"Spiritual But Not Religious"

On Thursday, April 28, 2016 at 4:45 p.m. I posted the following question on Facebook and Twitter: “What do you think it means to say, ‘I’m spiritual but not religious?’”

Fifty-one people responded, and here are their answers, which I found to be absolutely fascinating! I’m compiling them here with the thought that they need to be more widely read than just my social media feeds. There is something really, really cool happening in these responses. Give it a read, and if you have your own answer, feel free to add it in the comments.

- What do you think it means to say, “I’m spiritual but not religious?”

B.W. Freese: I think "spiritual but not religious" means no practices which connect with the holy.

Rob Barringer: I think it means, "I don't go to church."

Elizabeth Perry Wilcox: I tend to hear this from people who believe in God, but do not go to church or participate in organized religion.

Andrew Jones: I love you, but I don't want to marry you. I want all of the benefits of a relationship with God without the responsibility, accountability, or commitment.

Brad Bryan: Means, I'm neither. I'm cynical. But, in my experience, most people I have known that say this are not what I would describe as spiritual. I mean, not really.

Zak McIntyre: Trying to connect with a higher power but not yet seeing how a church fits into that.

Todd Scranton: In my experience it can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it means "I've been burned by the church, but I still have some semblance of my faith left that I'm struggling with." Sometimes it means "I've outgrown the narrow parameters of the faith I was raised with, but I haven't done the work of figuring out what I DO believe." Sometimes it means "I sometimes feel something, but I don't know what it is, and don't have anyone I trust to help me figure it out." And sometimes it means "Get away from me you pushy religious person." The thing I know it DOESN'T mean is "Please, scorn me from the position of your religious community's understanding and treat me like some kind of immature slacker."

June Clark: I have wrestled with this question. As best I can decipher it, this means that the person believes in a higher power of some kind but is not sure how that looks.

Valerie Kistler Miller: A belief in God but not the church as a collective entity.

Susan March: Unsure of what "God" means but still possibly open to seeking. Religion represents 'judgement', so definitely not religious!

Emily Stirewalt: Hurt by organized religion.

Michael Stanfield: It is a statement made by people who feel the pull of God, but are frightened by "Church". Christians, as a collective body, tend treat others as morally inferior. While professing faith in Jesus (a Man who spent his entire ministry preaching tolerance and understanding and dining with prostitutes and lepers) they support agendas that create division, oppression and fear. Christians, as a collective body, tend to be wildly hypocritical and some of the least tolerant humans on the planet. Your statement allows them to say they feel God without having to put that "label" of religion on themselves. Watching how a lot of "Christians" act, I can't blame them.

Bob Maffitt: I think it often means I am afraid to totally deny that God exists, but I do not want to commit my time or money to supporting a church, helping others or learning about Biblical concerns that may be contrary to how I want to live life my life. Just some thoughts.
            Linda Lightner Hobbs: Bob, I think you hit the nail on the head so to speak.

Seth Dylan Hunt: Spiritual is what you own and religion is the construct under which you practice or speech on spirit. That's always been my take.

Owen Smith: Believing in God, but not feeling welcome or comfortable with any local congregation/gathering they know of. May be a cop-out to being active or committed to serve or even attend a church.

Bob Edwards: Not sure. I hope it means that they pray but sometimes spiritual people are not believers.

Mark Hansche: I think it means that they sense the Divine spark that is in all of us, but they have no foundation on which to allow the Holy Spirit to turn that spark into a flame. They're drifting.

Cindy K Day Hauk: I believe when someone says they are spiritual but not religious is they may lack the personal relationship with Christ and His followers.

Joan Cotton DeBoe: Belief in a higher power but uninterested in "being subject to" an organization that expects a particular response.

John Hampton Jr.: I hear "I don't trust the church". Many I've spoken to (so this is just anecdotal) share in their assertion of spiritual, not religious an almost agnostic approach to God; but they share a feeling that the church is corrupt. They'd rather go through life finding God than have some church tell them who God is. I wish I had a better way of telling them that at least we in the UMC are doing the same thing they are.

Dorothy Drago Brucks: They like to hummmmm.

Nathan Cornelius” That is someone whom the church as a business has "turned off"

Ben Mulford: I'm surprised no one has said it means "I'm okay with burning in hell." Not that I think that, but I could imagine a deeply "religious" person responding that way.

Doug Cannon: I think being spiritual, but not religious, is becoming commonplace. Many people have been spiritually abused in a church, and don't want to be a part of a large group on Sunday morning. These people have a connection with God in their hearts, but don't feel the need to share that connection with others.  As stated before, many are turned off by some church they've visited. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was what the pastor said. Maybe it was not being made welcome when they walked in. People who have experienced this have chosen to worship their God in different ways. I think this is becoming more & more the norm. "Church" can mean many things. I've had church alone on a forest. I've had church with 5000 others.

Chris Snyder: I don't know but there are days I worry I am religious and spiritual.

Niki Parrish Scott: I think it means someone has been hurt in some way & may be afraid of being hurt further by a "structure" that should actually be doing the opposite.
I fear we underestimate it as a cop out or whatever you'd like to call it. I'd like to see a way to communicate without "the church" becoming defensive.

Joy Perry: I have always thought that it was a comment made by someone who has been hurt by the church or who is fed up with the politics of the church. Another possibility is someone who has seen too many hypocrites there. They believe in God, but don't feel they need organized religion.
            June DeWeese: I agree totally with what Joy wrote. That would be the case with the person whom I know. Except where she wrote " or" I would write "and"......

John Schmalzbauer: Agree with much of what has been said. People hurt by "organized religion" and disaffected with congregations. I think there is also an element of American individualism. Jefferson said "I am my own sect." Saying you're spiritual but not religious is analogous to being political without voting. Many studies show Americans are disaffected with institutions, including the church, the government, business, and the news media. A lot of this is because institutions have let us down.

Megan Hammer Lucy: I agree with all the above, but would also say that while sometimes people are turned off by being treated poorly by church goers but still like the ideas of Christianity, that sometimes it can be the other way around, too. People can be turned off by things like the way the Bible talks about women, or the way church doctrine addresses LGBT people but still feel connected and loved by Christians in a way that makes them feel spiritually connected to the community. At least that's the way I feel sometimes. I find myself frustrated by the "written policies" of the church and even the Bible sometimes, by the goodness and love of God's people draws me back.

Kathryn Smith: And there are those who say they can be closer to God on the golf course or on lake.

Wyn Andrews: I think it's indicative of someone who has been hurt by church. I used to say this about myself. Religion has been deeply problematic throughout human history, and it's not unreasonable to want to separate oneself from that. Of course, as a regular church goer (I used to say that even though I went to church every week. I still do.) I believe in the positives that an open and affirming congregation can offer to members, local communities, and the world. But, I don't think it's helpful to criticize this statement - not that you are, Andy, but I've seen some troubling comments here that, in my experience, will keep people from wanting to embrace going to church.

Dan Bohannon: The "religious" follow rules and people and are usually are viewed as less tolerant of other "religions" or people who follow a different path. The "spiritual" follow a perception of a "higher power" or their own bliss or something, anything they feel doesn't put them in the religious category. They may feel they are less judgmental and more tolerant than their religious friends.

Margie Lutjen Briggs: I think of religious people as Bible thumpers, the rules and regulations, flowing robe kind of people. Spiritual people are deep in faith and trusting with their walk. I guess I feel that being religious one must talk about the rules and see to it everyone follows them like they believe they should be followed. The kind that would use the Bible as weapon. A person who is spiritual tries their best to be full of love and grace.

Julia Essman: I don't know if it's been stated but I know one person I talked to recently said that their definition of their spirituality was listening to the feeling that come to them and in general letting fate take its course type of a thing. The way they described it sounded along the lines of agnostic, but with "following the path that is put before them" thrown in... I don't have a personal definition of "spiritual not religious" because I don't know enough about it. That's just from the conversation I had recently.

