As a pastor I am blown away by Where’s Your Jesus Now? A lot of pastors are trained to do theology like scientists test theories…in a pristine, antiseptic, white lab-coat environment. We pastors want to be tidy, neat, clean and “biblically sound.” Don’t let messy people and chaotic life mess with our theology. Our theology must be unsullied by the vast unwashed (theologically-speaking) masses. Perhaps that is why the Church is hemmorhaging the younger generations by the thousands in USAmerica. They aren’t drinking the kool-aid of tidy, ivory-tower generated, pew-shaped, clean spirituality.
I hadn’t meant to bring it up in a Facebook discussion, What is emerging?, but I did—heresy. I greatly fear for a people who won’t stand for what they say they believe (especially foundational things), as I equally fear for a people who automatically attack people with whom they disagree.
The funny thing is that the day after I wrote my latest response in that discussion (and hopefully my last post in that discussion), C. Michael Patton wrote a small post on his blog discussing that exact issue.
If you read In The Darkness, A Light Shines, you might guess that the topic of suicide is a serious concern of mine. C. Michael Patton, on his blog Parchment & Pen, provides a response to a letter that discusses Those who commit suicide cannot be Christian . . .
I think (but have no proof) that the whole person who commits suicide goes to Hell was started by the Roman Catholic Church. For personal reasons (other than about me), this has caused me a lot of concern. Does this ease my concern? Somewhat, along with a sermon I heard a few years back, but there is still that thought in the back of my mind…
You’d think that all of us would by now have learned that we rarely know the depths of a person. Well, I have been confronted with that yet again, as I learned that Vin Diesel is making a movie about Hannibal, not the cannibal one.
Vin Diesal strikes one as just a nameless action hero typecasted actor, and I suppose he is in some ways. Yet here, he wants to bring to film one of the greatest military men that has been ignored (especially by Hollywood). I wish him a lot of success, and I can’t wait to see what he did.
Are we Kicking Grandma to the Curb?
For a number of reasons, I have a real problem with what this post (and the quoted article/news story) say. Not because it isn’t true, but because it is. I don’t think that nursing homes are an ideal situation, that’s for sure, but am I capable of taking care of my parents (all four of them) as they get older? I doubt it.
There is something to be said about the “good ol’ days,” where aged relatives would live in the same home as at least one of their children. I certainly think it would be healthier for society if we weren’t so segregated in our lives according to age bracket (one of the things many churches are also dealing with). However, in cases such as in my family, where one person has Alzheimer’s, it can be a full time job.
I also think that the changing perception of life changes in regards to age have a significant impact on the situation. Take, for example, the fact that 100 years ago, most education ended with the 8th grade, and, frankly, there are questions on those final exams that I couldn’t answer. That person was to become a productive member of society. Now, the expectation is that they will become productive 4 years later, assuming they don’t go to college.
Much of the same can be attached to “retirement”. In that same era, there was no retirement. The modern “golden age of retirement” really means, you’ve saved the money you wasted your life earning, now go spend it, or least that is what far too many retirement salespeople and financial “guides” are trying to sell. Well, if a person is burning their life away to go play at the end of the working era, why would they want to take care of ageing parents. In many ways, it sounds like some kids, “my parents just cramp my style.”
Back to the really hard part, the church not doing what it is called to do. The church has fallen prey to the same mentality as the populace, the government will take care of it! Then there is the whole lawyer thing, and the lawsuits that seem to come with them. What church is willing to take on that kind of litigative burden? What church can afford it? It reminds me of a post I read today, “A law degree only allows you to add friction to the economy…”
Litigation, cramping the style, whatever the reason…this is just not good.
Julian Freeman over at Christian Thought has a challenge for all Christians, take James 4:13-17 seriously. In 7 Reasons to Say ‘God Willing…’, Freeman speaks of how when we use this phrase, we should become more aware that it is by His grace and mercies that our plans succeed or fail.
I will say that as a “Reformed and Baptist”, Freeman’s take on how God’s graces and mercies fit into predestination, etcetera, are not my view of course, but God does change the course of history to fit into His plan, but without question, it is my hope and desire that my plans will fulfill His plan, and if they don’t, be open and honest with God, and accepting with a servant’s heart.
