Knee deep in paperwork for ordination, I find it is time to remind myself that becoming an ordained pastor is not supposed to be as easy as printing a certificate from a website. I am grateful for this opportunity to dig deeply into my faith journey and reflect on my calling to ministry. It's just that doing so in the middle of pastoring full time, chairing the board for Missouri Ministers' School, serving as secretary of the District Board of Church Extension and Mission, ... and oh, yeah ... being a husband and a father, too, is a pretty stressful experience.Anyway, here's another of my answers. Let me know what you think!9. Describe your style of ministerial leadership in relationship to your congregation/setting.
No higher compliment is paid me than by the one who says with disbelief in their voice, “You mean YOU are the pastor?!” Last winter, a church member called me to say he had tickets to the Missouri Tigers basketball game, and to ask if I would like to go along. Two other guys from church were going, and I would be the fourth. The trip was great fun, and on the way home, I thanked the three men for helping me to feel “like one of the guys.” In response, one said, “But you ARE one of the guys.” I suppose I carry that “one-of-the-guys” style of ministerial leadership with me wherever I am, which makes it easy for me to relate to many different people, be they preschool kids or retirees, upper/middle class suburbanites or homeless sojourners stopping by for a cup of coffee, the longest of long-time church members or the newest of recent converts, and so on. I find that what happens when I relate well with others is that mutual trust is built within the relationships, and there is no more precious aspect of a pastor’s relationship with the congregation than trust. And there is no aspect more fragile.
The danger of a style of ministerial leadership like this is the potential deterioration of healthy boundaries. Although I may act like “one of the guys,” really I am not. I am the pastor, set apart for a lifetime commitment to ministry of service, word, sacrament, and order. I am the one people will look to for theological guidance, spiritual nurture, pastoral care in painful moments, and so forth. And this kind of role cannot be played by just any friend among many. Yet if lived out with integrity and sensitivity, an informal, familiar leadership style with the congregants may in fact enhance our relationship, thanks in large part to the trust that is established. It means that, as I engage and equip others for ministry, as I speak prophetic truth shaped by the ongoing mission of God, as I provide comfort and care for the afflicted (and occasionally provide affliction for the comfortable!), I do so upon the foundation of strong trust. They know me and I know them;we trust each other. It is a trust I am careful never to abuse, and never to take for granted. There may be some who do not take me as seriously as they would if my style was more authoritarian or managerial, but there are many, many more who respond affirmatively. (Plus it is just a whole lot more fun!)
As foster parents, Erin and I are part of a team of people who are working on our kids’ case. Yesterday, we spent our morning attending our first meeting of this entire team. It was quite an intense experience. The foster care process includes this kind of meeting every now and then, just as a way for everyone to check in, give updates on how things are proceeding, and continue to work towards the goal of permanency for the kids.
Present at this meeting were the two kids, Erin and me, the kids’ mom, the kids’ paternal grandmother, the kids’ dad’s lawyer, the kids’ lawyer, the kids’ medical case manager, the kids’ case worker, the kids’ therapist, the case worker’s supervisor, a court representative, a community representative, and the Assistant Director of the Children’s Division office. So, picture all fifteen of us crowded around a conference table in a meeting room that was clearly designed to accommodate exactly fifteen people sitting around a conference table, but nothing else at all.
This meeting was the first time for us to meet the kids’ mom (and the kids’ grandmother, for that matter). Needless to say, we were feeling a TON of anxiety going in. What would she be like? Would she resent us? Would she care at all? All we knew about her was based upon what her daughter told us following their weekly visits. And of course, her daughter loves her. But was that just because all kids love their moms, no matter what? Maybe we were over-thinking this, but we were pretty nervous about the meeting, wondering what she would think of us, what we would think of her, and how we would get along with each other.
Well, despite our sense of foreboding, meeting the kids’ mom was a very positive experience. She was friendly and gentle, and very affectionate with the kids without smothering them. She held them on her lap for most of the meeting, but let them down when they wiggled so that they could go sit with someone else, mostly either their grandmother or one of us. It felt similar to a family gathering, where the kids will wander from relative to relative, trusting that any of several different people would give them a lap to sit on and a couple of arms to hug, and Erin and I were two among the several.
