The main part of our church year here in London is winding down—a lot of people are heading back to the US for extended holidays, and many of those who stay are taking advantage of the good weather to make short weekend trips. Last year at this time it was raining daily, so the sunshine is something to seize when it happens. The result of all this is that over the next few months our attendance at the church and the programs we offer will dip a bit. It's a good time of year to look back on where we've been.
Last year at this time we were finishing up our first half-year here, and we were physically and emotionally exhausted. Settling into a new life in a new place, getting back into full-time ministry, living on a much tighter budget and adjusting to a new climate took a lot out of us. To top it off my Mom got sick while visiting us here almost a year ago, and we went back to LA for our vacation still reeling from the seriousness of her illness. I’m happy to say that she’s doing much better—back to full health and feeling even better than before the crisis.
I’m even more happy to say that the same is true for us and for our work at the American Church.
When I started here I introduced a four-pillar understanding of the church. If you’ve been reading this blog or attending ACL for a while you know that a healthy church is built on Jesus Christ and expressed through Fellowship, Worship, Discipleship and Mission. Our plan has been to make sure that we are growing and challenging each other in each of these four areas. We even restructured our church council to reflect our priorities as a church—our business committees are grouped into one team that makes everything work, and the rest have been renamed and/or reshaped as Fellowship, Worship, Christian Education and Mission committees.
As I look back on the progress here I feel very positive about the direction we’re going. With Kate's leadership our children’s ministry has grown in numbers and depth, we’ve established a partnership with Young Life for the fall that will join our resources with theirs as we reach kids and their parents for Christ. Our adult Sunday School class is wrestling—honestly and faithfully—with some serious questions about the Bible, about the role of the Christian in a secular society, and how to share what we believe in meaningful ways. We’ve done evening Bible study series on Genesis, Philippians, and a topical section on biblical justice. There are still holes to fill and needs to meet, but our plan for discipleship here is underway.
Our worship service is evolving. I'm committed to the blended worship I learned at Glendale Presbyterian Church, where instead of homogenizing everything into a soup with unrecognizable parts, you make a salad, where each ingredient keeps its shape and flavor. It's hard. I think there are people from all around the worship spectrum who wish I would just choose one form of worship and make the rest either leave or conform. I can't say this strongly enough: That's not going to happen on my watch. Traditional worship reminds us of where we've been as a faith and as a redeemed gathering of fallen people who have always needed a savior. The more contemporary music and forms of communication remind us that this old, old story still has something to offer people today, right now, in this place. We're on the right track here, but there's a long way to go.
On the fellowship side, Julie and I are starting a Young Marrieds fellowship, and seven couples have already joined—that’s 14 people out of an average Sunday attendance of 130. In the fall we’re introducing a Group Date Night open to everyone, but specifically aimed at parents of young children. There will be activities for kids at the church while the rest go out to one of the local restaurants for a meal and conversation. It won’t even happen until October, but six couples have already said they want in. We’ll celebrate Thanksgiving together and laugh our way through our traditional Quiz Night and Talent Night events. Our fellowship—one of the most difficult things to establish and grow in a city church—is about to start thriving.
Our mission efforts are also set to expand dramatically in the coming year. Our partnership with Young Life is shared within our church between the youth and mission programs—it will be an extension of our evangelistic work here in London. We continue to support the Soup Kitchen for local poor and homeless persons, which is housed here on the church grounds. We’re hoping to get a Habitat for Humanity project off the ground for all ages here at the church—it’s our goal as much as possible to make our mission service as intergenerational as possible. Finally, we’ve committed to joining the network of churches providing shelter for homeless people during the winter months. From January through the end of March, every Wednesday night, we’ll have 15 people sleeping here and being served by volunteers from our congregation. That's a bold commitment to service, and an indication of growth in other areas.
But we're not done.
While we've paused the plans for developing the church facilities, there is still a lot of work to do to make our building accessible to people with limited mobility. That's a commitment we can't ignore, and I'm happy to say that we've made good progress in that area just recently. Our new website is up and running, but work remains to be done on improving the range of tools we have for communicating with our church family...past and present. We ended last year 'in the black', which is great, but we still rely too much on our church-run business for revenue.
We're not done.
We have miles to go before we can rest on any laurels or feel as though we’ve ‘arrived’ in any way. But as we move into the slower pace of summer here in London, I’m feeling much better—much more connected with God’s plan for this place—than I was a year ago. Ministry is so much harder than it looks, but it’s also much more thrilling. There are more aggravations in this job than I could fit into my allotted space on this blog, but the privilege I feel to be a part of a church that is finding its way—honestly and faithfully—into being an authentic expression of the Body of Christ in London, is more than I could ever put into words.
While the main part of our year may be winding down, and even as I look forward to my time away visiting family and friends this summer, I’m moved to tears to write this next sentence:
I can’t wait for the new church year to begin.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Not Secret at All
So there’s been a lot in the news over here recently about two government officials leaving secret documents on trains. The first one was a potential catastrophe—it had to do with Britain’s security efforts to counter terrorism here and around the world. Luckily it was turned in without it falling into the wrong hands. The second was slightly less damaging—it described how money was laundered by terrorist groups, and how the government was trying to cut off those funds. With the Labour government already losing its public support and credibility, this was a major screw-up.
Secrets are important. From military plans to PIN codes, we all benefit from secrets staying, well, secret. Some of the great stories from WWII focus on the breaking of secret codes and the advantage it gave the side with the information. In the Pacific Navy codebreakers helped the US crush the Japanese forces at Midway, a battle that was all the more astonishing because it took place just six months after Pearl Harbor. During the war in Europe the deciphering of the Enigma code gave the Allies an advantage that helped end the war.
The other night we went to the US Embassy to see one of our young people become an Eagle Scout. It was a beautiful ceremony—full of tradition and respect and parental support. It’s the second year in a row that a young man from our church has earned the rank, and we were proud to be there.
The event was held in one of the large press briefing rooms, a bit like a small theater in the basement of the Embassy. They used the projection screen to list the scouts who were earning honors, and to show slides of their events over the last year. When they were done projecting images, the screen went back to its home page: an enormous seal of the US State Department, big eagle and all, on a solid looking blue field. At the top there was a graphic saying that the image was part of the Embassy intranet, and below it had the following words:
Sensitive, But Not Classified.
Partly it was a reminder that we were in a government building, and that secrets played a major role in the work that was done here. It was a way of saying that the information on that system needed to be treated with care, even if it wasn’t top secret. But the phrase has stuck with me for the last few days—there’s something about it that bears on our relationship to the Gospel.
It many ways the message of Jesus Christ is sensitive. It gets at the heart of who we are—of our sinfulness, our hopes for a future (and a present) that matters, and our desire to wrestle control away from the Sovereign God. The Gospel addresses real things—real issues about life and love and suffering. It’s also sensitive in that it needs to be nurtured and shared and even understood. Every Christian is tasked with studying the message of Christ, partly so we can grasp its transformative impact on our lives, and partly so we can communicate its meaning to other people.
That’s where we lose the plot of our own story, if we’re honest. Recognizing that the Gospel is sensitive is one thing, but resisting the temptation to keep it classified is another. By its very nature the message of Jesus Messiah is meant to be shared lavishly, even frivolously—certainly it’s not meant to be kept secret or hidden or covered up. It’s precisely the sort of thing that we should be leaving on buses and trains and anywhere else we can think of. It’s precisely the sort of thing we should be living and sharing without any cloaking or covering.
There’s a challenge here for all of us. The challenge—the dare—is to figure out creative ways to share the good news we know as freely and generously as we can. That’s hard, but then again, no one in their right mind ever said this would be easy.
As I watched the new Eagle Scouts stand in front of their peers, with their parents behind them sharing in the glory, I thought of all the places we go and the things we have and the activities we get to enjoy, as we share in God’s glory here. Those guys won’t brag—it’s against their code—but they will bear the mark of that Eagle badge for the rest of their lives. I was reminded of the line from Stuart Townend’s contemporary hymn, ‘How Deep the Father’s Love for Us’:
I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection.
That’s it in a nutshell. Nothing classified—no secrets—and no time wasted trying to take the credit for ourselves. When I reflect on the message of the Gospel—which is an awful lot like saying ‘When I survey the wondrous Cross’—I’m reminded that there’s nothing about it that should be classified—held back—from a world that needs to hear it badly. It made me think that if we ever got to a point where we had our own intranet system, the graphic on it should read as follows:
Sensitive, but for general distribution, even to the ends of the earth.
Secrets are important. From military plans to PIN codes, we all benefit from secrets staying, well, secret. Some of the great stories from WWII focus on the breaking of secret codes and the advantage it gave the side with the information. In the Pacific Navy codebreakers helped the US crush the Japanese forces at Midway, a battle that was all the more astonishing because it took place just six months after Pearl Harbor. During the war in Europe the deciphering of the Enigma code gave the Allies an advantage that helped end the war.
The other night we went to the US Embassy to see one of our young people become an Eagle Scout. It was a beautiful ceremony—full of tradition and respect and parental support. It’s the second year in a row that a young man from our church has earned the rank, and we were proud to be there.
The event was held in one of the large press briefing rooms, a bit like a small theater in the basement of the Embassy. They used the projection screen to list the scouts who were earning honors, and to show slides of their events over the last year. When they were done projecting images, the screen went back to its home page: an enormous seal of the US State Department, big eagle and all, on a solid looking blue field. At the top there was a graphic saying that the image was part of the Embassy intranet, and below it had the following words:
Sensitive, But Not Classified.
Partly it was a reminder that we were in a government building, and that secrets played a major role in the work that was done here. It was a way of saying that the information on that system needed to be treated with care, even if it wasn’t top secret. But the phrase has stuck with me for the last few days—there’s something about it that bears on our relationship to the Gospel.
It many ways the message of Jesus Christ is sensitive. It gets at the heart of who we are—of our sinfulness, our hopes for a future (and a present) that matters, and our desire to wrestle control away from the Sovereign God. The Gospel addresses real things—real issues about life and love and suffering. It’s also sensitive in that it needs to be nurtured and shared and even understood. Every Christian is tasked with studying the message of Christ, partly so we can grasp its transformative impact on our lives, and partly so we can communicate its meaning to other people.
That’s where we lose the plot of our own story, if we’re honest. Recognizing that the Gospel is sensitive is one thing, but resisting the temptation to keep it classified is another. By its very nature the message of Jesus Messiah is meant to be shared lavishly, even frivolously—certainly it’s not meant to be kept secret or hidden or covered up. It’s precisely the sort of thing that we should be leaving on buses and trains and anywhere else we can think of. It’s precisely the sort of thing we should be living and sharing without any cloaking or covering.
There’s a challenge here for all of us. The challenge—the dare—is to figure out creative ways to share the good news we know as freely and generously as we can. That’s hard, but then again, no one in their right mind ever said this would be easy.
As I watched the new Eagle Scouts stand in front of their peers, with their parents behind them sharing in the glory, I thought of all the places we go and the things we have and the activities we get to enjoy, as we share in God’s glory here. Those guys won’t brag—it’s against their code—but they will bear the mark of that Eagle badge for the rest of their lives. I was reminded of the line from Stuart Townend’s contemporary hymn, ‘How Deep the Father’s Love for Us’:
I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection.
That’s it in a nutshell. Nothing classified—no secrets—and no time wasted trying to take the credit for ourselves. When I reflect on the message of the Gospel—which is an awful lot like saying ‘When I survey the wondrous Cross’—I’m reminded that there’s nothing about it that should be classified—held back—from a world that needs to hear it badly. It made me think that if we ever got to a point where we had our own intranet system, the graphic on it should read as follows:
Sensitive, but for general distribution, even to the ends of the earth.
Monday, June 16, 2008
A New Set of Values
Acts 7
Ted Turner, the founder of CNN, has made a career out of saying inappropriate things and then having to go on his own network and apologize for them. A few years back he had to get on camera and say he was sorry for repeatedly referring to Christianity as ‘a religion for losers.’
The other night Julie, Ian and I were honored to attend a Boy Scout event at the US Embassy, where one of our own young men became an Eagle Scout. As they read through all the requirements and described the things he had to do in order to earn his rank, it occurred to me that so much of it was focused on other people. It was about service and sacrifice, discipline and generosity. I wonder what Ted Turner would say about that.
Where we pick up our story, Stephen is on trial, falsely accused of blasphemy. When he gets his chance to speak, instead of defending himself he retells the story of Israel’s troubled relationship with God’s messengers—with God’s message. When he’s done he looks at the religious leaders passing judgment on him and says this:
51"You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit! 52Was there ever a prophet your fathers did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— 53you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it."
54When they heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. 55But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56"Look," he said, "I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."
57At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, 58dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul.
59While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." 60Then he fell on his knees and cried out, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he fell asleep.
1And Saul was there, giving approval to his death.
There are four things to notice about Stephen’s reaction to his predicament.
First, Stephen never addresses the falseness of the charges against him. He willingly surrenders his right to win—his right to be right—in order to proclaim the truth of his faith to his accusers. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine doing that? In our culture we know our rights and we demand what we’ve been told we deserve—those have become our values. We place a high value on winning as often as possible—that’s often a stronger motivator for us than whether we’re being the sort of people that reflect Christ to our neighbors and in our communities. Nobody wants to be a loser, right?
The second thing to notice is that Stephen really knows his material here. He doesn’t wade into the discussion unarmed, and he doesn’t use personal attacks to make his point. Even his angry words are directed at what the people had done, not who they were. Stephen knows the history of his people and the content of his faith. It’s clear that while on the one hand Stephen has an intimate relationship with God, that he also has the discipline to read and pray and study. Stephen is prepared to give and answer for his faith—to be a witness for Christ, even at his own trial. When we talk about being grounded in the Scriptures, this is what we’re talking about…
Third, notice that Stephen never criticizes or even appeals to the secular Roman government. His challenge is to the people who should know better—the religious leaders of the day—his challenge is to them, not to those who haven’t heard or haven’t believed in who Christ is. It’s not power or influence that Stephen is after, but rather the truth—the truth about who God is and what he’s done, the truth about the meaning of Jesus Christ, and the truth about what the life of faith offers and demands of us.
Finally, notice that Stephen chooses faithfulness over his own needs—over his own safety. This is really the most shocking part of the story. Stephen is a star on the rise. He’s the Eagle Scout, national merit scholar and first-round draft pick all wrapped up into one. He has an important job in the early church, organizing the resources that community set aside for ministry. He’s blessed with knowledge and wisdom and leadership ability. He’s compassionate and willing to step out in faith for God. Stephen could have benefitted the church in great ways by staying around for a good long while—by working his way through the ranks over a long period of time. And yet, Stephen believed that being a disciple of Jesus Christ was more important than any of the perks life could throw his way. Stephen knew that if the things he believed were true, then he could never pass up an opportunity to share his faith with the culture around him—even if it cost him something. Even if it cost him everything.
