Some of you will remember the story about the Apostle Paul in Athens, having a conversation with people about the "unknown God" they were worshiping. The story is in Acts 17, and I've always thought it was interesting. Here Paul sees all of the worship of other gods in the city, and he gets upset. So he's wandering around talking about Jesus to anyone who will listen. Eventually, the people become curious enough to bring him to the place where things like this are discussed, and he's invited to speak. And instead of criticizing their belief system, Paul looks for the truth in it. He sees that they have an alter to an unknown God. And Paul names Yahweh as this unknown God and speaks to them about Jesus and his resurrection from the dead.
Why didn't Paul tell them that the other gods weren't alive? The Jewish belief system was strongly monotheistic, having no room for any God but Yahweh. Why didn't he tell them that their worship of idols was worthless and that to have salvation they had to give up their own gods and follow his? Why didn't he try to change their whole culture and belief system first?
Instead, Paul explained the resurrection and introduced the person of Jesus and Yahweh and invited people to follow. And I think we can learn a lot from this. I often feel the message that I get from churches or from the Christian community is that a person has to become culturally Christian before they can follow Jesus. They have to believe everything I do about morality and theology in order to take that step into the kingdom. But I don't think this is true. Jesus took people where they were, invited them to follow, and then he gave them teaching so that they could grow into believing who he actually is. Even the disciples believed that he was a political (rather than spiritual) savior when they first followed Christ. But what was important was that they followed him--they learned to hear his voice and to obey and follow, and all the rest of it came later. I would argue that morality and theology are a result of following Jesus not a prerequisite to it.
What do you think? Is your invitation for others to follow Jesus normally cluttered with expectations about what they believe or how they behave? What would happen if you just introduced people to Jesus and then let Jesus and his teachings challenge their morality and theology?
Showing posts with label talking about faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label talking about faith. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
What would you say?
Imagine if you were a part of the following conversation with someone you know is not following Jesus:
Al: Yeah, my friend and I went on this church retreat one time. She’s seriously the nicest person in the whole world. And they told her she was going to hell because she’s an atheist, can you believe that?
Bryten: Well, the Bible does say that if you don’t believe in Jesus, you won’t be going to heaven when you die.
Al: Yeah, but that doesn’t even make sense. I mean, I know lots of Christians who are mean. They hurt animals, they hurt people. They want us to go to war. They’re rude and horrible. It doesn’t make sense that they would go to heaven, and people like my best friend and my dad would go to hell. They honestly are the best people in the whole world.
What do you say?
Do you say, "Here, let me show you in the Bible - it says that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and the wages of sin is death. But if you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe in your hearts that God raised him from the dead, you’ll be saved."
Do you say, "Wow, I'm so sorry to hear that was your experience. What did you do?"
Do you say, "Wow. I'm so sorry that you had that experience. That must have been really hard. You know... I think Jesus might have told a story about something like that. This really rich guy who did everything right on the outside came up to Jesus and said, "Teacher, what must I do to make sure that I have eternal life." And Jesus said, "You know the things God commanded--do not murder, do not steal, etc." And the guy said, "I've done all of these since I was young... is there anything I'm supposed to do?" And Jesus said, "sell everything you have and follow me." What do you think about that?
Each of these responses will have a different effect on your friend's thinking and even their experience of your relationship. The first engages Al's intellect and comes from a authority-down approach. Basically, here's the Bible's answer to your question. But if you're coming from this perspective, Al has to share your assumption that Scripture has authority in your life. If Al doesn't, then you're not going to get anywhere with your argument. And even if Al does share your assumptions, you still haven't answered the questions of Al's heart.
The second response invites further relationship and further information from Al. But it doesn't really engage his intellect or the emotions.
The third response gives some information through a story that invites further reflection. It could engage Al's emotions, and it invites him to look deeper than someone's outward actions to the heart, because that's what Jesus was looking at. It might even open opportunities to talk about how hearts are transformed by Jesus and what that looks and feels like. It could be followed up with personal examples of how Jesus has changed your heart.
I certainly don't think there's one right way to interact with every person. But if you look closely at the original conversation, you can see how much emotion is tied up in the discussion. It's not just the Al's best friend he's concerned about, it's also his father. And an emotionally based question needs a response that engages a person at the heart level, not just at the intellect.
So what would you say? Do you have a personal story about God transforming your heart that you could share after the story of the rich young ruler?
Al: Yeah, my friend and I went on this church retreat one time. She’s seriously the nicest person in the whole world. And they told her she was going to hell because she’s an atheist, can you believe that?
Bryten: Well, the Bible does say that if you don’t believe in Jesus, you won’t be going to heaven when you die.
Al: Yeah, but that doesn’t even make sense. I mean, I know lots of Christians who are mean. They hurt animals, they hurt people. They want us to go to war. They’re rude and horrible. It doesn’t make sense that they would go to heaven, and people like my best friend and my dad would go to hell. They honestly are the best people in the whole world.
What do you say?
Do you say, "Here, let me show you in the Bible - it says that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and the wages of sin is death. But if you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe in your hearts that God raised him from the dead, you’ll be saved."
Do you say, "Wow, I'm so sorry to hear that was your experience. What did you do?"
Do you say, "Wow. I'm so sorry that you had that experience. That must have been really hard. You know... I think Jesus might have told a story about something like that. This really rich guy who did everything right on the outside came up to Jesus and said, "Teacher, what must I do to make sure that I have eternal life." And Jesus said, "You know the things God commanded--do not murder, do not steal, etc." And the guy said, "I've done all of these since I was young... is there anything I'm supposed to do?" And Jesus said, "sell everything you have and follow me." What do you think about that?
Each of these responses will have a different effect on your friend's thinking and even their experience of your relationship. The first engages Al's intellect and comes from a authority-down approach. Basically, here's the Bible's answer to your question. But if you're coming from this perspective, Al has to share your assumption that Scripture has authority in your life. If Al doesn't, then you're not going to get anywhere with your argument. And even if Al does share your assumptions, you still haven't answered the questions of Al's heart.
The second response invites further relationship and further information from Al. But it doesn't really engage his intellect or the emotions.
The third response gives some information through a story that invites further reflection. It could engage Al's emotions, and it invites him to look deeper than someone's outward actions to the heart, because that's what Jesus was looking at. It might even open opportunities to talk about how hearts are transformed by Jesus and what that looks and feels like. It could be followed up with personal examples of how Jesus has changed your heart.
I certainly don't think there's one right way to interact with every person. But if you look closely at the original conversation, you can see how much emotion is tied up in the discussion. It's not just the Al's best friend he's concerned about, it's also his father. And an emotionally based question needs a response that engages a person at the heart level, not just at the intellect.
So what would you say? Do you have a personal story about God transforming your heart that you could share after the story of the rich young ruler?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
yep... still on vacation
Here's an interesting post from Jennifer Fulwiler, a woman who's a relatively recent convert to Catholicism. Though she doesn't use the same language I do to describe and identify barriers to faith, she's definitely recognized that there's more to it than rational questions. For her, indeed, there were major emotional barriers that made the process of choosing to follow Jesus harder.
But what I find so encouraging is that the emotional barriers didn't hold her back forever, any more than whatever intellectual questions she had. She doesn't describe how she worked through them in this post, but she clearly came to the point where she was able to trust Jesus even if it would mess up the way she'd organized and understood her whole life up to that point.
I also have to say that I agree with her number 4 on her list of finding God in 5 steps... She calls this step "Do the Experiment," and she encourages you to live for a time as though you believed that God exists. There's only so much a person can know about God intellectually. As with any relationship, you can't really know someone until you start relating to God. You can know about him based on things you've heard and read, but that's just like learning about the person across the room from the person standing by you. There are so many limits to what you can know about him... and you can't really know him until you meet him. So this is something I occasionally suggest to a friend who is seeking to discern if God is real and who he is.
But what I find so encouraging is that the emotional barriers didn't hold her back forever, any more than whatever intellectual questions she had. She doesn't describe how she worked through them in this post, but she clearly came to the point where she was able to trust Jesus even if it would mess up the way she'd organized and understood her whole life up to that point.