I say it felt similar to a family gathering, but nobody was eating barbecue chicken and baked beans off of paper plates on the front porch. Our purpose was to discuss “the case.” So Erin and I told everyone about how the kids were doing, acting, eating, conversing, playing, dressing, “getting along,” and basically everything they have been up to for the last two months. We told them about dentist and doctor appointments, about day care, about church. We talked about their temper tantrums and their moods after a visit as compared to before. We told them everything we could think of, than answered their questions for the rest of the info they needed. It was, all in all, about thirty minutes worth of conversation.
I can’t reveal very much about the content of what happened, of course, but as I reflect on sort of how the whole thing felt, I would say that the meeting itself felt very much like a step in a longer process, almost but not quite a hoop through which to jump. Most of the people in the meeting had a demeanor that said, “I’ve done this before; I’ll do it again.” We had built up so much emotion and expectation toward the meeting, that it was almost anticlimactic once we got there. But I’m not trying to say that the people were cold and impersonal. In fact, all of the people involved were very friendly and open about the whole thing, talking with the kids and trying to draw them into the conversation. It was clear that the people around the table were all there because they wanted what’s best for the kids, and that is a good thing.
One final observation about this meeting: there has been a sweeping change in the philosophy of foster care in recent years, and a lot of people just don’t understand it. For example, I spoke with a friend at church about it, and her reaction was, “Oh, I bet the kids just clung to you for dear life during the whole thing.”
I replied, “Actually, no. They pretty much went straight to their mom and sat with her most of the time.”
At this, my friend was surprised. “Really?” she said, “I would have thought they would have been scared to leave your side with all those strangers.”
I’m not sure what exactly my friend was thinking, unless it was that since the court decided the kids would be better off away from mom for a while, the kids must agree. But as a general rule, kids love moms. And in particular, though they may not have lived with her for a while, she is still their mom, not a stranger at all. Of course they went straight to her mom and sat with her. We are foster parents, care-givers. We are not their parents.
As foster parents, we are a part of a team working in concert to see that the kids are safe and healthy, both in the short term and over the long haul. That might mean they go back to live with their mom after a few more months. That might mean that they are adopted by another family. That part of it is not our decision. Only the court can decide that. Our part is for the short term – to take care of them, to love them, to keep them safe and make sure they know that they are.
After the meeting was over, I told the kids’ mom, “We’re taking good care of them.” I just thought she might like to know. After all, she’s their mom.
Adam has some good thoughts about North Korea - click here.
(The following is a post written by Bishop Monk Bryan, my grandfather, whose "rambling thoughts" about God, church, and life in general are a periodic feature of Enter the Rainbow, depending on how freely he will offer them!) Last Monday I flew to El Paso; came back the next day. Our South Central Jurisdiction College of Bishops meets once each four years at Lydia Patterson Institute in El Paso and once at Saint Paul Seminary in K C. ... I was [chairman of the LPI board from]1980 to 1984. I always enjoy being with my colleagues in the College of Bishops and it was good to visit LPI again and get reconnected.
LPI is a Methodist middle and high school, founded in 1913, for the poorest of Hispanic children in Juarez (just across the Rio Grande river; now over two million population) and in El Paso. There are now about 450 students, some two thirds coming each day from Juarez. Without LPI they would have no middle or high school and would be blank as to English. Many of the Juarez homes from which they come are below our understanding.
LPI busses pick them up each morning and take them back at the end of the day. The jams at the check gates entering the U S take from one to two hours morning and evening; in winter the kids leave home before dawn and get back after dark. Yet there are few absences.
It is a risk program, considering the poverty, sometimes dysfuntional, often single parent homes from which they come. Lupita, a girl from Juarez, had planned for months to start in LPI last year. The school and a Methodist Church had worked on it, including rebuilding the family's shack home. But a few weeks before school started, Lupita disappeared. No one knows where she is. Lupita's younger sister is now in LPI and a still younger one is likely to be in two years.
Keeping in mind all the problems and struggles, there are few behavior problems, the attendance rate beats any of our U S schools. Over 90 % graduate from high school. And over 90 %, sometimes over 95 %, go on to college. Without LPI, they would know little or no English; upon graduation, all handle it well. There are working relations with our Methodist colleges, and LPI graduates are now in Centenary, Hendrix, Oklahoma City U, Southwestern U, Texas Wesleyan U, Nebraska Wesleyan U, Lon Morris, Wiley, S M U, Emory, Duke, and others.