Dennis Prager is a syndicated radio presenter in the States. He’s known for sparking discussions of morality—both public and private—as he comments on current events. Each year, I think around Father’s Day, Prager devotes an entire show to one question. He asks parents to call in and tell him whether they would prefer, if they had to choose, that their kids grow up to be successful or good. What unfolds, every year, is a discussion of values, of what we choose to emphasize in the way we conduct our own lives, and the way that we raise our kids. So many of the parents who call in try to rationalize their preference for their kids to be successful… One father, with no sense of irony at all, said that if his son got into an Ivy League school and got a good job and married well, he could learn to be good later. Seriously.
It’s important every so often to check how our values impact our lives. What we value most is reflected in the choices we make—in the dreams we have—in the goals we set for ourselves and our families.
What does this mean?
The gospel of Jesus Christ calls us to rethink and sometimes radically alter what we value. Think back on Stephen. Stephen shows us that the values of the life of faith are different from the values of our world. We’ve heard these before—the bible is full of strange teachings like ‘the first will be last’, or ‘only slaves to Christ can truly be free’, ‘love your enemies’, and ‘you have to die before you can truly live’.
Stephen’s world wasn’t all that different from ours: Money talked back then, just like now; political and military power still ruled; certainly, in most people’s eyes, the ends could justify almost any means, especially if there was a profit to be made. But what ties our culture to the values in Stephen’s day is this: people who refused to live by the profit-centered, winner take all culture of the day—the people who tried to resist those values were considered to be weak, or too idealistic, or maybe even losers.
Stephen’s world was no more resistant to the radical nature of Jesus’ teaching than our culture is, and frankly it was a heck of a lot more dangerous. And yet in the face of all that resistance—against all of the pressure to conform and be successful and win, Stephen was willing to be falsely accused (weak); he refused to win his slam-dunk of a court case (sucker); so that he could bear witness to Jesus Christ (fanatic); and ultimately give up his own life (loser). By the values of his culture—and our culture—Stephen was a failure. And yet the irony is that in his humility and wisdom and faithfulness, Stephen did something truly great.
As we work our way through the book of Acts and learn what it means to be a church in the real world, a real-world church, we have to face the example Stephen set for us. We have to think about what it would mean for us to adopt a new set of values—values that might go directly against what we’ve believed or practiced for most of our lives. We have to face how those new values might change what we teach our children.
Being followers of Christ—being engaged with the culture and grounded in the teachings of the Scriptures and alive to the Holy Spirit—being a new person in Christ means adopting a new set of values.
To paraphrase Dennis Prager’s question for our context: Would we rather be successful or good? Would we rather be financially secure or sacrificially faithful? Which would we want for our kids, if we really had to choose?
Those are hard questions: They’re the kind of questions that make us squirm a little if we choose to wrestle with them honestly. And that’s probably a good thing. Learning to be a Christians in the real world means that occasionally we have to make some hard choices—for ourselves and in the way we raise our families.
At the Scouts event the other night I was reminded of the Scout Law, which says that ‘A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.’
There’s nothing there that makes it impossible to be successful, but there’s an awful lot about being successful that manages to edge out some of these important traits and practices.
The challenge to us as a community of faith in the real world, is to live and teach and give and believe, while we remain engaged with the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Ted Turner, the founder of CNN, has made a career out of saying inappropriate things and then having to go on his own network and apologize for them. A few years back he had to get on camera and say he was sorry for repeatedly referring to Christianity as ‘a religion for losers.’
The other night Julie, Ian and I were honored to attend a Boy Scout event at the US Embassy, where one of our own young men became an Eagle Scout. As they read through all the requirements and described the things he had to do in order to earn his rank, it occurred to me that so much of it was focused on other people. It was about service and sacrifice, discipline and generosity. I wonder what Ted Turner would say about that.
Where we pick up our story, Stephen is on trial, falsely accused of blasphemy. When he gets his chance to speak, instead of defending himself he retells the story of Israel’s troubled relationship with God’s messengers—with God’s message. When he’s done he looks at the religious leaders passing judgment on him and says this:
51"You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit! 52Was there ever a prophet your fathers did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— 53you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it."
54When they heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. 55But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56"Look," he said, "I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."
57At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, 58dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul.
59While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." 60Then he fell on his knees and cried out, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he fell asleep.
1And Saul was there, giving approval to his death.
There are four things to notice about Stephen’s reaction to his predicament.
First, Stephen never addresses the falseness of the charges against him. He willingly surrenders his right to win—his right to be right—in order to proclaim the truth of his faith to his accusers. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine doing that? In our culture we know our rights and we demand what we’ve been told we deserve—those have become our values. We place a high value on winning as often as possible—that’s often a stronger motivator for us than whether we’re being the sort of people that reflect Christ to our neighbors and in our communities. Nobody wants to be a loser, right?
The second thing to notice is that Stephen really knows his material here. He doesn’t wade into the discussion unarmed, and he doesn’t use personal attacks to make his point. Even his angry words are directed at what the people had done, not who they were. Stephen knows the history of his people and the content of his faith. It’s clear that while on the one hand Stephen has an intimate relationship with God, that he also has the discipline to read and pray and study. Stephen is prepared to give and answer for his faith—to be a witness for Christ, even at his own trial. When we talk about being grounded in the Scriptures, this is what we’re talking about…
Third, notice that Stephen never criticizes or even appeals to the secular Roman government. His challenge is to the people who should know better—the religious leaders of the day—his challenge is to them, not to those who haven’t heard or haven’t believed in who Christ is. It’s not power or influence that Stephen is after, but rather the truth—the truth about who God is and what he’s done, the truth about the meaning of Jesus Christ, and the truth about what the life of faith offers and demands of us.
Finally, notice that Stephen chooses faithfulness over his own needs—over his own safety. This is really the most shocking part of the story. Stephen is a star on the rise. He’s the Eagle Scout, national merit scholar and first-round draft pick all wrapped up into one. He has an important job in the early church, organizing the resources that community set aside for ministry. He’s blessed with knowledge and wisdom and leadership ability. He’s compassionate and willing to step out in faith for God. Stephen could have benefitted the church in great ways by staying around for a good long while—by working his way through the ranks over a long period of time. And yet, Stephen believed that being a disciple of Jesus Christ was more important than any of the perks life could throw his way. Stephen knew that if the things he believed were true, then he could never pass up an opportunity to share his faith with the culture around him—even if it cost him something. Even if it cost him everything.
Dennis Prager is a syndicated radio presenter in the States. He’s known for sparking discussions of morality—both public and private—as he comments on current events. Each year, I think around Father’s Day, Prager devotes an entire show to one question. He asks parents to call in and tell him whether they would prefer, if they had to choose, that their kids grow up to be successful or good. What unfolds, every year, is a discussion of values, of what we choose to emphasize in the way we conduct our own lives, and the way that we raise our kids. So many of the parents who call in try to rationalize their preference for their kids to be successful… One father, with no sense of irony at all, said that if his son got into an Ivy League school and got a good job and married well, he could learn to be good later. Seriously.
It’s important every so often to check how our values impact our lives. What we value most is reflected in the choices we make—in the dreams we have—in the goals we set for ourselves and our families.
What does this mean?
The gospel of Jesus Christ calls us to rethink and sometimes radically alter what we value. Think back on Stephen. Stephen shows us that the values of the life of faith are different from the values of our world. We’ve heard these before—the bible is full of strange teachings like ‘the first will be last’, or ‘only slaves to Christ can truly be free’, ‘love your enemies’, and ‘you have to die before you can truly live’.
Stephen’s world wasn’t all that different from ours: Money talked back then, just like now; political and military power still ruled; certainly, in most people’s eyes, the ends could justify almost any means, especially if there was a profit to be made. But what ties our culture to the values in Stephen’s day is this: people who refused to live by the profit-centered, winner take all culture of the day—the people who tried to resist those values were considered to be weak, or too idealistic, or maybe even losers.
Stephen’s world was no more resistant to the radical nature of Jesus’ teaching than our culture is, and frankly it was a heck of a lot more dangerous. And yet in the face of all that resistance—against all of the pressure to conform and be successful and win, Stephen was willing to be falsely accused (weak); he refused to win his slam-dunk of a court case (sucker); so that he could bear witness to Jesus Christ (fanatic); and ultimately give up his own life (loser). By the values of his culture—and our culture—Stephen was a failure. And yet the irony is that in his humility and wisdom and faithfulness, Stephen did something truly great.
As we work our way through the book of Acts and learn what it means to be a church in the real world, a real-world church, we have to face the example Stephen set for us. We have to think about what it would mean for us to adopt a new set of values—values that might go directly against what we’ve believed or practiced for most of our lives. We have to face how those new values might change what we teach our children.
Being followers of Christ—being engaged with the culture and grounded in the teachings of the Scriptures and alive to the Holy Spirit—being a new person in Christ means adopting a new set of values.
To paraphrase Dennis Prager’s question for our context: Would we rather be successful or good? Would we rather be financially secure or sacrificially faithful? Which would we want for our kids, if we really had to choose?
Those are hard questions: They’re the kind of questions that make us squirm a little if we choose to wrestle with them honestly. And that’s probably a good thing. Learning to be a Christians in the real world means that occasionally we have to make some hard choices—for ourselves and in the way we raise our families.
At the Scouts event the other night I was reminded of the Scout Law, which says that ‘A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.’
There’s nothing there that makes it impossible to be successful, but there’s an awful lot about being successful that manages to edge out some of these important traits and practices.
The challenge to us as a community of faith in the real world, is to live and teach and give and believe, while we remain engaged with the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Can I Get a Witness?
Acts 6:8-15
As of yesterday we finally have our two candidates for the US presidency. It’s been a long process, and now (finally) we can focus on issues and character and leadership styles for the next five months. Reaching this point in the election season brings to mind past candidates—winners, losers and those who never got to complete their run for the highest office.
This past week we remembered Robert Kennedy’s assassination during his run for the presidency in 1968. That anniversary reminds us that, whatever your party or political beliefs, we haven’t seen anyone since who can articulate a uniquely American vision of community and justice and dignity and compassion. Here’s a quote from one of his speeches:
“For the fortunate among us, the…danger is comfort, the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who have the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. There is a Chinese curse which says "May he live in interesting times." Like it or not we live in interesting times. They are times of danger and uncertainty; but they are also more open to the creative energy of men and women than any other time in history. And everyone here will ultimately be judged--will ultimately judge himself--on the effort he has contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which his ideals and goals have shaped that effort.”
Kennedy gave that speech in Cape Town, South Africa in 1966. Amazing.
Today we begin the first of two messages on Stephen, the leader of the group we learned about last week—the ones who were given the responsibility of managing the ministry resources of the early church. Stephen fits this quote from Robert Kennedy in that he stood as someone of promise, of ability, and that he gave up his personal ambition and any hope of financial success in order to serve Jesus Christ. What he chose to do with his gifts and abilities would end up costing him his life, but in the renewed, transformed, radical values of the Kingdom, we see Stephen as one of the great success stories in the New Testament.
8Now Stephen, a man full of God's grace and power, did great wonders and miraculous signs among the people. 9Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)—Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia. These men began to argue with Stephen, 10but they could not stand up against his wisdom or the Spirit by whom he spoke.
11Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, "We have heard Stephen speak words of blasphemy against Moses and against God."
12So they stirred up the people and the elders and the teachers of the law. They seized Stephen and brought him before the Sanhedrin. 13They produced false witnesses, who testified, "This fellow never stops speaking against this holy place and against the law. 14For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs Moses handed down to us."
15All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.
In our text the church is taking shape within the backdrop of 1st century Palestine. This was a region torn apart by economic hardship and conflict, still reeling from the brief ministry of someone who was called the Messiah, and on top of all that, it was occupied by the Roman Empire. These were definitely ‘interesting times.’
We pick up the story with Stephen and his ministry within the early church. Stephen’s power—personal, spiritual and organizational—has rankled the cultural leaders of his day. He was rocking the boat, and the self-appointed captains of that vessel didn’t like it one bit. They tried to engage him head-on, but they couldn’t defeat him fairly. So naturally, they decided to go after him by any means necessary. They accused him of bogus offenses, had him hauled into court, and produced false witnesses to make the charges stick.
The idea of ‘truth’ is really important in this story, as it is in all of Luke’s writing. Lies are a common way to discredit something we don’t like. But lies that go unchallenged work their way into our consciousness and take on the look and feel of truth, and that’s dangerous. Last week a friend sent me an excerpt of a letter by Jay Leno, supporting the president and the war while sounding like someone who was running for office. The letter sounded fishy, so I checked it out on Snopes.com. Have you heard of Snopes? It’s a site devoted to checking on the things people tend to circulate by email, and then reporting on whether they’re real or fakes. Snopes told me that there was a single line in the letter that was really from Jay Leno, and that the rest was made up.
There are other, more serious, lies that make their way into our consciousness and start to sound like truth. The most damaging one is this: More people have died in wars over religion than in any other.
Now while that may have a ring of truth to it in this anti-religion age, there’s no getting around the fact that it is patently false. Let’s just consider, for a moment, the ‘big three’ industrial-strength killers of the last century—Hitler, Stalin and Mao. These guys were directly responsible for tens of millions of deaths. They were also aggressively, passionately and explicitly secular down to their shoes. Those three—those three non-religious dictators—killed more people than all the other wars in history put together. Can we just agree right now, right here in this place, just as a bonus for showing up this morning, to make a pact that we will stop throwing this one around as if it had any basis in truth?
The truth matters. And if we’re going to be witnesses to the truth of Jesus Christ—what he did, what he offers and what he promises—if we’re going to be witnesses to the gospel we have to make sure we’re being faithful witnesses about other things as well. The truth matters. The truth is a habit worth getting into.
The role of the witness—of being an agent of truth—in Scripture, is highly valued.
In the Judaism at the time of Jesus, two people had to agree on an account of something in order for the courts to accept it as truth. That made witnesses extremely powerful back then, and made their honesty crucially important. In Luke’s writings he builds on that tradition by calling those who share their faith ‘witnesses’. They were called to testify to the truth of what they had seen, and their developing understanding of what it meant.
Being a witness in this sense was more than just testifying to a set of facts, though it was at least that. Bearing witness was deeper—it was the way a life could be seen as evidence of a deeper truth. That’s why God places such an enormously high value on our honesty—‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor.’
Being a witness also came to mean more than just playing a minor role in the story of the gospel. The Greek word that translates to ‘witness’ came into English as the word ‘martyr.’
Think about that for a moment.
While we’re remembering Robert Kennedy today, I want to share another quote of his with you:
“The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and with their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of bold projects and new ideas. Rather, it will belong to those who can blend passion, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the great enterprises and ideals of our society.”
In a real-world church we set aside personal ambitions and comforts and exchange them for the opportunity to blend passion, reason, courage and faith in Jesus Christ as we seek to address the world’s problems. We accomplish that by renewing our commitment to be a real church in the world—a real-world church—by being engaged in the culture around us, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit.
