place.
And what if you ask me how the pasta sauce is made, and I don't know? I know I like the sauce, but quite honestly, I can't tell you the recipe. I pretty much know how they make the pasta - I can answer those questions. But that sauce? I don't really know, and I don't want you to ask me questions I can't answer.
What if you've heard bad reviews of this restaurant? Maybe you read somewhere on the Internet about someone who ate there and thought it was awful. Or, worse - maybe you know some people who like that same restaurant, but you've seen how they behave in restaurants. Their behavior is horrible. So if they recommend this restaurant, it's probably the last place you'd want to eat, right? Who would want to eat where they eat?
Or maybe you'll find out I'm a hypocrite. Maybe you'll catch me sometime in a weak moment eating Spaghetti-O's. How could you take Italian restaurant advice from someone who eats that?
I know, I know - you've seen some of those TV chefs, and they're just after your money. Plus, there's that one politician who wants to make teachers teach Italian cooking in the public schools.
So, I'll just keep my restaurant choices to myself.
On the other hand, the food in this restaurant is the best we've ever had. Come and see. Try it for yourself. Make up your own mind. If you don't like it, we'll still be friends.
But I don't want to tell you about it. We're not going to tell you what's on the menu, where it is, or even the name of the place. Trust us - it's awesome food. We plan on eating there regularly. The owner is very nice and welcoming. But ... we're just going to keep this information to ourselves.
You see, what if Italian cuisine offends you? Maybe you really can't stand Italian food. You were forced to eat really bad Italian food as a kid, and now just the mention of Italian food makes you mad. We wouldn't want you to be offended.
Besides, who am I to tell you where you should eat? You're a grown adult and can make your own choices. You know how to find restaurants. Just because we like this place doesn't mean you should like this place.
And what if you ask me how the pasta sauce is made, and I don't know? I know I like the sauce, but quite honestly, I can't tell you the recipe. I pretty much know how they make the pasta - I can answer those questions. But that sauce? I don't really know, and I don't want you to ask me questions I can't answer.
What if you've heard bad reviews of this restaurant? Maybe you read somewhere on the Internet about someone who ate there and thought it was awful. Or, worse - maybe you know some people who like that same restaurant, but you've seen how they behave in restaurants. Their behavior is horrible. So if they recommend this restaurant, it's probably the last place you'd want to eat, right? Who would want to eat where they eat?
Or maybe you'll find out I'm a hypocrite. Maybe you'll catch me sometime in a weak moment eating Spaghetti-O's. How could you take Italian restaurant advice from someone who eats that?
I know, I know - you've seen some of those TV chefs, and they're just after your money. Plus, there's that one politician who wants to make teachers teach Italian cooking in the public schools.
So, I'll just keep my restaurant choices to myself.
On the other hand, the food in this restaurant is the best we've ever had. Come and see. Try it for yourself. Make up your own mind. If you don't like it, we'll still be friends.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Am I Sent?
On Sunday, I told the graduating high school seniors that (if they are believers) they are being sent to their college campuses. In the past several months, I have said the same thing to you about your neighborhoods and workplaces. The implications, of course, are life-altering. If I am sent to my workplace, my neighborhood, my school, even my grocery store, then I can never just go to my workplace, neighborhood, school, or even grocery store. But is it true? Am I really sent?
We've been in these places for years, time and time again - perhaps without any sense of being sent. No determination on my part to live as one sent, and no voice from heaven exclaiming "I sendeth thee!" I've being living quite unsent for a very long time, and the universe still seems to spin and the paycheck keeps showing up twice a month. How can I be sent if I've successfully gone so many years as if unsent? Besides, I chose that job, that neighborhood, that school, and that store without praying or asking God where He'd like to send me - my choice means I couldn't have been sent.
Rather, isn't this religiospeak to make my daily grind sound way more important than it really is? Isn't this just a clever way for the pastor to trick me into integrating my faith better into my "regular" life?
This is no mere manipulation or motivation-by-guilt. It's absolutely, fundamentally, necessarily true. Consider:
God is continuously purposeful. It is God's unchanging nature to have a purpose for every action. He never lacks a fully developed purpose for anything He does. Where you live and work and shop and play are in fact choices you make. Furthermore, you can make some choices that are decidedly contrary to God's purpose and will. However, you cannot do anything, not even choose something against His will, that works outside of His purpose. He will use all of your decisions - those submitted to His will, those ignorant of His will, and those contrary to His will - to accomplish His purpose. "And we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rom 8:28). You are not where you are outside of God's purpose.