LPI is contained to one block. There are plans to secure another half block in a year or two. And hopefully the other half of that block later. What a wonderful investment Methodism makes !!!
I’ll start with an observation about human beings:
It is always easier to characterize groups than to relate to real people. And so we can feel bad for “the poor” or we can sympathize with “the Amish” or we can fear “the terrorists” or we can condemn “the gays” or we can vote against “the Republicans” or root against “the Broncos” and on and on and on. All of this without risk, without any thought of giving yourself up to the other, of sacrificing something for the sake of love, of offering to serve another child of God with a spirit of compassion and grace, in short, without any of that messiness that we would call a real relationship.
And this detached state feeds directly into the ethics of the lowest common denominator (the LCD ethic, if you will), the prevalent ethic that says one needs to act only slightly better than the group or the person who acts the worst. Consider the case study of terrorism and the treatment of detainees. Good or bad, why should we be concerned with how they are being treated? After all, terrorists have killed thousands of people over the decades, using deplorable techniques, and continue to wreak havoc around the world daily. The LCD ethic would say that the standard for the treatment of terrorism detainees is set by the terrorists themselves, the whole group of them lumped together as one evil blob.
However, Christian ethics start with incarnation, which is the most intimate expression of relationship that God could ever offer. The holy mystery of the trinity, itself an intricate interplay of relationship and unity, is made flesh in Christ Jesus in order to be real, in a reach-out-and-touch relationship by which God yearns to save creation. In the incarnation, God shows up for us so that our relationship with God is no longer an abstraction, but a tangible reality. Jesus gave himself up for the world, sacrificed his everything for the sake of love, knelt down to wash each individual disciple’s feet in the last moments of his life on earth, and made the messiness of human relationship more fully real than any of us ever could.
A “what if” comment last time asked what you would do if one person in your control knew the location of a nuclear weapon that would kill millions – would you torture them? Actually, I cannot ever picture myself in that position, and I’m highly skeptical that anyone but a TV character ever would, and so it is really hard to answer. The question is actually not responsive to the observations I am trying to make in this little dyad of posts. It falls into the category of a neat Youth Group conversation starter, but is not my point.
Mostly, I’m just trying to point out that when we start assessing our behavior by comparing it to a behavior that is truly horrible, we are in pretty big trouble. And further, that our tendency to do so is compounded by our equally sinful tendency to lump individuals together into large groups that we then characterize with broad, sweeping brushstrokes. Again, I’m not talking about the actual treatment of Guantanamo detainees. In fact, in a variation on the LCD ethic, the assertion that they are being treated well as a group is just as antithetical to Christian ethics as the assertion that they are being mistreated as a group.
Rather, a Christian ethic would demand to know how each one is being treated as a child of God, and insist that the sacred worth of every person be realized and respected. And that goes for detainees, guards, support staff, administrators – everybody – which is hard to do. But thank God Christ calls us to a higher standard, and may God give us the strength we need to attain it.
One of the reasons I am a Christian is because of ethics; the ethics of Christ resonate with me in a way that feels right. I have chosen to follow him, in part, because the pattern of life that Christians are called to follow provides an ethical center that makes sense to me. With that in mind …
Somebody please correct me if I have misunderstood something with this one. I am sure that I must be oversimplifying the situation again, a habit of mine which some of my friends have been kind enough to point out in the past. I trust that if I am guilty of doing so this time, I will be duly chastised.
HOWEVER …(I am now done prefacing, on to the actual content!)…
It seems to me that some people are trying to advance the argument that, since terrorists use unethical tactics, our military should too. The argument is most evident around the treatment of detainees at Guantanamo Bay. As if, because the terrorists commit such evil, nasty, horrific, etc. etc. actions against innocent people, that justifies treating them with a lowered ethical standard, or at least, not being overly concerned about potential mistreatment or ethical violations. There is no coherence in the ethical system that says that terrorists commit atrocities, so we ought to be able to, as well.
Before I go further, it is important to note that reports of the actual treatment of detainees in the “War on Terror” vary widely, from the most horrific pictures of torture and abuse to an almost idyllic luxury. It is not surprising to note which commentators are espousing which reports. The truth is probably somewhere in between the two extremes.
