The Rushed Contemplative

Take A Break

2011-09-15T11:01:00.000-07:00

One week. 400 miles. Seven schools. Eight assemblies. Three evening programs. Three morning services. One four-hour class. Back-to-school night. Date night. Whew!!

For the first time in too long, I took a breather this morning. I opened my Bible to the Psalms of Ascents—those psalms that ancient Israelites would sing on their pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the annual feasts; psalms that called reminded them of God’s presence, his power, his protection…even their unfaithfulness to him. I was drawn to Psalm 121, the second in this collection:

I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

who made heaven and earth.

This morning, I needed to lift up my eyes to the Lord, the source of my help and energy. I was reminded of Jesus’ habit of going off by himself, whether late at night or early in the morning, to spend time with his Father. I don’t do that enough—or well. Those times were not only rejuvenating for him, they also kept him focused on his priorities.

In the first chapter of the gospel according to Mark, we get a glimpse into what I expect was a typical day in Jesus’ life. He comes into a town (Capernaum, verse 21) on the Sabbath and goes into the synagogue to teach. While there, a man with an unclean spirit comes in, whom Jesus proceeds to heal. Afterward, Jesus goes over to his friend Simon’s (for lunch and a nap, perhaps?), where he finds Simon’s mother-in-law in bed with a fever. He heals her. By evening, Simon’s front porch is crowded with the town’s sick and demon-possessed—just the kind of folks you want hanging around the neighborhood, right?! In fact, Mark says, “the whole city was gathered together at the door.” (Mark 1:34) And Jesus, being Jesus, heals them. He casts out a bunch of demons. And then, presumably, he goes to bed.

Early the next morning, Jesus gets up, gets out of town, and prays. This is where it gets hard, particularly for those of us who are doers. The teaching, the healings—those aren’t the hard things; we thrive on the action and, yes, on the attention and affirmation they bring. And they’re good things, important things, even God-honoring things. But Jesus knows what is too easy for me to overlook: the power to do those good and important works comes from the Father, and the power comes through a relationship with him. Not from doing things for him, but from being with him. So Jesus gets alone and prays.

As if this isn’t hard enough, this getting quiet with God, what comes next is almost as amazing to me. Simon and some others track down Jesus and tell him, “Everyone is looking for you.” Undoubtedly, many of the previous evening’s healed patients had gone and told their friends, who gathered in the breaking dawn on Simon’s porch. Some undoubtedly wanted to be healed, but I suspect that many more just wanted to see a healing for themselves. And Jesus’ shocking response is, “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.”

Did he really say that? Did Jesus—the loving, compassionate, healing son of God—just turn his back on sick people desperate to be made well? Yes. You see, Jesus knew what his mission was: to proclaim the kingdom of God. More than once, Jesus healed for the express purpose of glorifying God (see, for example, John 9). He healed out of compassion and in response to expressions of faith (see Mark 5:25-34). But Jesus’ primary purpose was not to heal; it was to proclaim. Even his great prophecy-fulfilling claim in Luke 4:16ff (cf. Isaiah 61) is not primarily about showing compassion; it is about proclaiming good news.

And so, after a hectic day of teaching and healing, woke early, got alone, and prayed. The time alone with his Father helped him focus on his mission and rejuvenated him for the days ahead: more healings, more people clamoring for a piece of him, more people wanting more from him than just the truth.

Our days are busy and hectic. Work, kids, school, chores, spouse…all clamor for a piece of us until we feel we need to run away screaming! But don’t wait that long. Get some time away where you can be quiet before God and just soak in his presence. It’s not always easy, especially if you’re not in the habit. You may need to start small: seven minutes in the car before you walk into work; or thirty minutes in a coffee shop once a week. Read Psalm 121 (or Psalm 131—it’s even shorter!) and reflect on God’s help. Lift your eyes and heart to God.

Then do it again. Tomorrow, the next day, next week (but don’t wait too long). Make it a habit. Get time alone, quietly, regularly, with God. Soon seven minutes will not be long enough; once a week will not be often enough. But I know that as you do this, you will become refreshed and will be able to refocus on what God has in store for you.

God is in the Details

2011-06-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered if God was concerned about the details of your life? Maybe you – like me – have been fairly certain he was at work only in the big things, like marriage, health, job, and family. Two weeks ago, God blew me away with his attention to the little things!

Nineteen people from our church were in Rosarito, Mexico, to build a new home for a family. It had been a great week: deepening relationships within our team, making new friends with the family and, of course, the completed home. The family had even slept in it the night before we finished, and told us Thursday morning that it was their first night of warmth and no water dripping on them! That evening we all had joy-filled spirits as we crowded around a taco shop anticipating a delicious and very authentic meal on our last night in Rosarito. Then…

Someone broke into one of our trucks and stole my backpack and a money pouch holding three passports; the backpack had two more passports, a laptop, an iPod, a cell phone, and a few smaller things. My heart sunk. I was strangely unconcerned about the electronics, but the passports – three of them for minors – were going to be a problem. It had been a great week and I knew Satan was just trying to steal back some of the glory that God had gotten. Still, I was suddenly under a heavy weight of despair, and I sensed it settling onto our team, too.

Leaders are supposed to show confidence in crisis, right? But how could I do that? “Fake it till you make it?” Lousy theology, but perhaps sometimes necessary. As we finished eating I said something to one person, then another, and eventually it became my mantra: This is just another opportunity for God to reveal himself. I confess that that was definitely more a statement of hope than of faith, but I clung desperately to it. All week we’d been looking for and talking about how we’d seen God show up; why not now? Why not in this?

The rest of the evening, for six of us, was spent with Amor Ministries staff, Mexican police, and on the phone, filing reports and arranging for other identification to help us get back across the border. Friday morning dawned bright and clear, and as our team began to wake up, we got a phone call from Pastor David back at home: four of the five stolen passports had been found by an American in Tijuana! We quickly gathered the team to celebrate and thank God! As we stood in a circle and prayed, tears of dumbfound joy choked my words. I could barely mutter a brief, “thank you” to God, then let loose with a primal scream! (A few minutes later we learned that the fifth passport – just a card – was also found!)

The mood in camp changed from pensive and uncertain wondering to jubilation and excitement. We really had seen God work! But he wasn’t done yet….

We made arrangements with our own good Samaritan, CP, to meet in Tijuana to pick up the passports he’d found the previous evening. I was driving the last truck and got stopped at a light just before turning into the parking lot. By the time I pulled in, Dan had already met CP and was walking toward me, holding up a plastic grocery bag and saying, “here they are.” It struck me as an awfully large bag for a few passports. When I got out and looked closer, God just hit me again! There in the bag were a book about Amor Ministries that I had just purchased, a stack of papers, and the money pouch. A very thick money pouch. As I opened that, those choking tears returned: my calculator, digital recorder, checkbook(!), church keys, spare trailer keys, hand lotion…all those things that I thought were too inconsequential to worry about, that I had hardly mentioned to the police, that I neither expected nor particularly cared whether they were returned…God cared about.

In reality, I’m not sure that God cared about those things nearly as much as he cared to show me that he’s not too big for the little stuff.

Oh, and that statement of hope? (“Another opportunity for God to reveal himself.”) Well, he did – in little ways that proved very large, indeed.

Resurrection Stories

2011-04-24T18:42:00.000-07:00

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

Peter's Story

Fear bred denial.
Denial gave way to loss.
Loss brought forth doubt, disillusionment, confusion.
Then, a glimmer of hope…but only a glimmer.

Mary came running, breathlessly exclaiming “I’ve seen the Lord!”

Could it be? Fear mingles now with a breath of hope, and suddenly, there he is! No turn of the key, no opening of the door – he’s just…there!

A greeting of peace; a cryptic breath about the Holy Spirit, and then…more waiting.

A day passes. Another. Six days, and we’re beginning to think it was just the shock of the crucifixion; that we hadn’t really seen him at all. But then again, just as before, he’s there with us!

Again, the greeting: “Peace be with you.” This time he focuses on Thomas, who didn’t believe we’d seen him – and whose doubt we were beginning to carry, to be honest with you. He invites Thomas to touch his scars; he holds his hands out to all of us, but we believe…at least, I think we do.

It’s been a while now, though. The days pass as in a fog. Was that it? Is it all over now? What happens next? What do we do?

We stayed in the house for a while – partly from fear of the Jews and the Romans, and partly because that’s where He has shown himself twice before. But as the days pass we’ve begun to venture out more. Finally the monotony is too much. We have to do something. I have to do something. “I’m going fishing.”

“We’ll go with you.”

Seven of us, fishermen all, prepare the boat. It feels good to be back on the water, back among the nets and ropes and smells that I grew up with. To hear the creak of the oars in their locks, the gentle lapping of the water at the hull.

But something doesn’t seem quite right. I’ve been in this boat a thousand times, spent hours beyond count on this very lake, but something’s different. Something’s wrong, but I just can’t put my finger on it.

The night – and the nets – drag on, each as empty as the other. Have the fish moved? Have I forgotten so quickly the best spots? We’ve tried the deeps and the shallows, the coves and the open waters, all to no avail. But the nagging sense that I – not just the boat, but I myself – am in the wrong place tempers what frustration I should be feeling at the futility of our night’s efforts.

And then, with a faint glimmer of sun barely visible over the low eastern hills, a voice comes from the near shore: “Children, do you have any fish to eat?”

“No.”

“Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.”

There’s something familiar about that voice, those words. Too tired to argue, to hungry to not try, we haul in the empty nets from the port side and throw them to the starboard. Scarcely have they hit the water before they fairly drag the boat backward. Fish!

Straining against the sudden weight, John, always the perceptive one, always the first to recognize, identifies the stranger on the shore: “It’s the Lord!” he gasps.

With an eagerness that surprises even me, I grab my cloak and dive in, half swimming, half wading the hundred yards. I need to see him, to hold him, to have just two minutes alone with him. What will he say? The last time our eyes met was when that rooster crowed; in the house I couldn’t look at him, though I felt his gaze burning into my soul.

------------------------

Our Story

Denial. Doubt. Disillusionment.

They weigh us down like an anchor. In spite of our calling to something new, we retreat to the comfort of the old and familiar. But something doesn’t feel right anymore. If we’re lucky (or perceptive), we realize that we can’t go back. I remember the pain of that realization the Christmas after graduating from high school. Six months after leaving, I was back at home…and surprised to learn that life had gone on quite well without me.

But Peter’s absence wasn’t just from home or family or job. He had left those things three years earlier, but his triple denial had separated him even from the One for whom he had abandoned all.

The doubt and disillusionment may be with Jesus – or it may be with ourselves. Like Peter, our doubt may be about our own unworthiness to serve the master. Will he really accept me, after I denied him? Can he really forgive me?

But as with Peter, the master – Jesus – stands by the shore and calls to us. Hungry as we are for purpose and meaning and love, he waits for us with a warm fire and a meal of grace. Whether we dive in to get to him
or row patiently, ploddingly, he waits, ready.

No matter how – or how often – we have denied him, Jesus forgives.
It is not an easy forgiveness, for Jesus or for us. It cost him his life; it costs us our pride…and our lives, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” (Lk 9:24)

And it is not a painless forgiveness, for Jesus or for us. He suffered untold horrors on his way to buying our redemption. For our part, we would just as soon move on from our denial – to leave it in the past and forget it there. But Jesus won’t allow that; as Michael Card writes:

Jesus is not only the perfect Savior; he is also the perfect Friend. And here he demonstrates perfectly what friendship entails. He has commanded [the disciples] to forgive; now he will perfectly demonstrate it. His painful questions are meant to restore Peter to his proper place. Painful as the questions are, they are an expression of Jesus’ creative forgiveness. Jesus’ questions open a wound in Peter’s soul, a wound that can be tended to and healed only by being reopened. (Michael Card, A Fragile Stone, pp. 124-5)

This morning as we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, his victory over death, we also invite the pain of his healing forgiveness. As symbols of the pain he endured to purchase that forgiveness, we share together the bread and wine of communion, the Lord's Supper.