I also have to say that I agree with her number 4 on her list of finding God in 5 steps... She calls this step "Do the Experiment," and she encourages you to live for a time as though you believed that God exists. There's only so much a person can know about God intellectually. As with any relationship, you can't really know someone until you start relating to God. You can know about him based on things you've heard and read, but that's just like learning about the person across the room from the person standing by you. There are so many limits to what you can know about him... and you can't really know him until you meet him. So this is something I occasionally suggest to a friend who is seeking to discern if God is real and who he is.
Friday, July 6, 2012
What do you think of the "Sinner's prayer?"
Wow! 2 days in a row... I must be on vacation! :) Actually, my "vacation" was cut short about 9:00 a.m. today when I had to make a run to court and then spent the rest of the day on a last-minute case. But what can I say... I love my job...
So anyway, here's an interesting post by Scot McKnight about what to invite people to instead of the sinner's prayer. Although he says and I agree that the good old sinner's prayer is effective and the right thing sometimes, I do remember so often when I was working at summer camp so long ago thinking that it felt just a bit empty when separated from all that is the Gospel. I mean, Jesus invites us to relationship, to a long journey of walking with him and living in step with the Spirit. He invites us to be a part of his desire and plan to transform the world through the power of Jesus Christ. Confessing sins and "accepting Christ" is a step, but it's just one. There is so much more to living life with the Eternal One.
How do you describe the process of faith when you're talking about it with your friends?
So anyway, here's an interesting post by Scot McKnight about what to invite people to instead of the sinner's prayer. Although he says and I agree that the good old sinner's prayer is effective and the right thing sometimes, I do remember so often when I was working at summer camp so long ago thinking that it felt just a bit empty when separated from all that is the Gospel. I mean, Jesus invites us to relationship, to a long journey of walking with him and living in step with the Spirit. He invites us to be a part of his desire and plan to transform the world through the power of Jesus Christ. Confessing sins and "accepting Christ" is a step, but it's just one. There is so much more to living life with the Eternal One.
How do you describe the process of faith when you're talking about it with your friends?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
of golden calves and certainty
“Those who believe they believe in God but without passion in the heart, without anguish of the mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.” Madeline L'Engle
Sometimes I think that when we are talking about God or inviting others to get to know him, we communicate that we are certain about what we believe. We communicate that we know who God is (and that maybe no one else does). We communicate that we know the boundaries of God's character, we can predict his actions, and we know why he does what he does. And in doing this, we give the impression that, in order to choose to follow Christ, they must be certain of all these things too.
This goes back to the question about what we are inviting people into when we invite them to faith. Are we inviting people to believe in the idea of God, or are we inviting them to a relationship with a God who is mysterious, unpredictable, and a wholly separate being whom we can't control and will only ever incompletely understand?
It is such an innately human thing to create an image of God in our minds. I am always struck by this when reading the story of Israel, and how multiple times they created idols and introduced them as Yahweh - the God who brought them out of Egypt. Why did they do that? What is it about having a smaller picture of God that is so attractive to us as humans? Why do we want to feel like we can control him or define him or put him in a corner and forget about him?
But when we realize that he is alive, active, creative, and wholly other, we are forced to relate to him as a separate being. Knowing him and relating to him that way forces us to change how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. I think this is a good thing. This is the kind of relationship with God that I want to be inviting people into.
Sometimes I think that when we are talking about God or inviting others to get to know him, we communicate that we are certain about what we believe. We communicate that we know who God is (and that maybe no one else does). We communicate that we know the boundaries of God's character, we can predict his actions, and we know why he does what he does. And in doing this, we give the impression that, in order to choose to follow Christ, they must be certain of all these things too.
This goes back to the question about what we are inviting people into when we invite them to faith. Are we inviting people to believe in the idea of God, or are we inviting them to a relationship with a God who is mysterious, unpredictable, and a wholly separate being whom we can't control and will only ever incompletely understand?
It is such an innately human thing to create an image of God in our minds. I am always struck by this when reading the story of Israel, and how multiple times they created idols and introduced them as Yahweh - the God who brought them out of Egypt. Why did they do that? What is it about having a smaller picture of God that is so attractive to us as humans? Why do we want to feel like we can control him or define him or put him in a corner and forget about him?
But when we realize that he is alive, active, creative, and wholly other, we are forced to relate to him as a separate being. Knowing him and relating to him that way forces us to change how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. I think this is a good thing. This is the kind of relationship with God that I want to be inviting people into.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Can we take this evangelism discussion to a deeper level?
I just finished reading this blog post -- 7 tips for talking with your neighbors about Jesus. The tips are actually fairly close to a list I might make myself, but they barely scrape the surface of what each of those things might look like in real life.
And as I was reading the overall story, I've got to be honest... I was really frustrated. What frustrated me was that I don't think that this pastor's experience with his neighbor is really normal for the regular Christian on the street. Is it normal that you'd have a couple of conversations around the building, then go hang out watching a ballgame, and then invite someone to church, and then find that the person has suddenly decided to follow Jesus?
Really? Because it hasn't been normal in my world. Maybe once out of 100 people--or maybe once out of 1000. But what do you do when you invite someone to church and they say no? What happens if you bring up spiritual things and the guy looks at you like you're crazy? How do you handle it if the guy starts avoiding you every time he sees you in the hallway?
And what if he goes to church with you, hears the gospel preached powerfully, and still has questions about God and about faith? What if he says, "I just don't see how God could send people to hell," or something about how all Christians are hypocrites? Do you send the guy to your pastor? Or is there something that you should be doing or saying yourself?
And what if you're not a pastor, you haven't had all that training about how to talk about Jesus or answer a person's questions about Jesus or put the whole big story together? What do you do then? How do you direct a conversation to Jesus?
I don't want to make evangelism more complicated than it is, because really I do believe that it is all about building relationships with people and walking through life with them. I believe it's listening and story-telling in natural and strategic ways. But I really think we do a disservice to followers of Jesus and to those who don't follow Jesus by just giving church people a simple seven-step list and sending them off to figure out how to put it into practice.
If we want people within our churches to be thoughtfully and carefully and effectively talking with others about Jesus, then we need to walk beside them as they figure out what that looks like in their own life situations. We need to provide resources and training. We need to challenge them to befriend others for the long haul. We need to be talking about barriers to faith--rational, spiritual, and emotional. We need to be equipping people to do the work of evangelism, even if it takes 3 years instead of a couple of months.
At least, that's what I think... so that's what we're doing here, on this blog, and in my community. I'd be thrilled if we could take this discussion to a broader community.
And as I was reading the overall story, I've got to be honest... I was really frustrated. What frustrated me was that I don't think that this pastor's experience with his neighbor is really normal for the regular Christian on the street. Is it normal that you'd have a couple of conversations around the building, then go hang out watching a ballgame, and then invite someone to church, and then find that the person has suddenly decided to follow Jesus?
Really? Because it hasn't been normal in my world. Maybe once out of 100 people--or maybe once out of 1000. But what do you do when you invite someone to church and they say no? What happens if you bring up spiritual things and the guy looks at you like you're crazy? How do you handle it if the guy starts avoiding you every time he sees you in the hallway?
And what if he goes to church with you, hears the gospel preached powerfully, and still has questions about God and about faith? What if he says, "I just don't see how God could send people to hell," or something about how all Christians are hypocrites? Do you send the guy to your pastor? Or is there something that you should be doing or saying yourself?
And what if you're not a pastor, you haven't had all that training about how to talk about Jesus or answer a person's questions about Jesus or put the whole big story together? What do you do then? How do you direct a conversation to Jesus?
I don't want to make evangelism more complicated than it is, because really I do believe that it is all about building relationships with people and walking through life with them. I believe it's listening and story-telling in natural and strategic ways. But I really think we do a disservice to followers of Jesus and to those who don't follow Jesus by just giving church people a simple seven-step list and sending them off to figure out how to put it into practice.
If we want people within our churches to be thoughtfully and carefully and effectively talking with others about Jesus, then we need to walk beside them as they figure out what that looks like in their own life situations. We need to provide resources and training. We need to challenge them to befriend others for the long haul. We need to be talking about barriers to faith--rational, spiritual, and emotional. We need to be equipping people to do the work of evangelism, even if it takes 3 years instead of a couple of months.
At least, that's what I think... so that's what we're doing here, on this blog, and in my community. I'd be thrilled if we could take this discussion to a broader community.