Maureen Glynn McNeil: I think it's a copout.

Thomas T. Sanders: Not much. I mean, it doesn't seem to me to be a statement which intends to communicate much, but more likely block or cut off communication about the subject.

Patsy Rhodes: I've been told I answer certain questions the way I do because I'm Spiritual. But to me, I say I'm Spiritual because of experiences I've had and visions I've seen. That's probably not what’s the correct way to describe a Spiritual person, but who is to determine what's correct and what's not.

Andrea Young: This has been a very good question. To me it could be like the chicken and the egg. I feel the spirit of God within me but yet I am not versed well in the religious teachings of the bible. I cannot quote scriptures and I don't know which testament is which sometimes. I cry every time I pray because I am so moved by the spirit of God. Someone might ask how can I know God if I do not know the bible? Which came first, Spirit or Religion? I only know what I feel
            Whispering Pine: So, Andrea, what holds you back from studying more and exploring that which is moving in you? Why not seek understanding and wisdom?
            Patsy Rhodes: Andrea, I understand and respect you for what you so eloquently Posted. You spoke for me too. No one can believe in and love God, Jesus and The Spirit more than me, and I am not well versed, as you stated, in the Bible. I had tears when I read how you cry every time you pray. I know and believe in them because I survived and experienced them and their love in real life.

Hector Eduardo Bousson: "I'm confused but I want to sound smart while saying it."

Chris Mixson: Spiritual= Individual / Religious=Part of something bigger than me.

Terry Hammer: There is a mindset which allows a person to believe they can live a Godly life without actually engaging with other people and the broken world. It is a very alluring proposition-much safer and less messy, but it is also a false premise. What if Christ had not engaged with the world?

Marti Fort: I have wondered that many times. Maybe they don't think they fit in to the church establishment.

Bo Tucker: God is moving you to take action outside the walls of the church.

Debby Peebles: My sister - you practice yoga, you read spiritual books, but you don't go to church unless maybe the yoga class is there

Pat Barker Auston: I believe it is possible to be both spiritual and religious. Spiritual - feeling within self, religious - going to a church and becoming an active member of that religion. So can you be religious and not spiritual? Yes, but missing one of the most important parts of religion, spirituality . Can you be spiritual and not religious? Yes, but missing fellowship.

Sonseeahray Hodge: A "personal walk with God" is just that. Personal. You don't have to be hurt by a church community, or follow a daily doctrine to have that relationship. When someone says that they are spiritual, it means that they have not found a church community that regularly adheres to values that they believe reflect their vision of what God wants. People within church communities don't realize that they truly speak another language, "church talk" that is very isolating and at times even appears ridiculous to people that are not within that community. When those outside the church community see this language, the hierarchy of members and see church members failing to follow their own doctrine...they ask themselves why would they want to be a part of that and why would they need that in their personal relationship with God? Religion is a practice, if that practice does not entirely reflect your spiritual belief then you do not need to be a part of it.

Lawrence Kyle Hern: I think it means that God's location has changed.

Ashley Hicks: I am actually one of those people. I'm sure the definition is different for each of us so I will only speak for myself. I believe in God, I pray, I was raised in the church which was a wonderful experience and shaped who I am as a person. That being said, my personal beliefs as I've grown don't really fit into one specific religion so I don't feel right identifying with one. Many of my beliefs overlap with a variety of religions so I tell people I'm spiritual because I guess I don't really know how to define it. Life = love for me.

The Inklings

I just got done reading “Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis. Not really noteworthy, except for the way in which I read it. Instead of reading on my own, I read with a small group of people.

Every week since early September, on Sunday evenings at 5:30, seven or eight of us gathered in a room here at the church and read aloud, stopping every page or so to ask questions, offer insights, and process what we were reading. We had a wonderful experience; we called ourselves “The Inklings” in honor of the discussion group Lewis was a part of at Oxford in the 1930s and 40s.

I would definitely recommend this process to anyone who has ever wanted to read a weighty theological book, but couldn’t find the motivation, or was a bit intimidated, or just didn’t know exactly where to begin.

Here are a few of the things I learned in the process:

- There was no curriculum other than what came out of our own minds in the moment. That made for some fantastic conversation and some energetic back-and-forth of ideas. It also led to some very interesting, albeit tangential, conversations about all kinds of things from cabbage to terrorism to amusing English idioms. Since we were not restricted by a curriculum, we were free to take the conversation where it wanted to go naturally, although always returning to the book itself to move things along.

- We took turns reading aloud, which gave us the opportunity to hear several different voices. It is fascinating to learn about who somebody is by listening to them read aloud. Tone of voice, inflection, syllabic emphasis choices – each reader brings their own personality to the task of reading, and in so doing offers a bit of themselves to the group. And to hear words read aloud as you are reading them yourself deepens the impact of their meaning.

- It is so fun to hear how others react when an idea strikes their fancy. There were many times that another person’s reaction to a particular thought was more significant than my own, which always made me pause to ask them what had been so meaningful to them. Comments were made as the reader went along – “Oh I like that!” “That’s a good one!” or even just “Wow!” And there were definitely moments when the entire group all reacted at the same time, and it was really exciting to be a part of the synergy of thought.

- One of the most interesting parts of the process was the way in which members of the group made connections to “real life” experiences. The Syrian refugee crisis was an ongoing story this fall, and often came up in our conversations. We talked about Pope Francis, presidential candidates, racial issues on campus, war in the middle east, and gun violence, among other things. Often the connections that others made were not necessarily ones I would have made myself, which was sometimes puzzling but always illuminating.

So now we are going to take a break, but decided last night to pick up another book in the new year. We chose “The Cost of Discipleship” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Yep. We’re going for it! As one said last night, “I’ve always wanted to read it, but never would have on my own. The only way I would read it is with a group, so I’m in!

I truly think that people long to “go deep” spiritually, to spend time wrestling with heavy thoughts, thoughts that are worth thinking, and we’re much more likely to do that together than alone. So pick a book, get some people together, and start reading. It’s easy. You can start your own “Inklings” right where you are!

"Lacking in Nothing"

“Mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” - This is how the book of James describes a person who has endured life’s trials, and with faith come through them with a new understanding and perspective.

I love that phrase as a definition of a “mature” person: “lacking in nothing.” Maturity has very little to do with how old you are. And “spiritual” maturity has very little to do with how long you may have been a Christian.

Spiritual maturity has everything to do with realizing that in God you have what you need, that you are indeed lacking in nothing. It may require us to adjust our definitions of “need” and “want,” however. And perhaps this is where our youngest sisters and brothers can teach us.

One rainy night years ago, driving home in the dark, in the rain, with the family in the mini-van with me, I realized that every kid was sound asleep. They were not in the least bit anxious about slick roads or poor visibility or the possibility of an accident. I felt the burden of their trust heavily upon my shoulders, and I got them home safely.

And that moment taught me a little bit about what I need versus what I want. That my kids could sleep meant that they had what they needed in that moment, regardless of anything else. And significantly, it wasn’t a sparkly toy or flashy gadget that allowed them that rest, it was their trust. In that moment, they lacked in nothing.

Sometimes it feels like life is just an endless campaign. We are always seeking the next thing, the newer thing, the nicer thing, the more expensive thing. It seems we are rarely content with what we have, and always pushing for more. I believe this to be a profoundly immature worldview.

Rather, “speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ,” and understand that in Christ we have enough. Spiritual maturity is the assurance of wholeness, security in the promises of God that we know in Jesus and are illuminated by the Holy Spirit.

I'm Back, And (Part 2) Something I Learned While I Was Away

Last February, when the Church Council approved my six-week long Spiritual Renewal Leave, I felt an immediate sense of relief. Just knowing that this mini-sabbatical was on the horizon was enough to give a little boost to my soul.