Jesus said so. Jesus sends His disciples, pure and simple. He had the habit of doing so during His ministry, and in the instructions He gave them, they still had freedoms to make choices on how to carry out that sending. More importantly, near the end of His ministry, He effectively sent all who would follow Him. "Just as the Father has sent me, I also send you" (John 20:21). He did, in fact, say, "I sendeth thee!"
Let no man separate what God has joined. We tend to separate our jobs and the marketplace from our "religious" sphere. It's a false secular-sacred dualism. We can be sent to the people in our church or sent to a pre-designated "mission field" across town or across an ocean. I'll even take a week off from work to go (be sent) to one of these specially-designated mission fields - I leave the work sphere to enter the mission sphere. That's a false dualism. Our mission field is this world. All of it. "All" would include "secular" places like work, home, school, and market. On God's map, there are no lines to separate mission fields from "normal" fields. He just drew a big, red circle around the whole planet and said, "Go ye therefore there" (cf. Matt 28:18-20).
It is impossible for a follower of Christ to be unsent. In order to prove the positive, let's look at the negative - you cannot be an unsent follower of Christ. Impossible. A follower of Christ follows Christ. (It's tautological, but profound.) To follow Christ is go where He goes, do what He does, think how He thinks. Jesus is by His very nature missional (i.e., sent). In order to follow a missional (i.e., sent) Christ by definition means being missional (i.e., sent). I.e., sent! It is impossible for a follower of Christ to be unsent.
If you are a follower of Christ, you are sent on behalf of the Kingdom of God into your neighborhood, workplace, school, and even shopping mall. (Oh, God, please don't send me to the shopping mall!!! -- 1 Kinseronians 4:12) You may have "chosen" these places without regard to God's mission. You may have chosen them out of godless, selfish, or rebellious intentions. And yet you are sent nonetheless. How much better, then, to be sent to these places by choice?
So be sent. You can never just go to your workplace, neighborhood, school, or even grocery store.
We've been in these places for years, time and time again - perhaps without any sense of being sent. No determination on my part to live as one sent, and no voice from heaven exclaiming "I sendeth thee!" I've being living quite unsent for a very long time, and the universe still seems to spin and the paycheck keeps showing up twice a month. How can I be sent if I've successfully gone so many years as if unsent? Besides, I chose that job, that neighborhood, that school, and that store without praying or asking God where He'd like to send me - my choice means I couldn't have been sent.
Rather, isn't this religiospeak to make my daily grind sound way more important than it really is? Isn't this just a clever way for the pastor to trick me into integrating my faith better into my "regular" life?
This is no mere manipulation or motivation-by-guilt. It's absolutely, fundamentally, necessarily true. Consider:
God is continuously purposeful. It is God's unchanging nature to have a purpose for every action. He never lacks a fully developed purpose for anything He does. Where you live and work and shop and play are in fact choices you make. Furthermore, you can make some choices that are decidedly contrary to God's purpose and will. However, you cannot do anything, not even choose something against His will, that works outside of His purpose. He will use all of your decisions - those submitted to His will, those ignorant of His will, and those contrary to His will - to accomplish His purpose. "And we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rom 8:28). You are not where you are outside of God's purpose.
Jesus said so. Jesus sends His disciples, pure and simple. He had the habit of doing so during His ministry, and in the instructions He gave them, they still had freedoms to make choices on how to carry out that sending. More importantly, near the end of His ministry, He effectively sent all who would follow Him. "Just as the Father has sent me, I also send you" (John 20:21). He did, in fact, say, "I sendeth thee!"
Let no man separate what God has joined. We tend to separate our jobs and the marketplace from our "religious" sphere. It's a false secular-sacred dualism. We can be sent to the people in our church or sent to a pre-designated "mission field" across town or across an ocean. I'll even take a week off from work to go (be sent) to one of these specially-designated mission fields - I leave the work sphere to enter the mission sphere. That's a false dualism. Our mission field is this world. All of it. "All" would include "secular" places like work, home, school, and market. On God's map, there are no lines to separate mission fields from "normal" fields. He just drew a big, red circle around the whole planet and said, "Go ye therefore there" (cf. Matt 28:18-20).
It is impossible for a follower of Christ to be unsent. In order to prove the positive, let's look at the negative - you cannot be an unsent follower of Christ. Impossible. A follower of Christ follows Christ. (It's tautological, but profound.) To follow Christ is go where He goes, do what He does, think how He thinks. Jesus is by His very nature missional (i.e., sent). In order to follow a missional (i.e., sent) Christ by definition means being missional (i.e., sent). I.e., sent! It is impossible for a follower of Christ to be unsent.