Friday, January 6, 2012
a crock-pot evangelist
I have a really good friend who is incredibly outgoing. She can be walking the dog in the park, and she can have conversations with 10 different people in 30 minutes. And in those conversations, she can get to the deepest longings of the person's heart. For example, just today she got a guy talking about his recent divorce, how much he is hurting, and how much her dog reminds him of his dogs who now live with the ex-wife. She consistently is able to bring conversations like that to a spiritual level where she's able to share a little bit about who God is and the kind of abundant life he offers to all who follow him. In 30 seconds she gets people talking and within 10, she's sharing deeply. She's like a microwave oven--just pop it in and 30 seconds later it's all done.
I'm not that girl. I hate talking to strangers, except in the very rare situation where they're coming onto my turf and I see myself in the role of hostess, and then it's ok. Then I can make them feel welcome and comfortable. Other than that, I really don't like to talk to people I don't know.
I used to wish that I could be her. I used to wish that I could turn into someone who could just walk up to someone and get them talking about deep things until I had the opportunity to share about Jesus. But I'm not that girl, and I'm never going to be.
One of the most freeing and amazing things has been for me to realize over the past few years that God made me who I am on purpose. I have particular inclinations and gifts and abilities that he's given me. When I walk in those things prayerfully and am sensitive to those who are in my world around me, I have found that I have all kinds of opportunities to build relationships. And these relationships are deeper and wider than just conversations about faith. These are real people who've become my real friends and with whom I am able to share in tiny pieces over a long period of time. These are people who invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner and hang out with me on weekends and who come to my dad's funeral. These are people who are getting to know the real me--all the different quirks and passions and interests that I have. These people are my friends.
I consider it an incredible privilege to share about my experiences with God with them. But I also consider it an incredible privilege to share life with them. The heart-to-heart conversation my friend has in 5 minutes takes me 3 years and 500 conversations to get to. This is the kind of girl that I am. And that is my style of evangelism. I'm a crock-pot evangelist.
So... what about you? Are you a microwave or a crock-pot evangelist?
I'm not sure that it really matters, except maybe it matters that you know that it's ok to be either. God can use both because he created both, and different people need different types of conversations at different times in their lives. What does matter is being open and available and prayerful about the people in our lives, so that we can always be ready to answer for the hope that we have inside.
I'm not that girl. I hate talking to strangers, except in the very rare situation where they're coming onto my turf and I see myself in the role of hostess, and then it's ok. Then I can make them feel welcome and comfortable. Other than that, I really don't like to talk to people I don't know.
I used to wish that I could be her. I used to wish that I could turn into someone who could just walk up to someone and get them talking about deep things until I had the opportunity to share about Jesus. But I'm not that girl, and I'm never going to be.
One of the most freeing and amazing things has been for me to realize over the past few years that God made me who I am on purpose. I have particular inclinations and gifts and abilities that he's given me. When I walk in those things prayerfully and am sensitive to those who are in my world around me, I have found that I have all kinds of opportunities to build relationships. And these relationships are deeper and wider than just conversations about faith. These are real people who've become my real friends and with whom I am able to share in tiny pieces over a long period of time. These are people who invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner and hang out with me on weekends and who come to my dad's funeral. These are people who are getting to know the real me--all the different quirks and passions and interests that I have. These people are my friends.
I consider it an incredible privilege to share about my experiences with God with them. But I also consider it an incredible privilege to share life with them. The heart-to-heart conversation my friend has in 5 minutes takes me 3 years and 500 conversations to get to. This is the kind of girl that I am. And that is my style of evangelism. I'm a crock-pot evangelist.
So... what about you? Are you a microwave or a crock-pot evangelist?
I'm not sure that it really matters, except maybe it matters that you know that it's ok to be either. God can use both because he created both, and different people need different types of conversations at different times in their lives. What does matter is being open and available and prayerful about the people in our lives, so that we can always be ready to answer for the hope that we have inside.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
In your face
So there's been some buzz this week about an SNL sketch about Tim Tebow and an exchange he had with Jesus while in the locker room discussing his team's recent six-game winning streak. I've seen some headlines screaming that Christians are very offended by this sketch. And I'm sure that some are.
But what if, instead of being defensive about the doctrinal issues, we took this as an opportunity to listen to what people are saying about Christians and Christianity? What if we take this very clearly characaturized sketch of something that's going on in our world and see what nuggets of truth we might be able to find about how what we say and do looks and feels like to people who don't believe in Jesus?
So Tim is portrayed as a person who's overeager to please Jesus, and as someone who is really over the top in how he talks about his faith. In fact "in your face" is used to described the way that he prays to Jesus about everything.
So my question is, what is it that SNL is highlighting here, and how does that reflect the feelings and beliefs of many people who have Christians in their lives? What is it that we are doing that is annoying or frustrating to people? Is any of that legitimate--does it highlight places where even Jesus would not be pleased?
In the sketch, even Jesus thinks that Tim's worship and prayer is over the top. But if you look at the stories of Jesus in the New Testament, stories where Peter and Martha declare him to be the Messiah, or the place where the blind man falls on his face to worship Jesus, I don't think you can conclude that Tim's worship and prayer are too far over the top for someone who recognizes who Jesus is and wants to honor him.
But what about the question of the balance between public and private worship? There are tons of stories that Jesus told about the pharisees vs. regular people--about people who do their acts of worship before God alone vs. those who worship in order to be seen.
And that's really a question of heart, right? Of intentions. And looking at other people, we can't know what their purpose is. We can't really know what Tim is thinking. Maybe he is really just thankful for the gifts he's been given, and maybe his prayers are all about praying that God will help him to honor Jesus in everything he says and does while the spotlight is on him. Only God knows his heart.
But we can certainly take this opportunity to question our own motives. Why do we pray in public before meals? Why do we talk about church and the Bible? Why do we share those stories about who Jesus is and what he has done for us? How do we approach it--from a position of power or a position of humility? What are we communicating about Jesus, about God, and about ourselves by the way in which we engage in worship?
But what if, instead of being defensive about the doctrinal issues, we took this as an opportunity to listen to what people are saying about Christians and Christianity? What if we take this very clearly characaturized sketch of something that's going on in our world and see what nuggets of truth we might be able to find about how what we say and do looks and feels like to people who don't believe in Jesus?
So Tim is portrayed as a person who's overeager to please Jesus, and as someone who is really over the top in how he talks about his faith. In fact "in your face" is used to described the way that he prays to Jesus about everything.
So my question is, what is it that SNL is highlighting here, and how does that reflect the feelings and beliefs of many people who have Christians in their lives? What is it that we are doing that is annoying or frustrating to people? Is any of that legitimate--does it highlight places where even Jesus would not be pleased?
In the sketch, even Jesus thinks that Tim's worship and prayer is over the top. But if you look at the stories of Jesus in the New Testament, stories where Peter and Martha declare him to be the Messiah, or the place where the blind man falls on his face to worship Jesus, I don't think you can conclude that Tim's worship and prayer are too far over the top for someone who recognizes who Jesus is and wants to honor him.
But what about the question of the balance between public and private worship? There are tons of stories that Jesus told about the pharisees vs. regular people--about people who do their acts of worship before God alone vs. those who worship in order to be seen.
And that's really a question of heart, right? Of intentions. And looking at other people, we can't know what their purpose is. We can't really know what Tim is thinking. Maybe he is really just thankful for the gifts he's been given, and maybe his prayers are all about praying that God will help him to honor Jesus in everything he says and does while the spotlight is on him. Only God knows his heart.
But we can certainly take this opportunity to question our own motives. Why do we pray in public before meals? Why do we talk about church and the Bible? Why do we share those stories about who Jesus is and what he has done for us? How do we approach it--from a position of power or a position of humility? What are we communicating about Jesus, about God, and about ourselves by the way in which we engage in worship?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Is sin a dirty word?
I have to admit that I don't like to talk about sin. It feels like that's connected to the idea of judgment--so if I talk about sin then I also have to identify sin in your life and then we have to have that conversation.
But I also have to admit that I have been thinking an awful lot lately about the consequences of sin. Because I have to live with them. And right now those consequences are so clear that they're unavoidable.
I'm talking about my dad's death, of course--death being the ultimate consequence of sin. Reading the stories of God, death is actually a gift from God. Can you imagine what life would be like if God had allowed a sinful people to eat from the tree of life and live eternally with sin ruling over us? That's not any kind of life, and it's not the kind of life I would hope to have. But still, there is something inherently wrong with death, something inherently not-good about it.