Keith Giles, over at subversive1, seems to have had an interesting experience regarding a person shutting down the conversation (or the comments) that challenged this individual’s theology/teaching. Keith states that he rarely, if ever, does this kind of public revealing (and I believe him. I just wanted to put that out there), however, he felt compelled to in his post Speaking The Truth In Love.
I can’t say as I disagree with either Keith’s motivation, his acted upon reticence (versus just saying it) to call people out, or his post. However, it brings out something that is an ongoing issue, not just in the church, but in general human discourse. It is no longer about disagreeing, but it is much more. It is more emotional.
For whatever reason, I just thought of the story in U.S. history, when some offended member of the U.S. Legislature decided to go beat some other legislator with a cane in the time leading up to the War Between The States (or the Civil War).
Frankly, a lot of discourse today isn’t discourse, but proverbial caning. The real issue is that there are a lot of people that, when challenged, say that the person challenging them is prejudiced in someway, and by calling them prejudiced, seek to (and, sadly, far too often succeed) shut the other person up by what is effectively name-calling.
I could say that Keith was lucky that the posts were only deleted, rather than an ensuing name-calling in an attempt to shut him up. However, it is way too easy (and I am prey to this as well) to succumb to the pressure to just “let it go,” and accept them, despite their teaching being contrary to yours.
Because we are in a world now that is not nearly so hierarchical as other generations were, it is possible for your congregation to network laterally with other congregations that are equally faithful. And that is exactly what’s happening in the New Wineskins network of churches, the Confessing Church Network, there are such networks available, and that are very active.
Rev. Parker T. Williamson
(Whitehorse Inn podcast entitled “Broken Covenant”. Originally aired on 30 Mar 08)
I guess we need to be careful to use stereotypes. I suspect (but readily acknowledge that I don’t know) Rev. Williamson is uncomfortable with (if not downright antagonistic towards) the MEECM. What struck me with his comments was that how much it sounded just like many in the MEECM.
This tells me that the “established” church isn’t as clueless as many in the MEECM seem to think.
Brian Mclaren recently addressed the 2008 Lambeth Conference (see Wikipedia), and while he does not (despite media opinion to the contrary) represent the entirety (one could question even a significant minority) of the MEECM, it is often worthwhile to hear what he has to say.
In the article above, there are a couple of quotes attributed to him that I would like to address.
“You might say that evangelism is almost non-existent because the Christian faith is, to be very frank, almost non-existent.”
This quote is interesting as, from what I understand of him, he does not view the established church as a faithful community. There are many that are not, but most of them are, it is just that they are established so that many (if not most) of their people are not faithful, but cultural Christians. However, this is where I might at least annoy a few people, as anytime I hear “America is a Christian nation,” I squirm. Now, I squirm not because some of the founders were Deists (even that, especially in regards to Thomas Jefferson who later in life called himself a Christian, has recently come into question), but because most Americans were, at best, cultural Christians, “even” back then.
This constant delusion (harsh, I know) that the United States is a Christian nation is much of the problem in regards to many Christians asking, “how did our culture/country get to where it is today?” If you assume (an old politically-incorrect phrase comes to mind) that everyone is a Christian because they were born in a “Christian” nation, and thereby share your understanding of Scripture and relationship with God, you will be sorely disappointed. A Christian should look at the story of the Jewish people who were Jewish and therefore “God’s People.” Look where that mentality got them.
So Mclaren is correct, but this is not a new thing.
…they needed to ditch “internal institutional maintenance” and focus instead on the “outward mission” of making disciples among all people. That, he said, was “our only hope of saving the church from division, diversion, implosion, irrelevance and triviality”.
This argument against the “institution” of the church is a contact refrain in the MEECM. I can’t, and won’t, say that is does not have some validity, especially in regards to the historical fact that the institutional church has been used for power and control too many times, and also the fact that too often preserving the institution has come at the expense of the message (that will be the next and last section in this post).
There is NO question about the outward mission. In fact, the Church of the Nazarene stepped up to the plate, acknowledging its failures in that are, and changing its focus to the outward mission.
One of the other refrains in the MEECM is that there are too many denominations, while I will agree with that to some degree, how many people are there in the world. Also, much of that argument is based on IRS records. If I start my own church (like many of those in the MEECM), but do not declare that I am part of a larger organization (whether I am or not), I am another denomination according to the IRS. Makes for a lot of denominations of one church.