Amen?
As of yesterday we finally have our two candidates for the US presidency. It’s been a long process, and now (finally) we can focus on issues and character and leadership styles for the next five months. Reaching this point in the election season brings to mind past candidates—winners, losers and those who never got to complete their run for the highest office.
This past week we remembered Robert Kennedy’s assassination during his run for the presidency in 1968. That anniversary reminds us that, whatever your party or political beliefs, we haven’t seen anyone since who can articulate a uniquely American vision of community and justice and dignity and compassion. Here’s a quote from one of his speeches:
“For the fortunate among us, the…danger is comfort, the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who have the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. There is a Chinese curse which says "May he live in interesting times." Like it or not we live in interesting times. They are times of danger and uncertainty; but they are also more open to the creative energy of men and women than any other time in history. And everyone here will ultimately be judged--will ultimately judge himself--on the effort he has contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which his ideals and goals have shaped that effort.”
Kennedy gave that speech in Cape Town, South Africa in 1966. Amazing.
Today we begin the first of two messages on Stephen, the leader of the group we learned about last week—the ones who were given the responsibility of managing the ministry resources of the early church. Stephen fits this quote from Robert Kennedy in that he stood as someone of promise, of ability, and that he gave up his personal ambition and any hope of financial success in order to serve Jesus Christ. What he chose to do with his gifts and abilities would end up costing him his life, but in the renewed, transformed, radical values of the Kingdom, we see Stephen as one of the great success stories in the New Testament.
8Now Stephen, a man full of God's grace and power, did great wonders and miraculous signs among the people. 9Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)—Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia. These men began to argue with Stephen, 10but they could not stand up against his wisdom or the Spirit by whom he spoke.
11Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, "We have heard Stephen speak words of blasphemy against Moses and against God."
12So they stirred up the people and the elders and the teachers of the law. They seized Stephen and brought him before the Sanhedrin. 13They produced false witnesses, who testified, "This fellow never stops speaking against this holy place and against the law. 14For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs Moses handed down to us."
15All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.
In our text the church is taking shape within the backdrop of 1st century Palestine. This was a region torn apart by economic hardship and conflict, still reeling from the brief ministry of someone who was called the Messiah, and on top of all that, it was occupied by the Roman Empire. These were definitely ‘interesting times.’
We pick up the story with Stephen and his ministry within the early church. Stephen’s power—personal, spiritual and organizational—has rankled the cultural leaders of his day. He was rocking the boat, and the self-appointed captains of that vessel didn’t like it one bit. They tried to engage him head-on, but they couldn’t defeat him fairly. So naturally, they decided to go after him by any means necessary. They accused him of bogus offenses, had him hauled into court, and produced false witnesses to make the charges stick.
The idea of ‘truth’ is really important in this story, as it is in all of Luke’s writing. Lies are a common way to discredit something we don’t like. But lies that go unchallenged work their way into our consciousness and take on the look and feel of truth, and that’s dangerous. Last week a friend sent me an excerpt of a letter by Jay Leno, supporting the president and the war while sounding like someone who was running for office. The letter sounded fishy, so I checked it out on Snopes.com. Have you heard of Snopes? It’s a site devoted to checking on the things people tend to circulate by email, and then reporting on whether they’re real or fakes. Snopes told me that there was a single line in the letter that was really from Jay Leno, and that the rest was made up.
There are other, more serious, lies that make their way into our consciousness and start to sound like truth. The most damaging one is this: More people have died in wars over religion than in any other.
Now while that may have a ring of truth to it in this anti-religion age, there’s no getting around the fact that it is patently false. Let’s just consider, for a moment, the ‘big three’ industrial-strength killers of the last century—Hitler, Stalin and Mao. These guys were directly responsible for tens of millions of deaths. They were also aggressively, passionately and explicitly secular down to their shoes. Those three—those three non-religious dictators—killed more people than all the other wars in history put together. Can we just agree right now, right here in this place, just as a bonus for showing up this morning, to make a pact that we will stop throwing this one around as if it had any basis in truth?
The truth matters. And if we’re going to be witnesses to the truth of Jesus Christ—what he did, what he offers and what he promises—if we’re going to be witnesses to the gospel we have to make sure we’re being faithful witnesses about other things as well. The truth matters. The truth is a habit worth getting into.
The role of the witness—of being an agent of truth—in Scripture, is highly valued.
In the Judaism at the time of Jesus, two people had to agree on an account of something in order for the courts to accept it as truth. That made witnesses extremely powerful back then, and made their honesty crucially important. In Luke’s writings he builds on that tradition by calling those who share their faith ‘witnesses’. They were called to testify to the truth of what they had seen, and their developing understanding of what it meant.
Being a witness in this sense was more than just testifying to a set of facts, though it was at least that. Bearing witness was deeper—it was the way a life could be seen as evidence of a deeper truth. That’s why God places such an enormously high value on our honesty—‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor.’
Being a witness also came to mean more than just playing a minor role in the story of the gospel. The Greek word that translates to ‘witness’ came into English as the word ‘martyr.’
Think about that for a moment.
While we’re remembering Robert Kennedy today, I want to share another quote of his with you:
“The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and with their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of bold projects and new ideas. Rather, it will belong to those who can blend passion, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the great enterprises and ideals of our society.”
In a real-world church we set aside personal ambitions and comforts and exchange them for the opportunity to blend passion, reason, courage and faith in Jesus Christ as we seek to address the world’s problems. We accomplish that by renewing our commitment to be a real church in the world—a real-world church—by being engaged in the culture around us, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit.
Amen?
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Main Thing
(There is some news about the book just below this post.)
Acts 6:1-7
About 30 years or so ago a man named Charles E. Hummel wrote a little pamphlet called The Tyranny of the Urgent. It talked about learning to discern between important matters and the urgent thing that blindside us and distract us from what we really should be doing. It was a helpful little booklet.
Another way of saying the same thing is: “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” No one knows who really said that. My pastor used it in sermons years ago. Stephen Covey has it posted on his website. But that’s not the main thing…
1In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Grecian Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. 2So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, "It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. 3Brothers, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them 4and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word."
5This proposal pleased the whole group. They chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit; also Philip, Procorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolas from Antioch, a convert to Judaism. 6They presented these men to the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.
7So the word of God spread.
What’s going on here?
First, our story begins in the middle of a typically stupid church fight. One group of church members was feeling slighted by the treatment of another, and started complaining about it. The church at that point existed by sharing what they had in common, and distributing it according to need, and the complaint actually shows us what an amazing community the early church had turned out to be:
They weren’t just doing spiritual things.
They weren’t just gathering once a week to see each other.
Church life wasn’t an interruption or distraction from what they were really doing with their lives.
The community of faith in these early days was exactly that: a community where people worked, worshipped, served, prayed and shared meals. The fact that a problem over distribution of those meals shows up as a complaint is evidence of how much must have been going right in those early days.
Second, the problem was that the leading disciples were caught in-between managing a minor conflict and doing their job of preaching and teaching the gospel. In those early days the message of Jesus was in the process of being shaped from first-hand accounts to the stories and documents and instruction we have today in the form of the New Testament. Communicating that message to people who were not first-hand witnesses was the first order of business for the apostles of the early church.
Notice that their response to the needs around them wasn’t to say: ‘Go be quiet and fix this yourselves.’ No, they acted decisively and chose seven of the best and brightest among them to oversee that part of the ministry. This is the birth of the deacon function in church life, by the way. In a lot of churches this separation of labor still exists: elders gather for prayer and business and the organizational leadership of the church, and deacons make sure that the resources of the church are used to meet the needs of the people both in and out of the church.
Third, in verse 5 we see one of the most shocking statements in the entire New Testament, if not all of church history. This one really shook the walls then, and we can only hope to come close to being able to say it here or in any contemporary church. What was this shocking statement?
‘The proposal pleased the whole church.’
Think about that for a moment. A conflict springs up about the ministry of the church, and the leadership decides on a course of action that the whole church agrees with and supports.
Finally, after they prayed for these leaders and commissioned them to do their ministry, what happened? The Scriptures tell us that ‘The word of God spread.’
Before the modern Civil Service system was established in the US, people who wanted government jobs lined up to ask the president directly. The line could run around the president’s residence and down the street. Isn’t that hard to imagine? One applicant in the early 1880s was so angered that he didn’t get the job he wanted that he later shot the president, James Garfield.
Chester Arthur, who took over after Garfield died, immediately signed the Pendleton Act into law, not least because he didn’t want to run the risk of being assassinated himself. That law established the modern Civil Service system in the US, which created a fair process for hiring people who worked with the public on behalf of the government.
The Pendleton Act allowed the government to meet all of its responsibilities. The president and the rest of the executive branch of government could do the job they were elected to do, and the Civil Service office could give out public jobs in a way that was fair and impartial and not connected to political favoritism. Both of those are important parts of the function of government.
It’s important to notice in our passage this morning what the disciples did not decide to do. They didn’t say that since their work was more important to the life of the church, that the other activities should be cut. They didn’t say that if food distribution was getting in the way of the worship life of the church, that they should stop doing it. They figured out a way to do both things well. And the Scriptures tell us that ‘the word of God spread.’
In the real world churches have to do the same thing. We balance the needs of managing the organizational, social, business and financial needs of the church with its spiritual, communal and even our theological function—teaching people about God. There’s a lot of business to do here at this church—maybe more than in some other churches—but the focus should always be on the main thing: To provide Christian community for everyone who comes through the door. To provide a place of fellowship and worship, Christian discipleship and opportunities to serve in the mission of Christ’s Kingdom.
In other words we focus on providing a place where the whole range of church life can grow and thrive: close relationships built on Jesus Christ; faithful, passionate worship; study of the Scriptures; and sharing the gospel with the world around us. That task can be daunting sometimes, but I don’t have any doubts that we are able to accomplish it together.
This year we celebrate the 60th anniversary of another daunting task: the Berlin Airlift. The war in Europe had been over for just a few years, and the Cold War was just getting off the ground. In an attempt to get sole control of the city of Berlin, the Soviet Union closed the railways, the Autobahn and other ways leading into the city. There was no treaty that secured the rights to enter the city for the other Allies, and so Berlin was cutoff from the rest of the world. At the time Berlin had about 35 days worth of food in reserve, and a month and half’s worth of fuel.
The British and American Air Forces joined together and after a slow start, by the second week they were delivering 1000 tons of food and fuel into Berlin every day. By the end of the airlift, when the Soviet Union finally reopened the roads and rails, the airlift was averaging almost 8000 tons of goods per day—more than the city had been receiving on the ground before the blockade.
It’s important for healthy churches to be responsive like that. To take on responsibility for meeting needs and overcoming petty squabbles and obstacles. None of those armies or governments or nations collapsed by taking part in the Berlin airlift. There was still a general election in the States in 1948. American baseball was still racially integrated—and so was the US military. The Marshall Plan didn’t grind to a halt just because the airlift took some of the resources. The need to serve Berlin didn’t mean that everything else fell apart.
What we learn from the early church in our passage today is that churches in the real world figure out how to meet needs, to serve people, to be the hands of Jesus in the world without losing their identity as the voice of Jesus Christ. Sharing the gospel and meeting the needs of people are the two undiluted, inseparable pieces of the Main Thing.
And if the main thing is the main thing, then everything else is, well, secondary.
We live out our calling to be the church of Jesus Christ when we remember what that true calling is: being the hands and voice of Christ himself in the world. We do that by remembering that a true church—one that provides fellowship, worship, Christian nurture and service—that a true church is engaged in the culture, grounded in the words of Scripture, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit.
If you’ve come today with needs, with things you want to talk about or share. If you’ve come feeling lonely or if you’ve come wanting share the abundance you feel in your own life. We will never say to you: ‘Go away, be quiet and fix this yourselves.’ This place can take it. As a community of faith this church wants to be a refuge and a place of comfort, as well as a place of service and celebration.
God acted decisively in Jesus Christ to redeem the world, and he calls us to act decisively in meeting the needs of the world around us.
At this church we seek to focus on the main thing, so the word of God can spread and take root and come alive.
As we come to the Table this morning we are reminded of the one who calls us to this new life. Let’s stand and prepare for Communion today by singing together: Fairest Lord Jesus, #227 in the Pilgrim Hymnal.
Acts 6:1-7
About 30 years or so ago a man named Charles E. Hummel wrote a little pamphlet called The Tyranny of the Urgent. It talked about learning to discern between important matters and the urgent thing that blindside us and distract us from what we really should be doing. It was a helpful little booklet.
Another way of saying the same thing is: “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” No one knows who really said that. My pastor used it in sermons years ago. Stephen Covey has it posted on his website. But that’s not the main thing…
1In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Grecian Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. 2So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, "It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. 3Brothers, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them 4and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word."
5This proposal pleased the whole group. They chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit; also Philip, Procorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolas from Antioch, a convert to Judaism. 6They presented these men to the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.
7So the word of God spread.
What’s going on here?
First, our story begins in the middle of a typically stupid church fight. One group of church members was feeling slighted by the treatment of another, and started complaining about it. The church at that point existed by sharing what they had in common, and distributing it according to need, and the complaint actually shows us what an amazing community the early church had turned out to be:
They weren’t just doing spiritual things.
They weren’t just gathering once a week to see each other.
Church life wasn’t an interruption or distraction from what they were really doing with their lives.
The community of faith in these early days was exactly that: a community where people worked, worshipped, served, prayed and shared meals. The fact that a problem over distribution of those meals shows up as a complaint is evidence of how much must have been going right in those early days.
Second, the problem was that the leading disciples were caught in-between managing a minor conflict and doing their job of preaching and teaching the gospel. In those early days the message of Jesus was in the process of being shaped from first-hand accounts to the stories and documents and instruction we have today in the form of the New Testament. Communicating that message to people who were not first-hand witnesses was the first order of business for the apostles of the early church.
Notice that their response to the needs around them wasn’t to say: ‘Go be quiet and fix this yourselves.’ No, they acted decisively and chose seven of the best and brightest among them to oversee that part of the ministry. This is the birth of the deacon function in church life, by the way. In a lot of churches this separation of labor still exists: elders gather for prayer and business and the organizational leadership of the church, and deacons make sure that the resources of the church are used to meet the needs of the people both in and out of the church.
Third, in verse 5 we see one of the most shocking statements in the entire New Testament, if not all of church history. This one really shook the walls then, and we can only hope to come close to being able to say it here or in any contemporary church. What was this shocking statement?
‘The proposal pleased the whole church.’
Think about that for a moment. A conflict springs up about the ministry of the church, and the leadership decides on a course of action that the whole church agrees with and supports.
Finally, after they prayed for these leaders and commissioned them to do their ministry, what happened? The Scriptures tell us that ‘The word of God spread.’
Before the modern Civil Service system was established in the US, people who wanted government jobs lined up to ask the president directly. The line could run around the president’s residence and down the street. Isn’t that hard to imagine? One applicant in the early 1880s was so angered that he didn’t get the job he wanted that he later shot the president, James Garfield.