But it's more than that. I see how it separates me from other people too. I see how my own shame at my sin creates a desire to avoid intimacy--to avoid being known. I see how I sometimes deal with that by living out of an image of myself rather than out of my actual self. I see how my sinful acts hurt other people--when I speak out in anger or when I choose selfishness over giving to others. I see how different belief systems and worldviews and approaches to life make it almost impossible to walk beside people in life--even people that I actually like and want to spent time with.
So I can't deny that sin is real, that its consequences are real, and that ultimately it hurts both me and others in the way I would most wish to avoid. Sometimes I call this idea brokenness, but I could just as easily label it sin.
When talking about faith, I actually don't think that the topic of sin is such a bad place to start. I don't know a single person who hasn't experienced some of the consequences of sin. I don't know anyone who doesn't wish or hope for something better in the future.
And what my faith tells me, what I've learned and seen within my relationship with God, is that there is hope. Jesus conquered death by raising himself and others from the dead, showing that he also has the power to forgive sins and heal brokenness. And the most amazing thing is that we don't have to wait until death to see at least some of the results of that healing. Jesus wants to begin the process of restoration and healing right now. He longs to, through the Holy Spirit, show us how to live above that brokenness. Though he's not going to bring my dad back, and I have to wait for eternity to experience the restoration of that relationship, I can learn not to allow my shame to separate me from others. I can submit my heart and my choices to the leading of the Spirit, and through him, I can choose to say no to sin and avoid hurting other people. I can begin to live a life of reconciliation and restoration.
And that gives me hope, at least enough to walk into another day.
But I also have to admit that I have been thinking an awful lot lately about the consequences of sin. Because I have to live with them. And right now those consequences are so clear that they're unavoidable.
I'm talking about my dad's death, of course--death being the ultimate consequence of sin. Reading the stories of God, death is actually a gift from God. Can you imagine what life would be like if God had allowed a sinful people to eat from the tree of life and live eternally with sin ruling over us? That's not any kind of life, and it's not the kind of life I would hope to have. But still, there is something inherently wrong with death, something inherently not-good about it.
But it's more than that. I see how it separates me from other people too. I see how my own shame at my sin creates a desire to avoid intimacy--to avoid being known. I see how I sometimes deal with that by living out of an image of myself rather than out of my actual self. I see how my sinful acts hurt other people--when I speak out in anger or when I choose selfishness over giving to others. I see how different belief systems and worldviews and approaches to life make it almost impossible to walk beside people in life--even people that I actually like and want to spent time with.
So I can't deny that sin is real, that its consequences are real, and that ultimately it hurts both me and others in the way I would most wish to avoid. Sometimes I call this idea brokenness, but I could just as easily label it sin.
When talking about faith, I actually don't think that the topic of sin is such a bad place to start. I don't know a single person who hasn't experienced some of the consequences of sin. I don't know anyone who doesn't wish or hope for something better in the future.
And what my faith tells me, what I've learned and seen within my relationship with God, is that there is hope. Jesus conquered death by raising himself and others from the dead, showing that he also has the power to forgive sins and heal brokenness. And the most amazing thing is that we don't have to wait until death to see at least some of the results of that healing. Jesus wants to begin the process of restoration and healing right now. He longs to, through the Holy Spirit, show us how to live above that brokenness. Though he's not going to bring my dad back, and I have to wait for eternity to experience the restoration of that relationship, I can learn not to allow my shame to separate me from others. I can submit my heart and my choices to the leading of the Spirit, and through him, I can choose to say no to sin and avoid hurting other people. I can begin to live a life of reconciliation and restoration.
And that gives me hope, at least enough to walk into another day.
Monday, July 4, 2011
what I learned from stories of spiritual transformation
A couple of weekends ago I read an entire book of stories of people who were not followers of Jesus who then became followers of Jesus. I'm trying to understand more about what that looks like and how people go from spiritual death to spiritual life. I know that there are things about it that are not fully understandable, but I've only seen it happen 10-15 times. I wanted more information.
So as I was reading, I made a list of some of the things that the stories had in common and I thought that I'd list them here.
Prayer. Every single story referenced Christians who had been praying for the new believer's salvation. Every single one. I'm sure that not everyone who is prayed for ends up following Jesus, but it doesn't seem like it ever happens without prayer.
Loving engagement with Christians. All the stories also had the involvement of Christians who acted in love toward the new believers. Many times they were sharing life with each other, and many times the Christians asked thought-provoking questions to the new believers. Sometimes it was attending a church service where the interaction with Christians happened, but often the new believers met these Christians outside of church and didn't attend church at all before becoming followers of Jesus.
Engagement with Scripture. I think the woman who used to be an atheist said it best. She had been challenged to read the Bible. She had read parts of it years before, apparently, but she started reading it again, from the beginning. She said that as she was reading the Bible, "the Bible read me." The Holy Spirit is clearly involved with illuminating Scripture, and she was convicted and challenged and invited into relationship with Jesus.
Stories about transformation through Christ. For one person, the stories of how God had transformed others was the catalyst for that person's own willingness to seek transformation through Christ.
Dreams. This one didn't happen a lot, but for some people, dreams where Jesus appears and presents an invitation can be a very powerful and life-changing experience. This happens a lot in countries that are steeped in spiritual darkness or where there appears to be a lot of demonic activity. The reason I'm mentioning it is because I think it is sometimes a good thing to pray for--that Jesus will appear to someone in a dream.
I'm sure that I could've read a book that would've outlined all these things as "important steps" or "things you can do" to help people get to know Jesus. But the power for me of reading it in story form is that everyone's story is different. I don't think there's a set way of going about spiritual transformation. So much of it depends on the work of the Holy Spirit and where the person is at anyway. But I do think that there are some things that we can aim for - like praying for others, always acting in love toward people, telling stories about how Christ has transformed us, and introducing people to Scripture at an appropriate time.
So as I was reading, I made a list of some of the things that the stories had in common and I thought that I'd list them here.
Prayer. Every single story referenced Christians who had been praying for the new believer's salvation. Every single one. I'm sure that not everyone who is prayed for ends up following Jesus, but it doesn't seem like it ever happens without prayer.
Loving engagement with Christians. All the stories also had the involvement of Christians who acted in love toward the new believers. Many times they were sharing life with each other, and many times the Christians asked thought-provoking questions to the new believers. Sometimes it was attending a church service where the interaction with Christians happened, but often the new believers met these Christians outside of church and didn't attend church at all before becoming followers of Jesus.
Engagement with Scripture. I think the woman who used to be an atheist said it best. She had been challenged to read the Bible. She had read parts of it years before, apparently, but she started reading it again, from the beginning. She said that as she was reading the Bible, "the Bible read me." The Holy Spirit is clearly involved with illuminating Scripture, and she was convicted and challenged and invited into relationship with Jesus.
Stories about transformation through Christ. For one person, the stories of how God had transformed others was the catalyst for that person's own willingness to seek transformation through Christ.
Dreams. This one didn't happen a lot, but for some people, dreams where Jesus appears and presents an invitation can be a very powerful and life-changing experience. This happens a lot in countries that are steeped in spiritual darkness or where there appears to be a lot of demonic activity. The reason I'm mentioning it is because I think it is sometimes a good thing to pray for--that Jesus will appear to someone in a dream.
I'm sure that I could've read a book that would've outlined all these things as "important steps" or "things you can do" to help people get to know Jesus. But the power for me of reading it in story form is that everyone's story is different. I don't think there's a set way of going about spiritual transformation. So much of it depends on the work of the Holy Spirit and where the person is at anyway. But I do think that there are some things that we can aim for - like praying for others, always acting in love toward people, telling stories about how Christ has transformed us, and introducing people to Scripture at an appropriate time.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
another conversation about goodness
Here's an interesting blog post from a guy in New Zealand who was part of a Christian/Atheist debate/discussion. I thought it was interesting in light of my recent post about the problem of goodness. It's a little more abstract and theoretical than my own discussion, but there's some interesting stuff there.
I will reiterate again that I'm not so sure about how truly useful conversations like this are at an everyday level. Either my life reflects goodness or it doesn't. We can talk about it all we want, but what we say and what we talk about is never as important as how we're living in real life.