The real question is do we define ourselves by our denomination, or by our belief in the essentials of the Christian faith: Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, who came to atone for our sins (okay, that is a very short version).
There is also Mclaren’s inferred assumption that all these denominations are invalid, for the very reason that there are so many (the same view the Roman Catholic Church has of those not in communion with it). I have heard it expressed that we are finite, and each Christian tries to live a life imbued by an infinite God. As we cannot fully express the entirety of God, what makes anyone think that one church will do the same?
“Will it be the gospel of evacuation (to heaven after death) or will it be Jesus’ Gospel, the Gospel of the kingdom of God, the message that brings reconciliation, hope, transformation and engagement?”
This, in many ways, is one of Mclaren’s more dangerous—faithwise—statements (I’m going to leave the sexuality one alone, as I have discussed it enough…for now), as it creates a choice where there is none. Both are the message. However, I suspect that “reconciliation, hope, transformation and engagement” is being viewed from a humanist (that is human-to-human) perspective, rather than the biblical view (God-to-human, and then human-to-human by extension). I am not saying that these are not good objectives of the church, in fact, they are, in many ways, the fruit of the church. However, without the underlying faith in the saving grace of God through Jesus Christ, these become good works, and works without faith are dead.
This post has been a long time in coming, both writing, thinking, and living.
The darkness closes in. You can’t breathe. It is hard to fight for that breath. You can sense the deeper darkness of a chasm you cannot see, but know is there. You are coming close to the edge of the chasm.
Almost without thinking about it, or being conscious of it, or being in control of yourself, you approach the edge of the chasm. Even though the bottom cannot be seen, and even if it could, it is too dark to see, you still approach the edge.
The thought of falling in mesmerizes you. Maybe it would end the darkness. Maybe the pain, or the absence of all emotion, would then be over. You contemplate giving in to the pull to just fall in, to let yourself go, to let go of life completely.
You’ve become accustomed to the darkness. You are no longer aware of not being able to see. The darkness is almost your friend, despite its desire for your destruction. You have grown so accustomed to the darkness that you want to embrace the chasm as much as it wants to embrace you.
Yet, before that final step into the chasm, you see a soft, barely visible, red glow, as if from an ember. The glow is so faint that were you in the light of a candle, the glow could not be seen. The glow moves so that as you continue to watch it, your back is now to the chasm.
Once your back is to the chasm you sense a gentle blowing that begins to stir the ember. The ember changes from a barely visible red to orange. Most of you still struggles towards the chasm, but a very small, but very strong part of you keeps you rooted in place, watching the ember.
The ember, due to the consistent gentle blowing from the unknown source, goes from orange to white. The light it gives off is still feeble, but the slightest light shines brightly in such darkness.
The unknown source stops blowing, and the ember fades from white to orange, then from orange to red, as even the red seems to fade, you turn once again to the chasm.
While in such a place, time has no meaning, it seems forever until you seen the faint red glow again. Again, the faint red brightens to orange, then to white. Again, all your attention has been pulled from the chasm. The tiny yet strong part of you does not stop staring at the light.
Again, the light seems to fade from white to orange, orange to red, to all but gone. Once again you face the chasm and think to surrender to its pull.
Then the light…
After who knows how many times (for it all seems endless), finally instead of turning away from the light as it fades from white to orange, you step towards it. The light does not continue it fading to red. It stays orange. You take another step toward the light. You’re not quite sure, but it seemed that the light brightened a bit. You take another step, then another. You keep takings steps toward the light, and you realize that the light is indeed getting brighter.
As you continue walking toward the light, the last hint of orange has been replaced by white. Suddenly, you are struggling. It’s hard to take another step. Somehow you find the strength to take still another step, and then another. At last you feel the last of your strength give way. You could just give up. Just like falling into the chasm, you could fall down where you stand.
Before you decide, as if, it seems, there is much for you to decide, you feel a breeze—a slight one. In your feeble strength, it almost irritates you. Somehow you realize that the breeze you feel is the same breeze that is causing the light to brighten. Since the breeze is good enough for the light, you decide, it’s good enough for you.
