Striking a Nerve (aka, Kids in Church)

So several friends of mine shared this blog post on Facebook.  If you'd rather not navigate away to read the article, called "Dear Parents With Young Children in Church," here it is:

You are doing something really, really important. I know it’s not easy. I see you with your arms overflowing, and I know you came to church already tired. Parenting is tiring. Really tiring.

I watch you bounce and sway trying to keep the baby quiet, juggling the infant carseat and the diaper bag as you find a seat. I see you wince as your child cries. I see you anxiously pull things out of your bag of tricks to try to quiet them.

And I see you with your toddler and your preschooler. I watch you cringe when your little girl asks an innocent question in a voice that might not be an inside voice let alone a church whisper.  I hear the exasperation in your voice as you beg your child to just sit, to be quiet as you feel everyone’s eyes on you. Not everyone is looking, but I know it feels that way.

I know you’re wondering, is this worth it? Why do I bother? I know you often leave church more exhausted than fulfilled. But what you are doing is so important.
When you are here, the church is filled with a joyful noise. When you are here, the Body of Christ is more fully present. When you are here, we are reminded that this worship thing we do isn’t about Bible Study or personal, quiet contemplation but coming together to worship as a community where all are welcome, where we share in the Word and Sacrament together.When you are here, I have hope that these pews won’t be empty in ten years when your kids are old enough to sit quietly and behave in worship. I know that they are learning how and why we worship now, before it’s too late. They are learning that worship is important.

I see them learning. In the midst of the cries, whines, and giggles, in the midst of the crinkling of pretzel bags and the growing pile of crumbs I see a little girl who insists on going two pews up to share peace with someone she’s never met. I hear a little boy slurping (quite loudly) every last drop of his communion wine out of the cup determined not to miss a drop of Jesus. I watch a child excitedly color a cross and point to the one in the front of the sanctuary.  I hear the echos of Amens just a few seconds after the rest of the community says it together. I watch a boy just learning to read try to sound out the words in the worship book or count his way to Hymn 672. Even on weeks when I can’t see my own children learning because, well, it’s one of those mornings, I can see your children learning.

I know how hard it is to do what you’re doing, but I want you to know, it matters. It matters to me. It matters to my children to not be alone in the pew. It matters to the congregation to know that families care about faith, to see young people… and even on those weeks when you can’t see the little moments, it matters to your children.

It matters that they learn that worship is what we do as a community of faith, that everyone is welcome, that their worship matters. When we teach children that their worship matters, we teach them that they are enough right here and right now as members of the church community. They don’t need to wait until they can believe, pray or worship a certain way to be welcome here, and I know adults who are still looking to be shown that. It matters that children learn that they are an integral part of this church, that their prayers, their songs, and even their badly (or perfectly timed depending on who you ask) cries and whines are a joyful noise because it means they are present.

I know it’s hard, but thank you for what you do when you bring your children to church. Please know that your family - with all of its noise, struggle, commotion, and joy – are not simply tolerated, you are a vital part of the community gathered in worship.

So if I can summarize the arguments on this side of the discussion (not just from this article), then it would be this: children of all ages should worship (by that I mean sit in the entire church service) because...

• it encourages families to worship together
• it communicates to children that they are part of the community
• it communicates that children are welcome as fellow worshipers, even if they worship a little differently than grownups.
• it illustrates the diversity of the body of Christ
• to send children somewhere else during the worship service communicates that they aren't ready for church, that church is only for grownups, and it doesn't prepare them to enter church later.
• to send them somewhere else caters only to the grumpy old-fashioned people who can't "worship" without silence and no interruptions.

There may be more reasons, but I think this fairly well represents many of the main ideas I've come across.  But there is another side to the issue, and I think those arguments are the following: little children (under 8-10 years old) should not be in the worship service OR should not be with the grownups during the sermon because...

• parents are not able to focus on the singing and/or sermon if they are constantly having to entertain/distract/chastise their children.
• the sermon is not an age-appropriate teaching tool for today's children.  Sitting still and paying attention to a 25 minute sermon is hard enough for adults; kids just aren't wired for that.
• making little children sit still and be quiet and not have fun in church sends a negative message to the kids, roughly that "church is where you have to do things you dislike because Mom and Dad say so," and "church is not a fun place."  This is related to the age-appropriateness argument.
• (for those who desire it) a short break from the kids can help parents relax, pay attention to the service, and gear up for the kids again.  30 minutes away from Mommy and Daddy won't tear the family apart (and might actually be good for them!).