Chester Arthur, who took over after Garfield died, immediately signed the Pendleton Act into law, not least because he didn’t want to run the risk of being assassinated himself. That law established the modern Civil Service system in the US, which created a fair process for hiring people who worked with the public on behalf of the government.
The Pendleton Act allowed the government to meet all of its responsibilities. The president and the rest of the executive branch of government could do the job they were elected to do, and the Civil Service office could give out public jobs in a way that was fair and impartial and not connected to political favoritism. Both of those are important parts of the function of government.
It’s important to notice in our passage this morning what the disciples did not decide to do. They didn’t say that since their work was more important to the life of the church, that the other activities should be cut. They didn’t say that if food distribution was getting in the way of the worship life of the church, that they should stop doing it. They figured out a way to do both things well. And the Scriptures tell us that ‘the word of God spread.’
In the real world churches have to do the same thing. We balance the needs of managing the organizational, social, business and financial needs of the church with its spiritual, communal and even our theological function—teaching people about God. There’s a lot of business to do here at this church—maybe more than in some other churches—but the focus should always be on the main thing: To provide Christian community for everyone who comes through the door. To provide a place of fellowship and worship, Christian discipleship and opportunities to serve in the mission of Christ’s Kingdom.
In other words we focus on providing a place where the whole range of church life can grow and thrive: close relationships built on Jesus Christ; faithful, passionate worship; study of the Scriptures; and sharing the gospel with the world around us. That task can be daunting sometimes, but I don’t have any doubts that we are able to accomplish it together.
This year we celebrate the 60th anniversary of another daunting task: the Berlin Airlift. The war in Europe had been over for just a few years, and the Cold War was just getting off the ground. In an attempt to get sole control of the city of Berlin, the Soviet Union closed the railways, the Autobahn and other ways leading into the city. There was no treaty that secured the rights to enter the city for the other Allies, and so Berlin was cutoff from the rest of the world. At the time Berlin had about 35 days worth of food in reserve, and a month and half’s worth of fuel.
The British and American Air Forces joined together and after a slow start, by the second week they were delivering 1000 tons of food and fuel into Berlin every day. By the end of the airlift, when the Soviet Union finally reopened the roads and rails, the airlift was averaging almost 8000 tons of goods per day—more than the city had been receiving on the ground before the blockade.
It’s important for healthy churches to be responsive like that. To take on responsibility for meeting needs and overcoming petty squabbles and obstacles. None of those armies or governments or nations collapsed by taking part in the Berlin airlift. There was still a general election in the States in 1948. American baseball was still racially integrated—and so was the US military. The Marshall Plan didn’t grind to a halt just because the airlift took some of the resources. The need to serve Berlin didn’t mean that everything else fell apart.
What we learn from the early church in our passage today is that churches in the real world figure out how to meet needs, to serve people, to be the hands of Jesus in the world without losing their identity as the voice of Jesus Christ. Sharing the gospel and meeting the needs of people are the two undiluted, inseparable pieces of the Main Thing.
And if the main thing is the main thing, then everything else is, well, secondary.
We live out our calling to be the church of Jesus Christ when we remember what that true calling is: being the hands and voice of Christ himself in the world. We do that by remembering that a true church—one that provides fellowship, worship, Christian nurture and service—that a true church is engaged in the culture, grounded in the words of Scripture, and alive to the leading of the Holy Spirit.
If you’ve come today with needs, with things you want to talk about or share. If you’ve come feeling lonely or if you’ve come wanting share the abundance you feel in your own life. We will never say to you: ‘Go away, be quiet and fix this yourselves.’ This place can take it. As a community of faith this church wants to be a refuge and a place of comfort, as well as a place of service and celebration.
God acted decisively in Jesus Christ to redeem the world, and he calls us to act decisively in meeting the needs of the world around us.
At this church we seek to focus on the main thing, so the word of God can spread and take root and come alive.
As we come to the Table this morning we are reminded of the one who calls us to this new life. Let’s stand and prepare for Communion today by singing together: Fairest Lord Jesus, #227 in the Pilgrim Hymnal.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Book News Flash
I just noticed that Amazon applied its regular book discount to A Place at the Table. If you click the link to the right you can save $9 on the price of the book.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Lady Margaret
In 1996 I bought my first house in Burbank, and as a single guy I decided to add a dog to the mix. That alone was a big thing. I didn't exactly grow up in a family that had a lot of pets. My dad didn't like dogs very much (though strangely, he has one now), and even though we tried a few times to add dogs into our home they never lasted long.
When my sisters brought new guys into the family, they both had big dogs that went with them everywhere. Dan had Sid, who was already getting old when he met Gina, and Travis got Hershey as a puppy while he was still dating Angie. It took a while for me to appreciate having a big dog around all the time, but those were some great pets--more than that, actually. They were parts of the family.
So I went out and got myself a purebred yellow Labrador Retriever. She was beautiful. I named her Maggie, though her papers really said Lady Margaret of Argyll. I took her everywhere--when I'd had her for a week or two I put her in a box with a blanket in the front seat of my car and took her camping at the beach. We went to the mountains, the beach, and to the local park for regular runs. I took her to my softball games and the fans took care of her while I played. She slept on the floor at the foot of my bed.
It's funny. When I decided to get a dog I think Dan and Travis didn't think it would work out. As much as I liked their dogs, I didn't exactly like having them on me. There was even a rumor that they had flipped a coin to see who would take my dog when I got fed up with her.
But that didn't happen.
When Julie and I got married she was a little concerned about having a big dog. But when Ian came along he loved her, and they played together at our house on Reese Place. One time when Ian was a toddler we were having a backyard barbecue. There were plenty of people around, and Ian was in no danger, but still when he walked toward the pool Maggie scooted in front of him and herded him away from the edge. Maggie was a part of our family, and a part of my life for more than 10 years.
Part of taking this job in London meant that we had to find a new home for Maggie. My mom's friend Cynthia loves dogs and already knew Mags, and so she decided to take her for us. She gave Maggie a great home with a big yard and another dog to play with. I've been so grateful to Cynthia for making room in her life for my dog--it's nice to be able to say so in front of all of you.
I'm writing about Maggie today because she died last week. It's been a year and a half since I saw her, but I think about her all the time. Her death hit me harder than I thought it would. Ian and I have both been choked up as we talk about her. We've been having memories of playing with her, of listening to her snore, and just hanging around with her. We've already decided that we want to have a dog again when we move back to Burbank.
So...this is my little tribute to Maggie. I don't have a digital picture of her, though I do have a framed shot of her in my office. Ian was feeling sad this week and made his own little tribute to her. I'll let him have the last words (almost).
Me too.
When my sisters brought new guys into the family, they both had big dogs that went with them everywhere. Dan had Sid, who was already getting old when he met Gina, and Travis got Hershey as a puppy while he was still dating Angie. It took a while for me to appreciate having a big dog around all the time, but those were some great pets--more than that, actually. They were parts of the family.
So I went out and got myself a purebred yellow Labrador Retriever. She was beautiful. I named her Maggie, though her papers really said Lady Margaret of Argyll. I took her everywhere--when I'd had her for a week or two I put her in a box with a blanket in the front seat of my car and took her camping at the beach. We went to the mountains, the beach, and to the local park for regular runs. I took her to my softball games and the fans took care of her while I played. She slept on the floor at the foot of my bed.
It's funny. When I decided to get a dog I think Dan and Travis didn't think it would work out. As much as I liked their dogs, I didn't exactly like having them on me. There was even a rumor that they had flipped a coin to see who would take my dog when I got fed up with her.
But that didn't happen.
When Julie and I got married she was a little concerned about having a big dog. But when Ian came along he loved her, and they played together at our house on Reese Place. One time when Ian was a toddler we were having a backyard barbecue. There were plenty of people around, and Ian was in no danger, but still when he walked toward the pool Maggie scooted in front of him and herded him away from the edge. Maggie was a part of our family, and a part of my life for more than 10 years.
Part of taking this job in London meant that we had to find a new home for Maggie. My mom's friend Cynthia loves dogs and already knew Mags, and so she decided to take her for us. She gave Maggie a great home with a big yard and another dog to play with. I've been so grateful to Cynthia for making room in her life for my dog--it's nice to be able to say so in front of all of you.
I'm writing about Maggie today because she died last week. It's been a year and a half since I saw her, but I think about her all the time. Her death hit me harder than I thought it would. Ian and I have both been choked up as we talk about her. We've been having memories of playing with her, of listening to her snore, and just hanging around with her. We've already decided that we want to have a dog again when we move back to Burbank.
So...this is my little tribute to Maggie. I don't have a digital picture of her, though I do have a framed shot of her in my office. Ian was feeling sad this week and made his own little tribute to her. I'll let him have the last words (almost).
Me too.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
A Lovely Wedding
When I served at St Giles Cathedral back in 1992-93, I made some great friends. Mike and Cath Grieve have been such gracious hosts to me and to my family, and we've had the privilege of having all of them with us in California at one time or another. Mike and Cath have stayed with us in London, too--it's great to have them so close by.
Last week Neil Grieve (Mike and Cath's son) married Kelly, and I got to assist in the service. It was a pleasure and an honor to be a part of their big day. Here are some shots from the wedding.
Last week Neil Grieve (Mike and Cath's son) married Kelly, and I got to assist in the service. It was a pleasure and an honor to be a part of their big day. Here are some shots from the wedding.
Kelly looked beautiful on her wedding day.
Signing the registry.
Leaving the church.
Arriving at Dynamic Earth, where the reception was held.
Ian made a friend...
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A Very Special Visit
The two Ians...
We've been up in Edinburgh for the last few days. The son of some very good friends of ours got married today (Sat.), and I got to assist in the service. I'll have some pictures of the big event soon.
We went up on Thursday so we could visit with some other old friends, and spent a lovely few hours with Ian and Jean McCallum. This saintly couple was so good to me when I worked at St Giles Cathedral and lived across the street from them. They've visited us in California and hosted us in Scotland more times than I can remember.
Both have OBE honors from Queen Elizabeth herself. Jean worked in social services in Northern England for years, primarily placing babies with adoptive families who wanted children. They raised four kids of their own, and adopted one of Jean's charges, too.
Ian was a professor of medicine at Newcastle University, in the middle of England's coal industry, and wrote some of seminal literature on black lung. As the energy industry shifted to the search for offshore oil, Ian started researching the impact of the bends on divers in the North Sea. He was honored for his work in occupational health. In retirement, over the last 20 years or so, Ian has published several books and journal articles at an astounding rate of one per year. He's written a catalogue of Scottish silver hallmarking, a history of medical uses of antimony, and is one of the few people in the world who has handled and read every existing scroll related to alchemy. Lately he's been slowed by Parkinson's Disease, though he proudly showed me an article he just published in a collection of essays on alchemy.
I say all this because these two, no matter how much they have achieved, have always been so hospitable to us. I have pictures of Ian with my Ian over the last 8 years, including the one from this weekend. There are friendships that I cherish in this life, and this past weekend gave me a chance to enjoy several of them (the Grieves will get a tribute soon...). Ian and Jean continue to teach me so much about welcoming guests, about being parents and grandparents and spouses, and about how to get everything possible out of life.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Something for Absolutely Everyone
(If you're looking for posts about the book, please scroll down.)
Acts 2:1-13
I was back in Southern California last week for an event, and it was great to be back in my hometown. I got to eat at my favorite places with some of my favorite people: Mexican food with my pastor, breakfast at the local coffee shop with my dad and also my oldest friend, my mom and I had lunch at In-N-Out and a dinner at a great new place in Burbank called Granville Café.
I dropped in on my father-in-law on afternoon (my mother-in-law was in London with Julie and Ian), and when I left his place I had an interesting experience. Roger and Carol live in a large condo complex in Glendale—three or four stories on a large footprint. It’s a big place. It was warm as I left, so a lot of the residents had their doors open for air. As I walked down the hallway I heard a different language coming from each open door: Spanish, Armenian, Korean, Tagalog, and even (strangely) English. It was amazing.
1When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. 2Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. 3They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.
5Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. 6When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in his own language. 7Utterly amazed, they asked: "Are not all these men who are speaking Galileans? 8Then how is it that each of us hears them in his own native language? 9Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome 11(both Jews and converts to Judaism Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!" 12Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, "What does this mean?"
13Some, however, made fun of them and said, "They have had too much wine.
In our passage this morning we’re still in the beginning stages of the development of the church. The remaining disciples have been waiting in Jerusalem. They’ve heard Jesus’ final teaching and seen him taken up into heaven. They’ve stood around looking up at the sky, only to be told to get ready for something really great. They’ve prayed together, read Scripture together and even replaced Judas so they’d have 12 members again.
They did everything they were supposed to do, and so they were just waiting.
Remember that Acts is the second volume of Luke’s story of Jesus and his impact on the world. In his gospel Luke told the story of Jesus from birth to ministry to death to resurrection. Acts tells us what that story means for the world.
So we pick up the story 50 days after Easter—that’s what Pentecost means: 50 days. So we’re 7 weeks or so after the miracle of the resurrection and about 120 people are gathered together…waiting…when this wind kicked up and the people looked like they had flames on them and they started speaking in different languages. There were faithful Jews from all around the world there, and they were shocked to hear the locals speaking their languages perfectly. The reference to Galileans is similar to what you might call in the States, ‘hillbillies’ or ‘yokels.’ Galilee just wasn’t known for producing special or important people, but now these guys turn out to be UN quality translators, speaking and sharing the gospel in real languages from around the world.
Did you catch the responses from the onlookers? I love this part. Some of them are amazed and perplexed, Luke tells us. They look around at what’s happening and ask each other ‘What does this mean?’
But the other group of onlookers has a different reaction. They see the wind, maybe even see the flames, and they hear the jumble of languages all being spoken at the same time. What was their reaction? Those guys must be drunk. They’re hammered. You can see them shaking fingers at their kids and saying: ‘See? That’s why you shouldn’t drink too much.’
The question asked by the first group is the same one we have to wrestle with: What does all of this mean?
Well, something has clearly happened to these people. The scene is pretty dramatic, with all the wind and flames, but it’s also amazing that when the faithful spoke in those foreign languages, they were declaring the wonders of God.
Even Peter—the same guy who denied Jesus and demonstrated in dozens of ways that he wasn’t ready for the responsibility he was given—even Peter stands up, recites the same passage from Joel that you heard Connie read earlier, and then he preaches the first real sermon of Christian history.
And it’s a Doozey. He goes back into Israel’s history and brings them all the way up to the present time. He links Jesus to King David and shows how the smart people of the day managed to miss the point about who the Messiah was, and what the Messiah would do. The listeners, it says later on, were ‘cut to the heart’ by Peter’s words, and came to faith by the thousands.