“Do you love me more than these?”
            Eat my body.

“Do you love me?”
            Drink my blood.

“Do you love me?”
            Follow me.

With each question, the surgeon’s knife cut more deeply into Peter’s pain.
With each answer, the infection of his denials is removed.
With each new commission, Jesus sutures the wounds, reassuring Peter - and us - of his forgiveness and acceptance.

Today, this Easter morning, accept Jesus’ forgiveness.
Today, join in the resurrection story by accepting the new life that only Jesus can offer.

Bell's Hell

2011-04-20T09:53:00.001-07:00

If there is anything that evangelical Christians are good at, it is throwing kerosene on a campfire. More often than not, those campfires - at first only warming the toes of a few folks partaking of random fireside conversations around questions that few take seriously - leap into wildfires that ultimately and indiscriminately consume thousands of acres of thoughtful (and some thoughtless) men and women. But as wildfires are wont to do, they ultimately burn themselves out, leaving significant but temporary destruction in their wake; destruction that in time is all but invisible.

Such will be the fate, I think, of the campfire musings of Rob Bell's latest book, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived. It may be that there is more readily-available fuel - and a larger gathering of campers - around Bell's campfire than some of the others in my memory ("The Last Temptation of Christ," Proctor & Gamble's supposed satanic influences, Walt Disney's occasional forays into dens of iniquity). Still, I think, the fire would consume itself soon enough were it not for the supply of kerosene-loaded extinguishers aimed by evangelical firefighters.

Some will claim that this is different - bigger - than earlier fires. They will say that his campfire is fueled by the flames of the very hell he reportedly denies. The result, I fear, will be two-fold: first, those who are asking the very questions that Bell raises will be driven not to the Source of the Answers, but to Bell's book of questions. The fear here is that if (IF) Bell's answers are, at best, insufficient and, at worst, unbiblical, then those who rely on them truly are in mortal and eternal danger.

Second, those who are not inclined to ask these questions will be driven neither to Bell's book nor to The Book. Huddled together around the dying embers of their own campfire of second-hand faith, they will have neither the light nor the fuel to invite in and warm those who are shivering under the blanket of universalism.

Rob Bell dares to voice the questions that so many in this sin-depraved world are asking:

"Does God punish people for thousands of years with infinite, eternal torment for things they did in their few finite years of life?"
"If there are only a select few who go to heaven, which is more terrifying to fathom: the billions who burn forever or the few who escape this fate?"
"What happens when a fifteen-year-old atheist dies?"
"So is it true that the kind of person you are doesn't ultimately matter, as long as you've said or prayed or believed the right things?"

There was a time in my life when I would pass off questions like these with a wave of the hand and a trite, childish, "for the Bible tells me so"-kind of answer. As if just asking the questions somehow betrayed a hellish eternity for the questioner. In the last few years, I have been - by God's grace alone - growing out of that spiritual arrogance (and whatever ignorance it accompanies). I am increasingly intrigued by, and invited into, such questions. The source of answers for me remains the Bible, yet I recognize that the answers are found not in a few memorized but out-of-context verses, but rather in the "whole counsel of Scripture."

There's a very memorable scene in the 1992 film, "A Few Good Men." A young Navy attorney (played by Tom Cruise) is challenging a Marine colonel (Jack Nicholson) about the death of a private under the colonel's command. "I want the truth" demands the attorney. "You can't handle the truth!" shouts back the colonel.

Whether intentional or not, Love Wins is an invitation to all to pursue truth. The question with which you must wrestle - whether you are among the convinced, the skeptics, or the seekers - is, can you handle the truth?

Re:Entry

2010-12-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

Mud was still dropping from our trucks as we pulled into Eiley’s folks’ driveway at noon on Thanksgiving Day. Most of us hadn’t showered in a week; many hadn’t slept well in as long. Some were recovering from colds while others were trying to fight them off. The lure of a hot shower, the enticement of a Jacuzzi, the promise of a bountiful Thanksgiving dinner beckoned us out of the wind, rain, dirt, and poverty of the hills east of Tijuana.

The contrast was poignant, and I wondered if we would feast into oblivion all that God had done in us over the past week. iPods and cell phones came out; football games were tuned in on the High Definition TV; kids lost themselves on Grandpa’s computer and the Wii.

The return was too easy for me, too. My computer came out as I began transferring 1,200 pictures from camera to laptop. Then I noticed a simple e-mail from my Mom: “We do not learn from experience. We learn from reflecting upon experience.” And surrounded by the aromas of turkey and stuffing and a table full of desserts, I reflected on what God had done in us and through us….

A family that two weeks before leaving was ready to quit had heard God ask, “Do you trust me?” – and two days into Mexico they were planning for the next trip!
A 10-year-old realizing that the campfires and tents that kept us relatively warm and dry were more than many families had in the communities we saw.
A high school student gaining a sense of God’s purpose and direction for his life.
A college student recognizing God’s transforming work in her own life – and being moved to pray for the same for her family.
A family – from 77-year-old grandpa to 1-year-old baby – has a new, warm, dry house to call home.

Even as I write this, tears of gratitude are welling up. My prayers – your prayers – were answered beyond all we could have asked or imagined!

The Other Face of 9/11

2010-09-12T22:17:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, across the US - and in many other parts of the world - people remembered the fateful day nine years ago when terrorists hijacked four airplanes and brought a nation to its knees. The remembrances took a variety of forms, ranging from moments of personal silence to gatherings of noisy protest. There were prayers and patriotism, flags and fights. Names of the nearly 3,000 people who lost their lives were read. It is right to remember this day. It is a national tragedy, but one that - if only for a moment - brought the world to our doorstep in shared pain and grief.

And yet a pall has shrouded our nation these past years - a pall not merely of just sorrow, but of enmity; a pall that has not been felt since the last "day that will live in infamy." And this pall shields from us another face to 9/11. This other face also has seen the death of thousands; it is the face of more thousands of survivors mourning the loss of husbands and wives, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers. But for this other face, the havoc was wreaked not on one fateful morning to be remembered by the world; no, for these thousands, death and destruction came more individually in the incessant bursts and bombs of the wars that have ensued over the past nine years. That many of the lost were active combatants - whether soldier or suicide bomber - does not mitigate the grief that their kin must feel. That so many who have lost their lives were as innocent as the World Trade Center victims heightens both the grief of the survivors and their anger at being dragged into someone else's war; feelings shared by our own friends and neighbors.

In some cultures, the day after Christmas is set aside to box up the festal leftovers and serve them to the less fortunate; after celebrating, sharing with those who have little to celebrate. Perhaps we need a day set aside after 9/11 to remember this other face of that day; after mourning our own loss, to share in the mourning of theirs.

Case Dismissed

2010-03-08T22:44:00.000-08:00

I went to traffic court today, intent on fighting a ticket I received six months ago. I had done exactly what the officer said: failed to stop at a stop sign. My defense was that I never saw the sign or any other markings at the unlit, unusually wide intersection. I even had photos I’d taken with my cell phone to prove how dark it was.

I never got the chance to state my case. God stepped in, answering my prayer that the officer wouldn’t show up, and the judge said two of the most beautiful words in the English language: “Case dismissed.”

And that got me thinking about The Judgment Day I’ve been hearing about since I was a little kid. The one with movies but no popcorn, where all the sins of your whole life are shown in high definition for everyone to see. It seems strange that they’d have movies like that in heaven, but that’s another rabbit trail.

It seems that I’ve always heard two variations of how Judgment Day will be, at least for followers of Jesus: after the movie, either God declares the star Not Guilty because Jesus wiped the script clean, or else God rules Guilty but notes that Jesus already paid the price, so you get a free pass into heaven anyway.

Today gave a new twist to the ending. What if God simply declares, “Case dismissed”? You and I still know we’re really guilty, but The Accuser (that would be Satan) is a no-show at the courthouse. Kind of like the woman caught in adultery after all the stone-throwers have walked away; Jesus asks, “where are your accusers?” and she says, “they’ve left.” Case dismissed. Don’t sin anymore.

Relentless Grace

2009-05-28T15:37:00.001-07:00

Recently I have grown increasingly aware of God’s relentless grace patiently and quietly pursuing me. In spite of all my arguments, excuses, and accusations against him, he continues to follow, refusing to let go, refusing to let me remain unchanged.

I haven’t always thought I needed to change much: I grew up in a strong, loving, Christ-following family. I’ve had good self-confidence since I was young, bolstered by success that has come fairly easily. I married a woman with an equally strong upbringing, whose talents continue to amaze me, and together we have three kids with good looks, better-than-average intelligence, and winsome personalities. The stories of transformation I'd heard usually involved radical change from lives of addiction, abuse, crime, and so on.

I wonder, though, if transformation is actually harder for those whose depravity is less obvious. I don't hear people talking about being transformed from lives of pride or greed. Maybe their pride led them to an affair, or their greed resulted in drug addiction, and they later repented and were changed from those very public signs of brokenness. But the underlying sins? The pride, the greed, the gluttony? No, I don't think I've ever heard a lifelong Christian talk about being transformed from those.

I'm pretty introspective, and the challenges that I've faced over the past few years - failure, unemployment, spiritual doubts - have turned me inward. In the valley it is easy to be misled by one's inner thoughts; inappropriate self-doubt can creep in. At the same time, reflection can reveal truth about ourselves that has been hidden under layers of worldly success and well-practiced confidence. The trick is to sort through, to weed out the truth from the error, the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. And to figure out what to do about the truth that needs to be transformed. And, hardest of all, to submit to God's transforming work.

I don't know how a caterpillar feels when it's in a cocoon or a bird in an egg. I don't think either is a particularly comfortable position, though. Neither is transformation. It's hard, painful, challenging, terribly uncomfortable. It's also necessary, and can't be rushed. Yet God's grace is relentless, pursuing us in and through the process of changing us to reflect more of his image...the image in which we were created in the first place. And that can't be bad!

Attack of the Angry Squirrel!

2008-11-01T12:51:00.000-07:00

I was upstairs looking for some bandages for my 9-year-old daughter's skinned knee, when all of a sudden I heard a blood-curdling scream, "There's a SQUIRREL in the bathroom!!!!!", followed by running footsteps. I ran downstairs to find Molly standing, breathless, pinned against the hallway wall with saucer-sized eyes and racing breath. From the bathroom - door now closed - I heard the unmistakable sound of a small, terrified animal running, jumping, and knocking things off shelves in a desperate but vain attempt to find an escape from this white prison!

Being the brave but animal-loving hunter that I am, I entered the prison cell with thoughts of gently coaxing the unwanted captive to freedom. He would hear nothing of it. Quicker than jolly old Saint Nick, the little grey fuzzball jumped from the floor to a 5-foot-high wall shelf, to another on an adjacent wall, then along the counter, before scurrying up the open medicine cabinet and into the farthest corner of the top shelf...where it crouched and chattered and tried to hide.

I opened the window, surveyed the situation, then went out and closed the door. I hoped he would smell freedom in the fresh air wafting from his exterior home, and would run out on his own. In the meantime, I donned my best protective gear: thick denim jacket, leather gloves, and the "Indiana Jones" hat (nothing like his, really) that had so recently protected my head in Liberia. I also got a broom to help with the coaxing. My son Morgan, always ready to help(?!), started loading his 400-feet-per second air soft rifle with sniper scope, but I wasn't quite ready for that.

Reentering the cell, there was my scared little friend, still huddled tightly in the corner of the medicine cabinet. (I'm still not sure who, at this point, was more scared: the squirrel or my hyperventilating daughter!) The broom handle, prodding ever so gently, did nothing but make the squirrel hoarse with chattering. I called for a net...which, of course, no one could find. A cardboard box was found, though, and I tried for several minutes to coax, prod, bump, or startle the little antagonist - not so much a friend anymore - into the safety of the dark box. He, of course, was having none of it.

