Thanks to Buckhead Church, I have a copy of Todd Fields‘ new self-titled CD. I’ve been a Todd fan for many years and I can’t wait to listen to this one (it’s got co-writes with Steve Fee, Matt Redman, the Nichols…). Fortunately, I happen to be going on a long road trip to Calvin Crest for Junior High and Sherwood Forest. My daughter is old enough to be a camper this year…Hallelujah!
I’ll write a review after I return…
Last night, at our Wednesday Night program, we had a very provocative discussion. The group is wanting to discuss evangelism, what it is and what it isn’t. So to facilitate a conversation, I threw together a few resources that really gave me a leg up in getting people talking.
First up, Peter Rollins‘ The Orthodox Heretic. Rollins’ third book is a collection of modern parables, which I intend to mull over slowly. Rollins is a working philosopher, earning his letters in Postmodern theory. I read How (Not) To Speak of God last year…it was one of those sublime and profound books that I pick up every so often and just reread a sentence or paragraph. The Orthodox Heretic, however, isn’t a linear read…it’s like walking with Jesus and hearing these stories that challenge the mind and shift reality. I began the night with the first parable in his new collection called, “No Conviction.” Today as I was preparing to write this post, I wanted to see if it was printed anywhere on the web, like say…his sight. I didn’t find the manuscript, but I found one better, Rollins himself reading the very story. If you have the time, watch below. Find your place in the story.
What did you hear?
What did you imagine?
How did you see this scene play out?
How does this relate to how you invite others to witness your faith in Jesus?
Are we called to merely reflect the image of God? Is that “reflection” the kind of evangelism Paul writes of when he says to the Ephesians, “So Christ himself gave the apostle, the prophets, the evangelist, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service…” ? Is evangelism something different altogether? Does it involve invitation?
Needless to say, this brought on the heat. Great discussion followed. The point wasn’t to rally around a common definition or prescribed outcome. We were shooting for thought, imagination and conversation.
Next, I introduced Luke 10:1-12 as an invitation text. If you have the new interpretation entitled The Voice, I highly suggest reading from that. Look at the sandals. Jesus instructs his disciples to go out and find persons on whom God’s peace already rests. To do this they are not to take money, necessities or shoes. Talk about a slow walk with the Lord. The thing is, Jesus requires reliance…trust. In verse 2, Jesus asks the disciples to pray for workers…”The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”
Could it be that the journey of evangelism, invitation, is as much about the inviter as the invitee? Does Jesus have something special for the person that goes out and looks for people with whom God is already in conversation? Erwin McManus teaches this principle as a hard and fast reality, saying to non-Christians, “Wow, it sounds like you are in conversation with God. I wonder if God might be calling me to be a part of that?” Brilliant!
Sure, receiving an invitation is a wonderful thing. But is Luke telling us that giving one, might be even better? Might we grow as a result? Is it possible that in sharing grace, our faith may be strengthened? Might our character increase in conviction?
Might we one day be found “guilty” ?
Technorati Tags: peter rollins, unorthodox heretic, luke, jesus, grace, erwin mcmanus
I used to love to dive under waves and listen to the sound above, deep and distant, calm, yet powerful. The serene embrace of the heavy salt water was comforting…and frightening at the same time. My eyes were closed. I couldn’t see anything other than what I could imagine. All the television I have watched goes underwater with me. Every movie, every image. There is nowhere I’d rather be than in the ocean, but there is nothing that scares me more.
I’ve just graduated Fuller Seminary.
I’m underwater.
There is a calm. A new kind of peace. The kind of peace that accompanies a work well won. What has yet to come is mystery, it requires a great deal of trust. It requires that I rely on my character, experience, equipping and put one arm in front of the other, aiming for that bright disc above that is sun, awaiting the sensation of breaking through the surface. Which, by the way, is quite horrifying.
It’s new life. I’ve been in the egg of learning. It’s been shaping and transforming. The truth of my nature has more depth and the truth of God’s is greater, more mysterious.
The egg has cracked.
What was is now a broken shell. What lies outside is all there is. It’s all surface now.
Now is a moment of sunset.
Morning is coming…but not yet.
I’m ready for me some morning,
but I do delight in a good sunset.
I won’t be watching because Vacation Bible School begins tonight, BUT I want you to watch. Let me know the full extent of the down jam rockness that is DMB.
Recently, during a speech given by Fuller president, Richard Mouw, I heard these words from Vatican II:
“The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts. For theirs is a community composed of men. United in Christ, they are led by the Holy Spirit in their journey to the Kingdom of their Father and they have welcomed the news of salvation which is meant for every man. That is why this community realizes that it is truly linked with mankind and its history by the deepest of bonds.”
from Gaudium et Spes (1)
Isn’t this a great statement: “nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts.” Christians resonate the joys and hopes, the grief and anxieties of the world. I remember when I first heard Everlast’s song “What it’s like.” My heart echoed. As a Christ follower, I felt shame that I needed a radio hit to remind me.