But I have to admit that he's right - the Christian story talks about a God who is good. And And I wholeheartedly agree that the story (which he calls a script) demands that Christians do what we can to conform to that goodness (although we often fail).
I will reiterate again that I'm not so sure about how truly useful conversations like this are at an everyday level. Either my life reflects goodness or it doesn't. We can talk about it all we want, but what we say and what we talk about is never as important as how we're living in real life.
But I have to admit that he's right - the Christian story talks about a God who is good. And And I wholeheartedly agree that the story (which he calls a script) demands that Christians do what we can to conform to that goodness (although we often fail).
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The problem of goodness
One of the biggest emotional barriers to faith that some people have is the problem of goodness--goodness being found in people who are not Christians, the absence of goodness in some Christians, and a person's own goodness without Christ.
I'm sure there's a theological argument to be made here about original sin and how "there is no one good, no not one," and "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." But on the ground, the problem of goodness is a real problem. Many Christians are not living in a way that allows or invites Jesus to transform them. None of us Christians does that perfectly. There is much goodness in the world that comes from people who don't know Jesus.
It's tempting to talk about goodness at that level--to leave it safely there as an abstract discussion about where goodness comes from. In that context, I would argue that not-good Christians are not truly following Christ. I would argue that there is inherent goodness in all creation, and especially in people because we are created in God's image. There is never so powerful an illustration of this for me than when I am working in prisons with murderers--there is goodness and value even in them because they are made in God's image and still reflect a part of him, though in a way that is desperately marred.
But when I think about this issue in terms of conversations about faith, I think there's another place to consider going. I think I could tell the story about the rich man who met Jesus and then went away sad. Basically, this man comes up to Jesus and he has the guts to say to him, "Jesus, I'm good. I've been doing good things all my life. I've followed all the rules God gave, better than anyone else. What else do I have to do to have eternal life?"
I wonder if he really thought there was something else he needed to do, or if he wanted to be patted on the back for his ability to live above reproach. I'm wondering if he was asking Jesus what he was offering that was so different than what the man already had.
Then Jesus looked at the man and said, "There's just one thing that stands in your way. Sell everything you have & give it to the poor and then come and follow me."
I think in the church we focus a lot of the time on the selling everything you have part because it makes us uncomfortable. We want to explain and excuse our own materialism so we rarely look beyond that to the invitation that Jesus gave. But I think the most important part of that story is the invitation to follow Jesus--to be in relationship with him.
Jesus always looked deeper than a person's externals. He looked beyond whether someone followed the rules. He looked past what a person said or did to their hearts. He invited people into something more--a transformation of the very motivations and attitudes of the heart. Jesus wanted--he still wants--something deeper than mere external goodness. He wants to free us from the bondage of self-satisfaction and pride and the need to strive to live up to an image we project or a standard that we have set.
And oh, that kind of walking with Jesus is so much harder. It's so easy to check things off a list. It's so great to have the 10 commandments and a list of good things to do and be able to cross those things off every night. It's so much harder to hold your desires, attitudes, and motivations up to the light and invite Jesus into them to transform them into something that will always be life-giving and sacrificial and good and just and pure.
For the rich young man, Jesus was asking too much. That man went away sad, choosing not to follow.
I think a lot of us follow that man on his journey away from Jesus. To the Christians who do, I would beg you to change your mind or to drop the name of Christian--you are damaging Jesus's reputation in the world. Your striving for goodness is no different than the rest of the world's, and we humans are so complex with so many selfish motives and desires that we destroy the good we try to do. And to those of you who have never claimed or even desired to follow Jesus, I would merely want to say that, although painful and difficult, the process of examination and transformation into the image of Christ is worth every drop of sweat and tears; it is worth every sacrifice. To be able to let go of striving for goodness and perfection, to be able to rest in the grace and power of Jesus to transform, to be able to walk in relationship with One who loves extravagantly and completely... it is freedom. It is peace and joy in the midst of trials. It is contentment with life in all of its up and downs. It is knowing that you are loved by the One you have given your life to. It is life with the Eternal One, right now.
I'm sure there's a theological argument to be made here about original sin and how "there is no one good, no not one," and "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." But on the ground, the problem of goodness is a real problem. Many Christians are not living in a way that allows or invites Jesus to transform them. None of us Christians does that perfectly. There is much goodness in the world that comes from people who don't know Jesus.
It's tempting to talk about goodness at that level--to leave it safely there as an abstract discussion about where goodness comes from. In that context, I would argue that not-good Christians are not truly following Christ. I would argue that there is inherent goodness in all creation, and especially in people because we are created in God's image. There is never so powerful an illustration of this for me than when I am working in prisons with murderers--there is goodness and value even in them because they are made in God's image and still reflect a part of him, though in a way that is desperately marred.
But when I think about this issue in terms of conversations about faith, I think there's another place to consider going. I think I could tell the story about the rich man who met Jesus and then went away sad. Basically, this man comes up to Jesus and he has the guts to say to him, "Jesus, I'm good. I've been doing good things all my life. I've followed all the rules God gave, better than anyone else. What else do I have to do to have eternal life?"
I wonder if he really thought there was something else he needed to do, or if he wanted to be patted on the back for his ability to live above reproach. I'm wondering if he was asking Jesus what he was offering that was so different than what the man already had.
Then Jesus looked at the man and said, "There's just one thing that stands in your way. Sell everything you have & give it to the poor and then come and follow me."
I think in the church we focus a lot of the time on the selling everything you have part because it makes us uncomfortable. We want to explain and excuse our own materialism so we rarely look beyond that to the invitation that Jesus gave. But I think the most important part of that story is the invitation to follow Jesus--to be in relationship with him.
Jesus always looked deeper than a person's externals. He looked beyond whether someone followed the rules. He looked past what a person said or did to their hearts. He invited people into something more--a transformation of the very motivations and attitudes of the heart. Jesus wanted--he still wants--something deeper than mere external goodness. He wants to free us from the bondage of self-satisfaction and pride and the need to strive to live up to an image we project or a standard that we have set.
And oh, that kind of walking with Jesus is so much harder. It's so easy to check things off a list. It's so great to have the 10 commandments and a list of good things to do and be able to cross those things off every night. It's so much harder to hold your desires, attitudes, and motivations up to the light and invite Jesus into them to transform them into something that will always be life-giving and sacrificial and good and just and pure.
For the rich young man, Jesus was asking too much. That man went away sad, choosing not to follow.
I think a lot of us follow that man on his journey away from Jesus. To the Christians who do, I would beg you to change your mind or to drop the name of Christian--you are damaging Jesus's reputation in the world. Your striving for goodness is no different than the rest of the world's, and we humans are so complex with so many selfish motives and desires that we destroy the good we try to do. And to those of you who have never claimed or even desired to follow Jesus, I would merely want to say that, although painful and difficult, the process of examination and transformation into the image of Christ is worth every drop of sweat and tears; it is worth every sacrifice. To be able to let go of striving for goodness and perfection, to be able to rest in the grace and power of Jesus to transform, to be able to walk in relationship with One who loves extravagantly and completely... it is freedom. It is peace and joy in the midst of trials. It is contentment with life in all of its up and downs. It is knowing that you are loved by the One you have given your life to. It is life with the Eternal One, right now.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Cloven Viscount
One of the challenges of sharing the story of God is knowing where to start. In my experience, in today's culture there doesn't seem to be much question that the world is broken or even that we ourselves are broken. But I've been talking recently to someone who's probably philosophically a secular humanist. From our conversations so far, this seems to impact her view of her own brokenness and the brokenness of the world. I have been trying to think of meaningful ways to illustrate or bring up the question of what is broken and if there's a way to fix it. I'm interested to hear her opinions about that and I'm curious to know whether she has a desire for redemption and restoration of all things, or whether she just thinks that we're stuck with things the way they are. I'm curious to know how far she thinks that humanity can take fixing the world on its own.