The point is, the actions of terrorists should not change the ethical standards by which we live, even to the point of affecting how the terrorists themselves are treated. This should not be a “lowest common denominator” world, in which our ethics are determined by the person who acts the worst. That’s an elementary school playground worldview, in which the phrase, “Well they started it” is regarded as logical reasoning. Such ethical deterioration makes it possible, for example, for people to say, “No, I don’t approve of the homosexual lifestyle, but at least I’m not Fred Phelps.” As if his twisted perspective sets the standard.
John Wesley, writing about slavery, wrote, “Notwithstanding ten thousand laws, right is right, and wrong is wrong still. There must still remain an essential difference between justice and injustice, cruelty and mercy.” He wrote that prosperity should never be attained at “the expense of virtue.” And neither should the elimination of terrorism be achieved (if that is even possible) at the expense of our own ethics. We may make our regulations about questioning detainees as vague as we want, we may interpret the Geneva Conventions as loosely as we want, we may play with terminology to spin the situation to our benefit all we want, but right is right and wrong is wrong still.
Christ calls his followers to a higher standard.
A part of this ethical system relates to the distinction between one’s attitude toward a large, anonymous group and one’s attitude toward individual people. As I continue to think about the “lowest common denominator” ethics prevalent in our society today, I’ll post again this week about that distinction.
Here's another ordination question to run up the flag pole. What do y'all think?How do you interpret the statement Jesus is Lord as it relates to your calling and daily disciplines?
Most importantly, the statement, “Jesus is Lord,” means that other things are not. For his first disciples, claiming Jesus as Lord was an intentional jab at the Roman Empire, placing Jesus’ authority above Rome’s. “Jesus is Lord” means that in the priority list of my life, nothing comes before my relationship with God in Christ Jesus, not my job, my family, my personal comfort, my social status, others’ expectations, my own expectations – nothing. It means that I pray the Wesleyan covenant prayer, that I might be used by God for God’s service as God sees fit – full or empty, employed or laid aside, having all things or having nothing. I describe my calling to ministry as being grabbed by the shirt collar and dragged forward, with the admonition, “Come on, let’s get to work.” And while I resisted the calling for some time, trying to put other things ahead of God in my life, eventually the power of God’s liberating Spirit at work in the world swept me up, as it swept up Thomas in the presence of the resurrected Christ, leading him to cry out, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28) Daily, as I pray and study scripture, as I plan worship and prepare my lessons to teach, as I interact with people as a pastor, I do so in concert with my awareness that Jesus is Lord and has a claim on my life that no other loyalty can compromise.
NBC is airing edited episodes of VeggieTales. All "non-historical" mention of God or the Bible have been deleted, apparently.
Click here to read the story.
NBC has responded, saying, "NBC is committed to the positive messages and universal values of 'VeggieTales.' Our goal is to reach as broad an audience as possible with these positive messages, while being careful not to advocate any one religious point of view."
Veggie creator Phil Visher is upset. According to the LA Times, he said, "It's a mistake to pitch 'VeggieTales' as just values because fundamentally it's about God."
Let's do a Richard Niebuhr thing with this: So, is this an example of "cucumber of culture?" Or maybe it is "cucumber against culture?" What do you think?
Hat tip to Bill Tammeus
Thank you to those who put my last answer through the wringer. Your comments really helped me clarify some things. Here is another question to consider:Q: What is your understanding of the open itinerant system within The United Methodist Church? Are you committed to such a system?
Members of the Annual Conference are appointed to serve in particular capacities by the bishop. These appointments are made prayerfully, in consultation with District Superintendents, clergy, and the local congregations and ministry settings, in order to discern where the gifts and graces for ministry evident in each clergy person might best match up with the particular needs and characteristics of the conference’s congregations and other ministry settings. Because the system is open, no consideration is given to race, ethnicity, gender, marital status, or age when making decisions about appointments. The itinerant system is one of the strengths of a connectional denomination, as the health of both the individual congregations and of the larger church as a whole can be considered when making appointments. Weaknesses of the itinerancy lie in the human tendency to politicize appointment decisions, conceiving of succeeding appointments as promotions and/or demotions, and the perception of many local churches that the conference is out of touch with the needs of the local congregation and therefore not qualified to make good appointment decisions. However, no system is perfect, and I believe that the itinerant system, when done well, provides the most effective clergy leadership for the promotion of healthy, vital local congregations and other ministry settings. I am strongly committed to serving in such a system.
And away we go ...1) What is the meaning of ordination, especially in the context of the general ministry of the church?