And now that leave is done and I’m back in the office, feeling rested, renewed, and grateful. I am so thankful to have a District Superintendent who insisted that I take some time away. I am thankful for congregational leaders who “get it” and gave me this time with their blessing. And I am inexpressibly thankful for a church staff that is so good at what they do that I didn’t have to worry about spending six weeks out of the loop.

So to everyone who made the last six weeks possible, “Thank you. I am deeply, deeply grateful.”

What did I do? Well, I rested. I spent time with my family. And I wrote.

The visible products of these six weeks are a book outline and the book’s first two chapters. I decided to write about what I have learned about following Jesus from being a foster dad. I hope to keep working and maybe have the book done by the end of this year.

The invisible product of these six weeks are a mind and heart that have been rested and renewed. I spent time with my family. I spent time alone. I camped. I read books. I floated down a river in a canoe with a dear friend. I skipped stones. I walked in the woods. I prayed. I thought about stuff. And the accumulative effect of this time away has been a tangible lightening of my spirit.

Walter Brueggemann introduced me to the idea of “the gods of insatiable productivity” in his book Sabbath as Resistance. Put in theological perspective, my Spiritual Renewal Leave vanquished the “gods of insatiable productivity” as I became reaquainted with the living God who builds sabbath rest into the act of creation itself.

It was good to be away - And now it is good to be back.

PART 2: Worship

I worshiped in five different churches during my leave. Some very different places: a big, established, traditional church; a “second site” location; a relatively new, contemporary congregation; a larger than large high-tech extravaganza experience; and a small, urban, guitar and piano, worshiping community ministry center.

And I learned something in these five worship experiences. But … I’m not sure if I really want to tell you what it was. See, it’s kind of heretical. If you only skim this post, you may misunderstand my point.

So I’m trusting you not to just skim this, but to really understand what I’m trying to say here. Okay? Deal? Then here it is:

Worship is ridiculous.

That’s about it, then. Somewhere in these last six weeks, I realized that the act of worship is the most ridiculous thing people do. Yes, that’s what I mean - “Deserving of or inviting mockery or derision.” And if your worship isn’t ridiculous, well then maybe it should be.

How would a worship service invite derision? A group of people shows up at a given time at a given place for a given purpose. And this group hasn’t gathered to watch something, like a show or a sporting event. This group has gathered to do something together. It is not an audience; it is a flash mob.

But unlike a flash mob, this worshiping group is not performing for other people. This group has the ridiculous notion that the audience for their performance is none other than the Creator of the cosmos. The groups actions are oriented toward God – the prayers, the singing, the praises are offered together to the One who formed life itself and exists beyond any human concept of time and space.

See what I mean? Ridiculous!

If you actually believe in a divine presence that knows all and sees all and is everywhere all the time, why in the world would One like that be listening in as your tiny collection of mortals stumbled through your rendition of “Amazing Grace?” As if your particular version of that song is any different from any of the other forty-seven thousand versions of it God hears on any given Sunday.

Whey would that all-powerful One who carves mountains and breathes gale force winds be watching your little puny arms lifting your inconsequential hands up in surrender? Why in God’s green earth would the Supreme Sovereign Force of the Universe think your organist’s prelude was worth anything or your on-screen announcements were especially meaningful or your little bite of bread and sip of juice had any power in it whatsoever or those people who came forward for prayer would get theirs answered because they were just that much closer or … ?

It’s actually quite ridiculous, when you really think about it.

It is ridiculous. And miraculous. And amazing and meaningful and transformative. In fact, worship is the single most significant event in the life of a local congregation.

The worship service forms the identity of the people by reminding us of who God is and who God wants us to be. You, as a member of the community, are a part of something that is greater than you, and greater than the sum of its parts. You dare to say out loud, “We are here! We are one! And the Spirit that unites us as one is here with us, all around us, all over us; we are in that Spirit’s midst.”

And not only you in that little place and time; you are a part of everyone else who is gathering in their own places and times for the purpose of worship, too. Wherever, whenever, however – you are one with the Body of Christ in all of its infuriatingly diverse incarnations.

To intentionally gather together in community, plan it, prepare for it, adjust your schedule for it, show up and engage it, not just watch it happen but be a part of it, and actually entertain the absurd notion that God is there with you, to remember who God is and then dare to say it out loud, to remember who God has called you to be and confess that you aren’t yet, and then to leave that place different than you were when you got there, hopeful, energized, ready … this is worship.

It’s pretty ridiculous, really. And I don’t know about you, but I for one am going to continue to be ridiculous as I worship God with every last breath I have in my body.

My One Idea - What's Yours?

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away … let’s just say for the sake of the story …

There was this technology that, when applied, would remove everything that a person believed, except for one single idea. All the complications and clutter of belief and dogma and doctrine and feelings and thoughts … just *poof* … gone. And only one idea would remain.

That solitary idea would be the center, the core, the pillar on which all the rest were constructed. The remaining idea would be the idea that served as the foundation of the house. It would be the heart of hearts of everything you believe to be true.

Got it? Do you see the concept? (Never mind how would it work, just play the game, okay?)

What would yours be?

What is your core idea? What is your single central belief on which all the rest are built? What’s the one idea that, if everything else were wiped away, you would hold on to with all your strength?

(Yes, just one. Again, just play the game!)

Please post your answer in the comment section, on Facebook, or on Twitter. I’m curious to read the responses.

Mine would be: Everybody matters. That would be My One Idea.

If everything else were taken away, I would cling to the idea that every single person is worth something. Not because of what they do or might do in the future, but simply because they exist. They matter because they are.

No matter your age or gender or wealth or health or race or religion or language or culture or nationality or anything else … YOU ARE IMPORTANT. For me, everything else builds upon that idea.

And that means that whenever that idea is challenged, I rise to defend it. Providing foster care, working for marriage equality, helping someone pay for a motel room, confronting racism, or just being nice to someone – it all comes back to believing that people matter. It shapes what I believe about God, who I believe Jesus is, how I identify the Holy Spirit, how I read scripture, what I think the church is about, and just about everything else.

So, I hope you’ll engage this little thought experiment with me. Here come the aliens with their belief-erasing devices! They have you in their sights! And … ZAP. All but one of your beliefs has just been eradicated.

What’s left?

Doubt is Holy

It’s one of those phrases from scripture that is so well known it has become a part of the common vocabulary - “Doubting Thomas.” Problem is, it’s a misnomer.

Stick with me for a while here…

There is a word that means “doubt” in New Testament Greek. It’s diakrino, and it’s found a few times here and there in the New Testament, like Matthew 21:21 where Jesus says, “If you have faith and do not doubt, you could say to the mountain, ‘Get up and jump in the ocean,’ and it would.”

That’s a word John might have chosen if he had wanted it in chapter 20, and John never wasted a word. The word John used in chapter 20 verse 27 is not diakrino, though. It is apistos. That’s the word pistos, or “faith,” with the prefix a-, meaning “without.”

For those of you who are Greek Geeks, we’re talking about the phrase μὴ γίνου ἄπιστος ἀλλὰ πιστός, in verse 27.

The NRSV and the NIV both have Jesus saying to Thomas, “Do not doubt, but believe.”

The King James Version actually gets this one much closer to right when it translates the phrase, “Be not faithless, but believing.”

I might translate it, “Don’t be faithless; be faithful.”

So what?

If you’ve skimmed the first few paragraphs, I hope you’ll start reading now. This is the “So what” of that little linguistic exercise.

Too many people think that following Jesus doesn’t leave you any room to doubt. “Doubting Thomas” is never intended as a compliment. We too often think of “doubt” as the opposite of “belief,” which means it must be a bad thing. And so many people go through life denying doubt, craving certainty, and otherwise diminishing the mysteries of the cosmos.