What is it that happens in our text this morning? The disciples and the hundred or so people who were with them were given the gift of the Holy Spirit of God, just as Jesus promised, and the gift changed them—it changed their abilities and values and goals and courage.
In Shakespeare’s Henry V, when the crown is placed on Henry’s head, he changes. In Henry IV parts 1 and 2 he’s Prince Hal, the wild party boy who drinks and carouses and never takes anything seriously. But when he becomes king he changes. Shakespeare wanted us to believe that kingship was divinely ordained, and that God somehow prepared him for his role—for his responsibilities.
That’s what’s happening in our passage. The Holy Spirit comes, and suddenly Peter can explain the gospel of Jesus Christ using the entire narrative of the Bible. The Spirit comes, and Peter becomes the rock the church will be built on.
But I like the part about the languages. I like that bystanders and immigrants could suddenly hear the good news of Jesus Christ in a way that made sense to them. I like that when the Spirit came, those people could hear how much God loved them in the same language they learned from their mothers and fathers.
That’s meaningful in a place like London, or Los Angeles, or any other major city where people from all over the world live side by side. At this church, when I taught a Bible study last year, we had 12 people come to explore the Scriptures together. Out of those 12 people there were 8 countries represented, and it was wonderful.
But you know, the idea of God’s Spirit inhabiting us individually and as a community—the idea of God entering into us and changing us from the inside is hard for us to comprehend. But think of this passage a different way. Think of this as a message of hope and a challenge to all of us to remember that the gospel of Jesus Christ is for everyone—for every nation, tongue and tribe. The message we’re called to share comes in unlimited sizes and colors—it fits for everyone when it’s communicated in a way that makes sense—and it’s God’s Holy Spirit that does the heavy lifting.
Remember our working definition of the church as we move through Acts: A true church will be engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the Spirit.
That’s the miracle of Pentecost. The faithful are gathered, praying and reading the Scriptures, when the Holy Spirit comes and brings them new power—new strength for the task ahead. Notice the first thing they do. They don’t sit around looking at the wind and the fire. They don’t argue about who got the biggest flame. They don’t even pause to make plans or sing songs or schedule a Council meeting.
When the Spirit comes they start sharing the gospel in the language of the world—they start engaging the culture. And not just their own culture, they engage cultures they didn’t even know or understand before that moment. They were engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the work of the Holy Spirit in each one of their lives.
Does that model for the church make more sense now that we’ve reached the Pentecost story? It does for me.
The gift of the Holy Spirit makes everything different for those who are open to it. The Holy Spirit empowers us to live, love, spend, give, invest, risk and connect differently. The Spirit empowers this group of very different people to gather together as a community of shared faith, no matter where we’re from or what we have or even who the heck we think we are.
It’s the Holy Spirit that takes us in all of our flawed splendor—in all of our brokenness—in spite of all of our resistance to his love. It’s the Spirit that takes us as we are and empowers us to be the church.
That’s what we celebrate today. That’s why we wear red and sing a little louder and pray just a little harder for the future of Christ’s church in the world. From Burma to Burbank and from London to Lebanon, the message of the gospel has a place in every human heart and in every human culture.
The call to us is to allow the Spirit to speak through us and share that message in meaningful ways.
When I think back on my walk down the hallway of my in-laws’ apartment complex, I think that that’s what it might have sounded in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. People from every corner of the globe talking, sharing, arguing, living. I wonder what it would be like to knock on their doors and share the gospel with them in their language—perfectly and without accent. I wonder if they would enjoy that, or if they’d think I was drunk.
This weekend we’ve been a part of a celebration of Pentecost all over London, and today we’ve had a baptism and we’re about to join together in Communion. If we take anything away from the Pentecost, make it this: As a part of a worldwide family of faith we have a call on our lives both as individuals and as a community to share our faith stories with other people in meaningful ways. The Gospel has something for absolutely everyone, and has something for absolutely everyone to do.
Amen.
Acts 2:1-13
I was back in Southern California last week for an event, and it was great to be back in my hometown. I got to eat at my favorite places with some of my favorite people: Mexican food with my pastor, breakfast at the local coffee shop with my dad and also my oldest friend, my mom and I had lunch at In-N-Out and a dinner at a great new place in Burbank called Granville Café.
I dropped in on my father-in-law on afternoon (my mother-in-law was in London with Julie and Ian), and when I left his place I had an interesting experience. Roger and Carol live in a large condo complex in Glendale—three or four stories on a large footprint. It’s a big place. It was warm as I left, so a lot of the residents had their doors open for air. As I walked down the hallway I heard a different language coming from each open door: Spanish, Armenian, Korean, Tagalog, and even (strangely) English. It was amazing.
1When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. 2Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. 3They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.
5Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. 6When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in his own language. 7Utterly amazed, they asked: "Are not all these men who are speaking Galileans? 8Then how is it that each of us hears them in his own native language? 9Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome 11(both Jews and converts to Judaism Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!" 12Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, "What does this mean?"
13Some, however, made fun of them and said, "They have had too much wine.
In our passage this morning we’re still in the beginning stages of the development of the church. The remaining disciples have been waiting in Jerusalem. They’ve heard Jesus’ final teaching and seen him taken up into heaven. They’ve stood around looking up at the sky, only to be told to get ready for something really great. They’ve prayed together, read Scripture together and even replaced Judas so they’d have 12 members again.
They did everything they were supposed to do, and so they were just waiting.
Remember that Acts is the second volume of Luke’s story of Jesus and his impact on the world. In his gospel Luke told the story of Jesus from birth to ministry to death to resurrection. Acts tells us what that story means for the world.
So we pick up the story 50 days after Easter—that’s what Pentecost means: 50 days. So we’re 7 weeks or so after the miracle of the resurrection and about 120 people are gathered together…waiting…when this wind kicked up and the people looked like they had flames on them and they started speaking in different languages. There were faithful Jews from all around the world there, and they were shocked to hear the locals speaking their languages perfectly. The reference to Galileans is similar to what you might call in the States, ‘hillbillies’ or ‘yokels.’ Galilee just wasn’t known for producing special or important people, but now these guys turn out to be UN quality translators, speaking and sharing the gospel in real languages from around the world.
Did you catch the responses from the onlookers? I love this part. Some of them are amazed and perplexed, Luke tells us. They look around at what’s happening and ask each other ‘What does this mean?’
But the other group of onlookers has a different reaction. They see the wind, maybe even see the flames, and they hear the jumble of languages all being spoken at the same time. What was their reaction? Those guys must be drunk. They’re hammered. You can see them shaking fingers at their kids and saying: ‘See? That’s why you shouldn’t drink too much.’
The question asked by the first group is the same one we have to wrestle with: What does all of this mean?
Well, something has clearly happened to these people. The scene is pretty dramatic, with all the wind and flames, but it’s also amazing that when the faithful spoke in those foreign languages, they were declaring the wonders of God.
Even Peter—the same guy who denied Jesus and demonstrated in dozens of ways that he wasn’t ready for the responsibility he was given—even Peter stands up, recites the same passage from Joel that you heard Connie read earlier, and then he preaches the first real sermon of Christian history.
And it’s a Doozey. He goes back into Israel’s history and brings them all the way up to the present time. He links Jesus to King David and shows how the smart people of the day managed to miss the point about who the Messiah was, and what the Messiah would do. The listeners, it says later on, were ‘cut to the heart’ by Peter’s words, and came to faith by the thousands.
What is it that happens in our text this morning? The disciples and the hundred or so people who were with them were given the gift of the Holy Spirit of God, just as Jesus promised, and the gift changed them—it changed their abilities and values and goals and courage.
In Shakespeare’s Henry V, when the crown is placed on Henry’s head, he changes. In Henry IV parts 1 and 2 he’s Prince Hal, the wild party boy who drinks and carouses and never takes anything seriously. But when he becomes king he changes. Shakespeare wanted us to believe that kingship was divinely ordained, and that God somehow prepared him for his role—for his responsibilities.
That’s what’s happening in our passage. The Holy Spirit comes, and suddenly Peter can explain the gospel of Jesus Christ using the entire narrative of the Bible. The Spirit comes, and Peter becomes the rock the church will be built on.
But I like the part about the languages. I like that bystanders and immigrants could suddenly hear the good news of Jesus Christ in a way that made sense to them. I like that when the Spirit came, those people could hear how much God loved them in the same language they learned from their mothers and fathers.
That’s meaningful in a place like London, or Los Angeles, or any other major city where people from all over the world live side by side. At this church, when I taught a Bible study last year, we had 12 people come to explore the Scriptures together. Out of those 12 people there were 8 countries represented, and it was wonderful.
But you know, the idea of God’s Spirit inhabiting us individually and as a community—the idea of God entering into us and changing us from the inside is hard for us to comprehend. But think of this passage a different way. Think of this as a message of hope and a challenge to all of us to remember that the gospel of Jesus Christ is for everyone—for every nation, tongue and tribe. The message we’re called to share comes in unlimited sizes and colors—it fits for everyone when it’s communicated in a way that makes sense—and it’s God’s Holy Spirit that does the heavy lifting.
Remember our working definition of the church as we move through Acts: A true church will be engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the Spirit.
That’s the miracle of Pentecost. The faithful are gathered, praying and reading the Scriptures, when the Holy Spirit comes and brings them new power—new strength for the task ahead. Notice the first thing they do. They don’t sit around looking at the wind and the fire. They don’t argue about who got the biggest flame. They don’t even pause to make plans or sing songs or schedule a Council meeting.
When the Spirit comes they start sharing the gospel in the language of the world—they start engaging the culture. And not just their own culture, they engage cultures they didn’t even know or understand before that moment. They were engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the work of the Holy Spirit in each one of their lives.
Does that model for the church make more sense now that we’ve reached the Pentecost story? It does for me.
The gift of the Holy Spirit makes everything different for those who are open to it. The Holy Spirit empowers us to live, love, spend, give, invest, risk and connect differently. The Spirit empowers this group of very different people to gather together as a community of shared faith, no matter where we’re from or what we have or even who the heck we think we are.
It’s the Holy Spirit that takes us in all of our flawed splendor—in all of our brokenness—in spite of all of our resistance to his love. It’s the Spirit that takes us as we are and empowers us to be the church.
That’s what we celebrate today. That’s why we wear red and sing a little louder and pray just a little harder for the future of Christ’s church in the world. From Burma to Burbank and from London to Lebanon, the message of the gospel has a place in every human heart and in every human culture.
The call to us is to allow the Spirit to speak through us and share that message in meaningful ways.
When I think back on my walk down the hallway of my in-laws’ apartment complex, I think that that’s what it might have sounded in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. People from every corner of the globe talking, sharing, arguing, living. I wonder what it would be like to knock on their doors and share the gospel with them in their language—perfectly and without accent. I wonder if they would enjoy that, or if they’d think I was drunk.
This weekend we’ve been a part of a celebration of Pentecost all over London, and today we’ve had a baptism and we’re about to join together in Communion. If we take anything away from the Pentecost, make it this: As a part of a worldwide family of faith we have a call on our lives both as individuals and as a community to share our faith stories with other people in meaningful ways. The Gospel has something for absolutely everyone, and has something for absolutely everyone to do.
Amen.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Fuller Seminary Press Release
(There are pictures and other details in the post below this one.)
Lecture Explores Life and Legacy of George Eldon Ladd
“Whatever else George Eldon Ladd accomplished or attempted . . . he led the way for later generations of evangelical students to use critical methods in their study of the Bible, and this was an enormous achievement.” Thus said John A. D’Elia, senior minister of The American Church in London, in a lecture he delivered at Fuller Thursday evening, May 1, on the legacy of former Fuller faculty member George Eldon Ladd. D’Elia, who has studied Ladd’s life extensively, spoke from his just-released book, A Place at the Table: George Eldon Ladd and the Rehabilitation of Evangelical Scholarship in America (Oxford). Inaugural copies of the book were on hand at the lecture, one in a series of events commemorating Fuller Seminary’s 60th anniversary year.
George Eldon Ladd, who served on Fuller’s faculty from 1950 to 1980, was one of the most important authors in the evangelical scholarly resurgence of the mid-twentieth century, D’Elia began, and “he spent his life trying to accomplish one goal: rehabilitating evangelical scholarship—and evangelicalism itself—in both content and image.” He strived to do this, D’Elia explained, in two ways: first by “raising the level of discourse within evangelicalism—to improve the quality of its scholarly content,” and secondly in external image, by working “for evangelical scholars to be accepted as equals in the best institutions and societies.”
D’Elia offered examples of Ladd’s work in these areas, including his influential speech “Renaissance and Evangelism,” which called conservative evangelicals “to understand their beliefs in a deeper way, to demonstrate Christian love to each other more consistently and meaningfully, and to strive to understand the nature of the church in such a way that they didn’t damage each other into cultural impotence.” Ladd also, D’Elia explained, contributed substantially to the development of Fuller Seminary “into a place that remains a flagship institution of progressive evangelicalism”—and was the encouraging voice behind many doctoral students who went on to become notable evangelical scholars themselves.
Yet Ladd’s life and work took a tragic turn, D’Elia recounted, when his 1965 book Jesus and the Kingdom—his life’s “magnum opus”—received a scathing review from theologian and critic Norman Perrin, attacking both Ladd’s methodology and conclusions. “It is no exaggeration to say that this was the turning point for Ladd’s life and career,” stated D’Elia, and “the last 15 years of Ladd’s life, while giving the appearance of being productive, saw the man tumble through a process of emotional, physical and spiritual disintegration.”
Despite this tragedy, however, Ladd’s contributions to both Fuller and the larger evangelical world were powerful and enduring, D’Elia emphasized in conclusion. “His call to evangelicals to demonstrate intellectual excellence in all fields, to show Christian love for each other, and to cultivate a healthy understanding of what the church should be and do, remains an important lesson for all of us.”
D’Elia’s lecture was followed by commentary from three former students of Ladd: alumnus and theologian David Wallace, and Fuller faculty members Marianne Meye Thompson and James E. Bradley.
D’Elia, who is former director of development in Fuller’s School of Theology, holds an MDiv and ThM in Church History from Fuller and a PhD in History from the University of Stirling in Scotland
Lecture Explores Life and Legacy of George Eldon Ladd
“Whatever else George Eldon Ladd accomplished or attempted . . . he led the way for later generations of evangelical students to use critical methods in their study of the Bible, and this was an enormous achievement.” Thus said John A. D’Elia, senior minister of The American Church in London, in a lecture he delivered at Fuller Thursday evening, May 1, on the legacy of former Fuller faculty member George Eldon Ladd. D’Elia, who has studied Ladd’s life extensively, spoke from his just-released book, A Place at the Table: George Eldon Ladd and the Rehabilitation of Evangelical Scholarship in America (Oxford). Inaugural copies of the book were on hand at the lecture, one in a series of events commemorating Fuller Seminary’s 60th anniversary year.