Again, there are more reasons on this side as well.  But to me it looks like a case of people wanting different things for different reasons.  Those who want kids in the entire service do so out of a philosophical foundation, and those who don't want kids in the entire service do so mainly out of pragmatic/logistical reasons.  Will the two sides ever agree?

Even if they don't, let's all agree not to demonize the people whose convictions on this subject differ from ours.     That said, what do you think?  Should all ages worship (not just singing, but offering, communion, sermon, and prayer time) together every Sunday?  Why or why not?

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

For an upcoming sermon, I am preaching out of the books of 2 John, 3 John, and Jude.  That sounds like a lot, but all three of those books put together are only 52 verses.  I am preaching about the truth of the Christian faith, or as Jude calls it, "the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints" (Jude 3).  I didn't realize how troubling of a book Jude is.  Most of the book describes the attributes and demise of false teachers who had slipped in among the Christians to whom Jude is writing.  These "godless men" were changing "the grace of our God into a license for immorality and deny Jesus Christ our only Sovereign and Lord" (v. 4).  They pollute their own bodies, reject authority, slander celestial beings, speak abusively about that which they don't understand, have no qualms about eating with other believers (in the "love feast," an early Christian practice), grumble and find fault, follow their own evil desires, and speak about themselves and others only in such a way as to advance themselves (see v. 8-16).  Bad guys, for sure.  It should be easy to spot them, right?

Not so fast.  Look around, closely, at any church, and you will find these types of sin still happening.  People twist Scripture all the time to justify their immorality (the word in Jude 4 for "immorality" usually refers to some kind of sexual sins or immoral sensuality).  People pollute their own bodies, and we Americans are experts at it, as we are at rejecting authority and promoting self at the expense of others.  Who doesn't occasionally grumble and find fault ('cause "it's not my fault").  So, are we the bad guys, too? Is our condemnation also written about long ago (v. 4)?

A few brief facts will help.  First, the verbs used to describe these people are overwhelmingly present tense verbs, denoting an ongoing, continuous action.  To twist Scripture once is bad, but to make a habit of it is worse.  Second, while these men are "godless" (asebeis in Greek), "at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly" (asebon, a different form of asebeis; see Romans 5:6).  No one is outside the reach of Christ's love and offer of salvation.  Third, we can have assurance of our salvation because "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1).  Many, many times in the NT letters, the writers tell Christians to stop doing sinful things.  They don't condemn them to hell for sinning; they primarily rebuke sinful behavior because it hurts one's relationship with the body of Christ and because it hurts our relationship with God.

That said, I can't ignore the kind of people Jude (and 2 Peter 2, for that matter, which sounds a lot like Jude 5-16) writes about.  The examples he gives in v. 5-7 are examples of willful apostasy, people who knew the truth but abandoned it anyway.  Verse 5 refers to the ten spies who gave a pessimistic report about the promised land, convinced others to join in their fear and lack of faith, and ultimately were killed (see Numbers 13:1-14:38).  Verse 6 refers to angels who rebelled against God and now are doomed to destruction.  These are beings who were sinless and in the very presence of God, about as safe as you can be, one would think.  Yet, somehow, they rebelled ("abandoned their own home").  Verse 7 is about the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, who "gave themselves up" to sexual immorality and perversion, another way of saying that they knew the truth but kept on refusing to obey.  In at least two out of the three examples (spies and angels), they were saved and then fell away and were destroyed.  Verse 13 says these Scripture-twisting, egocentric Christians are "wild waves of the sea, foaming up their shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever."

The promise of no condemnation in Romans 8:1 is for those "who do not live according to the sinful nature but according to the Spirit," because "if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God" (Rom. 8:4, 13-14).  We can't deny that there is a connection between obedience and final salvation, a difference between a faith that produces works and a faith that is dead (see James 2).  If there was absolutely no possibility of forfeiting one's salvation, then why would these (and many other) dire warnings be in Scripture?

So this is a tough sermon to write.  I can't resolve the tension in 30 minutes, as if the sermon were some sort of sitcom where everybody's relationships are restored and all problems solved by the end of the episode.  I don't know what I am going to say, how it will be received, or what results will come.  But I have to preach the Word as I understand it, unless and until someone more fully explains this.