As evidence, consider the overabundance of phrases like “The Bible clearly says…” tossed so thoughtlessly about in so many conversations these days. This theology says, “There’s one way to see things, and if you don’t see things precisely that way, you are just wrong. And if you doubt any of this stuff precisely the way it’s been presented … well, I’ll pray for you, dearie!”

The way I see it, doubt is not the opposite of faith. As a matter of fact, expressing your doubt can be an act of great faith. Faith is what gives you the courage to continue on in the presence of doubt. Actually a doubt that is expressed courageously and faithfully can lead to a fuller understanding of the truth. On the other hand, stubborn unwillingness to acknowledge doubt causes people to stagnate, and leaves them ill-equipped to deal with life’s inevitable fluctuations.

Doubt leaves us room to dialogue with one another. Doubt primes our curiosity. Doubt fuels discovery, pushing us deeper and stretching us outward at the same time. I might even go so far as to say that doubt is necessary for faith to mature.

Once the church taught that the earth was flat. Somebody doubted that, and now we understand God’s creation much more fully. I imagine there were many diverse responses to the newly offered hypothesis that the earth is actually a sphere.

            1 - One may have rejected the new knowledge in favor of the orthodox doctrine.

            2 - One may have rejected the church, thinking that if you can’t trust one teaching, you can’t trust any of them.

(Both of these responses reflect an immature understanding of the creative power of doubt.)

            3 - One may have incorporated the new knowledge into a new understanding of God and grown in the process.

(This response embraces the doubt and uses its power to launch into a deeper truth.)

My advice? As soon as someone says, “The Bible clearly says” or some similar code phrase that indicates they have no doubts, you should exit the conversation.  It isn’t going anywhere, anyway. People with no doubts are scary to me. And people who insist that nobody should have doubts when it comes to questions of faith are theological tyrants.

Not only is doubt okay, it is holy. Doubt is necessary to maturing in faith, and in life in general. I hope you will embrace your doubt, express it with confidence, and see how you might just grow in the process.

Regifting Encouraged

Matthew 25:14-30, a story known as “The Parable of the Talents,” is a wonderful illustration of a Wesleyan understanding of salvation. However it presents several contextual challenges to contemporary North American Christians, cultural stumbling blocks that hinder our understanding of the lessons woven into the parable.

It begins with a man entrusting (Gk. paradidomi, “to give into the hand of another”) of massive sums of money to his servants. Unbidden. Unasked. They do nothing to earn this gift. It is given into their hands with no instruction, just the act of giving.

And they are given differing amounts, “to each according to his ability.” We are tempted to make too much of these differences; the lowest amount given, “one talent,” was equal to 15 years’ salary. The point is not to quibble over the differences in the amounts given, but rather to be amazed by the abundance of the gift.

God gives abundantly to all, and to each one is given a unique life. Because the metaphor of the parable is financial, that unique, personalized giving is indicated by differing amounts of money. Our capitalistic culture has conditioned us to think first, “Five talents is more than one, so five talents is better.” I believe this to be a significant block to understanding this parable. One talent is an enormous, virtually inconceivable gift, and any servant ought to feel the significance of it.

But Servant 3 (shall we call him Dwight?), does not understand the significance of the gift he has been given, and so Dwight does nothing with it. Actually, he does something, but what he does is go and bury the gift in a hole in the ground. His action proves that the gift is not irresistible. Rather than embrace and utilize the gift, he rejects it and hides it away.

Is he (like us) obsessing over and jealous of the differing amounts given? Is he perhaps apathetic to the gift or to the giver? Is he so wrapped up in his life that he can’t be bothered to deal with this gift, even as wonderful as it is? Is he actually afraid to take a risk, thinking the master will punish him if the risk fails?

In the meantime servants 1 and 2 (shall we call them Pam and Jim?) receive the inconceivable gift entrusted to them and put it to work. As they do, they find that the gift multiplies, expands, and returns to them doubled.

Remember that they were not instructed as to what exactly to do with the gift they had been given; it was up to them to take the initiative and utilize the gift, risking it all, not clinging to it for their own security or comfort, but “putting it out there” and hoping for the best.

What motivates Pam and Jim? Why do they do what they do, in such dramatic contrast to what Dwight did? Don’t they fear the master’s punishment if their risk fails? With the enormous gift given them, they might have just called it quits, headed off to the Riviera, and lived a life of ease for the rest of their days - but they didn’t. Why not?

The master returns.

And here, we come to a telling moment. We assume that the master will now ask for the talents back, right? The text tells us he has come to “settle accounts,” so we are actually set up to assume as much.

But imagine our surprise when we do not hear the master ask for the money back, but rather gives Pam and Jim even more. That’s right, when Pam and Jim give their report to the master, he praises them, gives them more, and invites them to “enter into his joy.” He never asks for the talents they have made, let alone the principle originally entrusted.

Here’s another enormous cultural blockage. Even without reading it, the ears of our imagination actually hear the master ask the servants for the money. But he doesn’t. He gives them more.

And then it’s Dwight’s turn.

Poor Dwight.

Dwight comes up to the master and the first thing he says is, “You are a rotten master.” This is probably not the best way to start the conversation.

He continues, “You’re mean and selfish and take things that you don’t earn yourself. So here’s your stupid talent back.”

Notice that, of the three, Dwight is the only one who actually offers to give the talent back to the master, Pam and Jim just show the master what they have done with what they have been given. It’s almost as if Pam and Jim are eager to continue, and are simply giving a status report on their projects to date. Dwight, in contrast, is done with this whole endeavor and is rejecting the gift, and with it any ongoing relationship with the giver as well.

Dwight’s bitter words and his rejection of the gift have consequences. The talent, which was so freely and abundantly given, is no longer available to him. And in a stark contrast to “entering into the joy of the master,” Dwight is forcibly evicted into the mysterious “outer darkness,” a phrase used only three times in the entire New Testament and only in the Gospel of Matthew.

And so the story ends … with gnashing teeth. (Idea for new business: “Outer Darkness Orthodontics.”)

There are at least three contemporary assumptions we make about this parable that I believe hinder our understanding:
1) 5 talents is better than 1. We need to think “different” instead of “better.”
2) The master asks Pam and Jim to return the talents. He doesn’t; he gives them more. (“To those who have, more will be given.” (v. 29))
3) “The joy of the master” equals “heaven” and “the outer darkness” equals “hell.” This is not stated in the parable anywhere; in fact there is no reason not to interpret these two ideas as here-and-now realities in this world rather than somewhere in the next.

If we lay these assumptions aside, this parable may be able to teach us something new. Often, the lesson is minimized to “use it or lose it.” As in, you have been given certain skills by God, and you have to utilize those skills or they will deteriorate. But that doesn’t feel entirely right to me, since this parable is among those that are describing the return of Christ and the realization of the reign of God on earth; the “coming of the end of the age.” (Take a look at Matthew 24:1-3 to read the set-up question for this section.)

So it seems to me that this parable may be able to teach us more than that we need to practice piano at least 30 minutes a day or we won’t get any better. (Although that certainly is true, kids. Do what your teacher tells you.)

With what have we been entrusted by God? What has God given to us?

… It would be better to ask, what hasn’t been.

All that we are comes from God. Life - Love - Grace - Salvation - Truth - Justice - Shalom. Everything. And it is such an inconceivably large gift, true. But what makes it even more inconceivable is that it is given without our asking for it. God’s gift is “prevenient,” that is, it comes prior to the event of our accepting it. God offers first, before we are even aware that an offer has been made.

Discovering that this immeasurable gift is offered to us, we then either accept it or not. Accepting the gift is the moment of “justification” in a Wesleyan viewpoint; other traditions call it “getting saved.” It is a powerful moment. It happens differently for different people; sometimes in one euphoric instant, and sometimes in subtle little moments here and there over time.