George Eldon Ladd, who served on Fuller’s faculty from 1950 to 1980, was one of the most important authors in the evangelical scholarly resurgence of the mid-twentieth century, D’Elia began, and “he spent his life trying to accomplish one goal: rehabilitating evangelical scholarship—and evangelicalism itself—in both content and image.” He strived to do this, D’Elia explained, in two ways: first by “raising the level of discourse within evangelicalism—to improve the quality of its scholarly content,” and secondly in external image, by working “for evangelical scholars to be accepted as equals in the best institutions and societies.”
D’Elia offered examples of Ladd’s work in these areas, including his influential speech “Renaissance and Evangelism,” which called conservative evangelicals “to understand their beliefs in a deeper way, to demonstrate Christian love to each other more consistently and meaningfully, and to strive to understand the nature of the church in such a way that they didn’t damage each other into cultural impotence.” Ladd also, D’Elia explained, contributed substantially to the development of Fuller Seminary “into a place that remains a flagship institution of progressive evangelicalism”—and was the encouraging voice behind many doctoral students who went on to become notable evangelical scholars themselves.
Yet Ladd’s life and work took a tragic turn, D’Elia recounted, when his 1965 book Jesus and the Kingdom—his life’s “magnum opus”—received a scathing review from theologian and critic Norman Perrin, attacking both Ladd’s methodology and conclusions. “It is no exaggeration to say that this was the turning point for Ladd’s life and career,” stated D’Elia, and “the last 15 years of Ladd’s life, while giving the appearance of being productive, saw the man tumble through a process of emotional, physical and spiritual disintegration.”
Despite this tragedy, however, Ladd’s contributions to both Fuller and the larger evangelical world were powerful and enduring, D’Elia emphasized in conclusion. “His call to evangelicals to demonstrate intellectual excellence in all fields, to show Christian love for each other, and to cultivate a healthy understanding of what the church should be and do, remains an important lesson for all of us.”
D’Elia’s lecture was followed by commentary from three former students of Ladd: alumnus and theologian David Wallace, and Fuller faculty members Marianne Meye Thompson and James E. Bradley.
D’Elia, who is former director of development in Fuller’s School of Theology, holds an MDiv and ThM in Church History from Fuller and a PhD in History from the University of Stirling in Scotland
Friday, May 02, 2008
The Big Event
Last night was pretty amazing...
Here’s the recap: There was an event at Fuller Seminary last night to launch my new book on George Eldon Ladd, an American biblical scholar who taught at Fuller from 1950-80. It’s a reworking of my doctoral thesis, and because of the link with Fuller’s history they added the launch to their series of events celebrating the seminary’s 60th anniversary year. The event involved me giving a 45 minute lecture, followed by three responses from scholars who were somehow connected with Ladd.
I went to Pasadena to have dinner with Richard and Phyllis Mouw (Rich is the president of the seminary). All of the panelists and spouses were there, and it was a good time of fellowship and conversation. They wanted to know about my work in London, and everyone seemed to have a story about being there.
At a little before 7pm we walked back to the campus. People were already milling around—there were friends from the church where I grew up in Burbank, some members of our last church in Glendale (including most of our small group), former colleagues from Fuller and the Presbyterian Foundation, and yes, most of my family (Mom, Dad, daughter, father-in-law, an aunt…you get the idea). The minister who married Julie and me drove more than three hours to come with her husband (thanks, Luanne). An intern from my church in London, who just came back to the US a week or two ago, drove up from Orange County with a minister from his church. There were also about a dozen of my former professors there, and every one of them came over to say congratulations and comment on the book.
The bookstore had a table set up where they were selling some of Ladd's books, and also mine. While I was standing around enjoying the scene, someone tapped me on the back and gave me a copy of my book and a pen. He very politely asked me to sign it, and proceeded to tell me an old story about George Ladd. The man was Colin Brown, a professor of systematic theology, and author of the three-volume Dictionary of New Testament Theology, owned (and used) by every minister I’ve ever known. I suppose I knew that I would be signing books at the event, but I never thought that the first autograph I ever gave would be for Professor Brown.
Rich Mouw called the event to order and then I gave my paper (see above), which took about 45 minutes. It was well-received (an enormous relief)—people seemed to enjoy it a lot. After a break there were three short papers: The first was by Dr. David Wallace, a former student of Ladd and a key interview in my research. The second was by Marianne Meye Thompson, the George Eldon Ladd Professor of New Testament. The final response was by James Bradley, the Geoffrey Bromiley Professor of Church History. We had a time of Q&A after that, and I got some good questions and a chance to talk a little more.
That's me with Richard Mouw.
Wrapping up the panel discussion.
The participants: Dave Wallace, Jim Bradley, Marianne Meye Thompson, myself and Rich Mouw (notice the book in Rich's hand...).
People milled around for a long time afterward. I got a chance to chat with all of them, sign a few more books, and generally bask in a great evening. Fuller sold out of their shipment, and there were a handful of orders placed for future copies. Afterwards I went to a restaurant across the street with some good friends and continued the party.
Like I said, last night was pretty amazing.
Here’s the recap: There was an event at Fuller Seminary last night to launch my new book on George Eldon Ladd, an American biblical scholar who taught at Fuller from 1950-80. It’s a reworking of my doctoral thesis, and because of the link with Fuller’s history they added the launch to their series of events celebrating the seminary’s 60th anniversary year. The event involved me giving a 45 minute lecture, followed by three responses from scholars who were somehow connected with Ladd.
I went to Pasadena to have dinner with Richard and Phyllis Mouw (Rich is the president of the seminary). All of the panelists and spouses were there, and it was a good time of fellowship and conversation. They wanted to know about my work in London, and everyone seemed to have a story about being there.
At a little before 7pm we walked back to the campus. People were already milling around—there were friends from the church where I grew up in Burbank, some members of our last church in Glendale (including most of our small group), former colleagues from Fuller and the Presbyterian Foundation, and yes, most of my family (Mom, Dad, daughter, father-in-law, an aunt…you get the idea). The minister who married Julie and me drove more than three hours to come with her husband (thanks, Luanne). An intern from my church in London, who just came back to the US a week or two ago, drove up from Orange County with a minister from his church. There were also about a dozen of my former professors there, and every one of them came over to say congratulations and comment on the book.
The bookstore had a table set up where they were selling some of Ladd's books, and also mine. While I was standing around enjoying the scene, someone tapped me on the back and gave me a copy of my book and a pen. He very politely asked me to sign it, and proceeded to tell me an old story about George Ladd. The man was Colin Brown, a professor of systematic theology, and author of the three-volume Dictionary of New Testament Theology, owned (and used) by every minister I’ve ever known. I suppose I knew that I would be signing books at the event, but I never thought that the first autograph I ever gave would be for Professor Brown.
Rich Mouw called the event to order and then I gave my paper (see above), which took about 45 minutes. It was well-received (an enormous relief)—people seemed to enjoy it a lot. After a break there were three short papers: The first was by Dr. David Wallace, a former student of Ladd and a key interview in my research. The second was by Marianne Meye Thompson, the George Eldon Ladd Professor of New Testament. The final response was by James Bradley, the Geoffrey Bromiley Professor of Church History. We had a time of Q&A after that, and I got some good questions and a chance to talk a little more.
That's me with Richard Mouw.
Wrapping up the panel discussion.
The participants: Dave Wallace, Jim Bradley, Marianne Meye Thompson, myself and Rich Mouw (notice the book in Rich's hand...).
People milled around for a long time afterward. I got a chance to chat with all of them, sign a few more books, and generally bask in a great evening. Fuller sold out of their shipment, and there were a handful of orders placed for future copies. Afterwards I went to a restaurant across the street with some good friends and continued the party.Like I said, last night was pretty amazing.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
The Latest Update (Until the Next One)
I had lunch today with Jim Bradley, my church history professor from Fuller. He's one of the panel that will respond to my book and lecture tonight, and it was good to catch up. It turns out that he was one of the readers of the manuscript of the book who recommended it to Oxford Press--I didn't know that until today.
On the way to my car I stopped in again at the Fuller Bookstore to see if my book had made it from the printer. Turns out that it was delivered today, and I got to hold one for the first time. That was a nice feeling.
So I'm watching an old episode of The Sopranos and getting ready to go. I'm having dinner with Richard Mouw, the president of the seminary, along with the members of the panel.
More later.
On the way to my car I stopped in again at the Fuller Bookstore to see if my book had made it from the printer. Turns out that it was delivered today, and I got to hold one for the first time. That was a nice feeling.
So I'm watching an old episode of The Sopranos and getting ready to go. I'm having dinner with Richard Mouw, the president of the seminary, along with the members of the panel.
More later.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
My Visit to LA, Part 2
I'm gradually getting over the jet lag--it's easier coming this way than it will be going home next week. Mostly I'm dozing off in the early evening, then waking up really early: 4am the first day, 530 the next, and hopefully a little later tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the event at Fuller. I went to the seminary today to look for some old friends, and maybe even to catch a glimpse of my book (I haven't seen one yet). In the bookstore there was a whole display devoted to George Eldon Ladd, with copies of his books on sale. There was also a flyer for the launch event, with a picture of me. I have to say that caught me off guard a bit, but was pretty fun as well. I asked for the manager--someone I used to know--and she came out to tell me some not-so-good news.
Oxford Press had a glitch at the bindery and the books hadn't been delivered yet. Since it was the day before the event they were already in Plan B mode, with order forms and other things to use to secure some sales of the book at the event. I was bummed at the news, I have to say. I was looking forward to seeing what the book actually looked like, and hoping the copies would sell.
After I left the bookstore I emailed the good people at OUP and asked what had happened. I hit or beat all my deadlines to have everything ready by this date, and flew here to help sell some books. One of the editors made some calls and said that the copies were finally done, and that they were shipping them overnight. That means that there's a chance they'll be here on time...we'll see.
Otherwise I had a fun lunch with the pastor of our old church in Glendale. He was a mentor to me as I prepared to make the move to London, and so it was good to chat about both of our churches. We ate at La Cabanita, one of my favorite places, and it was great. After that I hung out with my dad for a while.
This evening we all got together at my sister's house for my brother-in-law's birthday party. The kids ran around, we ate lots of food and cake, and we told old stories and laughed. It was fun to be back with all of them. I really love my family.
Tomorrow's the big day. Time for some sleep.
Tomorrow is the event at Fuller. I went to the seminary today to look for some old friends, and maybe even to catch a glimpse of my book (I haven't seen one yet). In the bookstore there was a whole display devoted to George Eldon Ladd, with copies of his books on sale. There was also a flyer for the launch event, with a picture of me. I have to say that caught me off guard a bit, but was pretty fun as well. I asked for the manager--someone I used to know--and she came out to tell me some not-so-good news.
Oxford Press had a glitch at the bindery and the books hadn't been delivered yet. Since it was the day before the event they were already in Plan B mode, with order forms and other things to use to secure some sales of the book at the event. I was bummed at the news, I have to say. I was looking forward to seeing what the book actually looked like, and hoping the copies would sell.
After I left the bookstore I emailed the good people at OUP and asked what had happened. I hit or beat all my deadlines to have everything ready by this date, and flew here to help sell some books. One of the editors made some calls and said that the copies were finally done, and that they were shipping them overnight. That means that there's a chance they'll be here on time...we'll see.
Otherwise I had a fun lunch with the pastor of our old church in Glendale. He was a mentor to me as I prepared to make the move to London, and so it was good to chat about both of our churches. We ate at La Cabanita, one of my favorite places, and it was great. After that I hung out with my dad for a while.
This evening we all got together at my sister's house for my brother-in-law's birthday party. The kids ran around, we ate lots of food and cake, and we told old stories and laughed. It was fun to be back with all of them. I really love my family.
Tomorrow's the big day. Time for some sleep.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
My Visit to LA, Part 1
So I'm back in California for the launch of my book on George Ladd (see right), and it's good to be back in Southern California. My mom and aunt Rose came to the airport to pick me up yesterday--they visited us in London last year and have a good time traveling together.
Jet lag is still having its way with me--I woke up at 4am and by 8:30 I wanted to crawl back into bed--but I'm enjoying being in Burbank again. It's warm here--yesterday it was 96F, breaking the temperature record set in 1921 for that date (aren't you glad you tuned in today?). It's cooling off a bit, which is good, since the 70F we hit in London last week was on the edge of being uncomfortably warm.
I'll be connecting with some family and old friends while I'm here. It's strange to be doing that without Julie and Ian... The launch event is Thursday evening at Fuller, and I'm starting to feel some butterflies about that. I've been asked to give a 45 minute lecture, and my paper is titled: "George Eldon Ladd, Fuller Seminary and the Renaissance of American Evangelicalism." We'll see how it goes.
For those of you who are longtime readers, you'll want to know that I watched four movies back-to-back on the flight over here. Michael Clayton, No Country for Old Men, The Departed, and Juno. They were all pretty good, but Juno was the best of the lot. Good characters, sparkly writing and a sweet, wise story. Worth seeing again...
The other three combined to form a lesson in moral ambiguity and emptiness. Now I just might be odd enough to think that we need reminders of what that looks like from time to time. All three were sad in a way that I can't put my finger on just yet, and they left me feeling glad that there's a gospel to remind us of what life is supposed to be like.
That may be why Juno stood out. In the same way that Little Miss Sunshine showed how flawed people could do the right thing in a pinch, Juno introduced us to a blended family that loved each other without lying about who they really were. The scene where the young girl tells her father and step-mother that she's pregnant was touching and memorable and funny all at once.
Anyway, enough rambling. I'm off to do some errands and try to shake the fog. More news later.
Jet lag is still having its way with me--I woke up at 4am and by 8:30 I wanted to crawl back into bed--but I'm enjoying being in Burbank again. It's warm here--yesterday it was 96F, breaking the temperature record set in 1921 for that date (aren't you glad you tuned in today?). It's cooling off a bit, which is good, since the 70F we hit in London last week was on the edge of being uncomfortably warm.
I'll be connecting with some family and old friends while I'm here. It's strange to be doing that without Julie and Ian... The launch event is Thursday evening at Fuller, and I'm starting to feel some butterflies about that. I've been asked to give a 45 minute lecture, and my paper is titled: "George Eldon Ladd, Fuller Seminary and the Renaissance of American Evangelicalism." We'll see how it goes.
For those of you who are longtime readers, you'll want to know that I watched four movies back-to-back on the flight over here. Michael Clayton, No Country for Old Men, The Departed, and Juno. They were all pretty good, but Juno was the best of the lot. Good characters, sparkly writing and a sweet, wise story. Worth seeing again...
The other three combined to form a lesson in moral ambiguity and emptiness. Now I just might be odd enough to think that we need reminders of what that looks like from time to time. All three were sad in a way that I can't put my finger on just yet, and they left me feeling glad that there's a gospel to remind us of what life is supposed to be like.
That may be why Juno stood out. In the same way that Little Miss Sunshine showed how flawed people could do the right thing in a pinch, Juno introduced us to a blended family that loved each other without lying about who they really were. The scene where the young girl tells her father and step-mother that she's pregnant was touching and memorable and funny all at once.