Ten minutes later, with no progress having been made on either side of the bathroom door, I once again left. Now I was on a mission; I was going to get that thing out of the house one way or another. I looked briefly for some wire, thinking about making a snare, but couldn't find any. Instead, I found the fishing net and returned. I also took Morgan's air soft rifle as an absolute last resort. (Air Soft, by the way, is similar to paint ball, but without the paint. It uses plastic pellets that, from a distance, won't do much more than raise a welt on a person. I'm not sure what a rifle would do to a squirrel at point blank range, though, and I was really hoping not to have to find out.) I also took the camera with me and set it on a shelf, hoping to capture the excitement...and the squirrel!

After several more minutes of coaxing, poking, prodding, and sweeping with both ends of the broom, the squirrel finally jumped out of its corner right into my waiting net, where it scrambled as much as it could to get free. I held the broom above and moved quickly to the open window. Holding the net out, I realized that there was no roof overhang below...just 25 feet of air above the wood deck below. Having not studied squirrels prior to this, I had no idea what would happen to it if I just dropped him. And I didn't particularly want to find out.

At this point, Eileen stuck her head in the bathroom door, with my son behind her, just as I was opting for Plan B - go back out through the front door. As they backed out of the way, I went into the hallway...just as that doggone squirrel got a grip on the broom, scrambled on top of it, and jumped down onto the wood floor! I yelled to Eileen to close the kitchen door, while Morgan chased the squirrel through the entry way, dining room, kitchen, and - finally - into the garage! (Of course, it turned the wrong way and didn't go out into the great outdoors as it ought to have! We believe - though there are no witnesses - that it did eventually return to its family.)

You can watch most of this. The audio isn't particularly exciting, but you can hear the squirrel growling!. The real action takes place in about 30 seconds halfway through, but here is the uncut, unedited, unscripted real reality TV!

Happy Birthday!

2008-09-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

Some adults reaching their 40s try to make one last, desperate attempt to hang onto the past. Maybe they buy a sports car, take a vacation in the Caribbean, or - like the characters in the movie "City Slickers" - try to prove their masculinity by spending a week driving cattle! Others realize that it's about time to finally grow up. They put away the "Grecian formula" and stop worrying about the strands of grey that increasingly pepper their hair. They decide to stick with a job for longer than just a few years. They begin to think seriously about what it means to raise their kids to be responsible adults (and just in time, too!). They may begin to question some of those things they've been so certain about for so long, whether it's religion or politics or the importance of pro sports!

Next month marks my 40th "birthday" as a Christian and I find myself wrestling with similar issues on a spiritual level. It was easy when I was a kid to simply believe that God is good, He's always loved me, and as long as I believe in Him I'll go to heaven. But I find myself now struggling with really knowing God. My Dad asked me a couple months ago what I thought God thinks of me. After a few moments of pondering, I realized that the one word standing out in my mind is "disappointed." I'm sure part of that comes simply from the realization of how many times I have let down my wife (and others) in ways big and small. But as I've continued to think about my dad's question and my response, I just can't seem to shake the feeling that, in spite of my very real, very strong, very heartfelt desire to serve God and glorify Him, I nonetheless fail frequently, and each time I do, I feel God's haunting look of disappointment. (What's even more concerning is that I'm afraid I'm giving my 13-year-old son reason to feel the same from me. At least I have some cognitive theological recognition that my view of God may be slightly skewed; I'm not sure my son does yet.)

At an even more personal level, I am at the same time struggling with allowing God to truly transform me - my actions as well as my view of Him. I'm afraid of what the short-term impact of that transformation may be: Will all my hidden sins be broadcast for the world to see? Will my wife and family accept a transformed me? What will transformation cost me? It is a colossal struggle that Paul captured well in Romans 7, a battle between good and evil, light and dark, Luke and Darth Vader (sorry!).... Maybe I am less concerned with the outcome than I am with the process - I want the result but not the struggle, the gold medal but not the marathon.

In less than a month I'll be going to Liberia, with the conviction (from others who know the country far better than me) that it is a land in need of transformation. But how can I bring that message when I am so desperate for the same? I hope and pray that God will reveal Himself to me in new ways in these last weeks, that I may go with the hope-filled message that God can and does work in us, even when we struggle against Him. I go with the hope that if God can use a murdering fundamentalist like Saul/Paul, then certainly He can use me, too.

NTS 510 Texts for Sale

2008-08-14T15:20:00.000-07:00

Three of these texts are required for NTS 510; Methodical Bible Study is collateral reading. All are brand-new (Metzger is still in the plastic wrapper!); I purchased them through Amazon a year ago, but do not anticipate taking the course and want to make them available to another student at my cost – an average savings of 30.5% versus retail and the same price you’d pay today on Amazon. (In full disclosure, Greenlee is currently available for $11.53.)

Shipping/delivery options will be arranged by e-mail.

If you want to buy through PayPal, click the links below. There is a separate link for each book, one for the three required texts, and one for all four.

Greenlee (required)

Metzger (required)

Osborne (required)

Traina (collateral)

Three required texts (Greenlee, Metzger, Osborne)

All texts

We Will Believe...

2008-07-31T11:19:00.000-07:00

Directly across from me, leaning back against a tree, sat the family patriarch. He looked 75 but was likely 15-20 years younger. Around us sat his family – young children, teenagers, and a few perhaps in their early 20s. My hosts brought me a small stool on which to sit, and for the next 30 or 40 minutes we talked about my faith and theirs, the Bible and the Q’ran, about Jesus and Islam. Several times, the patriarch – I never got his name – told me, “What you say is good.” As we concluded our conversation he invited us to return the next day to talk more, but with regret I explained that this was our last day in the area. Repeating his affirmation, “what you say is good,” he added, “We will believe, me and my family. Not today, but probably in two or three days, we will believe.”

“We will believe….” The words of this patriarch have come back to me again and again – sometimes almost hauntingly – in the three years since I sat with him in Ethiopia. I have prayed for him and his family often, and long to return and meet him again. Perhaps I will, or perhaps we will only meet when we stand together before the throne of Jesus.

This fall I have the opportunity to travel once again to Africa – not to Ethiopia, but to Liberia on the west coast. This oldest of African republics was devastated by civil war over the past two decades – a war that left 250,000 dead, thousands more displaced, a nation in economic ruin, and rampant corruption and unemployment. Significant portions of Monrovia, the capital, remain without electricity and running water.

Our global pastor, Josh Butler, and his wife, Holly, were recently in Monrovia. Read her first impressions: "The city is glum, there is trash piled everywhere and most buildings are either bombed out and empty, bombed out and being used still, or made out of pieces of trash. The poverty here is extreme."

Our church here in Portland, Imago Dei Community, wants to be part of the solution in Liberia, and so we are beginning what we anticipate will be a long-term partnership with key Christian leaders there. In the midst of the corruption and largely ineffectual progress in other relief projects, the integrity and wisdom of these leaders has attracted the attention of the very highest levels of government.

In October, I will join an 11-person team from Imago Dei going to Monrovia to join the work already in progress. Mount Barclay, a refugee camp outside Monrovia, is home to about 15,000 residents living in abject poverty. Last September, working with Liberian pastor Saah Joseph, a Portland-based organization called Plan Loving Adoptions Now dedicated a school that now hosts 600 children in the Mount Barclay region. These children either walk or are driven to the school from several villages – requiring two vans and multiple trips per day!

Our team will focus on four primary needs:

Additional construction work on the elementary school, a kitchen, and a secure storage facility

Counseling and job skills training for girls transitioning out of prostitution

Pastoral training with local church leaders

Long-term strategic planning for our partnership

Over the past few years, God has been impressing upon me the changing role of the American church in global evangelization. While in Liberia, I will not only be helping with construction, but also listening to and learning from the pastors and other leaders there, with an ear specifically toward understanding how Imago Dei and other US churches can best support and serve our brothers and sisters in Liberia. (This will also benefit my seminary studies, as I was recently approved to do an “individualized study” course I designed on “Developing a Church-Based Short-Term Mission Strategy.”)

Of course, a trip like this is expensive – but what price do we put on the lives of people who may gain eternal life through our efforts? What is the value of the patriarch and his family with whom I sat under a tree in 2005? Or a child, orphaned by war, whose future is bleak except for the hope offered by a good education, healthy food, and loving caregivers? Imago Dei – an eight-year-old church – has already contributed more than $12,000 toward the construction needs, plus thousands more toward clean water wells in Liberia and elsewhere.

Eileen and I have prayed for this opportunity and the lifelong impact we believe it will have…for Imago Dei, for Liberia, and even for our family. We would ask you to pray about whether and how you might help make it possible for me to go. We would love to have your prayers, your encouragement, and your financial support.

Would you take a moment right now to pray for this opportunity? As God leads, please contact me for specific information on how you can support me.

- Randy

Short-Term Missions

2008-07-07T11:21:00.000-07:00

Welcome, MMI readers! Thanks to Todd Rhoades of MMI, I read a good Washington Post article about the changing face of short-term missions. You can read Todd's post and the followup comments here, as well as link to the WP article.

What I'd like to hear is what your churches are doing in the way of missions...specifically short-term missions (STM). Hear are some things I'd love to know; feel free to go beyond these questions, though:

How does STM fit into your broader mission strategy? (Does it? Do you have a broader strategy?)
Do you have an ongoing relationship/partnership with a western/US-based mission agency through which you implement your STM strategy? Who/what? What is the focus?
Do you have ongoing relationships/partnerships with non-western agencies or churches?
Do you have a particular focus area? If so, how did you identify that?
What is the nature of your involvement? (e.g., relief, development, evangelism, medical, etc.)
How do you select and prepare short-term missionaries/teams? What do you do "post-field" with your team, the people you visited, the senders/supporters, etc.?
How do you seek to get your whole church engaged, versus merely the "mission zealots" (my term!)?

Finally, what is the one thing you wish you did better?

Taking Jesus Seriously - Part II

2008-02-01T21:00:00.001-08:00

Rereading my last post, I realize that I wasn't terribly focused. I went from Shane Claiborne to the righteous rich kid (aka "the rich young ruler") to God dealing with oppression throughout the Bible to a guilt trip because I'm in the classic oppressing group (white male American Republican evangelical Christian)...to trying to figure out how to battle oppression from within. Kind of a dizzying post, I must admit, so let me step back a bit and try to focus on two related questions: first, was Jesus serious when he spoke?; and second, what would it mean for me if he really was serious?

So, was Jesus serious when he spoke? I'm not talking about whether he was making jokes, but did he mean what he said? When he told the rich kid to sell everything, was he really asking the guy to do that, or was he exaggerating to make a point? When he said to turn the other cheek, did he mean it? Or when he said that you can't be his disciple if you don't hate your mom? I know there are hermeneutical principles we need to know and understand that will help answer these questions. I also know how easy it could be to explain away any significant meaning behind Jesus' words; and in doing so, to justify my desire to not take him seriously. Which leads to my second question...

What would it mean for me if he really was serious? This is where guys like Shane Claiborne make me just a bit uncomfortable...because they take Jesus seriously, and they live it out. Not that they do it perfectly, mind you, but they're trying. So when they read about Jesus taking care of the poor, they figure they ought to do that, too. When Jesus talks about feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, they do it. And when they do, it really messes me up, because I figure if they're taking him seriously, maybe I need to, too!

One thing about Jesus, though: he didn't seem to say the same thing to different people too often. Not that he was inconsistent, mind you; rather, he individualized his message. Go figure - he met people where they were at and spoke to their particular need. So when the rich kid asks how to get eternal life, Jesus hits at what's keeping him from having it: stuff. When he sees a diminutive tax collector up in a tree straining for the slightest glimpse, Jesus goes the distance by inviting himself over for dinner. When Peter boldly proclaims his undying devotion, Jesus points out the chicken within.