And then, if we accept the gift, we may be dismayed to discover that it does not come with instructions. This is called “free will.” Remember that Dwight received the gift, too. The master gave him a gigantic gift, and he accepted it. It’s what he did next that was his downfall.

Yes, we are free to do with the gift whatever we will. Are we going to display it in a curio cabinet in the living room? Are going to store it away in the attic and only get it out when the giver comes to visit? Or will we understand that there is more to do with the gift, that we can use it day by day to live better lives? In a Wesleyan view, there certainly is more that we are to do, once we have received the gift.

This “more to do” is called “sanctification” and it is the process of salvation by which, in cooperation with God’s grace, we grow closer and closer to God, by which we become more and more Christlike, by which the pattern of discipleship becomes more and more deeply imprinted upon us. Having received the gift, we must utilize it in order that it would expand. If we do not, it will wither away and we’ll lose it.

And as we increase the gift God has given, “working out our salvation,” we await the return of the master, the completion of God’s reign, the parousia, the “end of the age,” or any other of a number of metaphors to describe that-for-which-we-wait. And when that moment arrives …. wait for it …

We discover that there is even more!

As unimaginable as God’s gift is in this age, in the next it is even more so. Can you believe that? Just pondering that idea makes my mind swirl. That’s why nobody can know exactly what “that-for-which-we-wait” looks like. In fact I’m kind of suspicious of those who claim they are privy to this knowledge. It is just too huge.

And so the parable has something to teach about using our God-given skills, certainly. It has something to do with unleashing our spiritual gifts, no doubt. But that is because the parable has to do with how we are living our lives as a whole - skills, gifts, words, actions, attitudes, thoughts, relationships, health, resources - everything.

Live life in a way that builds up, multiplies, expands. Focus outwardly. Radiate. Receiving God’s gift is just one moment, it’s what you do with the gift for the rest of your life that matters most.

What will you do with what God has given you?

The Jesus Interruption - Day 14

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)

For your information, last night at Bible study, we decided that the blind man's name is Ray. So be it.

Notice how Ray moves through this story:
He is not seeking Jesus. > He is healed by Jesus. > To his neighbors' questions, he refers to Jesus as "the man called Jesus." > To the Pharisees' challenges, he calls Jesus "a prophet." > When he meets Jesus, seeing him for the first time, he calls him "Lord" and worships him.

For Ray to get from "not seeking" to "worshiping," he travelled a long and winding road; it did not happen in a single big moment. And that long winding road was comprised of some pretty challenging conversations, first with his neighbors and then with his spiritual leaders. And when it came down to it, Ray's experience with Jesus provided him all he needed.

"I don't know any of the answers to your questions," he said, "But I know one thing: I was blind, and now I can see."

His transformation is big. He was an object for discussion, and became the primary subject of the story. He was a beggar, and is no longer. He had never been able to see, and now he sees clearly.

He had no idea who Jesus was, and became his disciple.

I wonder ...

... how many times have I dismissed somebody else's experience and stuck to my understanding instead?

... how often does "The Church" function as the Pharisees in this story, insisting on a codified interpretation of God and minimizing any experience that may be contrary?

... how many radical transformations have happened somewhere other than in "The Church" because the church's tendency is to challenge the Rays of the world instead of welcome them?

... but then again, isn't that challenge just exactly what Ray needed in order to be transformed? It seems as though the challenge of his neighbors and the Pharisees helped him in his process of conversion. Does resistance always have to accompany growth?

... or maybe ... even deeper ... does placing "The Church" in the position of "The Pharisees" in this story give "us" too much credit? I mean, the church is really a whole bunch of Rays getting together to try to see clearly, aren't we? Is doing so the same as equating John's phrase "the Jews" with every Jewish person, when he really meant the Temple leadership?

Jesus says, "We must work the works of the one who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."

(Warning: Upcoming metaphor overload...)

So, can we be Rays of Light? Can we rethink church as radiators of Christ? We are not the light; we give testimony to the light. But even more, we are called to reflect the light ourselves, to illuminate darkness with Christ's light, to become transparent so that God's light shines through us.

But that process starts with confessing our blindness, and allowing Jesus to touch us, awakening our spiritual senses so that we can continue the long and winding journey of salvation.

The Jesus Interruption - Day 12

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)

It feels like a random encounter at first. The disciples just happen to be walking along and sort of come upon this blind man. Seeing him prompts a theological discussion, of which he is the object.

I wonder if he said, "Um, hello? I am blind, but I am not deaf! I can hear you, you know. I'm standing right here and you're talking about me as if I am a case study for your spiritual growth. I am not a curriculum illustration!"

In this whole story of blindness and sight, John works at multiple levels to reveal where blindness is. And it seems to me that one of those levels is with the disciples themselves, treating this man as if he is no more than an object for discussion.

And notice how quickly John move the man from being the object of conversation to the subject of the story. Even Jesus himself, after healing the man's sight, fades away. The man becomes the primary actor, even standing toe to toe with the Pharisees.

And what is his declaration? "I don't know some things, but one thing I am sure of - I was blind, but now I see."

How many times to we regard others as objects, rather than beloved individuals of sacred worth? When we pre-judge another person, lumping them into a category before truly knowing them as a unique self, we take away their inherent dignity and value. And we have a bunch of categories to choose from, don't we? Old, young, liberal, conservative, evangelical, activist, gay, straight, poor, rich, middle-class, immigrant, white, black, hispanic, asian - and the list goes on and on.

We like these categories because they allow us to order our world in a preconceived notion of "should" that makes us feel secure. But when we do, we are treating people as if they are objects, and that is wrong. Instead, Jesus reaches into the life of the individual person and heals what needs to be healed so that they can live a new life.

May we interrupt our prejudices in order to see people as Jesus sees them - beloved children of sacred worth.

The Jesus Interruption - Day 11

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)

“Let there be light.”

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

Scripture often uses the metaphor of light and darkness (or sight and blindness) to teach us something about our relationship with God. The storyteller John shares a powerful story of blindness and sight in chapter nine of his gospel.

Here we are introduced to a man who was born blind. The Jesus Interruption that this man experiences restores his physical sight, but it doesn’t take long to realize that there is more going on here than just a physical healing.

This week in worship, we will explore the story of this unnamed man. His encounter with Jesus obviously unsettled his life in a remarkable way. He was able to see the world in a brand new way, experiencing his surroundings in a way that he had only been able to dream about. It was bright, unfamiliar, and perhaps frightening.

And under the surface, he wrestles with an explanation. How did this happen? he asks himself. He is grilled by his neighbors. The Pharisees interrogate him, as well as his parents. He is banned from his synagogue by the closed-minded leaders. Ultimately he confesses his belief in Christ. “Lord, I believe!”

What are your spiritual “blind spots”? How might your eyes be opened by an encounter with Jesus this season? How might a Jesus Interruption illuminate the darkness in your life?

The Jesus Interruption - Day 10

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)

It is the tenth day of the season of Lent. It is also March 19, which usually means a windy Spring day. And today is no exception.

Wesley and I flew kites today, and it was great! Strong, steady wind kept our kites flying high above our heads for almost an hour. All was well, until ...

A gust pushed my kite over the string of Wesley's kite, another swirl looped my kite sharply downward, and when the strings crossed, my kite's string cut right through Wesley's.

Untethered, Wesley's kite immediately made a beeline for the highway, rapidly losing altitude as it fluttered away. It cleared the fence, and came to a halt on the ground in between the fence and the shoulder. Wesley was a bit worried, thinking it might fly into a car and cause a real ruckus. Fortunately, it did not, so I handed Wes the handle of my kite and started off after his.

I hopped the fence and retrieved it, then hopped back over. I retied the ends of the string together, and soon Wesley's kite was up and flying beautifully again.

