What Happens When The Emerging Church Holds Up A Mirror To The Established Church

July 24, 2008 · ethics and morals, faith, love, society · Comments Off

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.

In The Darkness, A Light Shines

July 23, 2008 · depression, faith, life hack, love · 2 comments

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.

The Boring Life-Saving Stuff

July 15, 2008 · Uncategorized · 1 comment

In Jesus and Context, John Frye uses the collective experience of pre-flight safety instruction, and applies it to the eternal saving instructions.

Have you ever been bored silly listening once again to the flight attendant rattling off the routine…

…should the cabin pressure actually drop at 30,000 feet and those little yellow masks make their real debut, they will instantly become objects of supreme interest…

John Frye argues that much of the Gospel is lost in our suburban lives (even here in Moscow, Idaho). I would actually argue that, as a general rule, the immediacy and context of the Gospel is lost in the United States, and even in all of “Western” “Civilization”.

I suspect that he has connected, perhaps not even realizing it (but, knowing what I know, I think he does know), with part of the reason why multimedia, the Internet, plays, and dramas, have become a source of dependency…it allows the Gospel (albeit, in my opinion, somewhat shallowly) to connect to a people who cannot understand the immediacy and urgency of Jesus’ ministry.

The True Christian Family?

July 9, 2008 · faith · Comments Off

In today’s Daily Reflection, Mark Roberts talks about Matthew 12:50 using some very strong language.

“Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother!”
Matthew 12:50

He points out that this applies even to “Christian” families, or very specifically to Christians.  Despite “Christian” “family values,” it is Jesus Christ’s value to us that is important.  Mark Roberts makes the arguement, which is a good one, is that we must be very careful to not put our families above Christ.

Hard words to stomach, frankly, which doesn’t make them any less true.   However, no matter how true they are, they are still very hard to live by.

Beware of Following the Trend

June 28, 2008 · faith, society · Comments Off

There are far too many churches that are trying to follow the trends in an attempt to “grow” their congregations. The first problem is that they are focusing on quantity not quality. The second problem is that the churches are always a few years behind. A huge number of churches are trying to be “relevant”, which really is (to me) being like everything else, thus the differentiation between the church and the culture is erased (salt with your light, anyone?).

The rage against the liturgy (okay, that is hyperbole) that seems to be much of this is dead, even in the “evangelical” church. Rick Phillips, in his blog post Random Thoughts on Gender, Based on a Small Sample Size, is only a small wave in a bigger change. The Roman Catholic church is growing, as is the Eastern Orthodox church, especially among the very section that being “relevant” is targeted at. Of course, too many churches have bought into this, so they feel that they cannot go back. Look, we don’t proclaim to have worship infallibility, so let’s act like we don’t.

My favorite line in Mr. Phillips post was, “This [classic, historically-rooted (i.e. traditional) worship], too, is now counter-culturally Christian.”

My Feet (Should) Hurt

June 7, 2008 · faith, life hack · Comments Off

This impulse appears in broader Christian culture. The title of a book by the bestselling author of Boundaries (Zondervan, 2002) says it all: Safe People: How to Find Relationships That Are Good for You and Avoid Those That Aren’t (Zondervan, 1996). We’ve learned to protect ourselves with spiritual gifts inventories: “I’m afraid I can’t help in the youth group; it’s not my gift.” We consider things edifying if they reinforce what we think, not if they unsettle us (I had this conversation with Christians concerning Pedro the Lion.)

Churches, too, can further insulate their members by catering to these tendencies. Instead of encouraging parishioners to submit to the congregation, an elder, or mentor, churches often teach them to self-diagnose and self-prescribe their spiritual formation regimen. Or they offer a variety of service times and styles to prevent congregants from making difficult (and formative) decisions about priorities.

When you walk without the insulation of shoes, you don’t have the privilege of deciding when to tread rocky ground or cool mud or warm sand. But that’s just what makes our feet resilient. We take the rough terrain when it comes and learn balance in the process. Similarly, if I lived without spiritual insulation, I would learn balance by adjusting my stride to account for difficulties when they arise, not by avoiding them until I’m ready to face them. My spiritual feet would toughen and I would be healthier for it.