So to figure out what it means for me to take Jesus seriously, I have to open myself to his probing eyes and words. I have to let him look into my fears, my idols, my security blankets (which are little more than rags)...and I have to open my ears to him, to whatever he might say to me. And more than likely, whatever he says is probably going to be difficult in some way - it might mean giving up something I don't think I can live without; or looking foolish to someone...maybe even someone I'd like to impress; or displeasing parents. It may look radical and unconventional and countercultural and...well, it probably is.

Take a look at Jer 42. Some people come to Jeremiah, asking him to ask God about something and promising to do whatever God says, good or bad. But when Jeremiah tells them the message, they respond, "you're lying!" Not the most charitable or faithful response, huh? I wonder how many times I've done that?

I'm sure I'll be pondering this some more; I hope I get a chance to write more, too.

Was Jesus Really Serious?

2008-01-31T12:54:00.000-08:00

A couple days ago, I started reading a book a friend gave me, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, by Shane Claiborne. This is one of the few "rock your world" books I've read. (For starters, think Mother Theresa meets Willow Creek Community Churchl; imagine the culture shock going from one to the other. Shane spent three months working with "Momma T" in a Calcutta leper colony, then did a one-year internship in Chicago with Willow Creek. At least he was able to see Jesus in both places!) As I'm reading, I'm struck by this guy's radical belief that we're actually supposed to take Jesus seriously! Do you mean to tell me that when Jesus told the righteous rich kid to sell everything he had and give it to the poor...he actually meant it?!? Claiborne seems to think so!

For the past year or so, I have been doing an unusual (for me) amount of thinking about wealth and poverty, freedom and oppression, West and East, America and Africa. I think it really started when our pastor at Imago Dei Community, Rick McKinley, did a series on Isaiah 61, a passage about freedom from oppression, which Jesus read in the synagogue and then had the audacity to claim was fulfilled in himself right then and there! Ever since then, my eyes have been opened to the fact that God actually cares about the poor...so much so, in fact, that he wants me to do something about it. And not just me, but all his people. This idea is rampant in the prophets (at least in Isaiah and Jeremiah, which are all I've read so for for school). Over and over again, God tells the Israelites to break down oppression wherever they see it. Surprisingly, it seems, it is the Israelites themselves - remember, those folks that were rescued by God from the oppression in Egypt - who are guilty of oppressing. And the ones they're guilty of oppressing are, ironically, themselves. And, of course, it's the leaders - the "shepherds" - who are oppressing the poorer ones. Hmmm...I guess there really isn't anything new under the sun. What is grabbing me, though, is not just that God cares about freeing people, but that he wants me to work toward that end. And you, probably; certainly you, if you are in any sense a leader of God's people.

Here's a big part of the challenge for me, though: I'm clearly a part of that "oppressing" group - I'm white, I'm a guy, I'm a Christian (and, gasp!, an evangelical Christian), I'm American, I'm middle class, I'm wealthy (at least compared to most of the world), I'm a Republican (though that may change)...and I've spent the last 14 years in the financial industry, helping people get rich, invest their riches, manage their riches, and distribute their riches to their rich kids. Maybe I'm that righteous rich kid Jesus met!

Reflecting on his transition from Calcutta to Chicago, Claiborne writes, "I knew that we could not end poverty until we took a careful look at wealth. I was to battle the beast from within the belly." That's where I find myself...in the belly of the beast. The question I wrestle with is, how can I confront oppression from the inside?

To be continued....

When Prayer Doesn't Seem Like Enough

2007-10-23T21:23:00.000-07:00

I confess that I have had, since I was a boy, a “savior complex”; it’s tied in closely to my Type-A, take charge, “doer” personality, so when I see things going on around me and something needs to be done – like the wildfires in Southern California - I want to kick it into high gear.

Despite the fact that I grew up in a Christian home, with parents who have dedicated their lives and careers to faith-based ministry, I have somehow never felt that prayer was doing. It’s always seemed like what you do when you’re waiting to do something real, or when you can’t do anything else…sort of a time-filler, not really “doing” anything, just waiting…and wishing.

Having moved up from San Diego last year, and having experienced (to a limited extent) the devastation from the Cedar Fire there four years ago next week, the fires raging down there now are challenging both my faith and my savior complex. I want to pray (and I am praying), but I also want to do something more, as if that were possible. I’m not comfortable with the possibility that God may just want me to learn to pray, and quite frankly, I’m going to fight him on that a bit. Theological lessons aside, I want to see what we can do from here. Maybe it will be “just” praying, but maybe there’s something more. There are some very real, immediate needs – for doctors and nurses, coffee, cots, blankets, sun block, prepared foods…. There will be ongoing needs, for cleanup first, but also for rebuilding, refurnishing homes, replacing clothes and toys and dishes and couches and beds. (Many people haven’t even finished rebuilding since the Cedar Fire four years ago; others, I would bet, have already lost what they just rebuilt.) [For a look at real needs in real time - and to see what some people are doing - check out the blog for Flood Church in San Diego at http://www.diveintoflood.com/impactblog/?p=48.]

How might we mobilize ourselves, our professional associates, our clients…and their extended resources…to be of service in these fire-devastated areas? I’m open to your thoughts…and your prayers.

Black & White Living in a Color World

2007-09-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

I’m working on a book. Writing one, that is. Okay, maybe it’s a bit presumptuous of me to suggest that. But I have an idea for one, and I’ve written a number of pages in my journal on the topic, and if I don’t run out of ideas or motivation or time or energy, then maybe…just maybe…I’ll write enough to eventually qualify it as book length. And…well, let’s not even mention publishers at this point.

I don’t really have a thesis yet, but the basic train of thought is the impact that growing up in an evangelical environment has had on my life as an adult. In fact, the working title for my book is “Growing Up Evangelical”…so don’t even think about beating me to that title! And no, I am not copying Stacia Brown, who wrote an article with that title in Sojourners magazine in June 2005. I just did a Google search for the title, and her article was the first hit, so I’ll be reading that sometime and may refer to it to see if my experience is at all similar to that of the people interviewed for the article…but I was thinking about the title before I came across her article. But enough of the disclaimers.

First let me say that I think growing up evangelical wasn’t all bad. I think it gave me a pretty solid theological foundation, even if I’ve had to go back as an adult to explore and test that foundation at several points. There are very few doctrinal points that I would say I’ve actually changed in adulthood, and where I have is all in what I would consider “non-essentials.” Some of my evangelical brothers and sisters would disagree with my analysis of what is essential, but alas, that is a part of the yin side of the evangelical yin-yang: we can’t even agree on what we ought to agree on! Hence the title of this post.

Perhaps one of the most significant impacts of growing up evangelical has been the propensity to view the world in black and white. That has a whole host of corollaries: right and wrong, us and them, liberal and conservative, saved and lost, evangelical and mainline, Republican and Democrat, Protestant and Catholic, heaven and hell…. Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have thrown in that last couplet; after all, I do believe - in fact, I’m quite convinced - that the Bible teaches a very literal heaven and hell. But I’m not so sure that the world can be so easily divided, whether theologically or spiritually or religiously or even politically.

Let me cut evangelicalism a little slack here and acknowledge that my personality is well-suited to these dichotomies. I like the whole A or B kind of distinctions; it makes things so easy to categorize, and if I know what category to put you in, then I know what to do with you. The problem is, life isn’t black and white. In fact, it’s quite colorful. And I’ve been learning over the past few years that people can’t be shunted off into one of two categories quite as easily as I’d like to do so. Oh yes, I know that Jesus will do just that at the final judgment, when he “separates the sheep from the goats” - see Matthew 25 - but I think he’s probably a far better judge than I am, so I’ll try to leave that to him and just focus on seeing a bit more color in the world.

When is “Innovation” Not Enough … or Too Much?

2007-02-13T21:18:00.000-08:00

For the past year or so, I have been a regular reader of and commenter over at Monday Morning Insight (MMI), a website geared toward innovative church ministry (my description). Todd Rhoades, host of the site, seems to have a good head on his shoulders, a heart for reaching people through the church, and a passion for connecting pastors and church leaders with each other and resources that will help them reach people for God’s kingdom. I have appreciated most of what I’ve seen at MMI, especially the glimpses I’ve gotten into how people are doing church in other parts of the country.

Recently, Outreach magazine named the top innovative churches (which, as is to be expected, are all fairly large ones). A fellow seminary student decried the list - “Can you spot more than three innovative churches on this list???” Lists like this aren’t new. In fact, Elmer Towns wrote a book in 1991 called, 10 Of Today’s Most Innovative Churches: What They’re Doing, How They’re Doing It and How You Can Apply Their Ideas in Your Church. (Actually, it’s the last part of that subtitle that scares me…there are plenty of copycat churches around, and I would venture to say that few of them implement the “innovations” as effectively as the innovators.)
Still, lists like this make me wonder a couple things. First, what constitutes innovation? Does it mean meeting in a bar, as my friend’s church does? Or does it mean, for a hymn-based church, to experiment with using guitars and drums? For one church it may mean starting a homeless ministry, for another it’s an outreach into the porn industry. Certainly there is a degree of relativity to innovation; what is innovate to one person or in one setting will be old hat to another.

The second thing I wonder is, do we sometimes place innovation too high in our priorities? I don’t think Todd Rhoades of MMI or most “innovative” ministry leaders would suggest for a moment that that’s true, in spite of the fact that sometimes it may seem that way. Innovation is simply a fancy word for trying things that may not have been done before (at least in a certain context) in order to reach people for Christ who are not being reached by existing means. So innovation isn’t the goal, but rather the means to an end. We do need to be careful, though, that we don’t hold out innovation - or relevance, or authenticity, or any other of the recent buzzwords - as the key to the world’s salvation…or even as the key to drawing people toward Jesus. That position is still reserved for Jesus Christ himself.

Still, the fact is that we live in an attention-deficit world: sixty seconds is an agonizingly long commercial. We want bullet points, not paragraphs. We want our fast food in 90 seconds or less, and our latte in under a minute. We’re also a Frank Sinatra world; we want it our way: not just coffee, but a venti, triple-shot, extra-hot, no-whip mocha. Paper or plastic, debit or credit, for here or to go, traditional or contemporary, the now or the not yet. Innovation in ministry is necessary to reach this culture, but while innovation breeds innovation, it also breeds more of dissatisfaction with what is and what has been. Soon, innovation won’t be enough; it must be rapid-fire innovation. What’s new on Sunday will be old by Tuesday. Generations are no longer be measured in terms of four decades, but two.

And speaking of mochas, I recently read an interesting quote on one of Starbucks’ “The Way I See It” cups: “In my career I’ve found that ‘thinking outside the box’ works better if I know what’s ‘inside the box.’ In music (as in life) we need to understand our pertinent history … and moving on is so much easier once we know where we’ve been.” (Dave Grusin, award-winning composer and jazz musician) There is a timeless historicity to the Christian faith, and we need to cultivate a knowledge of that, to bring new believers up in that history. Perhaps in so doing, we can offer a firm foundation on which innovation may be built.

A Recovering Evangelical

2007-01-20T21:07:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted on Jan 20, 2007 at randehle.com) I have at times described myself as a “recovering evangelical”. Recently I was asked what I meant by that, so I will take some space here to answer that question. First, however, I need to give credit where it is due. Roger Hedgecock, a conservative radio talk show host and former mayor of San Diego, describes himself as a “recovering politician”; I adapted the term for my own use.

So just what is a “recovering evangelical”? It is a person seeking to recover what is good in evangelicalism – primarily its essential doctrines – and recover from those aspects where evangelicalism has perhaps gone astray.

Recovering What Is Good – Doctrine
There is much that is good in evangelical doctrine, yet it is being called into question by some in the church today. Specifically, significant voices in the emerging church “conversation” are reevaluating their own roots and delving deeply into scripture in their search. This is certainly not a bad thing, but can become dangerous when these voices are taking with them less-well-rooted followers - or when they steer away from orthodox beliefs for fear of possibly “being wrong”.