Spiritual growth is a process of becoming untethered from what we know, experiencing the chaos of new understanding, then synthesizing it all into a new knowledge. Not just head knowledge, of course - I'm referring to a relationship with God.

Like a kite untethered, this growth can make us worried, nervous, even scared. Any change usually does that. And if it goes on forever, it can cause a real ruckus. But it is necessary for growth, and growth is necessary for discipleship.

Nicodemus was untethered by his encounter with Jesus, and he went to him by night to try to reconnect himself. But we leave the story not knowing how or even if Nick ever got tied back in. He just kinds of fades away. Later appearances in the Gospel of John reveal spiritual growth, but John never tells us explicitly that Nicodemus has become a believer. We are left to wonder.

Growth is change, and change always seems to freak people out. So instead of growing, we tend toward unthreatening, non-scary, comfortable stagnation. But it seems to me that, if you compare a person who is always seeking answers to life's new questions to a person who is satisfied with the answers they already know, the person who is always seeking is actually the one who is more spiritually mature.

May we never fall into the trap of thinking that there's nothing else to learn, no deeper to grow in our relationship with God, no new step to take along the spiritual journey that is Christian discipleship. Let our prayer be for God to untether us from our preconceived notions so that we can continue to mature into the people that God desires us to become.

It's a Question of Jesus

The title caught my eye, naturally. "Tussling Over Jesus." So I clicked it. And it was worth the read. I commend it to you - click here.

In his case study, Nicholas Kristoff identifies "two rival religious approaches," and indicates they are applicable not just to the particular case upon which he focuses, but apparent in "any spiritual tradition."

He writes, "One approach focuses upon dogma, sanctity, rules and the punishment of sinners. The other exalts compassion for the needy and mercy for sinners — and, perhaps, above all, inclusiveness."

More eloquently than many other observations, this statement identifies the disconnect that so many people sense when it comes to the church. Too many church experts identify this disconnect as "irrelevance," and then suggest remedies to irrelevance that are comprised mainly of stylistic changes.

This is not a question of style; this is a question of Jesus.

The crux of the church's identity crisis in the 21st century is Christological, not Ecclesial. People are not so shallow as to leave churches because they prefer guitar to organ (or vice versa). To suggest as much is an insult. People leave churches because they do not see Jesus there. They do not encounter God. They do not sense the power of the Holy Spirit. They are unable to become the disciples they long to become as a part of this or that particular congregation, and they want to be a part of a congregation where they can. Or in some cases, a part of no congregation at all.

And it's not that God is absent from these congregations, it's that these congregations seem to be striving to counter the presence of God by doing all in their power to emphasize "dogma, sanctity, rules and the punishment of sinners" rather than serving Jesus. For many, church has become the focus instead of God, and when that happens people leave.

For the contemporary church, it's a question of Jesus.

New Year Resolutions

In 2011, I have a few things that I am going to resolve to do.


1) When it comes to the health of my mind/body/spirit, I am going to adhere to the advice my 93 year old grandmother gave me this week. “Always remember to pray. Work hard. And take good care of your kids.” She told me this as we visited her in the nursing home, Erin and I sitting on her bed and Nanny in her chair, facing us. There were tears in her eyes (and ours), and we held each other’s hands as her simple, profound wisdom was spoken.

That advice kind of epitomizes the way Nanny lives her life, too. And her approach to living has served her well for nine decades, so I suppose we might do well to adopt it. “After all I’ve been through,” she told us, “I don’t really know how I’m still here.” And she paused. “I guess it would be better to say I don’t really know why. Why me?” And she paused again, and kind of looked off into space for a few seconds. “But,” she shrugged and smiled, “here I am, anyway.”


2) When it comes to church, I am going to enjoy the experiencables, recount the describables, and avoid obsessing over the measurables.

- There are measurables, like how many people attend worship every week or how many participate in a faith development class or how many go on a mission trip or how many professions of faith are made, and so forth.
- There are describables, like the layout of a building or the flow of a worship service or the goal of a mission project or a Bible study lesson plan, and so forth.
- And there are experiencables, aspects of a congregation that you cannot hope to measure or adequately describe, but must be felt first hand.

All are important, but they are not equivalent, and furthermore I have consistently placed a higher value on the measurables than the other two. That ends in 2011. I do not think it is even worth trying to rank them in any way; each has a distinct and inherent value. And so I resolve to simply enjoy the moments that can only be experienced to be appreciated, talk and write extensively about those moments that can and should be described, and allow the things that can be measured to be just one among several ways to describe the health of the congregation.


3) In my personal life, getting specific, I am going to
a) Take a hike in the woods once a week.
b) Audition for (at least) two shows at Springfield Little Theater.
c) Sit down at the piano to compose for (at least) three hours a week.
d) Read good books instead of watching junky television shows.


These three resolutions seem to me to be a pretty good start for the new calendar year. Flipping the calendar is kind of arbitrary, just another number on just another page of just another calendar. And so many “New Year Resolutions” tend toward the selfish end of things, intended to impact no further than our own selves.

But this date does offer a chance to reflect and renew, and resolve to become better people, and that’s not a bad thing. I hope that our resolutions this year will be more than just a financial boon for fitness clubs, programs to help you quit smoking, and the latest greatest weight loss diet plan. I hope that they will really be geared toward living better lives in community with one another, and becoming the people God wants us to become.

Thoughts on Growth

“But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ…”

To grow up into Christ means to become more and more Christlike in the things we say and do, to become more and more like Christ in who we are. There are many ways to express this idea in scripture, including clothing ourselves with Christ (Romans 13:14), being crucified with Christ so that Christ can live in us (Galatians 2:20), and letting the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus (Philippians 2:5).

Growth is a central emphasis of Wesleyan theology. In a sermon about Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” Wesley asks, “Are you transformed, by the renewal of your mind, into the image of him that created you? Then you cannot be conformed to the present world. You have renounced all its affections and lusts. Are you conformed to the world? Does your soul still bear the image of the earthly? Then you are not renewed in the spirit of your mind. You do not bear the image of the heavenly.”

To be transformed into the image of God is a daunting thought, isn’t it? For Wesley, humanity is created in the image of God, but sin has caused the distortion of that image. Thus, salvation is the gradual process of formation that renews that image within us. The process is known as “sanctification,” a movement that is empowered by grace and shaped by our participation with God in the process itself. It is a cooperative effort that leads us to Christian perfection, being so completely filled with God’s love that sin no longer has any place in our lives.

“…into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped,…promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.”

As personal growth happens, the community grows also. It is impossible to separate one from the other. Scripture contains many different expressions of this truth, also. The most familiar might be the metaphor of the body that is comprised of many members (Romans 12:4, 1 Corinthians 12:12). The community of faith is continually instructed to build one another up, to encourage one another. Acts 2 describes an initial church that shared “all things in common.”

To borrow an ancient analogy, if I am standing a great distance away from another person, and we both take a step toward the same point, we will end up a bit closer to one another, also. So it is in our spiritual growth; as we draw closer to Christ, we draw closer to one another at the same time. When we move toward a common destination, we get closer to each other no matter from where it is we start.

I think Jesus was alluding to this when he responded to the question about the greatest commandment. Having been asked to name one single commandment that would trump all the rest, Jesus proceeded to offer two: Love God and love your neighbor. He even went as far as to say that the two were similar, that they closely resembled one another. 1 John says it even more directly. If you say you love God but do not love other people, you are a liar.

And so it seems to me that discipleship growth has to be both personal and communal. The church practice that focuses on the personal is “Faith Development” and the church practice that focuses on the communal is “Fellowship.” Healthy discipleship means intentionally seeking growth opportunities in these two ministry areas.

Intentionality is important. I am not describing random tidbits that we pick up here and there. That’s always fun, and a good thing, when you just happen to hear something new, something you hadn’t thought of before or had never heard before. It’s almost always a good thing to meet a random stranger and strike up a pleasant conversation with them while waiting for the bus or standing in line at the store. Healthy discipleship calls for intentional growth.