Hit play. Let it remind you. Leave a comment.
It’s got some language. Life has language.
The Believers Form a Community (Acts 2:42-47[NLT])
All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord’s Supper), and to prayer. A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders. And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need. They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity—all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved.”
As I meditate on these 50 days before Pentecost, it is impossible to not end up returning to the early apostolic life of the church in Acts. It’s difficult to tell what life would be like today if it looked more like this community for me and my family. What I can tell is that I am fatigued by awelessness. It has been a long time since I feel like I was touched by wonder. There has to be something greater than the horizon of our everyday. Those of us who are slaving under the tyranny of the everyday have alot to learn from these awe filled pioneers.
Where did their awe come from? We’re aweful tempted to give the church answer and say “Jesus.” Of course, you’d be correct in saying, but I think it’s more than that. They found awe in simple things, communal things. They found awe in sharing. Opening their hands, they received more than they could offer. They felt awe, not in just knowing Jesus, not just being filled with his Spirit, but in living according to those two thing. Awe is not a balanced quid pro quo. It’s overwhelming. When was the last time you felt it? Honestly. I recently read this memoir by Thomas Merton:
“Yesterday Father Cellarer lent me the Jeep. I did not ask for it, he just lent it to me out of the goodness of his heart, so that I would be able to go over on the far side of the knobs. I had never driven a car before… Yesterday I took the Jeep and started off gaily all by myself in the woods. It has been raining heavily. All the roads were deep in mud. It took me some time to discover the front-wheel drive. I skidded into the ditches and got out again, I went through creeks, I got stuck in the mud, I bumped into trees and once, when I was on the main road, I stalled trying to get out of the front-wheel drive and ended up sideways in the middle of the road with a car coming down the hill straight at me. Thank heaven I am still alive. At the moment I didn’t seem to care if I lived or died. I drove the Jeep madly into the forest in a happy, rosy fog of confusion and delight. We romped over trestles and I said, “O Mary, I love you,” as I went splashing through puddles a foot deep, rushing madly into the underbrush and back out again.
Finally I got the thing back to the monastery covered with mud from stern to stern. I stood in choir at Vespers dizzy with the thought, “I have been driving a Jeep.”
A Jeep? Seriously? That Thomas Merton would feel so struck by driving a Jeep is mind boggling. I have a Jeep. I don’t like to drive it. I need to sell it. Who has time for that?
For some of us, it takes a full frontal media assault to make our blood pressure rise. For Merton, it was a Jeep. It was renewing and exciting. For the church of Acts, they had Jesus, they were filled with the Spirit, but their experience was more than a transcendental reality. They were witnesses to lives that overflowed with the generosity of God. Awesome? Uh, I’d wager that it was.
The season of Pentecost is a good time for Christians to ponder awe, to seek it out, to anxiously expect it. Open your arms wide and await the full body rush. Trust before knowing. Believe before seeing. Awe is coming. It may look like a Jeep, or a gift, or a miracle, but it’s on the way. The deal is…you may have to give it away before you enjoy it. You may have to be awe for someone else. You may have to feed someone. You may have to experience the life of another the way that they do. You may have to become part of something bigger than yourself. You may have to seek out persecution to do it. The Acts church was awe for one another. They loaned their Jeeps.
Are you ready to be awe for someone who needs it?
Henri Nouwen wrote, “As fearful people we are inclined to develop a mind-set that makes us say: “There’s not enough food for everyone, so I better be sure I save enough for myself in case of emergency,” or “There’s not enough knowledge for everyone to enjoy; so I’d better keep my knowledge to myself, so no one else will use it” or “There’s not enough love to give to everybody, so I’d better keep my friends for myself to prevent others from taking them away from me.” This is a scarcity mentality. It involves hoarding whatever we have, fearful that we won’t have enough to survive. The tragedy, however, is that what you cling to ends up rotting in your hands.”
Hmm…
Technorati Tags: henri nouwen, thomas merton, twofutures, shane claiborne, god’s politics
[This post is part of the Presbyterian Bloggers Unite effort.]
Quite a while ago, I received this (below) in my in box because I subscribe to this.
“There are many forms of poverty: economic poverty, physical poverty, emotional poverty, mental poverty, and spiritual poverty. As long as we relate primarily to each other’s wealth, health, stability, intelligence, and soul strength, we cannot develop true community. Community is not a talent show in which we dazzle the world with our combined gifts. Community is the place where our poverty is acknowledged and accepted, not as something we have to learn to cope with as best as we can but as a true source of new life.
Living community in whatever form - family, parish, twelve-step program, or intentional community - challenges us to come together at the place of our poverty, believing that there we can reveal our richness.” - Henri Nouwen
Poverty is what the Kingdom of God has come to address.