Like a switch was flipped, the breeze is no longer irritating, it is invigorating. Your body seems to regain its strength, and you push on ahead toward the light. Despite your newfound strength, you still struggle towards the light. Your new strength seems to be fading quickly. Again, a time of decision, to continue or to quit. The gentle breeze gives you a little more strength, so you trudge on. The cycle of fading of strength, the point of decision, the gathering of new strength repeat for sometime. You get so accustomed to the pattern, that it takes you a great number of cycles to realize that you aren’t making progress like you were. You stop. You stop walking, listening to the breeze when it seems to speak, you stop letting your strength be restored.
It seems to you that you have come to a point of greater decision. You time at the chasm and your journey toward the light swirl inside. Something clicks, and you realize that you used the breeze to restore you strength, which is good, but you didn’t allow the breeze to do its work, which was to pull you toward the light.
With that insight, you take another step, and the light becomes a flame.
For those who know this "dark" part of me, the parallels are obvious. For those who have experienced similar feelings, welcome to the club. The open and honest truth is that for me the darkness is depression, and I have been dealing with it since childhood, and it came into full fruition during the teenage years (When else?).
Well, if the darkness is depression, what is the chasm, you might ask.
suicide
(Before you panic, or read too much into that single word, please read the rest of this.)
So I was at the edge of the chasm many times. Frankly, it scares me how close I was. By God’s grace, I never tried, but I also knew that trying was only a one time thing. I’ve struggled with and fought depression. My friends, who were aware, struggled with me. My parents struggled with me, too, but I don’t think they were fully aware of it all until much later. Of course, at least three out of four of my parents struggle(d) with depression as well. I’m not sure theirs was/is, on the most part, as moribund as mine, but, frankly, depression is a depressing thing to deal with, let alone talk about.
The light is the key. Before I knew God, as I know Him now through Christ, even in my darkest hours, I just couldn’t give up. Part of it, I know, was just plain stubbornness. The other part, though, was something else completely. It seemed, even then, that there was a kernel of hope and optimism that, frankly, wasn’t mine.
Regardless of one’s view of baptism and all that, my life (rather than my life as a child, and thereby an extension of my parents’ lives) was not Christian until well after my first true failure in life, in my mid-twenties. The Christianity of that time was also very immature (not that I’m saying I’m particularly mature now). All through that time, I’ve struggled with depression and thoughts of suicide.
I’ve railed (internally) at all those who say no real Christian could possibly be depressed. I knew that they didn’t have a clue (and I still believe that most of them don’t).
However, I heard sermon from Pastor Garcy (who was a temporary pastor at Moscow Church of the Nazarene when Joni and I first moved here to Moscow), who apologized to all of those who he mis-served (with a good heart and intentions) by not addressing their pain. I don’t think I ever cried during a sermon before, but I did then.
It was okay that I was in pain.
Not okay as in, continue to have it, but okay in that I was still a Christian. Just because I love Jesus, that doesn’t mean that all my pains are instantly cured (not that it doesn’t happen to some). Jesus warns us that we will still have pain and troubles in this world.
I think I can safely say, as I look back, that that sermon was a turning point. I still deal with depression, and it can still wallop me pretty hard, but it seems, from my limited perspective that the duration is shortening and, for sure, the depth is becoming shallower for my episodes.
On the 9th of this month (July 2008), I had an experience that I wish I could share fully with those who suffer with depression. I realized that not only had Jesus died for my sins, but to ease my burdens. I had understood that intellectually, but not to my core, especially the core that included the dark chasm of my soul.
In case you were wondering, the light in the story is the Spirit. While God puts the Holy Spirit in us, he grants us the freedom, in His love, to accept it. Jesus carried the light to the world, and into me. I am nowhere near done with the darkness, but now there is more light than dark, and each day a little more shadow fades away.
The other problem, which I think was also part of my struggle was that I wouldn’t change my view of myself. I was just going to have to deal with my depression; that I would always have it. I defined much of myself by my depression, and I suspect it was that change of heart that was key to this latest experience. We are called to surrendered our lives to Christ, that includes my depression.
The joy of the Lord is rising up in me,
like the light that casts the darkness away,
so the joy of the Lord refines the darkness,
the dross, the weight, the entanglements,
these things that infect the deepest parts of me.
While I cannot know the walk that you are on, I hope that you can open your heart and mind to my words.