The sacrament of baptism is a gift from God and a means by which God’s grace enters the life of the baptized. It is also a ritual of initiation and incorporation into the Body of Christ, the Church, in which the each person responds to the gift through participation in the life of the church by their prayers, presence, gifts, and service. Ordination is another facet of that response. It is not a higher or better response, just a particular manifestation of an individual’s response to God’s freely given grace. In ordination, the church affirms outwardly the inward commitment to serving God as a leader of a local congregation or in another ministry setting. The church thereby invests people with authority over certain areas of church life, based on the recognition of that commitment. Within the overall ministry of the church, ordained people are leaders who preach, teach, administer the sacraments, articulate the vision of the community, nurture the spiritual health of individuals within the community, and provide for service for people in need.Well, what do y'all think?
I’d like to follow up on the issue of “control” with an observation about foster parenting.
Erin and I have sensed God calling us to be foster parents for a long time, and that calling has come to fruition with the presence of two little ones who have been in our care for the past several weeks. I haven’t written much about it, in part because I am reluctant to exploit the kids, in part for privacy’s sake, and mostly because we are so wrapped up emotionally in the situation that I have been unable to get any objective distance, everything is fresh and still kind of swirling around.
But Erin made an observation about our 3 year old foster child “Dakota” (name changed for privacy) the other day that has illuminated something about human behavior and the desire to have some control over life. Dakota has absolutely no control over what is happening. This child has been taken from home and family, told where to live, when to visit whom and for how long – nothing is under control.
And so, because these are BIG things that are completely out of control, controlling all the little things is very, very important. Dakota displays the behavior of a terribly spoiled child when things do not go just according to plan. Tears, screams, kicking, lying down on the floor – your basic hissy fit – is just about guaranteed to happen any time we offer even the smallest bit of discipline. My mom calls such behavior a “hing-ding.” I think you get the picture.
While I was getting frustrated and saying how spoiled Dakota was, Erin had another take on it. She says that telling Dakota, “No candy unless you clean your plate” is at the same time saying, “Here is one more thing in your life you do not have control over.” And Dakota is not really reacting to the candy, but to the whole thing – home, living arrangements, visits, etc. If Dakota’s reaction to being denied a piece of candy seems to be extreme, it is – if taken at face value. But there is so much churning just underneath the surface of that little heart, it doesn’t take much to pierce the façade and unleash the pent-up energy of the confusion, frustration, and helplessness there.
So before we react, we are careful to ask ourselves, “What is really going on here?” Our parental response can then be more measured, grounded, and responsive to what is actually happening, rather than just the behaviors that are presenting themselves. It’s not about the candy. We still do not allow hing-dings, but knowing some more about why Dakota is throwing one helps our response enormously. You have to address the behavior, of course. Any good parent will do that. But with a foster child, more things are out of control than just the availability of dessert.
Control eludes me. I have not posted a blog entry for a week, and it is mostly because my life has been beyond my control just lately. The stuff that has to be done has taken over, and the stuff that I want to do has faded from view. The good news is, some of the stuff that had to be done is now done, or at least ending, which will leave me more time for the stuff I want to be doing, instead. However, at least this last week has afforded me the opportunity to reflect on control, and to talk with some good friends about it. With their help, (especially yours, Diana) I have discovered the following axiom: when you cannot control the big things, controlling the little things takes on enormous importance. I am adding this one to my list of axioms for ministry. This axiom explains some of why people complain about what seem like trivial issues, especially in church. We can use this past weekend as a case study. During the week I had moved the American flag out of the front of the sanctuary in order to make room for our “Welcome Home” banner, and a church member raised a pretty angry complaint. What I realize now is that the issue is not the placement of the flag in the sanctuary per se (that issue has a-whole-nother set of concerns to consider), but in this case it is only a manifestation of the true issue. The issue is control. Having the American flag in the sanctuary, while not at all a priority for me, is very important to this particular congregant. The decision to remove it was not under his control, and he was reacting to it with some passion. Having control means having power. So much of life is out of our control, and we feel powerless in the face of that. Rush hour traffic, deadlines imposed by our bosses, the weather, images of violence we see daily on the evening news, diabetes and cancer and cerebral palsy and Alzheimer’s … most of what happens around us is out of our control, and so sometimes controlling a small something becomes a last, desperate attempt to cling to some shred of individuality and power, to finally avoid the full descent into chaos that threatens us at every moment. And so people at church will complain about … just about anything – from the color of paint on the walls to the music choices for worship to the seating arrangement of the choir, and so on and so on. I’m sure that those of you in church leadership have heard complaints that pretty much run the gamut. In hearing their complaints, it is important to hear the issue behind the complaint, too. Most of the time, it is about control. It’s like Janet says, “I don't wanna rule the world, Just wanna run my life.” Maybe this week, I will live a bit more under control.