Jesus is the enemy of poverty and friend to the impoverished. When we pray the words, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” we declare in no uncertain terms our vehement opposition to the stronghold of poverty in this world. The church is, in effect, a community bound by a hunger for God’s justice, we are literally starving for it. We enter into poverty, like Jesus did. We embrace all that links us to one another — all that reminds us that we lean on the grace of God, that we hang on to his mercy for dear life.
It’s difficult, though, to maintain this perspective when Need walks through the doors of our churches. We become servers instead of servants. Not that this is a bad thing; the hungry need to be fed, the thirsty need water. Programs for the poor put us in a position of always giving to men and women who are always taking. We are the overseers of good, doling it out…looking down. Programs are tricky, aren’t they? We While our mouths pray, we hear stomachs groan and mothers weep. While we fill bags full of food, we do so with the knowledge that it will be eaten or sold and need to be filled again. We pour tap water into hearts that need living water. As much good as programs do, as much service as can be done, why do I always feel hollow after doing it. Or at best, feel good only for myself?
Nouwen’s insight into community is the stuff of legend. Nouwen articulated true adversity to poverty: community. The Kingdom of God is a community that loves its enemy. The kingdom of God comes alongside poverty and invites it in. The kingdom invitation is ‘come and see’, the imperative is ‘go and serve.’ I recently read of a church in Houston that opened its doors to those who were displaced by Hurricane Ike last year. The church was, like, the only building in the area that didn’t lose power. Ministering with space and air conditioning, the members came around individuals impoverished by nature and brought them into their community. Numbers were added to their congregation as a result. Community overtook poverty.
My church hosts an aid program and we can’t stop doing it. Too many people are assisted through it. Tens of thousands of dollars a year are given out in a variety of means. It’s a great ministry of our church!
Where we struggle, however, is in the focus of Nouwen’s statement. We need to ask some questions. Is our worship an acknowledgment of our poverty? As a result, do we remove our cloak and sit at the feet of our brothers and sisters with a basin of water? Does our poverty inspire us to serve the poverty of others? Are we attracted to the impoverished? Are we drawn into the places where poverty grows like ivy, closing the gap in the canopy above, squeezing out the remaining light?
We have to continue to provide food and drink, but we also have to find a way to bring the poor to the banquet and give them bread and wine. We have to continue to meet the impoverished where they are and meet their day to day needs for the sake of their dignity and health, but we also need to find a way to open the door so that their eternal needs are tended. We are stewards of life and it is life in Christ that will ultimately fill our souls to overflowing. We are a community for whom life is the center of our spiritual economy and it is that, along with all else, that we can freely and generously and ceaselessly offer to the poor regardless of what form it comes to in.
“Living community in whatever form - family, parish, twelve-step program, or intentional community - challenges us to come together at the place of our poverty, believing that there we can reveal our richness.”
book of love
route du rock #13
One of my students showed this video on youtube. The poet’s name is Anis Mojgani.
I want to learn to preach like this guy rocks the spoken word (excepting the f-bomb in the opener). The message is simple, but Mojgani paints it 50 ways. The imperative is easy to pick out, but means of pulling it off are legion. Mohgani’s passion, purpose and precision inspire me in ways that not much else does. I am seldom moved by words like this. Not never, but seldom. This did it, too.
This is how I feel about the Gospel…how I feel about the Kingdom of God, but after four years of seminary it’s going to take a while to recover my raw and re-embrace my own rhythm.
Peace.
Word.
Out!
God of Life, you rule! Torture could not break your Spirit, nor death conquer your power. Buried in our sin, you burst forth in the power of beauty to grace us with your presence. Your resurrection power is beyond our natural comprehension, for we live in the obdurate certainty of death’s obliteration.
Yet teach us, O Lord, to see your resurrection glory that abides when all else is gone, that seeing, we may believe and live in the face of your eternal grace through Jesus Christ the Lord who reigns forever and ever. Amen.
pcusa.org
I remember while growing up, for some reason my Mom tried to grow every single avocado pit into a tree. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched an avocado pit grow, but you have to draw the roots out of them before you plant them. This is accomplished by skewering them with toothpicks so that you can drown half the pit in a glass of water. After a days and days of eyeing the tortured seed, roots start to grow. They are greenish pearl in color and begin to look like deeply disturbing alien tentacles that, if left unchecked, will find their way onto your face while you sleep.
For all the goodness of an avocado, they don’t start out anywhere near photogenic. When you bury the avocado seed, it’s part agriculture, and part relief. It’s stem sticks out of the ground as a sign that something great is going to happen and indeed it does.
The purpose of the pit is life, but to get that life you have to bury it. It’s the only way to enjoy its fruit. And I have to be honest…I do enjoy the fruit! That is what I was reminded of when I read this: “Buried in our sin, you burst forth in the power of beauty to grace us with your presence.” When Jesus was buried, it was with our sin wrapped around him like a shroud. When he arose, however, our sin was nowhere to be seen.
Only beauty.
Beauty and fruit.
Easter and avocadoes.
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