So this weekend I read a book a friend lent me about a man who was cut in half by a cannon and he was running around in the world in 2 pieces--one good and one bad. Here's what the man had to say about his experience:
The bad half said:
“If only I could halve every whole thing like this,” said my uncle, lying face down on the rocks, stroking the convulsive half of an octopus, “so that everyone could escape from his obtuse and ignorant wholeness. I was whole and all things were natural and confused me, stupid as the air; I thought I was seeing all and it was only the outside rind. If you ever become half of yourself, and I hope you do for your own sake, my boy, you’ll understand things beyond the common intelligence of brains that are whole. You’ll have lost half of yourself and of the world, but the remaining half will be a thousand times deeper and more precious. And you too would find yourself wanting everything to be halved like yourself, because beauty and knowledge and justice only exists in what has been cut to shreds.” (pp 191-192)
A little later on, the good half described his experience:
Then the good Medardo said, “Oh, Pamela, that’s the good thing about being halved. One understands the sorrow of every person and thing in the world at its own incompleteness. I was whole and did not understand, and moved about deaf and unfeeling amid the pain and sorrow all round us, in places where as a whole person one would least think to find it. It’s not only me, Pamela, who am a split being, but you and everyone else too. Now I have a fellowship which I did not understand, did not know before, when whole, a fellowship with all the mutilated and incomplete things in the world. If you come with me, Pamela, you’ll learn to suffer with everyone’s ills, and tend your own by tending theirs. (p 217)
Eventually, after a sword fight with himself, he gets patched back together and becomes a whole person again. This is how the author described that:
So my uncle Medardo became a whole man again, neither good nor bad, but a mixture of goodness and badness, that is, apparently not dissimilar to what he had been before the halving. But having had the experience of both halves each on its own, he was bound to be wise. He had a happy life, many children and a just rule. Our life too changed for the better. Some might expect that with the Viscount entire again, a period of marvelous happiness would open, but obviously a whole Viscount is not enough to make the whole world whole. (245)
Quotes taken from Italo Calvino, The Nonexistent Knight and The Cloven Viscount (trans. by Archibald Colquhoun) (Harcourt 1962).
I think there's so much to this story that I could use as a foundation for a conversation. I deeply connected with what the two halves of the viscount said about life. What I would like to ask my friend is how she felt about the two statements. I would like to ask her whether they match with her understanding of the world. Does she feel that things are broken? Has she ever gone through a time when she began to see that, to identify with pain and suffering of others? And finally, I'd like to talk with her about whether she sees that there's any way to overcome that. Once recognizing the brokenness of self and the world around, what can be done?
I don't know that this would lead to the kind of conversation I'd be hoping for, but I think it presents an opportunity. Sometimes I tell my own stories as a foundation for dialogue. Sometimes I tell God's stories from the Bible. But lots of times I am looking around at the world and seeing something profound or interesting and trying to figure out how to use that as a starting point to listen to another's beliefs and approach to the world. Who knows what, after listening and connecting and relating, I might have the opportunity to share?
Because for me, following Christ is a little bit like that viscount's story. Before Christ, I walked around thinking that I was whole and seeing the world incompletely. But after surrendering my rights and my identity, I could see things more clearly - I could see the brokenness of the world, I could see the brokenness of myself, I had more compassion and understanding. And it's only in recognizing that brokenness and surrendering to the ministry of the doctor that I can be made whole again. It's not a wholeness that will save the whole world, but if God can recreate and restore me to wholeness, then I think he is also doing that with the world. And I want to be part of that.
In the bad half's statement, I also see echos of what it is like to lose your life to Christ--what it is like to give up everything. Jesus said that to find our life we must lose it for his sake, and that's what I hear in the bad half's statements. Even though it doesn't make sense, it's been my experience that when I voluntarily give up my rights and surrender my choices to Jesus, I live life in a more fulfilled and deeper and more meaningful way than I ever did when I was living a whole life all for myself.
So I don't know... it's an idea. We'll see if it ever makes it into a conversation with my friend or anyone else. But I connected with the story so deeply, I think that it probably will.
So this weekend I read a book a friend lent me about a man who was cut in half by a cannon and he was running around in the world in 2 pieces--one good and one bad. Here's what the man had to say about his experience:
The bad half said:
“If only I could halve every whole thing like this,” said my uncle, lying face down on the rocks, stroking the convulsive half of an octopus, “so that everyone could escape from his obtuse and ignorant wholeness. I was whole and all things were natural and confused me, stupid as the air; I thought I was seeing all and it was only the outside rind. If you ever become half of yourself, and I hope you do for your own sake, my boy, you’ll understand things beyond the common intelligence of brains that are whole. You’ll have lost half of yourself and of the world, but the remaining half will be a thousand times deeper and more precious. And you too would find yourself wanting everything to be halved like yourself, because beauty and knowledge and justice only exists in what has been cut to shreds.” (pp 191-192)
A little later on, the good half described his experience:
Then the good Medardo said, “Oh, Pamela, that’s the good thing about being halved. One understands the sorrow of every person and thing in the world at its own incompleteness. I was whole and did not understand, and moved about deaf and unfeeling amid the pain and sorrow all round us, in places where as a whole person one would least think to find it. It’s not only me, Pamela, who am a split being, but you and everyone else too. Now I have a fellowship which I did not understand, did not know before, when whole, a fellowship with all the mutilated and incomplete things in the world. If you come with me, Pamela, you’ll learn to suffer with everyone’s ills, and tend your own by tending theirs. (p 217)
Eventually, after a sword fight with himself, he gets patched back together and becomes a whole person again. This is how the author described that:
So my uncle Medardo became a whole man again, neither good nor bad, but a mixture of goodness and badness, that is, apparently not dissimilar to what he had been before the halving. But having had the experience of both halves each on its own, he was bound to be wise. He had a happy life, many children and a just rule. Our life too changed for the better. Some might expect that with the Viscount entire again, a period of marvelous happiness would open, but obviously a whole Viscount is not enough to make the whole world whole. (245)
Quotes taken from Italo Calvino, The Nonexistent Knight and The Cloven Viscount (trans. by Archibald Colquhoun) (Harcourt 1962).
I think there's so much to this story that I could use as a foundation for a conversation. I deeply connected with what the two halves of the viscount said about life. What I would like to ask my friend is how she felt about the two statements. I would like to ask her whether they match with her understanding of the world. Does she feel that things are broken? Has she ever gone through a time when she began to see that, to identify with pain and suffering of others? And finally, I'd like to talk with her about whether she sees that there's any way to overcome that. Once recognizing the brokenness of self and the world around, what can be done?
I don't know that this would lead to the kind of conversation I'd be hoping for, but I think it presents an opportunity. Sometimes I tell my own stories as a foundation for dialogue. Sometimes I tell God's stories from the Bible. But lots of times I am looking around at the world and seeing something profound or interesting and trying to figure out how to use that as a starting point to listen to another's beliefs and approach to the world. Who knows what, after listening and connecting and relating, I might have the opportunity to share?
Because for me, following Christ is a little bit like that viscount's story. Before Christ, I walked around thinking that I was whole and seeing the world incompletely. But after surrendering my rights and my identity, I could see things more clearly - I could see the brokenness of the world, I could see the brokenness of myself, I had more compassion and understanding. And it's only in recognizing that brokenness and surrendering to the ministry of the doctor that I can be made whole again. It's not a wholeness that will save the whole world, but if God can recreate and restore me to wholeness, then I think he is also doing that with the world. And I want to be part of that.
In the bad half's statement, I also see echos of what it is like to lose your life to Christ--what it is like to give up everything. Jesus said that to find our life we must lose it for his sake, and that's what I hear in the bad half's statements. Even though it doesn't make sense, it's been my experience that when I voluntarily give up my rights and surrender my choices to Jesus, I live life in a more fulfilled and deeper and more meaningful way than I ever did when I was living a whole life all for myself.
So I don't know... it's an idea. We'll see if it ever makes it into a conversation with my friend or anyone else. But I connected with the story so deeply, I think that it probably will.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
A prayer for the church
If there's one thing we can't escape as Christians it's that how we live and what we say affects how people view God. God kinda set it up that way with his people long ago, calling first Israel and then the church to be his image-bearers and ambassadors in the world. I so often wonder why he did that as I think we often end up preventing people from having a fair chance of seeing God for who he is.
When this image-bearing goes right, it can be a really powerful thing. You can have people who don't even believe in God questioning their beliefs or at least willing to talk with you about the possibility of God's existence. When we live like Jesus and love and serve and protect and sacrifice and love and love and love, people can be drawn first to us and then to him.
But when it goes wrong, it goes really wrong. It devastates a person's desire or ability to seek God or to follow him. It creates animosity. It creates barriers. And over time, the wealth of injuries the institutional church has caused to humanity's ability to see God is overwhelming. It seems like it's impossible to get over.