At Last

Tonight I perused older entries in my blog, and one recurring theme was my lack of satisfaction with regard to my employment.  Here's a recap of the jobs I've had since 2005: FedEx Ground (working in a warehouse), and Target Distribution Center (working in a warehouse).  Part of the angst came from the disparity between my education (both a bachelor's degree and a master's degree in theology) and my employment.  Part of it came from a lack of clarity in God's leading in my life: should I pursue a PhD? move? enter ministry?  send resumes to Bible colleges? 

As it turns out, the only one of those questions I didn't answer "yes" to was the PhD.  After three years of sending out resumes to churches and getting very few replies, I am finally able to say that I am in the ministry!  Martelle Christian Church in Martelle, IA, is where I will be the Senior Minister starting this weekend.  Well, sort of.  I will start preaching there this Sunday, but will not be full-time until we move.  We won't move until the parsonage is ready and we have given (and fulfilled) our two weeks' notice to our employers.

I find the story of how we landed in Martelle fascinating.  My good friend (and ministry mentor) Tim Platt one day casually told me that the church in Martelle is in need of a Senior Minister.  They already have a great Youth Minister, but have been without a Senior Minister for the better part of six months (this was last fall).  I followed up with the contact he gave me, intending only to preach there a few times to help fill in.  After a couple of visits, however, I felt a peace about being there, a sense of at-homeness that was subtle, but noticeable.  A couple of members of the search team asked if I would give my resume, and the next time down, I did. 

I should pause here and mention that the number one problem I had with getting into a ministry was lack of full-time, stateside experience.  I had lots of missions experience, and some part-time ministries while in college, but all of it added up paled in comparison to the experience of many people who sent resumes to Martelle and wherever else I sent mine.  More than once I was not even considered (or if I was, I never made it past the "first round" of the hiring process) because of my "lack" of experience.  My expectations of hearing back from anyone were low.

In early December 2011, I received a call from a guy named Paul from MCC, wanting to set up a phone interview, which took place the following Monday.  The week after that, Paul called me back to let me know that they wanted me and my family to come down for a weekend because I was their top candidate!  So we went down January 14-15, and the weekend went extremely well.  Both Heidi and I felt that the opportunities there were amazing and God gave us both a peace about being there, which in itself was a huge answer to prayer.   One week later, I found out that all votes were affirmative and we were on our way.

Through this process God has worked on our family to prepare us for this transition.  Why did I spend so much time not in ministry?  I don't know yet, but I know it has served to teach me patience and trust in God.  Five years ago, I never would have considered sending a resume to a church in a town of 245 people in a place I had never heard of, but going there and meeting people and seeing what is happening there changed all that. 

MCC is full of vibrant, kind people who love Jesus dearly, and I can't wait to get started joining them in their ministry to Martelle and surrounding areas.  I already like them: I have more blog readers from MCC than from anywhere else! :)  Beyond that, though, I have seen kindness and sincerity in them that I can immensely appreciate.

Let it begin soon.  Thank you, Jesus.

Quote for Today

“Jesus asked us to love our enemies. Part of loving is learning to understand. Too few Christians today seek to understand why their enemies think in ways that we find abhorrent. Too many of us are too busy bashing feminists, secular humanists, gay activists, and political liberals to consider why they believe what they do. It’s difficult to sympathize with people we see as threats to our children and our neighborhoods. It’s hard to weep over those whom we have declared enemies.”

John Fischer, “Learning to Cry for the Culture,” Christianity Today, April 2007, p. 41.

Quote for Today

"All glory and growth were given to you, and then that which is written was fulfilled: 'My beloved ate and drank and was enlarged and grew fat and kicked,' From this came jealousy and envy, strife and sedition, persecution and anarchy, war and captivity. So people were stirred up: those without honor against the honored, those of no repute against the highly reputed, the foolish against the wise, the young against the old. For this reason righteousness and peace stand at a distance, while each one has abandoned the fear of God and become nearly blind with respect to faith in him, neither walking according to the laws of his commandments nor living in accordance with his duty toward Christ. Instead, all follow the lusts of their evil heart, inasmuch as they have assumed that attitude of unrighteous and ungodly jealousy through which, in fact, death entered into the world."
- 1 Clement 3:1-4

What a stunning indictment against the first-century church of Corinth, to which Clement writes from the church of Rome. The letters of Clement are not in the Bible, but they are real and historical and written to address real problems in the Corinthian church. In some ways, what Clement said of the church in Corinth is true of the church in America (and not just the part about being fat). Some questions for American Christians to ponder:

• Have we become so self-sufficient (through wealth, success, peace, etc.) that we are "nearly blind with respect to faith in [God]"?
• Are you jealous of other Christians' (or other churches') success?
• Do we even know these days what it means to fear God?
• We talk at great length about how we dislike so much of the culture around us. Why is it true, then, as Philip Yancey says, that "all too often the church holds up a mirror reflecting back the society around it, rather than a window revealing a different way"?