And so, in examining your own discipleship it is wise to ask yourself what specific efforts you are making to grow each day, each week, and throughout the year. In terms of Faith Development, what books are you reading, what class(es) are you attending, what online resources are you exploring, what Bible Study(-ies) are you participating in, and so forth? In terms of Fellowship, what special church events have you attended, what conversations have you had with other disciples in your community, what new friendships have you developed, what longtime friendships have you nurtured?

And from a congregational perspective, what opportunities are being offered for Faith Development? Is there a variety of classes available, at a variety of times? Is the content of what is being offered appropriate and conducive to healthy spiritual growth? Is there a good congregational website that connects people to good online content? Is there a library of resources readily available for people in the congregation to seek out that personal growth?

And in terms of Fellowship, does the congregation value community free time in which people are able to simply be together for no other purpose than to nurture their relationships? Are there special events in the calendar planned to allow for people to really get to know one another? Do the administrative meetings of the teams and committees include times of relationship building and development of trust for one another?

Growth is always an important part of healthy discipleship. Sometimes it is hard; we seem to grow in fits and spurts. Sometimes we slip backwards a few steps before finding our footing and moving forward again. Some seasons feel totally static, like our spiritual lives have been somehow immobilized. This is all natural, and it happens to every Christian disciple from time to time.

The idea is to affirm the importance of intentional growth for Christian disciples, both personally and communally. It may not happen as smoothly as we would like, but somehow, when we put ourselves in places that are conducive to growth, we often discover that we grow. Imagine that!

Is the pattern of your life conducive to growth? How do you need to adjust it so that it is?

Balance In Discipleship

An interesting point raised by the Right Reverend Patrick Moore:
"My main question to you is: Is the congregation where we do our discipleship stuff or is it the world? Is it God-Church-World or God-World-Church?"

I had written:
"Your congregation is a community of disciples in which you have chosen do your discipleship stuff."

It may have been clearer for me to have written:
"Your congregation is a community of disciples with whom you have chosen do your discipleship stuff."

But it is an interesting distinction, isn't it? The answer to Patrick's question is really, "Yes." We do our discipleship stuff in the congregation, meaning in community with other disciples. And we do our disicpleship stuff in the world, meaing the community is an outwardly focused one.

Yes, disciples are supposed to be "out there" in the world as ambassadors of Jesus Christ, serving others, offering love and grace, sharing in acts of justice and mercy, and so forth. And at the same time, we are the ekklesia, called together to be the church.

It's the same with individual discipleship, I believe. There's always a balance to strike between personal holiness and social holiness. Too much personal holiness leads to a christology in which I carry my Jesus around in a little box, and would take him out and kiss, kiss, kiss, and put him back again. (I still cannot believe anyone ever thought that song was okay to teach to children!)

Too much social holiness makes the church just another political action committee, one more on the list of really good groups doing really good stuff in the community, and asking you for your money to support all of their really good work.

Christian discipleship is not "either inward or outward," it is "both inward and outward." Jesus invites people to come to him, then sends them out to serve others. When Christian discipleship tilts too much inward, the disciple begins to wither. When Christian discipleship tilts too much outward, the disciple becomes exhausted.

Likewise, when the congregation is too inward, it stops growing and slowly fades away. But when it is too outward, the people become tired and burned out. In reality, the former condition is much more prevalent than the latter, but we do well not to tip the scale too far in our corrective efforts.

The pattern we are going to be using at Campbell, LIVE-GROW-SHARE, asks people to balance all three of these aspects. "Live" is the worship component, both corporate worship services and personal devotion time. "Grow" is that inward focus and "Share" is the outward expression. I believe that all three must be in balance for healthy discipleship.

More On Discipleship

If anyone has ever said to you that Christian discipleship was going to be easy, allow me to apologize. They were misinformed. It is not.

But, if anyone has ever neglected to say to you that Christian discipleship is the most joyous, grace-filled, wonderful thing a person could ever do, allow me to apologize. It is!

And finally, if anyone has ever told you that the job of a disciple is just to make more disciples, allow me to apologize. It is much, much more than that.

I think the biggest problem with myopic insistence on “make disciples” as a mission statement for disciples is quite simple. We really don’t want to limit ourselves to that alone. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but a lot of people simply believe there’s more to it than that. Wait, now! Before anyone freaks out, let me explain.

I guess what I mean is, if the mission statement was “love people” or “help people” or “serve people” or something like that, now we’re talking! Because a lot of people believe that loving people has inherent value, and that we do not need to tack on the additional agenda of making them into disciples in order for our action to be worth something.

See, when many of us hear “make disciples,” we hear “I don’t want to take the risk that I myself might be transformed or anything, so I’ll undertake it as my mission to change other people so that they are more like me.” Yes, it is an unfair characterization. I’m just saying, that’s how it comes across sometimes.

The problem is, discipleship requires risk. Discipleship means sacrificial, unconditional love for strangers. Discipleship asks us to love like Jesus loves, which means being willing to die for someone who doesn’t “deserve” it. And no, we do not get to decide who “deserves” it or not.

Discipleship is a response to the gift of salvation, and salvation is a gift from God that humans uncategorically do not deserve. I do what I do as a Christian disciple not because I am better than anyone, but because I am a sinner saved by grace, and I am so unbelievably grateful for that, I choose to be a disciple of Jesus. And my discipleship is lived out as a part of the church.

Your congregation is a community of disciples in which you have chosen do your discipleship stuff. You have made this choice because the congregation is where you feel like you will be able to flourish most effectively in your discipleship calling. The congregation you become a part of is your “spiritual home” because your unique gifts and graces, your personal strengths, your very identity, make the most sense there. Some people say that “it just feels right,” which is a beautiful way to express this idea. And how important it is to remember two things: 1) Just because a congregation doesn’t “feel right” to you doesn’t mean it won’t “feel right” to other people and the corollary: 2) Just because a congregation does “feel right” to you doesn’t mean it will to others.

The church, as a community of disciples, both supports disciples and holds them accountable. That means a congregation has got to offer disciples opportunity to practice discipleship. At Campbell, we identify those practices as worship, faith formation, fellowship, mission and service, generosity, and hospitality. (That’s Bishop Schnase’s book plus one.) What we try to do is make sure that the people who call Campbell home have opportunity to engage in all six of these areas of discipleship. What we do not do very well yet is hold people accountable to doing so, but we are working on that.

The mission of a congregation, as I see it, is to make sure that the disciples who are a part of that particular community have ample opportunity to engage in discipleship, and then to hold one another accountable to doing so. Yes, a part of that is inviting people to become disciples themselves, but only a part. To reduce discipleship to merely making more disciples is an oversimplification that we do well to avoid.

When a disciple of Jesus is fully engaged in a balanced life of discipleship, including worship (identity), growth (inner focus), and service (outward focus), a life pattern begins to be imprinted upon them. This pattern liberates the disciple; there is a life of joy and peace. When the pattern is out of balance, meaning the person is spending a disproportionate amount of time in any one of the three aspects of discipleship, there is often discontentment, an unsettled feeling that something isn’t right.

Although attaining that balance is hard, once you get it, it seems to become easier and easier. As the discipleship pattern becomes more and more deeply imprinted in your life, it releases you from the pressures of this world and sets you free to truly live as the person God desires.

The Miraculous More of God

First, in October, I will ask the congregation to make a 3-year long promise to an “above-and-beyond” capital campaign, the goal of which is 1 million dollars.

Then, in November, I will ask the congregation to renew their promise of discipleship giving, the regular, week-by-week giving that supports the ministries of the church.

Next, in December, I will ask the congregation to keep track of the amount spent on Christmas gifts for family and friends, and contribute an equal amount to the town of Mellier, Haiti.