What’s the solution? Spiritual disciplines are a great place to start. We can slip off our shoes and maneuver uncomfortable ground through fasting, silence, and giving. Over time—according to the saints who do this sort of thing—you find the periods of discipline more natural than indulgence, and your feet stay bare more often.
You Walk (with God) Wrong | Out of Ur

Church-Going Facades

June 7, 2008 · depression, faith, love, society, unclassified · Comments Off

It’s easy for Christians in our day to fall into the “showy religiosity” pit. We put on our happiest face at church, even though our hearts are far from the Lord. Or we look as if we’re worshipping with zeal when our minds are wandering.

Avoiding a Show of Religiosity
Daily Reflection and Prayer by Mark D. Roberts from The High Calling

Sometime back, I heard someone speak about a painful truth of church attendance, that is that people lie when responding to the question, “how are you?” Of course, I think some people lie (whether at church or elsewhere) when they even ask the question with its implication of actually caring. Part, and only part, of the issue is that we Christians have been told that we are to be always joyful, confusing joy with happiness. We have the deep-seated love and assurance in Jesus Christ, but sorry, we’re not going to be happy all the time.

Now, I am not talking about discussing all one’s woes, but one’s heart. If I am feeling depressed, not an uncommon occurrence, I shouldn’t be also concerned about others’ judgment of my Christian walk. We all have emotions of varying states and sorts.

What does this have to do with the quote above and the related scripture (Matthew 6:16-18)?

Is praying out load and publicly to be seen, or giving alms to the poor to be seen, or publicly fasting (and looking like it) any different than wearing the false Christian joy face?

What Does God Want From Me?! What Does He Want From You?!

May 26, 2008 · faith, love · Comments Off

My eldest son came to me after taking a shower. He walked up to me and put his arms around me, and said, “I love you, Daddy.” My heart is so warmed by those four words, especially from him, as he is the child with whom I struggle the most. What does that have to do with God?

God wants us to say to him, “I love you.”†

Of course, the argument that comes up that if all God wants is our love, then why does it matter what we call him or how we relate to him? That is a valid, and good, question. Does it matter what I call you? Does matter how I relate to you? Much of the very problems in our world is how we relate to others. How could it not matter what we call God and how we relate to him?

†To prevent a minor theological issue, God doesn’t need to hear it, or even need our love.↵

The Form of the Future

May 23, 2008 · ethics and morals, history, love, politics, society, technology · 1 comment

When I’m operating under restrictions, I definitely feel constrained by them, but without those restraints, it doesn’t seem as if I my actions are actually accomplishing anything.

…the Net truly is vast and infinite. Who knows, maybe a new society we’ve never even dreamed of is already being born

I greatly enjoy Japanese anime. There is a lot about it, like many of their movies, that shows that the Japanese culture is trying to work through the entirety of its history through art (which kind of reminds me of Timothy Zahn’s Grand Admiral Thrawn). I just watched Ghost in the Shell: Solid State Society on NetFlix.

In this movie, a group of solitary elderly people are recruited to run a network to save this future world of Japan. The funny thing is that I watched it as an idea had been coalescing in my head about the future of Earth governments and societies and cultures, and the elderly were the key. I’m thinking about writing a few short stories about it, but who knows if they will ever see paper or web.

The first quote brought a question to mind: if we break down all the barriers (whether they be social, political, religious, scientific, genetic, etc.), what will we (the human race) do? What will be our purpose?

The second quote is something that people try to define as Web 2.0 or Web 3.0 (or whatever name you want to give it. I could care less what its name is.)―the future. I think the church―humanity as a whole―is still trying to absorb what has been wrought in the realm of mass communication (even communications as unimportant and ineffectual as my blog).

Just like everyone else, I have a fear of the unknown. What will the future hold?

Lean Solves Everything

May 22, 2008 · economics · Comments Off

Okay, not really, but it sure applies to things I haven’t thought of. The company I work for is an enthusiastic applier of lean thinking methodology, and so I’ve tried to keep an eye on the thought process, and the ideas of those who have implemented it, or help others implement it. Kevin Meyer at Evolving Excellence posted A Lean Approach to Poverty, which discusses more efficient (and seemingly efffective) ways to end poverty—other than a new government (or NGO) program.

I haven’t been sold on the emerging church movement, not that they don’t have a few things going for them, but that have forced the “established” church to reevaluate itself, which is a good thing. Another area where the church may reevaluate itself is its world poverty programs. While this may not be ideal, at the same time, in many ways it might be better than the short term mission trips.

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