Well, everyone, I got them in the mail today! They were in an ominous envelope with the return address of “UM Conference Center, Columbia MO” in the upper left corner. Trembling in anticipation, I tore open the seal and pulled out … my ordination papers! (Or technically, my paperwork to complete in order to be considered for full membership in the annual conference. But for brevity’s sake, let’s call them ordination papers, okay?)
I have to complete this paperwork between now and December 1st – in other words, guess what my blog posts will consist of for the next two months? That’s right, friends, my answers to the questions in my ordination paperwork. Then, after I read all your comments on them, I’ll be equipped to deal with the interview team from Conference. I’ll say:
“Well, Kansas Bob liked that answer, so why don’t you?” or
“You know, I think bethquick would agree with me when I say …” or
“Now, of course if Larry B. had his own blog, he would point out the weakness in your argument.” or maybe even
“In fact, John gave this answer a ‘Best of the Methodist Blogosphere’ award two weeks ago.”
Here’s what I got in the packet, in order:
- A memo describing a “Paperwork Orientation Opportunity” next month.
- An instruction page.
- A shockingly pink checklist.
- A Biographical Information Form.
- A Waiver of Access to Personal File form.
- A criminal conduct disclosure form (needs to be notarized).
- An instruction sheet for Effective Practice.
- A Pastoral Care Experience Verbatim Report Format form.
- An instruction sheet for Proclamation.
- An instruction sheet for Theology and Doctrine.
- An instruction sheet for Worship and the Sacraments.
- A letter to my District Superintendent, asking for his review of my ministry.
- An instruction sheet for a Staff Evaluation form
- The Staff Evaluation form.
- An Assessment of Accomplishments, Improvements, and Goals form.
- A form describing the On-Site Interview Process
Seriously, how many forests were killed in putting together this packet? I’m telling you, my stress level increased 50% simply by opening the envelope! It’s not really a surprise, since most of the stuff is the same stuff I did when I was commissioned three years ago. But back then I was in seminary, so I was in the mode, you know? I was writing a lot, reading a lot of theology, immersed in academia. Now I’m immersed in something else altogether! (Pause...) No, not that, I'm talking about being immersed in local church ministry, and my mind is clenching up at the thought of doing this all over again – and this time for more than a grade, for my calling!
I know what I should do: do a little bit of work on this stuff every week between now and December 1. However, there’s a big gap between that knowledge and the actual completion of the assignments. A gap that, for me right now, is a major source of consternation. Put me on your prayer list, please!
The Barmen Declaration was written by German Christians in 1934, responding to the rise of fascism in their country. I have paraphrased the document and added a few things, bringing it up to date and making it personal. I think it may be somehow relevant to our current global situation, but I’m still mulling it over. Let me know what you think.
Barmen Declaration - 2006
When it comes to living together as children of God, I oppose any attempts to coerce unity by means of any false doctrine, including use of force, the invocation of hyper-patriotism, the implication that to disagree would be unchristian or un-American, or the use of scare tactics to achieve the desired goal. Unity exists in God alone.
I am happy to be a Christian, and I love the church very deeply. I am happy to be an American, and I am proud of the good things my country has done. At the same time, I know that my church and my country have not always done good things, and in fact have sometimes done pretty nasty things. I am sorry for these things. In addition, I have no wish to see either the church or the nation disintegrate.
The way I see things, our unity as a church, our unity as a nation, and more globally our unity as a human race that is a miraculous result of the realization of God’s reign on earth – this unity is at risk. It is threatened by the attitude of arrogance, greed, pride, reckless ambition, and self-centeredness of the powerful, and specifically by the actions, grounded in this attitude, that oppress, injure, and kill the powerless and those caught in the middle.
It’s the church’s job to be the living presence of Christ in the world, empowered and equipped for ministry by the Holy Spirit to do the work of the people (the liturgy) in Word and Sacrament. Everything the church says or does, therefore, must show that it belongs to God.