I find three evangelical strengths in particular that need to be recovered:

Evangelicals have generally placed an appropriate emphasis on the rightness of scripture – a perhaps-less-divisive term than either inerrancy or infallibility. Evangelicals understand scripture to be right, true, and, as Paul wrote to Timothy, “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness”. Without this base, Christianity is all but lost.
Evangelicals correctly hold to the paradoxical identity of Jesus as both all man and all God…even if we don’t always live out the impact of that belief (more on this below). Again, without conviction about the person of Jesus, we can neither have nor proclaim hope for the world.
Evangelicals understand the imperative of spreading the message of Jesus (specifically, of salvation in and through Jesus) to a world that according to scripture is lost without him.

Recovering From Going Astray – Practice
As is true of every religion at every point in history, what we believe (doctrine) is sometimes not well worked out in what we do (practice). Such is the case with evangelicalism. In two specific areas I think evangelical practice has gone off course, even if only slightly.

First, we have focused on conversion as a point-in-time experience, a “profession (or confession) of faith”, rather than recognizing that coming to faith is a process. Our evangelistic efforts (“spreading the message”) have not kept pace with the changing culture around us. Whereas not many decades ago even non-believers believed the Bible and what it taught about Jesus – even if they didn’t adhere to those truths in their hearts and lives – today there is a great ignorance of the Bible and an acceptance of a less-than-divine Jesus; while those of the former persuasion may respond to a four-step gospel presentation concluding with “the sinner’s prayer”, the latter need to be drawn toward a relationship with Jesus in which they will eventually place their faith in him. In many respects, this is the difference between “becoming a Christian” and “becoming a disciple.”
Second, we have unduly emphasized separation, expressed through a rejection of both activities (e.g., drinking, dancing, movies, etc.) and those who engage in them. Like the Pharisees in Jesus’ day, we seem to be afraid that merely associating with “sinners” will make us unclean. Of course, this was what they had been taught; it grew out of the Mosaic Law with its strict definitions of clean and unclean. In our day, we read James’ counsel that pure religion is “…to keep oneself unstained by the world” and understand that to mean just this separation.

As for what a recovering evangelical should do, I think I will leave that question for another post….

Understanding Worship

2007-01-18T20:57:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted on Jan 18, 2007 at randehle.com) Why has worship been at the core of so many divisions both within and between churches for the better part of four decades (if not longer)? Perhaps a significant reason is that we do not have a clearly-defined understanding of what worship is. In Worship by the Book, D.A. Carson accurately presents worship as far broader than either music or corporate worship.

He begins by noting the difficulty we will have in constructing a theology of worship. Indeed, he takes a full eight pages out of his 52-page first chapter just to explain why an agreeable definition of worship is difficult to come by. And when he does present his definition, he takes 16 lines to do it! Here is the first sentence Carson offers, which I believe is an accurate summary of biblical worship: “Worship is the proper response of all moral, sentient beings to God, ascribing all honor and worth to their Creator-God precisely because he is worthy, delightfully so.” (The balance of his paragraph adds a number of nuances to this summary.)

If it is so hard to come to a definition of worship, and harder still to develop a solid theology of worship, it should be no wonder that so much division has arisen over this one topic. So what are we to do? As church leaders, a big part of our task is to educate the church body (cf Ro 12:7, 1 Co 12:28, Ep 4:11, Co 1:28, 3:16). If worship is to be a significant focus of our corporate gatherings, should we not teach about worship?

Here are some points Carson makes:

If worship is a “proper response” to God, then we need to consider how God wants his people to responds to him. We need only look at Cain and Abel to recognize that God may actually have his own worship preferences – and that ours may not line up with his.
Worship involves (though not exclusively) remembering and retelling. This is at the heart of the Lord’s Supper, and is a theme prevalent throughout the Old Testament, as well.
“Worship is no longer primarily focused in [religious action and ritual] shaped by a liturgical calendar, but it is something in which we are continuously engaged.” (p. 38) In other words, we don’t go to church to worship; rather, when we go to church, we continue to worship, now as a body.
Worship is both adoration and action. That is, we delight in God (adoration), but we also serve his people (action). These are not sequential or mutually exclusive, but rather concurrent. We are to do everything to the glory of God, as Paul admonished. In our actions, God may be adored. In our adoration of God, we may also serve others.
Worship is both individual and corporate.
While a thorough study of scripture will show us many elements of worship, “there is no explicit mandate or model of a particular order or arrangement of these elements.” (p. 51) Let us not be too eager, then, to over-promote our own preferences or denigrate another’s.

Carson also states that “it is folly to think that only part of the ‘service’ is worship” and continues by saying that “the notion of a ‘worship leader’ who leads the ‘worship’ part of the service before the sermon (which, then, is no part of worship!) is so bizarre, from a New Testament perspective, as to be embarrassing.” (p. 47) In a footnote on the same page, he comments about “the fact that many contemporary ‘worship leaders’ have training in music but none in Bible, theology, history, or the like.”

Carson concludes his chapter with this wise counsel: “Somewhere along the line it is important not only to explain that genuine worship is nothing more than loving God with heart and soul and mind and strength and loving our neighbors as ourselves, but also to show what a statement like that means in the concrete decisions of life.” (p. 63)

Do you have a clear definition of worship? Do the people in your church know that definition? When was the last time you spent significant time teaching and/or preaching about worship (i.e., a series of messages)? Worship leaders: In what ways might your leadership be enhanced by pursuing more theological training? Senior/lead pastors: Do you need to encourage and enable your worship leader to deepen their theological training?

The American Dream

2007-01-04T20:55:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted Jan 4, 2007 on randehle.com) What is the American dream? While the term may mean very different things to different people, it usually conjures up images of material success: home, car, family, financial security, independence. For many, The Dream is associated with immigration and what America offered: religious freedom, economic prosperity, limitless opportunity. For most, perhaps, the dream is centered on freedom of some sort – religious, financial, geographic, etc.

I wonder, though, if the American dream lines up with God’s dream for his people? Certainly freedom is a central aspect of Biblical truth, but perhaps not the type of freedom we hold so dearly in this country.

Sadly, I think, the church in America – under the burden of freedom – has bought into the American dream … and in so doing has become drunk on its own success. In a big country where bigger is better, the church has enjoyed an extended period of growth both locally and nationally; we have more churches and bigger churches. At the same time, we have promoted – sometimes actively, sometimes passively – the American dream. We explain church growth in terms of God’s blessing and equate personal faithfulness with the same: if the church is growing, it must be because God is pleased; if a family experiences material “blessing” (i.e., lots of stuff), then God must be pleased. The same theology says that hard times show God’s displeasure.

I don’t think that’s true, though, and there’s a lot of evidence in scripture to back me up. Just look at Joseph’s life – beaten up by his brothers, sold into slavery, thrown in jail for a rape he didn’t commit…hardly a “blessed” life! Yet he himself acknowledged to his brothers that “God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20) Job’s counselors came to him with a similar message, yet listen to God’s rebuke: “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.” (Job 42:7)

God has been working in my wife’s and my hearts in this area; we see him striking down much of what we have grown up with in the American Evangelical church. It’s not that what we grew up with was wrong; but it seems to me that somehow, over the past couple centuries, the line between “Christian” and “American” has been worn thin. Unfortunately, it has been “American” values that have gained prominence over “Christian” values, rather than vice versa.

This week my wife started reading a new book, This Beautiful Mess, by Pastor Rick McKinley of the Imago Dei community in Portland, Oregon. In at least one of the chapters, Rick talks about some of these kinds things, and the message is very much at the core of what Imago Dei is about as a body. My wife and I are wondering where and how God will lead us in this new adventure of faith, of striving after the true freedom he offers rather than the false freedoms of financial security, independence, and material things.

Joining the Conversation

2006-11-13T20:50:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted Nov 13, 2006 on randehle.com) Many of the leading voices in the emerging church prefer the term “conversation” to “movement.” In that vein, D.A. Carson has attempted to join the discussion with his book, Becoming Conversant With The Emerging Church (Zondervan, 2005). In his preface, Carson writes, “Whenever a Christian movement comes along that presents itself as reformist, it should not be summarily dismissed.” He expresses his desire to engage in the conversation in a manner that encourages mutual learning – certainly an admirable and necessary aim.

It strikes me as unfortunate, then, that Carson’s book is so clearly biased against the emerging church; so much so that I am afraid he has struck down any real hope for bilateral communication. For example, consider the scathing remarks of my friend and seminary classmate, Dustin, in response to what Carson has written: “[It] should have the subtitle ‘Why I despise Brian Mclaren[sic] and why everything he thinks is wrong.’ …most of the accusations posed in the book are simply untrue.” (For whatever it’s worth, I find Dustin’s comments no more beneficial to healthy dialogue than what Carson has written.)

From the initial pages, Carson expresses his desire to engage in a well-reasoned and balanced conversation about substantive areas of difference as well as agreement. If he has fallen short of the target, as I believe he has, then what may be needed in place of his work? First, it is necessary to establish the foundation upon which the conversation will be based. It would be easy to say that the Bible is our foundation but among theologians, that is so simplistic as to be meaningless. After all, a key element of Emergent involves reevaluating how the Bible is to be read and understood. It has long been difficult for us evangelicals to reduce our core beliefs – what we consider the essentials of faith – to a bare minimum. Whether it is the mode of baptism, the meaning and significance of the Lord’s Supper, or the form of church government, we tend to define our position, draw the battle lines, and take a firm stand in defense of those beliefs. Those in the emerging church, on the other hand, may not only hold different views of those core beliefs, but even consider them as so non-essential as to be essentially insignificant…to which we respond with a shocked gasp, a disgusted rolling of the eyes, and a quick about-face. As evangelicals, we need to instead respond with the grace of a counselor who at times must mask his disgust at his patient’s behavior if he is to help him overcome that behavior. We must remain at the table and reason through our faith; as Peter exhorted, we must “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” (1 Peter 3:15)

Likewise, those in the emerging church who tend toward a carte blanche rejection of all that has preceded them must put aside such prejudices and listen attentively to those who have truly investigated and become prayerfully convinced of their convictions. When a couple become parents for the first time, it can be tempting to reject all the methods of their parents, believing they can do a better job raising their own children. Wisdom suggests otherwise; wisdom would have the young parents thoughtfully consider both what their own parents did well and what they did poorly, then emulate the former even as they seek to avoid the latter. And in this they must recognize that they, too, will make mistakes…which their own children will one day need to redeem.

Finally, engaging in a mutually-beneficial dialogue will require that evangelicals recognize the value in allowing for uncertainty while emergents recognize a similar value in certainty. Key to both of these is appropriately – and biblically – determining where to allow for uncertainty and where to look for certainty. Let us consider two examples, baptism and homosexuality. In baptism, is it really essential that an individual be completely soaked – especially if, as most evangelicals believe, baptism is purely symbolic and has no effect on salvation? Many times I have seen someone immersed whose head didn’t quite go all the way under the water. Does she, like the mythical Achilles, somehow have a spiritual weak spot as a result? Or could it be that in our desire to stay true to the most accurate translation of the word baptize, we have become like the Pharisees who so narrowly defined exactly how much work was allowed to be done on the Sabbath without breaking the fourth commandment?

In choosing the topic of homosexuality as my second example, I recognize that I face the great risk of having the rest of my comments overlooked and of having the reader focus only on expressing their own views on this important but controversial topic. I beg you to flee that temptation and remember that I am merely using this as an example of an area that many in the emerging church are viewing with a measure of uncertainty. Could it be, however, that God really does detest homosexuality as much as our English translations of the Bible suggest? Scripture is certainly unambiguous about God’s hatred of sin; no less certain is the biblical mandate that my attitude and behavior toward a homosexual – or any other sinner – be constrained by God’s grace as exemplified by the life and teachings of Jesus, such as his words to the woman caught in adultery (John 8). Thus constrained, is it really so harmful to conclude from diligent study that homosexuality is sinful? Perhaps not.