Anyway, enough rambling. I'm off to do some errands and try to shake the fog. More news later.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Loving God: The Sequel
Acts 1:1-5
It’s almost a rule that sequels are never as good as the originals. Even a genius like Mark Twain got it wrong: Tom Sawyer is a great kids book—it’s aimed at boys who are 10-15 years old or so. But the sequel to Tom Sawyer was Huckleberry Finn, which is a major piece of literature, with a darker tone and more serious themes. Even back then they didn’t know what to make of it: it wasn't a bad book, it was just the wrong sequel. A lot of great books or films were diminished by lousy sequels—think of Gone With the Wind and the sequel titled Scarlett. Never heard of it? I rest my case.
Occasionally, though, someone gets it right. You don’t have to be a Trekkie to know that Wrath of Khan was better than the original Star Trek movie. Most film buffs would agree that Godfather II is not only a little better than the original, but that it might be one of the best movies ever made.
Sometimes sequels come out of a desire to hold on to a story that’s already ended. It’s a way to prolong the limelight—to keep some characters alive—to make more money.
But sometimes, and this is where the really good ones come from, sequels emerge because a great story isn’t quite finished. There’s more to say. There’s more to do.
In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach until the day he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles he had chosen. After his suffering, he showed himself to these men and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God. On one occasion, while he was eating with them, he gave them this command: “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”
‘In my former book, Theophilus’: Luke wrote his two-volume epic to someone with a very interesting name. It means, literally, God-lover. Whether there was actually a person by this name or not isn’t really known. It was a common name for children of religious families back then, so it wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow. But it’s a great way to start this important book about the rise of the early church. As Luke moves from the story of Jesus’ ministry to the story of his church, this is who he’s addressing: those who love God—the God-lovers.
The point of these first few verses in Acts is to introduce the story that is about to come. It talks about the appearances of Jesus after the resurrection, how he continued to teach them about the Kingdom of God, and promised them the gift of the Holy Spirit.
What Jesus was preparing them for, as Luke tells the story, was the rise and growth of the Christian faith—the explosion of the church into the 1st century world. As we’re going to see in the next weeks and months, Luke has a point of view for how the church should be defined. In Acts, and eventually in the rest of the New Testament, the church is a community of faith that is engaged in the culture, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit of God.
All of this is following Luke’s brilliant re-telling of the Jesus story in his gospel. From the birth of Jesus—we get a lot of our Christmas story from Luke—to his slightly different perspective on the Sermon of the Mount—to the parables and on to Jerusalem and the crucifixion and resurrection. Luke tells the story of Jesus like a pro—he’s called a physician in the text but Luke is also a great historian, catching important details and never losing sight of the main point.
Luke’s gospel is a love story—of God’s love for us and the call to us to return that love to God. We talk a lot about how much God loves us, but we don’t always mention the call on our lives to love God—to be God-lovers—and to share that love. One of my seminary friends, Tod Bolsinger, wrote a book called It Takes a Church to Raise a Christian, and in it he reminds us of how central our love for God is to the life we’re called to live. He writes that in the Bible,
‘Ministry begins with expressing the love of God to the family of believers. This is so elemental that 1John tells us to assume that if someone does not show love to Christian brothers and sisters, then we are safe to assume that they do not know God at all.’
Luke’s gospel is the story of how that love was taught and modeled by Jesus, but it’s a story that wasn’t quite finished, though. There was more to say. There was a lot more to do.
And so the Acts of the Apostles is a worthy sequel to Luke’s first book. It’s the story of how God empowered a weak, bickering, selfish and contentious group of people to become the catalyst for the communication of the gospel to every corner of the earth. The rest of the story of Jesus, that begins in the gospel accounts, is found in the Acts of the Apostles, the history of the church, the Body of Christ.
Paul Harvey was a radio personality in the States. He was known for his quirky delivery and his ability to track down interesting stories with surprise endings. He had a program called 'The Rest of the Story' that played in markets all over the world for years. The stories were great. Here are a couple of examples:
Al Capone’s lawyer was one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. ‘Easy Eddie, as he was known, kept Capone out of jail for years, and was paid an obscene amount of money to do it. Eddie and his family lived in a fenced-in mansion that took up an entire city block in Chicago. At some point in his career it occurred to him that he loved his son more than he loved the money and perks of working for the mob, and he had a crisis of conscience. He worried about what he could leave to his son that was of value, and realized in order to do the right thing for his son, in order to teach him what integrity meant, he would have to do something pretty dramatic.
Without being asked he went to the police and offered to testify against Capone. It wasn’t long before he was gunned down—in his pockets he had a crucifix and a poem to his son about integrity and the preciousness of life.
In the same show Harvey told another story: This one was about a WWII hero, a pilot named Butch O’Hare. He was out on a mission when he realized that his fuel tank hadn’t been topped off and so he turned around to head back to his aircraft carrier. On his way he found a squadron of Japanese bombers heading for his ship, and he took them on alone. He was so disruptive to them that they turned around and he saved the USS Lexington. He was the first Naval pilot ever to win the Medal of Honor. He was killed the next year at the age of 29.
This is where Paul Harvey would step in and say, and now for the rest of the story. You can see Butch O’Hare’s medal in the airport that’s named after him: O’Hare Airport in Chicago.
But the real kicker is this: Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son—the one the father loved so much that he gave himself up to show his son a different way of living.
Those stories remind us of the redemptive possibilities in every life. From disgrace and humiliation and despair, the people in these stories—real life people—changed direction and experienced a measure of redemption in the process. These stories remind us, especially in these weeks just after we’ve celebrated the death and resurrection of Jesus, that we have a God who gave himself up, to show us a very different way of living.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of second chances—of redemptive possibilities—of changing direction—of really great sequels. These are the kinds of things that happen in the real world, and in a real-world church. God works in us to give us a new way of seeing our lives—a new way of living our lives, and we a drawn to change—to live differently, to spend differently, to serve in new ways.
In his new book, Everything Must Change, Brian McLaren writes this:
‘A revolution of hope is not just a matter of reading a book or hearing an inspiring sermon. True, a book or a sermon or personal encounter may be the vehicle through which hope wins our hearts. But a revolution of hope makes radical demands of us. It requires us to learn new skills and habits and capacities; the skills of a new way of seeing; the habits of a new way of thinking; the capacities of a new way of living.’
In our lives we’re always on that border between our past and the sequel, the rest of the story, a new way of living. As the saying goes: it’s not over until it’s over. As long as we have life and breath and a sense of God’s call in our lives, we can grow and change and serve and improve. The good news of the Christian message is that it’s never too late—no matter what we’ve done or said or even believed—God waits for us, ready to help us start the next chapter—the next volume of our lives—our sequel.
The key—as individuals and as a church—is to be a true community of faith—to be engaged in the culture, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit of God.
What’s the rest of your story? What’s the sequel to the journey of faith you’ve lived so far? That may sound like a sort of abstract question, but it’s rooted in the very heart of what it means to be a real-world Christian—a real-world church. The story of this place isn’t anywhere near finished yet—there’s more to tell—there’s more to do.
We start with the challenge to be like Theophilus—to be lovers of God. To care and share and participate and serve, and to listen for God’s direction in all things. We build on that foundation—we create a church that’s listening to the world around it and to God—and waiting on the Holy Spirit to empower us and lead us where we’re called to go.
I heard someone described one time as being so heavenly minded that he was no earthly good. That’s not what we’re talking about here. The adventure we’re about to see in the Acts of the Apostles is as real-world as it gets. We’ll take this journey together: engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the Holy Spirit. Amen.
It’s almost a rule that sequels are never as good as the originals. Even a genius like Mark Twain got it wrong: Tom Sawyer is a great kids book—it’s aimed at boys who are 10-15 years old or so. But the sequel to Tom Sawyer was Huckleberry Finn, which is a major piece of literature, with a darker tone and more serious themes. Even back then they didn’t know what to make of it: it wasn't a bad book, it was just the wrong sequel. A lot of great books or films were diminished by lousy sequels—think of Gone With the Wind and the sequel titled Scarlett. Never heard of it? I rest my case.
Occasionally, though, someone gets it right. You don’t have to be a Trekkie to know that Wrath of Khan was better than the original Star Trek movie. Most film buffs would agree that Godfather II is not only a little better than the original, but that it might be one of the best movies ever made.
Sometimes sequels come out of a desire to hold on to a story that’s already ended. It’s a way to prolong the limelight—to keep some characters alive—to make more money.
But sometimes, and this is where the really good ones come from, sequels emerge because a great story isn’t quite finished. There’s more to say. There’s more to do.
In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach until the day he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles he had chosen. After his suffering, he showed himself to these men and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God. On one occasion, while he was eating with them, he gave them this command: “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”
‘In my former book, Theophilus’: Luke wrote his two-volume epic to someone with a very interesting name. It means, literally, God-lover. Whether there was actually a person by this name or not isn’t really known. It was a common name for children of religious families back then, so it wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow. But it’s a great way to start this important book about the rise of the early church. As Luke moves from the story of Jesus’ ministry to the story of his church, this is who he’s addressing: those who love God—the God-lovers.
The point of these first few verses in Acts is to introduce the story that is about to come. It talks about the appearances of Jesus after the resurrection, how he continued to teach them about the Kingdom of God, and promised them the gift of the Holy Spirit.
What Jesus was preparing them for, as Luke tells the story, was the rise and growth of the Christian faith—the explosion of the church into the 1st century world. As we’re going to see in the next weeks and months, Luke has a point of view for how the church should be defined. In Acts, and eventually in the rest of the New Testament, the church is a community of faith that is engaged in the culture, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit of God.
All of this is following Luke’s brilliant re-telling of the Jesus story in his gospel. From the birth of Jesus—we get a lot of our Christmas story from Luke—to his slightly different perspective on the Sermon of the Mount—to the parables and on to Jerusalem and the crucifixion and resurrection. Luke tells the story of Jesus like a pro—he’s called a physician in the text but Luke is also a great historian, catching important details and never losing sight of the main point.
Luke’s gospel is a love story—of God’s love for us and the call to us to return that love to God. We talk a lot about how much God loves us, but we don’t always mention the call on our lives to love God—to be God-lovers—and to share that love. One of my seminary friends, Tod Bolsinger, wrote a book called It Takes a Church to Raise a Christian, and in it he reminds us of how central our love for God is to the life we’re called to live. He writes that in the Bible,
‘Ministry begins with expressing the love of God to the family of believers. This is so elemental that 1John tells us to assume that if someone does not show love to Christian brothers and sisters, then we are safe to assume that they do not know God at all.’
Luke’s gospel is the story of how that love was taught and modeled by Jesus, but it’s a story that wasn’t quite finished, though. There was more to say. There was a lot more to do.
And so the Acts of the Apostles is a worthy sequel to Luke’s first book. It’s the story of how God empowered a weak, bickering, selfish and contentious group of people to become the catalyst for the communication of the gospel to every corner of the earth. The rest of the story of Jesus, that begins in the gospel accounts, is found in the Acts of the Apostles, the history of the church, the Body of Christ.
Paul Harvey was a radio personality in the States. He was known for his quirky delivery and his ability to track down interesting stories with surprise endings. He had a program called 'The Rest of the Story' that played in markets all over the world for years. The stories were great. Here are a couple of examples:
Al Capone’s lawyer was one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. ‘Easy Eddie, as he was known, kept Capone out of jail for years, and was paid an obscene amount of money to do it. Eddie and his family lived in a fenced-in mansion that took up an entire city block in Chicago. At some point in his career it occurred to him that he loved his son more than he loved the money and perks of working for the mob, and he had a crisis of conscience. He worried about what he could leave to his son that was of value, and realized in order to do the right thing for his son, in order to teach him what integrity meant, he would have to do something pretty dramatic.
Without being asked he went to the police and offered to testify against Capone. It wasn’t long before he was gunned down—in his pockets he had a crucifix and a poem to his son about integrity and the preciousness of life.
In the same show Harvey told another story: This one was about a WWII hero, a pilot named Butch O’Hare. He was out on a mission when he realized that his fuel tank hadn’t been topped off and so he turned around to head back to his aircraft carrier. On his way he found a squadron of Japanese bombers heading for his ship, and he took them on alone. He was so disruptive to them that they turned around and he saved the USS Lexington. He was the first Naval pilot ever to win the Medal of Honor. He was killed the next year at the age of 29.
This is where Paul Harvey would step in and say, and now for the rest of the story. You can see Butch O’Hare’s medal in the airport that’s named after him: O’Hare Airport in Chicago.
But the real kicker is this: Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son—the one the father loved so much that he gave himself up to show his son a different way of living.
Those stories remind us of the redemptive possibilities in every life. From disgrace and humiliation and despair, the people in these stories—real life people—changed direction and experienced a measure of redemption in the process. These stories remind us, especially in these weeks just after we’ve celebrated the death and resurrection of Jesus, that we have a God who gave himself up, to show us a very different way of living.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of second chances—of redemptive possibilities—of changing direction—of really great sequels. These are the kinds of things that happen in the real world, and in a real-world church. God works in us to give us a new way of seeing our lives—a new way of living our lives, and we a drawn to change—to live differently, to spend differently, to serve in new ways.
In his new book, Everything Must Change, Brian McLaren writes this:
‘A revolution of hope is not just a matter of reading a book or hearing an inspiring sermon. True, a book or a sermon or personal encounter may be the vehicle through which hope wins our hearts. But a revolution of hope makes radical demands of us. It requires us to learn new skills and habits and capacities; the skills of a new way of seeing; the habits of a new way of thinking; the capacities of a new way of living.’
In our lives we’re always on that border between our past and the sequel, the rest of the story, a new way of living. As the saying goes: it’s not over until it’s over. As long as we have life and breath and a sense of God’s call in our lives, we can grow and change and serve and improve. The good news of the Christian message is that it’s never too late—no matter what we’ve done or said or even believed—God waits for us, ready to help us start the next chapter—the next volume of our lives—our sequel.
The key—as individuals and as a church—is to be a true community of faith—to be engaged in the culture, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit of God.
What’s the rest of your story? What’s the sequel to the journey of faith you’ve lived so far? That may sound like a sort of abstract question, but it’s rooted in the very heart of what it means to be a real-world Christian—a real-world church. The story of this place isn’t anywhere near finished yet—there’s more to tell—there’s more to do.
We start with the challenge to be like Theophilus—to be lovers of God. To care and share and participate and serve, and to listen for God’s direction in all things. We build on that foundation—we create a church that’s listening to the world around it and to God—and waiting on the Holy Spirit to empower us and lead us where we’re called to go.