It is NOT the church’s job to cater to the prevailing power, the political or ideological whim or to put any worldly loyalty above loyalty to God and God’s purposes for this creation.
It’s the church’s job to exist in the world as an eschatological sign of God’s past/present/future reign on earth, and to acknowledge the crucial role the state plays to provide for justice and peace in the “in between” time.
It is NOT the church’s job to sit idly by and watch as a power-hungry state exceeds its responsibilities by infringing upon the freedom, upon the very lives of the earth’s people, nor is it the church’s job to exceed its own responsibilities by becoming merely a pawn of the powerful, or the religious arm of whatever government happens to currently be in charge.
It’s the church's job to resist evil in whatever forms it presents itself in the world. The church has been given that freedom and that responsibility by God.
It is NOT the church’s job to condone without question any act of violence that the powerful justify. Nor is it the church’s job to deny the possibility of a way of peace by naïvely assuming the only way to resolve conflict involves violence. Those who follow the Prince of Peace know a better way.
And finally, it is the church’s job to deliver God’s grace freely to all people.
It is NOT the church’s job to arrogantly select whom to love and whom to hate, nor is it the church’s job to subordinate the abundant grace of God to the flimsy prejudices of the powerful.
I think that if the church will just do its job and stop doing all that other stuff, we will pretty much be okay, and God will be happy with us. Anyone who can go along with that, I hope that you’ll join me in promising to just do our job as best as we can. True unity is grounded in faith, love, and hope.
Yesterday, Billy Graham's column said, "When Jesus' body died on the cross, he didn't cease to exist, any more than we do when our bodies die. His soul or spirit kept on living, just as ours will when we die. ... But Jesus' spirit was different from ours, and one of the ways it was different was its absolute holiness and purity."Does this feel kind of docetic to anyone else but me?
...if you really love the church and have big questions about what it is becoming. Click here to listen to Gordon sort things out.
I would like to pick up a thread of conversation that Kansas Bob pursued in his comment on my last post. I had written a rambling critique of bad music in worship being “the downfall of the worship style formerly known as contemporary.” KB responded, “The mocking tone of your comments tells me that you don’t understand this type of worship and how people are touched and moved in worship singing these types of songs.”
Well, he is right about the mocking tone he detected, but wrong about the target of said mocking tone. I was not mocking contemporary worship itself, but rather I was mocking the bad music that sometimes comprises a service that is labeled “contemporary.” I would similarly mock bad music that sometimes comprises a service that is labeled “traditional,” but in the post about “Christian kitsch,” it was not relevant. I could write a-whole-nother post about bad “traditional” worship.
But with regard to worship style, I really don’t care too much what happens in a worship service (within limits, of course), as long as it is centered on the presence of God, it is done with passion and energy, and it creates an environment conducive to the divine/human encounter. I certainly would not mock any worship experience that meets these criteria, whether it be one that features blue jeans and a band or formal robes and an organ. Some people seem to think that, just because it is a “traditional” service it must be lifeless and lethargic, and likewise some people seem to think that, just because it is a “contemporary” service it must be shallow and selfish. All of which further points out the problems that arise when we use labels in conversation – assumptions abound and definitions get pretty slippery sometimes.
Kansas Bob makes an assertion that, “…usually the total exclusion of choruses equates to passionless singing.” To which I reply, you ought to hear a British Methodist congregation sing And Can It Be that I Should Gain! There is passion, there is power, and there is energy. Partly because of the familiarity factor, which cannot be overestimated. We must always consider the context of worship in these kinds of conversations. But part of that passion is because of the depth of meaning in the text of the hymn. The poetry resonates with the mind, the theology stirs the spirit, and the resultant energy is embodied with a full-throated, lusty, courageous sound that is glorious to be a part of.
KB and I will find some common ground on this issue, I think, because he says, “…whether it is from a hymnal or overhead projector, give me passion over tradition ... even if it is judged as kitsch by some :)” Though I take exception to his assumption that tradition is passionless, I concur completely with his point that passion is a vital part of what makes worship, well – worship.
PS – Another thread of conversation from my last post that gets me thinking is the whole “blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jesus” thing. I think I’ll write my next post about that one, mainly responding to the question posed by anonymous, "Why is a b-h, b-e Jesus unacceptable?"