If the church in any of its manifestations is to reclaim its place in God’s redemptive plan for a world separated from him, then we must work together as the body that we are – and that means that the various parts of the body must communicate – with each other and with the world around us – in grace and truth. Doing so will require from all sides that we put off our personal prejudices, our biases, our preferences, and that we learn to communicate much as a missionary does: crossing barriers of culture, language, and theology, and so opening the doors to meaningful, life-changing dialogue focused on the eternally life-changing message of salvation in Jesus Christ.

Consideratio

2006-11-08T20:45:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted Nov 8, 2006 on randehle.com) I am a contemplative by nature, but a rushed one. The demands of life in the 21st century – as husband, father of three, employee/manager, graduate student, lay minister – compel me to action, sometimes to a flurry of activity. Reading of some early church fathers impressed me with their strong calls to balance between the contemplative lives they preferred and the active lives demanded by their roles as pastor. Pope Gregory the Great called this balance consideratio. Both John Chrysostom and Gregory of Nazianzus, in the 4th century, at first fled the call to pastoral ministry, preferring the monastic life that would allow them to pursue the study of God’s word and the prayerful meditation they believed so necessary for holy living in a corrupt and decaying world. Yet for both of these men, the compulsion of God’s call to ministry (i.e., to service) drew them out of the monastery and into the torrent of life where they would face the grime and dirt and bruises and messes of people who, too, need to learn to live holy lives. Within this torrent, though, these early pastors sought to find times of solace and refuge where they could meet deeply and meaningfully with God in order to restore their souls and find new energy and purpose before returning to the rapids.

It is certain that life has become far more harried – and hurried – over the centuries. The world is not only continually changing; the speed of change itself is increasing exponentially. The face of ministry is changing on pace with the rest of life. In our (right and appropriate) desire to stay relevant to a world in constant transition, we find ourselves racing just to maintain that pace, let alone anticipate and possibly precede it. I suspect that most of us involved in ministry – while recognizing the need for balance between contemplation and activity – tend to err on the side of activity. Some of us are by nature Type-A, driven, task-oriented people, so action comes easier to us. Others are introspective and meditative…yet we still feel the need to perform. The motivation toward tasks and activities may come from within (our driven personalities) or from without (e.g., from the expectations of others), but the truth is that most of us probably find ourselves caught between the whitewater in the river valley and the peace of the mountaintop monastery.

Talk is Cheap (or is it)?

2006-11-01T20:36:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted Nov 1, 2006 on randehle.com.) I’m sure you’ve heard this. Usually it is meant to express doubt that someone will follow through on what they’ve said. We may be extra sensitive to this right now, with elections just a few days away; it seems that every candidate claims the high ground by focusing on their own promises kept and their opponents’ broken promises. But when was the last time you actually believed a promise made by a political candidate? If you are anything like me, you expect the promises to be broken, if you pay any attention at all to them.

Talk becomes cheap when our lives don’t match our words. Paul warned Titus of this, speaking of people he described as corrupted and unbelieving: “They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny him.” (Titus 1:16, NIV) Yet there is another aspect, as well, and that is in our choice of words. We do this by overusing or misusing two kinds of words: First, words that should have special meaning or significance; and second, words that are profane or vulgar (or stand-ins for them).

I was driving through town last week when Megan, my four-year-old, looked out the window and exclaimed, “awe-some!” I don’t know what she saw that so gripped her, but I knew she had little idea what she was saying and certainly no recognition of the real value of the word. As all young children do, she was simply parroting her older brother and sister; she has learned from watching and listening to her siblings that when we drive, it is appropriate to look out the window and exclaim, “awesome!” with a degree of enthusiasm. But was whatever she saw – or whatever the older two generally remark likewise about – truly inspiring awe, “A mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread, and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity, or might”? (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/awe) Probably not. And I’m sure that none of my kids knew (before I told them) that in the Bible, the words awe and awesome are used almost exclusively for God, his works, or his messengers.

The second trend I hear – and it is more prevalent and disturbing than the first – is the casual use of words that not many years ago would have been considered vulgar or profane. We see this in media; words that in 1980 would have condemned a movie to an R rating are heard today in PG movies. The hit show Everybody Loves Raymond carries a TV-PG rating for language because one of the lead characters can’t seem to finish a sentence without saying hell, crap, or god. Walk into…well, just about anywhere…and you’ll probably find someone who punctuates every utterance with profanity. I expected it in when I was in college and the military, but was naively surprised to have found the same language in the professional offices I inhabited for a dozen years.

I am disturbed to find this trend increasing as much within the Christian community as outside it. We have adopted alternatives to some of the “hard core” words, thinking that they are less offensive to our listeners, but I wonder if we have considered whether God might be offended. But maybe that’s not even the right question. Maybe it’s not enough to just not offend him; maybe we need to ask whether God is glorified in our language. I will readily confess that I need to ask this question myself. A number of circumstances over the past few years have led me away from the staunch conservatism of my youth and toward freer expression of myself. At times, that freedom has been expressed verbally, using words that I never would have even thought to utter five or ten years ago. But perhaps in wandering away from any legalistic bent of the past, my liberty has sunk into license.

During a stint in the Air Force in the mid-1980s, I sat in an adult Sunday School class in which the teacher suggested that even saying darn instead of damn, or fudge instead of … well, you know the alternative – violates the command to not take God’s name in vain. I didn’t agree with him then and I don’t think I do today, either. But neither do I think that our standard is simply, “Is it sin?” As Paul wrote – twice – to the Corinthians, “everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial.” (1 Cor 6:12, 10:23) James says that “we who teach will be judged more strictly.” (James 3:1) Don’t these words suggest that we as Christ-followers – and especially as church leaders – need to be very careful about our words? And not only the message of our words, but the individual words themselves.

I know that word meanings evolve with time and use, and that words have different meanings within distinct cultural settings. Anyone who has listened to middle schoolers for any length of time has seen that evolution. Bad, sick, cool, awesome; all mean essentially the same thing to a sixth grader, and none means anything close to its etymological root. I wonder, though: Is there a legitimate need to regain some of the value of words?

How does this devaluing of language impact us as Christ-followers, and especially those of us who would be church leaders? Do you need to watch your tongue?

The God of Missing Boxes

2006-10-28T12:00:00.000-07:00

(Thank you to my mom, Marilyn Ehle, for the title of this post. She is a far better writer than I, with numerous articles published online, including http://www.secretsofsuccess.com/article/superwoman.html and several at http://tmdevotionals.com/women/.)

I confess that I have often wondered whether God answers prayer. More specifically, I have wondered whether he answers my prayers. That’s a big confession for someone who has been a born-again, Bible-believing, conservative, evangelical Christian his whole life. I’ve heard all the Sunday School lessons and sermons and Bible studies on how, why, when, and for whom God answers prayer. I know the three standard answers (Yes, No, and Wait). Sometimes, though, it seems that the No answers outweigh the Yes ones, and my tendency too often is to question the God Who Answers rather than the one who prays.

There is a constant struggle in my mind about what to pray about, and even moreso about when I should solicit the prayers of others. So when we finally moved into a semi-permanent home after moving to Portland, and I couldn’t find a particular box, I waited a while before asking people to pray about it. Now this wasn’t just a box of kitchen utensils or DVDs that we wanted; it was a file box, and it held … well, in some respects, it held our whole lives, or at least the evidence of them. Everything that had been in a safe deposit box was in this file box: passports, Air Force discharge papers, birth and marriage certificates, Social Security cards, tax papers…pretty much every piece of paper that would prove that we existed! When I could no longer get the box out of my mind, I e-mailed a number of friends and family asking them to pray specifically for two things: my Greek mid-term exam and that I would find the box.

Seldom have I experienced a more clear, immediate, and positive answer to prayer! The next morning, after a final hour of study, I strode confidently into my Greek class, whipped through the mid-term, and waltzed out just as confident. Result: 79%. Considering the scores on most of my daily quizzes, that was a clear sign that God had smiled on me! That afternoon, my son asked for help finding the box with his GI Joes. As we searched the garage and cut open several boxes, I looked down into one and - to my exceedingly great delight - there was the missing file!
I confess that for a brief moment I wanted to go e-mail out a few other prayer requests, while the prayer engine was still warm! But that feeling passed quickly as I marveled, with an almost bewildered gratitude, at The One Who Hears, The God of Missing Boxes.

Inadequate

2006-10-25T13:01:00.000-07:00

Halfway through my first semester at Western Seminary in Portland, Oregon, I am facing an acute and quite unexpected sense of inadequacy for the pastoral ministry. It’s not a particularly comfortable feeling for one who has enjoyed roughly twenty years of success in military, college, and professional experience. Interestingly – perhaps ironically – I remain strongly convinced that God has not only led me to seminary, but is continuing to lead me into ministry. So what is it that is making me feel so inadequate?

Let me say first of all that it is not my grades. I am enjoying all of my classes – even Greek, in spite of the challenge of memorizing dozens of finely-nuanced forms of verbs, nouns, participles, articles, and other grammatical elements that I haven’t thought about in any language for at least a dozen years. One of my other classes, though, is definitely contributing to these feelings of inadequacy. The class is focused on laying a solid theological foundation for pastoral ministry, and the first text we are reading (Pastoral Theology in the Classical Tradition, by Andrew Purves) looks at the thoughts and writings of five church fathers from the 4th through 17th centuries: Gregory of Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, Gregory the Great, Martin Bucer, and Richard Baxter.

These men clearly held the pastoral role in high esteem; so high, in fact, that the first two literally fled ordination before the conviction of God’s call led them eventually to assume the mantel of shepherd. They recognized the critical importance of the pastor’s life being morally blameless. Gregory of Nazianzus wrote that the men God calls to be pastors ought to “surpass the majority in virtue and nearness to God.” (Purves, p. 23) These pastors also took seriously God’s charge to Ezekiel, that if the prophet failed to warn someone in sin, that person’s blood would be on the head of the prophet (Ez. 3:18). They saw this as one of the responsibility’s that has been passed on to the pastor, who must diligently seek to warn people of God’s judgment.

After reading just the first few chapters of Purves’ book, I began to be convicted that my own life didn’t attain to the high calling these men recognized. Rather than fleeing ordination and the role of pastor, I have sought it out. Yes, I believe that my seeking is in response to God’s call; and no, I don’t take lightly the seriousness of leading a congregation, or even a particular ministry or other subset of a local church. Yet I confess that I have not reflected deeply on all the ramifications of being a pastor, beyond the superficial challenges of dealing with sometimes-messy people and the inconveniences to my family of life in a veritable fishbowl. This class is definitely causing me to do some of that deeper reflection.

Twenty years ago I adopted Philippians 3:10-11 as my life verse: “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” I have realized over the past few weeks that in my focus on those verses, I have neglected the broader context in which Paul wrote. Immediately preceding these words he comments on his tremendous religious heritage – in many respects similar to my own (missionary kid, born-again at age 4, a church leader) – and he shares that he has come to view that heritage as something lost to him. But it’s not just lost; it is something to be thrown on the garbage heap! The NIV and NASB translate the word as “rubbish”; the KJV probably has the more accurate translation, “dung.” One lexicon notes the strong connotation of Paul’s word: “to convey the crudity of the Greek…: ‘It’s all crap’.” (Arndt, W., Danker, F. W., & Bauer, W. (2000). A Greek-English lexicon of the New Testament and other early Christian literature. (3rd ed.) (932). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.) It strikes me, then, that Paul has deliberately discarded his heritage in favor of “the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus”. Yet he quickly lets his Philippian readers know that he’s not there yet. In spite of what at this point is probably more than 30 years of serving Jesus and proclaiming his name throughout Asia, Paul says that he doesn’t really know him yet!

It is influences such as these that are contributing to my sense of inadequacy. As uncomfortable and unwelcome as the feeling is, though, I think it can be spiritually healthy and I find myself thanking God for it. I realize that he is stripping down my misplaced self-confidence and is replacing it with confidence in him. Like Paul, I haven’t yet obtained this, but I do recognize that the work he began in me, he will carry through to completion.