I heard someone described one time as being so heavenly minded that he was no earthly good. That’s not what we’re talking about here. The adventure we’re about to see in the Acts of the Apostles is as real-world as it gets. We’ll take this journey together: engaged in the culture, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
My Day to Make Breakfast
I like to make breakfast on Saturday mornings. Usually I'll make some kind of fry-up in the English style, but this week we have special guests with us and they deserved a little something special. My mother-in-law Carol, Mary Matthews and her daughter Carly are staying with us, and it's a ton of fun.
Last week in the Guardian there was a special section on the best breakfasts in the UK, and there were recipes in the back. I tinkered with one and came up with what you see below. Eggs Benedict with English bacon and asparagus, fried potatoes and baked beans (try the beans with breakfast--they're great). It was my first Hollandaise sauce--I made it from scratch--and even my chef mother-in-law said it was pretty good.
Last week in the Guardian there was a special section on the best breakfasts in the UK, and there were recipes in the back. I tinkered with one and came up with what you see below. Eggs Benedict with English bacon and asparagus, fried potatoes and baked beans (try the beans with breakfast--they're great). It was my first Hollandaise sauce--I made it from scratch--and even my chef mother-in-law said it was pretty good.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Who Are You Wearing?
Luke 24:45-49
There is a village in the mountains of France called Le Chambon. It’s not very big, but the people there accomplished something enormous during the Second World War. A minister and his church there managed to lead the entire village—everyone who lived there—to participate in hiding Jews from the Nazis and French collaborators for most of the war. They shared their food, their homes, and their lives with these strangers—because it was their calling—because it was the right thing to do.
When the pastor was ordered to give up the names of any Jews hiding in the village, he said:
“Even if I had such a list, I would not pass it on to you. These people have come here seeking aid and protection from the Christians of this region. It is not the role of the shepherd to betray the sheep.”
The soldier laughed at him and said that he would be punished if they found proof of his crimes. “Besides,” he said “your resistance is useless.”
Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, "This is what is written: The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high."
Now it may seem strange to start a series on the Acts of the Apostles with a story from World War Two and a passage from the Gospel of Luke, but there’s a reason for that. Luke and Acts originally went together—it was Luke’s two-volume account of the ministry of Jesus and the rise of the church. Our text this morning comes right at the end of volume one—it’s a sort of cliffhanger ending before the rest of the story unfolds. Le Chambon is one of those powerful reminders of what the church can do and be, when it lives out its faith in the world.
Besides, it’s too easy sometimes to see the church as useless in the face of the real world, just as that soldier said, and that’s just not right.
So what happens in Acts, and why is it relevant for us today?
Acts is our record of the explosive growth of the early church. It gets started with Pentecost, and moves into the first real evangelistic sermons of the Christian era. Peter, who blundered his way through Jesus’ ministry and was left crying on the beach, all of a sudden can preach sermons that bring people to faith by the thousands. There are trials, beatings, imprisonments—in one powerful story the first deacon of the church is hauled before a court and ends up being stoned to death, but not before one of the great closing arguments of all time. We’ll see how the Apostle Paul came to faith and took the gospel to the Roman Empire. Mostly what we see is how the church learned to connect with the culture in a way that shared and lived the good news of Jesus.
Acts is important because it’s the historical foundation our church is built on. There are lessons there for how our church—every church—should behave and teach and serve and grow. Acts is a reminder that the church is designed for service, for the calling of sharing the message of Jesus with the world.
The Book of Acts offers us a profile of what the church should be. Over the next weeks we’ll define the church as a community that is engaged in the world, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit. That’s what a real church—a church that is firing on all its cylinders, looks like.
That’s why the bravery and goodness of the people of Le Chambon are so important for us still—they show what a church and community might do when faced with some intense real-world situations. They were a community of faith that was anything but useless.
There are other examples from church history. Not many people know that the three most important social revolutions in 19th century America were led not just by churches, but by evangelical churches. The abolition movement, feminism and the fight for voting rights for women, and the development of programs and institutions that serve the poor. All of those were led by churches that had a biblically-grounded faith in Jesus Christ, the belief that the gospel had something for every person on earth, and passion for making society a fairer, freer, more Christ-like place.
But it’s not even major social movements. Just before we moved to London we had a celebration at our home church for a missionary who was retiring from the field. Our church had supported her for 25 years while she translated the New Testament into a tribal language that hadn’t even been written before. We dedicated that Bible to God’s service, and three young people from that tribe came to Southern California to thank the people of our church for bringing them the good news of the gospel.
These churches aren’t perfect—not one of them. But what they have in common was their desire to be engaged in the world, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to how God’s Spirit wanted to work within and among them. What made these churches and gatherings of churches special was their desire to be God’s arm—Christ’s body—in their cities and towns and nations. These churches saw the needs of the world around them, and acted.
We’ve just survived another awards season…did you notice?
Oscars and BAFTAs and Emmys and Grammys. Every industry gathers at various times to pat themselves on the back—entertainers just do it in front of the world. One of the required questions as people walk down the red carpets is strange the first time you hear it, but later it starts to get familiar and even sound normal. The celebrity is walking toward the theatre, trying to look aloof but secretly praying that the cameras will find them, until a reporter sticks a microphone in their direction and asks: Who are you wearing?
It’s a very strange thing to ask. Who are you wearing? Of course we all know that what they’re after is the name of the designer who created the dress or the suit or the tuxedo. Who have you partnered with to look the way you do? What are you trying to say? Who are you trying to be? Who’s getting the glory here?
In our passage today Luke tells the Christian community to gather together, to remember the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus, and to be witnesses of these events to the world. They were confused, but he encouraged them by saying that they should wait—not forever, but until they were ‘clothed with power from on high.’
In the sequence that brought about the early Christian church, the ministry of Christ was followed by the gift of the Holy Spirit—God’s comforter, the one that gave the early believers what they needed to spark the faith revolution that became the church. But in between those two great events, they waited for the Spirit to fill them and push them and strengthen them in their work.
In both of our passages today we see the image of a garment, of clothing, used to describe how God’s power makes us into the people he calls us to be.
My friend Cameron preached an amazing sermon a few years ago. He was talking about the passage where Paul calls the church to ‘put on Christ’: there’s that garment image again. He talked about that everyday moment when each of us stares into the closet to see what we’re going to wear for the day. That it’s important—but that it’s also routine, something we do so often that we might not even think about it all that much.
But in the spiritual sense it is important. Choosing to put on Christ—to be clothed with power from on high, is a part of being a Christian—part of being the church. In that spiritual sense, choosing what to wear—choosing how to look—says a lot about who we choose to serve.
Over the next weeks and months we’re going to be looking at the Acts of the Apostles to see what that book can teach us about who we are and how we look and who we serve—what it can teach us about being a real-world church.
During this time the working definition that we’ll share about the church is this: A Real-World Church is a community of faith that is:
engaged in the culture,
grounded in Scripture,
and alive to the Holy Spirit.
That means we’re going to continue to do some things around here that are challenging and hard. We’re going to pay closer attention to what God is teaching us about the church in Scripture. We’re going to step out in faith a bit to see what God’s spirit might want to be doing in this particular church. We’re going to continue to learn new songs, even when it’s hard for us—because it’s important to stretch ourselves and learn new language for worshipping the eternal God.
And we’re going to continue to incorporate current events and history and politics and movies and the arts into what we do together, because that’s what it means to be engaged in the culture.
In our Old Testament reading today Isaiah said:
I delight greatly in the Lord,
My soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation,
And arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.
Who are you wearing today? Who are we wearing as a church, as a community of faith? My prayer for us is that as we continue to grow and come together as a church—as we continue to hear God’s call in our lives individually and as a community, that we will be clothed with power from on high, with garments of salvation and robes of righteousness, and that we’ll take our place in the line of churches that have made a difference. Churches with a real message about a real savior who has good news for the real world.
Who are you wearing? Who do you want to wear? Let’s take that journey together over the next weeks and months. And through all of it, to God be the glory for the great things he’s done. Let’s stand and sing that together. Amen.
There is a village in the mountains of France called Le Chambon. It’s not very big, but the people there accomplished something enormous during the Second World War. A minister and his church there managed to lead the entire village—everyone who lived there—to participate in hiding Jews from the Nazis and French collaborators for most of the war. They shared their food, their homes, and their lives with these strangers—because it was their calling—because it was the right thing to do.
When the pastor was ordered to give up the names of any Jews hiding in the village, he said:
“Even if I had such a list, I would not pass it on to you. These people have come here seeking aid and protection from the Christians of this region. It is not the role of the shepherd to betray the sheep.”
The soldier laughed at him and said that he would be punished if they found proof of his crimes. “Besides,” he said “your resistance is useless.”
Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, "This is what is written: The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high."
Now it may seem strange to start a series on the Acts of the Apostles with a story from World War Two and a passage from the Gospel of Luke, but there’s a reason for that. Luke and Acts originally went together—it was Luke’s two-volume account of the ministry of Jesus and the rise of the church. Our text this morning comes right at the end of volume one—it’s a sort of cliffhanger ending before the rest of the story unfolds. Le Chambon is one of those powerful reminders of what the church can do and be, when it lives out its faith in the world.
Besides, it’s too easy sometimes to see the church as useless in the face of the real world, just as that soldier said, and that’s just not right.
So what happens in Acts, and why is it relevant for us today?
Acts is our record of the explosive growth of the early church. It gets started with Pentecost, and moves into the first real evangelistic sermons of the Christian era. Peter, who blundered his way through Jesus’ ministry and was left crying on the beach, all of a sudden can preach sermons that bring people to faith by the thousands. There are trials, beatings, imprisonments—in one powerful story the first deacon of the church is hauled before a court and ends up being stoned to death, but not before one of the great closing arguments of all time. We’ll see how the Apostle Paul came to faith and took the gospel to the Roman Empire. Mostly what we see is how the church learned to connect with the culture in a way that shared and lived the good news of Jesus.
Acts is important because it’s the historical foundation our church is built on. There are lessons there for how our church—every church—should behave and teach and serve and grow. Acts is a reminder that the church is designed for service, for the calling of sharing the message of Jesus with the world.
The Book of Acts offers us a profile of what the church should be. Over the next weeks we’ll define the church as a community that is engaged in the world, grounded in Scripture, and alive to the Spirit. That’s what a real church—a church that is firing on all its cylinders, looks like.
That’s why the bravery and goodness of the people of Le Chambon are so important for us still—they show what a church and community might do when faced with some intense real-world situations. They were a community of faith that was anything but useless.
There are other examples from church history. Not many people know that the three most important social revolutions in 19th century America were led not just by churches, but by evangelical churches. The abolition movement, feminism and the fight for voting rights for women, and the development of programs and institutions that serve the poor. All of those were led by churches that had a biblically-grounded faith in Jesus Christ, the belief that the gospel had something for every person on earth, and passion for making society a fairer, freer, more Christ-like place.
But it’s not even major social movements. Just before we moved to London we had a celebration at our home church for a missionary who was retiring from the field. Our church had supported her for 25 years while she translated the New Testament into a tribal language that hadn’t even been written before. We dedicated that Bible to God’s service, and three young people from that tribe came to Southern California to thank the people of our church for bringing them the good news of the gospel.
These churches aren’t perfect—not one of them. But what they have in common was their desire to be engaged in the world, grounded in the Scriptures, and alive to how God’s Spirit wanted to work within and among them. What made these churches and gatherings of churches special was their desire to be God’s arm—Christ’s body—in their cities and towns and nations. These churches saw the needs of the world around them, and acted.
We’ve just survived another awards season…did you notice?
Oscars and BAFTAs and Emmys and Grammys. Every industry gathers at various times to pat themselves on the back—entertainers just do it in front of the world. One of the required questions as people walk down the red carpets is strange the first time you hear it, but later it starts to get familiar and even sound normal. The celebrity is walking toward the theatre, trying to look aloof but secretly praying that the cameras will find them, until a reporter sticks a microphone in their direction and asks: Who are you wearing?
It’s a very strange thing to ask. Who are you wearing? Of course we all know that what they’re after is the name of the designer who created the dress or the suit or the tuxedo. Who have you partnered with to look the way you do? What are you trying to say? Who are you trying to be? Who’s getting the glory here?
In our passage today Luke tells the Christian community to gather together, to remember the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus, and to be witnesses of these events to the world. They were confused, but he encouraged them by saying that they should wait—not forever, but until they were ‘clothed with power from on high.’
In the sequence that brought about the early Christian church, the ministry of Christ was followed by the gift of the Holy Spirit—God’s comforter, the one that gave the early believers what they needed to spark the faith revolution that became the church. But in between those two great events, they waited for the Spirit to fill them and push them and strengthen them in their work.
In both of our passages today we see the image of a garment, of clothing, used to describe how God’s power makes us into the people he calls us to be.
My friend Cameron preached an amazing sermon a few years ago. He was talking about the passage where Paul calls the church to ‘put on Christ’: there’s that garment image again. He talked about that everyday moment when each of us stares into the closet to see what we’re going to wear for the day. That it’s important—but that it’s also routine, something we do so often that we might not even think about it all that much.
But in the spiritual sense it is important. Choosing to put on Christ—to be clothed with power from on high, is a part of being a Christian—part of being the church. In that spiritual sense, choosing what to wear—choosing how to look—says a lot about who we choose to serve.
Over the next weeks and months we’re going to be looking at the Acts of the Apostles to see what that book can teach us about who we are and how we look and who we serve—what it can teach us about being a real-world church.
During this time the working definition that we’ll share about the church is this: A Real-World Church is a community of faith that is:
engaged in the culture,
grounded in Scripture,
and alive to the Holy Spirit.
That means we’re going to continue to do some things around here that are challenging and hard. We’re going to pay closer attention to what God is teaching us about the church in Scripture. We’re going to step out in faith a bit to see what God’s spirit might want to be doing in this particular church. We’re going to continue to learn new songs, even when it’s hard for us—because it’s important to stretch ourselves and learn new language for worshipping the eternal God.
And we’re going to continue to incorporate current events and history and politics and movies and the arts into what we do together, because that’s what it means to be engaged in the culture.
In our Old Testament reading today Isaiah said:
I delight greatly in the Lord,
My soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation,
And arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.
Who are you wearing today? Who are we wearing as a church, as a community of faith? My prayer for us is that as we continue to grow and come together as a church—as we continue to hear God’s call in our lives individually and as a community, that we will be clothed with power from on high, with garments of salvation and robes of righteousness, and that we’ll take our place in the line of churches that have made a difference. Churches with a real message about a real savior who has good news for the real world.
Who are you wearing? Who do you want to wear? Let’s take that journey together over the next weeks and months. And through all of it, to God be the glory for the great things he’s done. Let’s stand and sing that together. Amen.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
It's Here...
Today I received the cover art for my book on George Ladd. It will be released in late-May, but you can purchase it on Amazon, Target and some other retailers already. Enjoy!
Friday, April 04, 2008
In Honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Today is the 40th anniversary of the murder of civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr. In commemoration of that sad date you can click on the link below to see his famous "I Have a Dream" speech from August of 1963.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbUtL_0vAJk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbUtL_0vAJk
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