If you are a follower of Christ, you are sent on behalf of the Kingdom of God into your neighborhood, workplace, school, and even shopping mall. (Oh, God, please don't send me to the shopping mall!!! -- 1 Kinseronians 4:12) You may have "chosen" these places without regard to God's mission. You may have chosen them out of godless, selfish, or rebellious intentions. And yet you are sent nonetheless. How much better, then, to be sent to these places by choice?
So be sent. You can never just go to your workplace, neighborhood, school, or even grocery store.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Doing is the Second Half of Learning
Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.
-- Benjamin Franklin
Last week, I asked a pair of questions during the sermon. The first was, "What kind of verb is the word follow?" Immediately, the right answer came from several directions: "Action!" Then the second question, "How similar is that word to what we're doing right now?" Crickets, at least for a few seconds. Then the realization ... it's impossible to follow Christ by just sitting down.
There are times to sit and learn, but we will never be followers of Jesus if sitting down "learning" is the bulk of our Christian experience. Sitting to listen to a sermon, sitting to learn in a Bible study or Sunday school class, sitting in a circle in a small group. All of these are valuable and important. But they do not comprise the phrase following Christ.
To follow anyone, we must do what they do. That's the simplest definition of follow. The word in the original language of John 6:66-71 carries the idea to follow a teaching by obeying it. A follower of Jesus does the same kinds of things He does (within the sphere of human ability). It is a stretch to call oneself a follower of Jesus based just on regular attendance to sitting-and-learning events.
Let's look at this another way. Let's consider the word obey in terms of being a learner. But before we do, let's also look alternate ways to think about the word obey.
Obedience as "ought". Perhaps this is the most common view. We do because we're supposed to. It's what good followers do. We ought do some things, and we ought not to do other things, and getting those categories sorted out well means obedience.
Obedience as righteousness. Take that a step further, and you can look at obedience as a form of righteousness. By obeying, you're becoming more righteous - a better person, a purer person.
Both ideas have some merit. There is some sense of "ought" to obeying Christ - we certainly ought to. There is even a sense that we do become more righteous the more we walk in His ways (even though we cannot merit His favor or earn salvation in any way). However, I think there's a stronger motivation than these that God has for us for obedience.
Obedience as learning. Jesus taught His disciples, sometimes sitting down as a group, sometimes on a hillside or in a boat, and sometimes along the way. But teach He did. However, He also had His disciples do. They handled the fish and the loaves, they retrieved the donkey, they prepared the Last Supper, they went out by two's to tell others about the Kingdom. He did not expect them to obey just because they ought to or to make them more righteous. He did this to teach them! As they obeyed, they would learn.
Why do we expect Him to teach any differently today? Have we outgrown the need to do in order to learn? Can we just study forgiveness and learn it, without actually ever forgiving anyone? Or, will we only learn forgiveness when we actually forgive someone?
That would mean that Jesus wants to me forgive not just because I ought or in order to be more righteous, but to really, truly, actually learn forgiveness. And I need to learn forgiveness because that's one of His key attributes. I cannot get to know the forgiving Christ well without learning forgiveness by forgiving people.
Not just forgiveness. Apply this same idea to anything He wants us to learn: love, joy, grace, generosity, compassion, humility, patience, endurance, surrender, and so on. We won't get to know well the Christ who loves unless we learn love by loving people. Go on down the list.
So, why do so many of our Christian teaching venues have chairs?
Consider the seated learning as the "first half of learning." Then consider the unseated, action verb learning as the "second half of learning." Whenever you learn something about walking in the way of Christ, don't consider that you've learned it until you're doing it. Take that lesson and find some way to do it right away - that day, that week, sometime before you try to learn the next thing. Don't declare you learned something awesome in a sermon until you're doing that awesome thing or actually living according to that awesome thing. Then you've learned it!
The last thing we want for our Bible studies is for us to learn something that we're going to disobey only to come back the next week and learn something else we're going to disobey.
You will get to know Christ better by this. It's a way of learning! Jesus even says so Himself in John 14:21. Rather than some mystical appearing of Jesus for those who obey, I rather suspect what He means is, "As you obey, what you are doing is getting to know Me in ways you can't learn by just sitting in a chair."
The one who has my commandments and keeps them—that one is the one who loves me. And the one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and will reveal myself to him. (John 14:21)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)