I had a conversation with my atheist friend yesterday--a really long conversation and I'll probably have post after post of things to say as I process the conversation. But this is the first of many things that sticks out to me. His objections to God are actually objections to the God that the church has preached through her actions and through her words. It's not the God that I know or run after. But I find it overwhelming and nearly impossible to think of how to overcome all that history of all of us Christians who have lived lives aimed at having as little pain as possible and protecting ourselves from what we perceive as the taint of the world.
God, we have failed you. We have put our need for comfort and safety above all things. We have so often been filled with a passion to preach or convert but not to love or to serve or to sacrifice. We have not cared about justice. We have not loved the outcast or outsider. We have wanted our own place in society to be preserved at the cost of inviting and sharing and being hospitable. We have been threatened by people who believe differently. We have allowed race and social class to divide us. We have been like the pharisees instead of like the fishermen. God, transform us, the church. Make us over in your image and in your likeness so that we can be the picture that we are supposed to be of who you are and what you care about.
When this image-bearing goes right, it can be a really powerful thing. You can have people who don't even believe in God questioning their beliefs or at least willing to talk with you about the possibility of God's existence. When we live like Jesus and love and serve and protect and sacrifice and love and love and love, people can be drawn first to us and then to him.
But when it goes wrong, it goes really wrong. It devastates a person's desire or ability to seek God or to follow him. It creates animosity. It creates barriers. And over time, the wealth of injuries the institutional church has caused to humanity's ability to see God is overwhelming. It seems like it's impossible to get over.
I had a conversation with my atheist friend yesterday--a really long conversation and I'll probably have post after post of things to say as I process the conversation. But this is the first of many things that sticks out to me. His objections to God are actually objections to the God that the church has preached through her actions and through her words. It's not the God that I know or run after. But I find it overwhelming and nearly impossible to think of how to overcome all that history of all of us Christians who have lived lives aimed at having as little pain as possible and protecting ourselves from what we perceive as the taint of the world.
God, we have failed you. We have put our need for comfort and safety above all things. We have so often been filled with a passion to preach or convert but not to love or to serve or to sacrifice. We have not cared about justice. We have not loved the outcast or outsider. We have wanted our own place in society to be preserved at the cost of inviting and sharing and being hospitable. We have been threatened by people who believe differently. We have allowed race and social class to divide us. We have been like the pharisees instead of like the fishermen. God, transform us, the church. Make us over in your image and in your likeness so that we can be the picture that we are supposed to be of who you are and what you care about.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Preparing to share...
I've been working on formulating the story of my whole spiritual life to share with a friend who considers himself an atheist this weekend. I am very much looking forward to the discussion--both to sharing my own story and listening to his. But it's different than sharing with anyone I've talked to before. Most of the people I have known in the past have had some sort of religious experience or position. It's somewhat intimidating to think of sharing with someone who doesn't share even the basic assumption that there is a God in the universe.
I mean, how can I explain why I've done the things I've done? How do I explain how I've interacted with God? How can I explain that I sense God leading me to do certain things at certain times? How can I explain what a relationship with an invisible God looks and feels like?
I think it's really important to share my struggles with God over the years. I think it's important to be honest about the questions I've had and the questions I still have. I think I have to own my doubts and my issues and my fears and my frustrations. I think it's important that I don't pretend that I have all the answers--because I don't.
It kind of has me wondering though--what's the core of this whole relationship-with-God thing? What is the most important thing to communicate about it? I know that I don't have to take responsibility for presenting God in a certain kind of light--he's God and he can defend his own honor. But I don't want my own human questions and frustrations to get in the way.
I've done the preparation of thinking through my journey and the spiritual signposts along the way. I've thought through the major events of my life, spiritually and otherwise. Now I'm simply praying that when I describe my life and what I perceive as God's interactions with me, God will be able to speak through me. And I'm praying that I'll be able to hear his questions and objections with a humble and loving spirit.
It's such an amazing gift to have friends like him and to have the opportunity to share so deeply from my heart. If you're reading, I hope you'll pray with me, that the Spirit will lead and guide and be present in our interaction. If he doesn't mind, I'll try to debrief the convo afterward here.
I mean, how can I explain why I've done the things I've done? How do I explain how I've interacted with God? How can I explain that I sense God leading me to do certain things at certain times? How can I explain what a relationship with an invisible God looks and feels like?
I think it's really important to share my struggles with God over the years. I think it's important to be honest about the questions I've had and the questions I still have. I think I have to own my doubts and my issues and my fears and my frustrations. I think it's important that I don't pretend that I have all the answers--because I don't.
It kind of has me wondering though--what's the core of this whole relationship-with-God thing? What is the most important thing to communicate about it? I know that I don't have to take responsibility for presenting God in a certain kind of light--he's God and he can defend his own honor. But I don't want my own human questions and frustrations to get in the way.
I've done the preparation of thinking through my journey and the spiritual signposts along the way. I've thought through the major events of my life, spiritually and otherwise. Now I'm simply praying that when I describe my life and what I perceive as God's interactions with me, God will be able to speak through me. And I'm praying that I'll be able to hear his questions and objections with a humble and loving spirit.
It's such an amazing gift to have friends like him and to have the opportunity to share so deeply from my heart. If you're reading, I hope you'll pray with me, that the Spirit will lead and guide and be present in our interaction. If he doesn't mind, I'll try to debrief the convo afterward here.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
on blogging
I had a conversation with a friend a couple of days ago that reminded me how careful I need to be when I am using language to describe my perception of reality.
This blog is an attempt to observe and describe my reality, particularly as it relates to having spiritual conversations in everyday life. But in order to do that, I find myself having to draw bright lines around categories of people - people who are "outside the church" or who are "post-Christian" or who are "unbelievers." The very need to label and categorize people is counter-cultural and makes me very uncomfortable.
Yet I find that in order to share what's going on and to analyze what's happening and to perhaps suggest some things that might "work" or have a positive effect in the real world, I have to do it. But I'm always afraid that I'm going to violate the privacy or trust of someone I love.
So I find myself walking a very thin line. I want to be able to talk about what's going on in my world because I think that the successes and mistakes can be instructive for my future actions and those of anyone who might be reading the blog who cares about the same things I do. But things said on a blog can't really be erased and there could be a few people reading who come to their own conclusions about what's being said without ever asking for clarification.
I guess what I'm saying is that I realize that this medium lends itself to conversation without relationship. Part of my hesitancy in writing the last month has been trying to balance that. I don't want to alienate the people I care about by what I might flippantly say on here. And no matter how carefully I word things, it's still possible to say something the wrong way.
And I guess what I'm asking is that if you're reading this and you're a friend of mine, then I'd like for this to be a dialogue instead of a one-way conversation. I actually want to know what effect my words might be having and I want to be able to clarify if I haven't been as careful or as precise as I should have been. I really don't want to alienate people or make friendships impossible because of how I speak about what I observe and experience.
This blog is an attempt to observe and describe my reality, particularly as it relates to having spiritual conversations in everyday life. But in order to do that, I find myself having to draw bright lines around categories of people - people who are "outside the church" or who are "post-Christian" or who are "unbelievers." The very need to label and categorize people is counter-cultural and makes me very uncomfortable.
Yet I find that in order to share what's going on and to analyze what's happening and to perhaps suggest some things that might "work" or have a positive effect in the real world, I have to do it. But I'm always afraid that I'm going to violate the privacy or trust of someone I love.
So I find myself walking a very thin line. I want to be able to talk about what's going on in my world because I think that the successes and mistakes can be instructive for my future actions and those of anyone who might be reading the blog who cares about the same things I do. But things said on a blog can't really be erased and there could be a few people reading who come to their own conclusions about what's being said without ever asking for clarification.
I guess what I'm saying is that I realize that this medium lends itself to conversation without relationship. Part of my hesitancy in writing the last month has been trying to balance that. I don't want to alienate the people I care about by what I might flippantly say on here. And no matter how carefully I word things, it's still possible to say something the wrong way.
And I guess what I'm asking is that if you're reading this and you're a friend of mine, then I'd like for this to be a dialogue instead of a one-way conversation. I actually want to know what effect my words might be having and I want to be able to clarify if I haven't been as careful or as precise as I should have been. I really don't want to alienate people or make friendships impossible because of how I speak about what I observe and experience.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
on universalism and evangelism
In this article, Dan Kimball expresses a concern that I share: that in the firestorm of discussion about heaven and hell and universalism, the need to walk beside people on their journey toward faith is being lost in the fray...