Left Brain/Right Brain

2006-03-21T13:22:00.000-08:00

Okay, I confess...I'm not in my right mind. At least, that's the joke that we who are left-brained must deal with from you artsy, right-brained types. (By the way, if the left side of the brain controls the right side of the body, why are the vast majority of people right-handed? Even the artsy types. It seems like there would be a balance.) Anyway, I am left-brained, which means I am more intellectually- and analytically-inclined than my more emotional and artistic right-brained friends. I am also a guy, so I don't necessarily do deep, intimate relationships really well. Which all brings me to this question: How can I develop a deep, intimate, personal relationship with God?

I grew up in The Church, so I know the textbook answers to that - spend time in The Word, do my Quiet Time every day, memorize Scripture, pray a lot (after all, it's just talking to God). That's all well and good, but at some point it all just seems rather academic. I love to study the Bible; I am inspired by the intellectual pursuit of God. But, like the apostle Paul wrote, I want to know Christ. (Philippians 3:10) I want to really know him - not just know about him. A number of years ago a friend gave me a German saying that I wrote in my Bible: Nur weisst du von Gott, oder kennst du ihm, auch? (Do you only know of God, or do you know him, too?) In English, we use the same word, know. German has two different words to differentiate between an intellectual recognition (wissen) and a personal relationship (kennen).

I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and the
fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death; and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:10-11, NIV)

Who Is Church For?

2006-03-10T10:09:00.000-08:00

For nearly 20 years I have had a question lingering in the back of my mind: Who is church for? It really stems from the "seeker-sensitive" (SS) church movement that has Willow Creek and Saddleback as de facto flagship churches. The basic methodology of the SS movement is to bring seekers of God to church, where they will hear the gospel. And since Sunday morning is the time that most Americans think of when they consider going to church, the Sunday morning services are geared specifically and unabashedly toward seekers. Willow Creek has midweek services geared toward believers; I don't know if Saddleback has a similar setup.

There are a wide range of criticisms of the SS model in general and of these churches in particular, but one is foremost in my mind: that "the church," by definition, is comprised of believers in/followers of Jesus...and therefore, that when we gather as the church, we should gather as believers. In other words, a church service should not be primarily evangelistic.

Here is my quandary: I tend to agree with that from a strictly etymological standpoint, but not from a hermeneutical perspective. In other words, I agree with the dictionary definition of the Greek word for church, but not with the interpretive idea that simply because we don't see a New Testament example of unbelievers coming to "church," we should exclude them from our gatherings. Some people hold to the belief that our methods should align only with what is expressly allowed or clearly demonstrated in the Bible (or, more specifically, the New Testament). Others believe that we are free to do anything that is not expressly forbidden in scripture. I put myself somewhere in the middle, exercising great freedom and latitude in those areas where scripture is either silent or inconclusive. (And, of course, I think that is the best place to be, theologically!)

For now, here are my conclusions: the chief task of the body of Christ (i.e., the church) is to make disciples (Matthew 28:18-20). The first step to becoming a disciple is to answer Jesus' invitation to follow him. Answering that invitation requires hearing it (cf. Romans 10:13-15). And if hearing it means coming to church on Sunday morning, then I say, Move over, Christian, and let the seeker have a seat!

Sidebar: One of my chief concerns with "come-and-hear" methodology is not a watering-down of the gospel that some lament; I don't think that is a valid criticism. Rather, I am concerned that it may tend to downplay the personal responsibility for evangelism; "if I can simply invite my friend to church to hear the gospel, then maybe I don't need to be so well-versed to share the gospel myself". I do not believe that Willow Creek or Saddleback or most other SS churches actively teach this; in fact, I think they actively teach that I am responsible to share my faith. Nonetheless, it can offer an easy escape for someone not inclined to move out of their comfort zone.

Vox Dei

2006-03-07T21:56:00.000-08:00

In the beginning, God said….

The word of God is his unlimited creative power. The universe and all that is in it came into being by mere utterance from God’s lips. “God said, ‘Let there be…’, and there was….” Out of nothing, something.

Man can create only out of pre-existent matter. I once worked with a man who refused to use the word create in reference to anything man-made. He argued that to create implies making something from nothing and that therefore only God can create. It was an argument of semantics, but the argument had its merits. Man can dream and design and invent incredible things, but he is forever limited to the materials at hand. God, on the other hand, speaks matter into existence.

But does God speak today? We give lip-service to his voice. We say that he speaks through his people, the Bible, the Holy Spirit, circumstances…. But do we really believe that it is truly the voice of God, or do we hear only his instrument, one speaking for God? Would I pay closer attention to the Sunday sermon if I really believed I was hearing the vox dei, the voice of God? Would I give more credence to my wife’s wise counsel if I really believed it was the creative Voice of the universe coming from her lips? How have we wandered so far out of range of God’s call?

When he finished speaking the world into existence, God walked in Eden with his finest creation, Man and Woman. They walked together throughout the garden, enjoying the cool evening breezes and the chance to talk amongst themselves. Theirs was a deep, intimate relationship, like—but far greater than—a father’s relationship with his grown children. You can almost hear Adam and Eve enjoying a good laugh with God about the names they gave the animals….

Father, get a load of this guy! We just burst out laughing when we
saw him, so we called him “hyena!”
Oh, Adam! Tell him about the great big one with the long
nose. He needed a REALLY big name—elephant!

They talked about farming and ranching, sunrises and sunsets, about all they had done during the day and the thoughts they’d had. Then one day it all changed. God came for his nightly stroll, but the kids weren’t there. He wandered among the cornstalks and the berry patches and the fruit trees, calling their names and listening for the sound of their voices. All he heard was the frightened beating of their hearts thundering across the valley. Slowly, tentatively, they poked their heads above the bushes they were hiding behind. Tears—the first ever to fall on Eden’s soil—stained their cheeks.

Here we are, Lord. We were embarrassed for you to see us naked.

The all-knowing Creator choked back his own tears as he asked, Who told you you were naked? And then the story and the tears flowed together as the man and his wife told of the serpent and the fruit and their motives and their fears. But Father, they pleaded, we only wanted to be more like you. And God banished Adam and Eve from the garden…but not from his heart. And as those last words of the curse rang in their ears, the First Family walked slowly away. And ever since, mankind has struggled to hear God’s voice plainly again.

Exegetical Honesty

2006-03-03T12:48:00.000-08:00

Last night in my hermeneutics class at Bethel Seminary, I ran the basic question of my last post by my professor: "Does Jesus call all of his followers to be disciples, or can one be a true follower without accepting the invitation to discipleship?" His first response was that to be a disciple means to be a follower; he noted that one Bible translation (I don't remember which) actually uses the word follower where others use disciple.

Exegesis is the process of understanding what the original author actually wrote. Hermeneutics, which begins with and encompasses exegesis, is the process of interpreting what the original author wrote to the original audience, and determining the significance of that for us today.

I confess that my post on discipleship is not the product of sound exegesis; in fact, I stated that in one of my subsequent comments: "My conclusions (at this point) are really based on what Jesus didn't say as much as on what he did say." That is hardly good scholarship.

In my defense, though I want to emphasize that the thoughts I posted were intended to generate discussion (which they did) and to serve as a hypothesis for further study. I will continue to study that hypothesis, implementing good principles of hermeneutics and, I hope, thus be drawn into a fuller realization of what Jesus both desires and expects of those who call him "Lord, Lord."

Are all followers of Jesus called to be his disciples?

2006-02-16T11:28:00.000-08:00

I’ve wrestled with this question over the past several years. It started when I was meeting with some buddies for accountability, prayer, mutual encouragement, and so on. One of the guys is on staff with The Navigators – a discipleship-focused organization – and he emphasizes discipleship in his ministry. Since I’ve been heavily influenced by the Navs throughout my life, I understood John’s emphasis, but the question remained, Did Jesus want or expect all those who follow him to be his disciples?

I have concluded that the answer to that question is No. Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus was followed by a great many people – throngs, multitudes, crowds. Seldom did Jesus condemn them for following, though he did acknowledge that following alone would not earn them entry into the kingdom of heaven. (“Not all who call me Lord, Lord will….”) Also, his words on discipleship usually included a conditional statement: “If anyone wants to be my disciple, [then]….” I can’t think of one time that Jesus condemned a follower for not being a disciple. (By the way, I grew up thinking Jesus had only 12 disciples – a fallacy I learned in Sunday School, no doubt! In reality, he had many, from whom he selected 12 and appointed them to be apostles. See Mark 3:14 and Luke 6:13. Of course, Matthew 28:16 refers to “the eleven disciples” [emphasis mine].)

What I find particularly intriguing, though – the statement that causes me to question my own conclusion – is the last command Jesus gave: to go and make disciples. Apparently his desire is for disciples, not just followers. Given all that he said about suffering and persecution, it’s clear Jesus knew that if his word was to be spread, it would require the commitment of a disciple, not merely a follower. It would mean dying to self, leaving family and friends and home and job behind, and maintaining a singular focus on building his kingdom.

All of this, I think, has great importance for how I approach my role as a minister of the gospel.

I need to recognize that there will be a lot of Christ-followers who will be content with that position – to be one of the crowd around Jesus. Like Jesus, I need to believe that that’s okay, even as I recognize that those are not the people who are going to get the word out.
I need to recognize that discipleship is primarily a relationship, not a program. Jesus spent three years training his disciples in the “everydayness” of life. How can I practice, teach, or expect any less? I love how 1 Thessalonians 2:8 describes Paul’s relationship with that church: “…we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives.”
I need to recognize – and teach – that discipleship is costly. It requires great commitment from both disciple and “discipler”. It will entail persecution (though little in our American life can compare with the persecution our brothers and sisters in other parts of the world endure). It will require sacrifice…of home, family, friends, career, reputation perhaps….
The key job of a disciple is to make more disciples. According to Matthew 28, Jesus was addressing his disciples (or rather, only the remaining 11 apostles) when he said to “go…make disciples.” After all, a primary principle of reproduction is that it takes one to make one; that is, we reproduce after our own kind. A follower cannot make a disciple, only a disciple can.

Corollary to all of these things is the realization that, if I want to be a disciple who makes disciples, then I need to focus the vast majority of my time and energies on “my” disciples. That doesn’t mean I neglect the followers, but my focus needs to be on those who want to be disciples. Jesus set the example of this, often withdrawing from the multitudes to spend time with his disciples, often going off with just The Twelve, sometimes only with the Inner Circle of three, and maybe on occasion hanging out with just one or two of them. And, of course, he often got alone with God, something I also need to do. These are examples I need to follow.

Philosophies of Ministry

2006-02-14T15:58:00.000-08:00

I spend a fair amount of time over at Todd Rhoades' Monday Morning Insight and find the discussions riveting, to say the least. But I thought I'd post a few thoughts here to see if anyone from there wants to jump on.

Many of the conversations over at MMI end up being arguments for or against "Purpose Driven" and "Seeker Sensitive" methodologies. So here are some questions I'd like to hear some answers to - and I would really be interested in contextually-accurate, biblical support.

1. Should church be for believers or should it be open and inviting to non-believers - an evangelistic experience, if you will?

2. With which of the following statements do agree more? Why?

The book of Acts prescribes for us what church should look like and what it should entail (including leadership structure, methodologies, and so on). It should be a manual for how we ought to "do church" today.
The book of Acts describes some of what transpired in the early church, but was not written as a how-to manual for the church.

3. Is a congregational form of church governance biblical? Why or why not? If not, what would you say is a biblical form?

4. When the Bible is silent on a topic, which of the following (if either) would more closely express your belief?

If the Bible doesn't expressly permit something, it should be forbidden.
If the Bible doesn't expressly forbid something, it should be permitted.

Thanks for playing! Check back every now and then to see what people have said and what else I may write.