Sometimes it wears me out to think so much about money, and to ask people to give serious, prayerful, and intentional consideration to how they use their money. I sympathize with people who say, “All the church ever talks about is money!” I certainly understand why they feel that way. Sometimes it feels like that to me, too.

Part of why it wears me out is that I fear people will misconstrue my intentions. I don’t really care so much about the money; I care about the ministry the money makes possible.

First, the congregation needs this capital campaign in order to free up the thousands and thousands of dollars we are currently paying on interest, so that money can be put to work supporting ministry instead.

Then, the congregation needs to renew our promises of financial discipleship in order to continue and grow the wonderful ministries that are ongoing.

And next, the congregation needs to affirm that Christmas is about the presence of God, not the presents stocked on the shelves of the local Stuff Mart.

So none of the things I’ll be highlighting over these next three months is really “about the money,” although it surely seems that way on the surface. I believe that what we do with our money matters in the same way that what we do with our time, our talents, and our energy does. It’s about values. How we use our resources ought to reflect what we value.

To be honest, I don’t know exactly why talking about money makes me so nervous. In the Bible, Jesus was talking about money all the time. Money seemed to be one of his favorite topics, in fact. He quite obviously cared deeply about how his followers used their money, and so it makes sense that we should continue to do so today.

I’m reading (over and over again) Ephesians 3:14-21 in preparation for this week, and feel the power inherent in this brief passage. It is reminding me of what’s important, what the priorities are. It is truly an inspiring, amazing passage of scripture.

I am comforted by the thought that, wherever my mind might be at any given time, that God is “able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.” Personally, that means all my talk about money shouldn’t freak me out so much; God’s got it covered! As a congregation, that means "we are limited only by the size of our imagination;" sometimes clichés say it best, which is probably why they are clichés.

In other words, we might not make our million dollar capital goal or increase our discipleship giving for the upcoming year or gather as much money as we might have hoped to be able to send to Mellier. But to get stuck on that would miss the point. The point is that whatever we give, God will use it to do something good.

And knowing that should call us to increase, not decrease, the space we create for God to work in our lives. Knowing that God can work miracles with my meager gifts inspires me to give more, not less! Just as, knowing that God will forgive my sin inspires me to sin less, not more. Just as, knowing that God loves me no matter what I look like inspires me to dress up for church, not go all scuzzy.

See if this works for an illustration: I’m in a musical with Springfield Little Theater the next two weekends. When a scene crashes, the actors find a way to go on somehow, ad libbing until everything is back on track. But knowing that we’ll make it work somehow doesn’t mean that we’ll just go up there and wing it every show. On the contrary, we will work our tails off in rehearsal so that will not happen.

It is the same principle at work in our faith life, I think. Knowing that God is who God is should not inspire us to “phone it in” because God is so cool and can take care of it all. On the contrary, it should inspire us to “comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

May we all be inspired to be more by the “miraculous more” that God is able to do with and through and among us!

Lost / Found

In Luke 15, Jesus tells a series of parables about being found: one sheep out of a hundred, one coin out of ten, and one prodigal son who “was lost and has been found.” In each parable, an extraordinary effort is made for the sake of the one who is lost, an effort that seems disproportionate to the rest of the story.

A shepherd leaves 99 perfectly okay sheep behind to find one stray. A woman sweeps up her whole house to find a coin and throws a party for her neighbors when she does. And speaking of parties, a father puts on a blow-out fiesta celebration for a son who squandered his entire inheritance.

Why the imbalance? Surely it isn’t fair to the 99 sheep who stayed home! Surely the woman can make do with 9 coins out of 10! Surely the older brother deserves just as big a party as his irresponsible, prodigal sibling! I mean, come on! *Stamp foot indignantly*

Of course, as understandable as such indignation may be, it only serves to emphasize the larger lessons Jesus is teaching in these parables. He tells them in response to a challenge; namely, that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them” (v. 2). And rather than say simply, “Well, of course I do; that’s kind of why I’m here!” he tells a series of parables designed to help us figure that out for ourselves.

What we see is determined by where we are standing. Grace may create indignation for the 99 sheep who stay in the fold, but for the one who is lost, there is no greater bliss than realizing the shepherd has come looking for you!

Reconciliation

The “Letter of Paul to Philemon” is a short book of the Bible tucked into the late part of the New Testament; if you blink you’ll miss it. But it is a powerful letter that is the backdrop for a story of a fresh start, a second chance made possible by the grace of God.

Philemon and Onesimus had been estranged; the letter does not reveal the reason. Paul is now writing to Philemon to encourage him to reconcile with Onesimus, to be in relationship again, as a beloved brother.

There is power in reconciliation. In the same way that forgiveness does not condone the preceding harm, reconciliation does not ignore the estrangement that precedes it. Reconciliation simply moves on from there. Reconciliation is a fresh start on a relationship that carries its baggage along for the journey.

With whom do you need to sense the power of reconciliation? A family member you’ve been fighting with? A friend you haven’t seen in weeks or months? There’s no need to pretend that the estrangement didn’t happen. In fact to do so would be unhealthy. Why not take a risk, reach out to them, and let them know you still love them?

The baggage of the estrangement will be heavy at first, but over time it will lighten. The burden will grow less and less as the relationship is nurtured in grace, until it will be all but imperceptible. And then you will be so much closer to living the life God desires for you.

When we are struck by grace, we can only barely begin to imagine the possibilities of what God might do.

Life Unplugged

I am going to preach about healing on Sunday. And as it happens, I am using the idea of “unplugging” from the things that bind us in order to be healed. How fortuitous that I found this super cool article about how unplugging from the world actually helps our brains function like they are supposed to!

When we roll from one screen to another, be it desktop or laptop or phone or TV or whatever, our attention wanders. Our brains actually cannot pay attention to one thing for a long time, say some hypotheses. Others are skeptical, of course, and science is still exploring this brand new field of inquiry.

But personal experience (as in the last ten days) lends itself to support of this idea. I spent the vacation unplugged. No phone, no texts, no facebook, no emails. (In full disclosure, I did go online one time, to confirm a reservation – but that was all.)

And I felt the “third day syndrome” that the article talks about, as time slowed down and each moment became larger in my awareness. It was very cool. I never once thought, “Well where did that day go?” Time never flew by. Even as busy as we were seeing sights and doing all the camping stuff, the 10 days stretched out as I experienced them, they did not rush by.

So Jesus unbinds a woman from the disease that has been bending her over for eighteen years (Luke 13:10-13). Then the synagogue leaders display how bound they are by the rules of their religion by criticizing Jesus for his healing (v. 14). Then Jesus illuminates their hypocrisy by pointing out that they themselves unbind their livestock on the Sabbath, and so why should a woman of God not be unbound (v. 15-16)?

In other words, healing is all about being freed from bondage in this story. And that is helpful, I think, in distinguishing “healing” from “curing.” One does not have to be cured of an ailment in order to be healed. Being healed might be being released from anxiety about the ailment, even while still suffering from it. Being healed might look like relief of pain, even as the disease continues to ravage the body. Being healed might even feel like being ready for death, and at peace with God.

Being healed may very well be analogous with being cured, as well. God is infinitely powerful and is able to do abundantly far more than we can ever ask or imagine. And so sometimes healing and curing happen at the same time, and when they do, the stories people tell are called “miracles” or evidence of “blessing.” However, just because we don’t see a cure does not mean that healing has not happened.

Think about what binds you. Is it technology? Television? The giant tubes that comprise the internets? Your Blackberry Curve? (Ouch.)

Now wait, I’m not intending to say that all technology is bad all the time. Technology has connected us to one another in remarkable ways. But those connections can quickly become sticky strands of webbing that do not allow us to function as God intends. From time to time, we need to heal, to be unbound from what traps us in a kind of existence that really isn’t the abundant life Jesus came to offer.

Life, unplugged.