That said, I think the article misses something that Rob Bell probably does bring to the table, which is a desire to focus on what it means to walk with Christ today. In his Rob Bell way, he seems to be trying to point people toward the fact that eternal life with Christ is supposed to make a difference today.
And the reality is that, in my world, having spiritual discussions centered around what will happen when everyone dies is less than worthless. It's just not where people are at. It's so much more relevant to talk about what life with the eternal one looks like now--today.
I think that's ok. There may come a time in a person's faith journey where they have to work through the theological issues of heaven and hell and eternal judgment and the possibility of grace and mercy that astounds and surprises. But I don't think that discussion is essential to the question of what it means to walk with God today.
Walking with God is hard. It's all-consuming. The sacrifice of just following the commands to love God and love your neighbor is a lifetime's worth of challenges. So here on the ground, that's where I'm choosing to spend my time when I have the opportunity for spiritual discussions. And I so wish that the community of Christ-followers would be spending its energy on thinking and praying about how to speak about that in a way that's understandable within today's culture. All of this time, and all of these resources, and I'm walking around here on the ground bumbling through these conversations and relationships hoping that somehow God will be able to work and speak his invitation of life with the eternal one to those around me. I long for the community of Christ-followers to rise up and put its resources and energy into answering those kinds of questions.
That said, I think the article misses something that Rob Bell probably does bring to the table, which is a desire to focus on what it means to walk with Christ today. In his Rob Bell way, he seems to be trying to point people toward the fact that eternal life with Christ is supposed to make a difference today.
And the reality is that, in my world, having spiritual discussions centered around what will happen when everyone dies is less than worthless. It's just not where people are at. It's so much more relevant to talk about what life with the eternal one looks like now--today.
I think that's ok. There may come a time in a person's faith journey where they have to work through the theological issues of heaven and hell and eternal judgment and the possibility of grace and mercy that astounds and surprises. But I don't think that discussion is essential to the question of what it means to walk with God today.
Walking with God is hard. It's all-consuming. The sacrifice of just following the commands to love God and love your neighbor is a lifetime's worth of challenges. So here on the ground, that's where I'm choosing to spend my time when I have the opportunity for spiritual discussions. And I so wish that the community of Christ-followers would be spending its energy on thinking and praying about how to speak about that in a way that's understandable within today's culture. All of this time, and all of these resources, and I'm walking around here on the ground bumbling through these conversations and relationships hoping that somehow God will be able to work and speak his invitation of life with the eternal one to those around me. I long for the community of Christ-followers to rise up and put its resources and energy into answering those kinds of questions.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Unversalism and evangelism
So if you do any reading of blogs at all, I'm sure you've heard about the Rob Bell/universalism controversy that's going on. I understand that this conversation has to happen around something, though like others, I'm not sure that we need to be talking about a book that hasn't been released yet. At any rate, the question of universalism is a theological one that the church probably has to address.
However, I fear that in the midst of this theological discussion, we're missing out on the opportunity and the urgency of inviting people into life with Jesus right now. As I mentioned before, my study of John and people's encounters with Jesus has brought to the forefront of my mind the question of what eternal life is. And I am convinced that it's life that's meant to be lived now, not just in the future.
We get so caught up in these ideas and these issues, and, while I think that conversation around them is necessary for the church, I actually don't think it's as important as helping people to see who Jesus is to them right now. Whether I believe that everyone will be reconciled with God or not, I can walk with him now. And because I do walk with him now, I am convinced that life with the Eternal One is worth living. And I am convinced enough that it's worth living that I want others to know about it and see what it looks like.
So I guess what I'm saying is that my calling to walk with people in holistic friendship and spiritual conversation is not dependent at all on what I believe about what happens to people at the end of all time. I am sure that it matters, but it doesn't affect the fact that we're invited into life with God now, not just in eternity. And life with God now matters. I am hoping that the church doesn't lose sight of this within the context of the universalism controversy.
However, I fear that in the midst of this theological discussion, we're missing out on the opportunity and the urgency of inviting people into life with Jesus right now. As I mentioned before, my study of John and people's encounters with Jesus has brought to the forefront of my mind the question of what eternal life is. And I am convinced that it's life that's meant to be lived now, not just in the future.
We get so caught up in these ideas and these issues, and, while I think that conversation around them is necessary for the church, I actually don't think it's as important as helping people to see who Jesus is to them right now. Whether I believe that everyone will be reconciled with God or not, I can walk with him now. And because I do walk with him now, I am convinced that life with the Eternal One is worth living. And I am convinced enough that it's worth living that I want others to know about it and see what it looks like.
So I guess what I'm saying is that my calling to walk with people in holistic friendship and spiritual conversation is not dependent at all on what I believe about what happens to people at the end of all time. I am sure that it matters, but it doesn't affect the fact that we're invited into life with God now, not just in eternity. And life with God now matters. I am hoping that the church doesn't lose sight of this within the context of the universalism controversy.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
conversations
Had coffee with a friend today. We sat and talked for a couple of hours. I haven't spent much time alone with her before--we were really more acquaintances. I think I've known her now for 2-3 years. We've been in groups where the topic of religion or spirituality have come up, but I've not really talked with her directly about it before.
So today, somewhat out of the blue, she started asking me how I reconcile my spirituality or my faith with the rest of my life. We got to talk for several hours about faith and barriers to faith. I was able to share how I've worked through some of those in my own life.
She asked.
How did that happen? I don't think there's some magic formula or anything. But I can tell you that I've been investing in her and in the people around her for a very long time. I've had numerous conversations about a lot of different things - some serious, some fun. I've been around, loving her and her friend. I've been living consistently (though not perfectly) in a way that can be observed.
And now, I've been talking about my book. It's been sort of a catalyst to talking about the place that faith has in my life. I've been investing in people for years without having a natural way to bring up spiritual conversations. It will be interesting to see whether this happens more. It was actually the 2nd time this week that I had a spiritual conversation with a person this week who I've been investing in but not really having spiritual conversations with.
As you can see, I'm still figuring this out. There are times when I say the wrong thing or go too far. There may be some times when I don't say things and I should. But I don't think that you can go wrong by loving and investing in people as people.
So today, somewhat out of the blue, she started asking me how I reconcile my spirituality or my faith with the rest of my life. We got to talk for several hours about faith and barriers to faith. I was able to share how I've worked through some of those in my own life.
She asked.
How did that happen? I don't think there's some magic formula or anything. But I can tell you that I've been investing in her and in the people around her for a very long time. I've had numerous conversations about a lot of different things - some serious, some fun. I've been around, loving her and her friend. I've been living consistently (though not perfectly) in a way that can be observed.
And now, I've been talking about my book. It's been sort of a catalyst to talking about the place that faith has in my life. I've been investing in people for years without having a natural way to bring up spiritual conversations. It will be interesting to see whether this happens more. It was actually the 2nd time this week that I had a spiritual conversation with a person this week who I've been investing in but not really having spiritual conversations with.
As you can see, I'm still figuring this out. There are times when I say the wrong thing or go too far. There may be some times when I don't say things and I should. But I don't think that you can go wrong by loving and investing in people as people.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Seeing behind the questions
So my community has been discussing this video for a couple of years. Every once in a while, one of us will bring it up on the computer again, and we'll sit around and watch it.
I think it demonstrates the futility that a lot of people feel about talking about their faith with other people. Everyone is afraid they're going to get into a conversation like this, and that they won't know what to say or how to say it. And I guess if you're prone to emailing people about faith, it would be really easy to get stuck in a conversation like this.
But this kind of situation has never happened to me. I think it's because when I talk about faith, it's usually after I actually have a relationship with a person, where they know a lot more about me than just what I believe. And when someone brings up something that they struggle with, most of the time I empathize with them and talk about how I've struggled with the same questions. Sometimes I'll offer how I resolved the conflict or question in my own mind.
But rather than engaging at a rational level, answering all the questions that are on the surface, I'd also want to engage with the emotional barriers I see. I see a couple of potential ones here. What do you see?
Tomorrow I'll talk about the ones that I am guessing could be behind these questions
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