Virtual Hate Mail

2006-01-26T16:38:00.000-08:00

What's a guy to do? With the advent of the internet, the ease of blogs, and the mass-distribution capabilities of e-mail, our ability to disparage people quickly and easily has risen to new heights...or rather, fallen to new lows. In fact, one could argue that e-mail is an online WMD (weapon of mass destruction). Should you decide to read on, let me note here that this blog is written from the perspective of an evangelical Christian, who accepts the Bible as God's word to humanity. A few years ago, I served on the board of a large church (not Saddleback or Willow Creek-large, but large nonetheless - around 3,000 people each weekend). During my three-year term, there was some pretty significant conflict revolving around the new Senior Pastor and a small group of people (maybe 1-2% of the congregation) who felt he wasn't doing a good job. The board itself was divided, as well - and more significantly, though it was still a minority (maybe 25-30%) who voiced concerns. Unfortunately, the board chairman led the charge. It was a rough time - for the church, for the board, for the pastor, and for me personally. The pastor ultimately resigned (under some compulsion) after only two years at the church. Several times during my three-year tenure on the board, I received e-mails that gave me great concern. Many of those were between board members who chose that medium to discuss the relative merits and demerits of the pastor and what we as a board ought to do about the situation. At best, I think those were unprofessional and unhelpful. At worst, they were malicious and sinful expressions of division and disunity - even to the point of character assassination. One of the biggest problems with e-mail is the ease with which a simple communication can be disseminated broadly and to an audience it was never intended to reach. Whether it's in the church, business world, or personal life, each of us needs to consider the possible impact of what we write getting into unintended hands. A common slogan during WWII was, "Loose lips sink ships." Maybe we need to update that for the 21st century and apply it to e-mail. The reputations of good people can easily be destroyed by "loose fingers" on the keyboard - even when what those fingers write is untrue. Fortunately, there are ways to deal with people who cannot or decide not to control their tongues and typing. In the business world, someone who sends an inappropriate e-mail can be reprimanded or even fired. In the church, there are also appropriate means (see Matthew 18 and others). But what if the e-mail is anonymous? Several times during my tenure on the church board, I received anonymous e-mails. On the plus side, they generally were calling out the board itself for not shutting down the few who wanted the pastor gone. In that regard, I shared their sentiments – perhaps feeling them even more strongly since I was continuously frustrated in my attempts to do just that. On the other hand, a couple times they accused the board in general – and by implication each board member – of being too full of pride and “power” to “do the right thing” and step down from the board. Little did the writer know how many times I had written my resignation, only to be talked out of it by my father, by others on the board, and even by the embattled pastor.

At least once I responded to an anonymous e-mail, inviting the sender into dialog, to a board meeting, or even to a non-anonymous discussion via e-mail. My responses were, it seems, in vain. I have a lot of problems with people hiding behind the veil of anonymity. Perhaps the biggest problem I have is that they seem to believe the lie that they will not be held accountable for their words. Yet Jesus was quite clear that we are responsible for our words (see Matthew 5:22 and context).

So the question is, how should we in the church respond - if at all - to "virtual hate mail"? Todd Rhoades posted this at his MMI blog, and it created a fair bit of discussion. I would offer a few options…and welcome others.

-Delete. Some people favor this carte blanche solution. If the e-mail isn’t signed, it doesn’t get read. But what if it’s a positive comment? Or what if there is both positive and negative? What if the negative is written in a truly helpful, uplifting manner? There has to be some leeway here, I think.

-Read and respond. This is at the other end of the spectrum and has similar problems. I can waste a lot of time just reading what amounts to so much trash, let alone responding. And what if the message I’m responding to is just plain irrational? I’ve found it virtually impossible to have a rational, electronic conversation with an irrational, anonymous writer.

-Send a “canned” response. For example, “We have received your e-mail and would like the opportunity to respond to your comments. However, your choice to remain anonymous precludes us from doing so. If you desire a response, please provide your name …” [and whatever other identifying information may be appropriate, such as phone number or mailing address].

-One pastor I know has delegated the job of “screening” his mail and e-mail to help him avoid hearing too much of the bad stuff. His intent is not to look at life (cliché alert!) through rose-colored glasses; rather, he understands about himself that too much negative will hurt his ability to minister. This goes along with the public figures who don’t read the newspaper reports about themselves – they know that not everything they would read (good or bad) is true. I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone, but there’s some wisdom in it.

-Another pastor who was facing pretty significant abuse from a handful of people in his church went so far as to read some of the e-mails from the pulpit. Again, this isn’t for everyone or every situation, but it could be a good start for dealing with extremely negative, anonymous notes.

I’d like to know how others handle the problem of VHM – Virtual Hate Mail.

Fundamentalism and Other Labels

2006-01-26T16:31:00.000-08:00

There's been an interesting discussion about fundamentalism over on Todd Rhoades' "Monday Morning Insights" blog. Read it for yourself here.

One individual posted comments at least four times staunchly defending the use of the terms Fundamentalist, Evangelical, Baptist, and Christian, which prompted me to offer the following comments (slightly edited here to in light of the different context):

The first two are a-biblical terms (i.e., they do not appear in the Bible) that have only come to have meaning in our culture in probably the past couple centuries. (The commenter's own posting of the dictionary definition of Fundamentalism indicates that it is primarily a 20th-century label.) "Baptist" appears in the Bible only in reference to John the Baptist, and the term "christian" appears only three times.

While I applaud the individual's defense of fundamental, evangelical theology, it seems to me that his emphasis on keeping tight hold on the labels themselves may be misguided. Paul provides us a good example in 1 Cor 9 when he speaks of becoming "all things to all men". Perhaps a paraphrase of his words is in order: "To the Fundamentalists I became like a Fundamentalist, to win the Fundamentalists." He goes on to say that among the lawless, he becomes like the lawless - yet without giving up his responsibility under Christ's law (v. 21). I have a feeling that Paul - like his savior and mine - would likely walk into a bar, pull up a stool, and start a conversation with the guy next to him. He may even (gasp!) order a beer! The Pharisees (of which Paul was one) would certainly never do that, and many of the self-avowed Fundamentalists that I know would be right there with the Pharisees, wagging their fingers and saying, "tsk, tsk".

So, if a non-believer sees Jesus in my life and experiences something of His grace from me, and still labels me a fundamentalist...or born again or baptist or Christian...I'll accept that. But if I insist on labeling myself a fundamentalist or born again or baptist or Christian - and they DON'T see Jesus in me and DON'T experience His grace, then I've got a problem. I think Jesus is far more concerned with how I live and I how draw others to him than with what arbitrary, 20th- or 21st-century label I wear.

Worship

2005-11-02T15:49:00.000-08:00

For the past 10+ years I have been trying to figure out what worship is. I've come to conclude with certainty that it is not limited to singing and praying, though it feels like that in some churches. Here, instead, is my working definition:

Worship is a response to an encounter with God.

Let me elaborate a bit. First, how do we encounter God? I think that happens in a wide variety of ways. We can encounter him in relationships, in circumstances, in nature, certainly in his word.... We can encounter him in his different roles or personalities; Isaiah calls God "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace, Everlasting Father." My own standing before God also impacts how I encounter him: as a sinner in need of grace and forgiveness, as a sick man needing healing, as a wanderer needing direction....

These different ways we encounter God elicit in us different reactions. The book of Psalms is a wonderful anthology of a man who met God in all these ways. For David, an artist and musician, poetry and music became the way he worshipped. But Balaam also encountered God, and in a very different way - in the form of a talking donkey. No, God did not become a donkey! But he used a donkey to stop Balaam dead in his tracks - before an angel just stopped him dead! Balaam's response was to fall face down in worship and fear. (See Numbers 22)

Worship is a Choice
Sometimes how we respond to an encounter with God is secondary to that we respond. I have three young children, and sometimes they just ignore me. It's very aggravating! But sometimes I just ignore God, too, and how that must hurt him. How many times have I walked out of church and said something like, "the worship just wasn't very good today"? I'm blaming the people up front when the reality is, I just didn't worship. Most often, I have to choose to worship. (Sometimes, though, I think it's a gut-level reaction, and that is usually when I encounter God's magnificence, his almighty greatness.)

The Job of a Worship Leader
So what's a worship leader to do? What is his task? First and foremost, the worship leader must be a worshipper. He must encounter God and worship him.

Second, the worship leader is responsible for leading the congregation into an encounter with God so that they can worship as well. I kind of think of this role as the butler at a fancy home - he greets you at the door and ushers you into the presence of the host. Or maybe she's the tour guide who is sharing with you the wonderful and amazing truths she has found.

I recognize that my definition has its limitations, but I think it's also pretty broad. And it takes worship away from the confines of a Church Sanctuary and brings it into everyday life. In a majestic cathedral I may encounter God as the infinite, Almighty God and recognize my terrible finiteness. In the privacy of my bedroom I may encounter him as Everlasting Father or even as Abba, Daddy, and I'll crawl up into his lap and find rest in his loving arms. In a service of celebration and praise, I may encounter him as the conquering hero, and I'll dance and sing and shout for joy. The important thing is not so much how I worship, but it's that I worship - and that I meet God in a personal way.

It's All for the Best?

2004-06-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

How many times have you heard someone say, “All things work together for good”? You may also have heard that that verse (Romans 8:28) is one of the most misquoted verses in the Bible. But how often have you opened your own Bible to see what it really does say?

Sometimes in the midst of a difficult situation, it’s hard to consider any good coming from it. Whether it’s a car breaking down (again), losing a job, or having a loved one die, it can be hard to see the good, or even the potential for good.

With all the difficulties we’ve experienced over the past two years, I’ve often found myself asking God, Why? Why am I failing in my job? Why has my time on the church board been marked by conflict and divisiveness instead of effective ministry? Why, why, why?

I won’t pretend to have found answers to all those questions, but I have been driven time and again back to God’s Word in search of answers…or just reassurance. Recently I’ve been listening on the radio to an excellent series of messages by Chuck Swindoll on the book of Job. Let me share some of what I’ve learned….

1. God is in control. One thing that strikes me is that God is always in complete control. In the first two chapters that set the stage for the whole book of Job, we find Satan loitering in the throne room of heaven, just looking for some way to taunt God and belittle His creation. Notice that it was God, not Satan, who first mentioned Job’s name. It was God who gave Satan permission to test Job. It was God who put limits on what Satan could do to him. God was in control the whole time. Even Satan’s impact in the world is completely under God’s control.

2. We don’t always understand God’s purposes. I am convinced that Job lived his entire life without knowing the events described in those first two chapters. He probably never knew that he was basically a pawn in a cosmic chess game, the object of a wager between the King of Kings and the Prince of Darkness. Job wanted to understand; he cried out several times for the opportunity to face God. His so-called friends suggested a host of reasons for his suffering – all of them way off the mark and spoken without a hint of grace or gentleness. But even when God finally does speak to Job, there is no indication that He ever explains why He allowed the suffering.

3. God can handle our emotions, doubts, and questions. Spurred on by the graceless accusations of his guests, Job’s emotions flowed freely. He expressed his doubts and openly questioned God. He was angry about God’s silence. He longed for the days “when God’s intimate friendship blessed my house” (29:4). He accused God of afflicting him (29:11) and wronging him (19:6), of ignoring his pleas for an audience with God (24:1). When God finally does speak up, He definitely sets Job straight about being able to stand and defend himself before God, but He never condemns Job for his questions and doubts. In fact, God Himself defends Job’s words and condemns the words of his friends (42:7).

4. When in doubt, see Point #1. Throughout the story of Job, we see this broken, hurting man remaining faithful to God and confident in His control. Sometimes, all we have to hang onto is that confidence. We long to understand what’s happening; we yearn for some reason, some lesson we can learn from the difficulties; yet we are frustrated because we can’t see the reason or the lesson. That’s when faith kicks in. That’s when we have to remember all of what Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Welcome

2004-06-17T10:24:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Randy's Ramblings! Here I will post my deepest thoughts, my intellectual yonderings, my mental walkabouts. Or I'll just spew a bunch of nothing and you can read to your heart's content. Sometimes I'll allow you to respond, sometimes not (hey, it's my blog!). But you can always e-mail me at rambling@randehle.com.