Not every church or Christian is this way. But many of us are truly unaware of how much our culture has negatively shaped American Christianity. This is one area to which I have been giving some thought lately, partly because I am teaching a lesson on this very subject later this year, and partly because I just sense the problem through my experiences and my own life. I don't have many answers yet, but this is as good a place as any to begin thinking out loud on it.

For my Christian readers, your input is greatly appreciated. In what ways is American Christianity negatively affected by culture? Examples would be great.

For my non-Christian readers, just know that not every Christian blindly accepts what their preachers tell them; many sense that things could be better/kinder/more welcoming/less hateful for folks like you who would love to go to church if it weren't for the people inside.

Who Would've Thought That In Five Years . . .

Have you ever asked yourself that question (finishing it out, of course)? For me, I would invert that question to a statement: It's hard to imagine that it was five years ago this month that we arrived home from India. At the beginning of March 2005, Heidi and I came home and settled in the Cincinnati area while I prepared to start my master's education at Cincinnati Bible Seminary. I still remember a lot of the feelings I had when we came back. Here are a couple of memories that stand out:

• Shortly after our move to the Cincy area, some friends hosted a party: grilling out, meeting our friends' friends, and being shocked at some of the things we saw and heard. Realize, we had just spent two years (minus a couple of months' worth of trips) in extremely socially conservative India, where the most PDA you would see is a couple walking or sitting next to each other, and where drinking alcohol for Christians, at least the Christians we hung out with, was taboo (except at weddings when a traditional, homemade wine in a very small amount was allowed). We arrived early, so we saw everyone arrive, one of whom we were told was the youth minister at their church. I kid you not, the first words I ever heard out of this man of God's mouth were, "Hey guys! Where's the beer?" I knew then (as I know now) that there is nothing technically wrong with having an occasional, not-enough-to-get-drunk drink. But it shocked me. I immediately thought: what's his lesson going to be when he talks to the teens about drinking? "Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial" (1 Cor. 10:23).
  
• I felt conflicting emotions when I went to church in the US for several months. Some of the thoughts that went through my head: Christians here care so little about big things and so much about little things; they do realize that there's a world outside the US, don't they?; American Christians ought to cease all short-term missions until they have learned humility and cultural sensitivity [trust me, there are stories there, too]; there is so much potential in the American church!; I'm glad to see people here who care so much about the unreached nations; I'm going to slap the next person who makes fun of Hispanics for not knowing English; and many others. I suppose you could chalk a lot of it up to re-entry culture shock, but life in India has forever changed the way I think about church.

Five years ago . . . and what am I doing now? Hmmm.

What are we trying to restore?

This semester, my favorite class has been Issues in Acts, a study of the various themes and theological emphases of Luke-Acts. It's one of my favorite class formats, too: everyone writes a paper on a chosen topic, and each week two topics (represented by one or two people each) are presented. For each topic, we read the presenters' papers and some assigned chapters in our textbook. Everyone reads everyone's paper. In class, the presenter gives their presentation and the group discusses the presentation, paper, and related topics. I finished my paper and did my presentation early in the semester, so I have been able to sit back and enjoy the other papers and discussions.

One question has come up in various ways as we have studied through Acts: what should church look like in light of ________? (_______ being whatever topic was presented) As a member of a church that is part of the fellowship of churches known as the Restoration Movement, I find this question of special importance.

[For the uninitiated, the Restoration Movement was and is a philosophy of ministry articulated by men in the early 1800s who were disheartened by the depth of division and bitter rivalry among churches in their day. As an example of such foolishness in the church, consider the denomination from which Thomas Campbell (basically the father of the restoration movement) came: The Old-Light, Anti-Burgher, Seceder Presbyterian Church. They thought they were the one true church, and all others were heretics! What Campbell and others sought to do was unite the church (the whole church, all denominations) on the sole basis of the teachings of Scripture. No creeds were necessary because they are the inventions of man. The goal, then, was and is to restore the New Testament church, accomplishing unity, but unity in truth.]

Obviously, we aren't trying to restore everything about the NT church (Acts 5 and 1 Corinthians 5 for example!). The NT church, even the church in Acts, was flawed, not because God's plan is flawed, but because God's plan involves people. Nevertheless, we strive to restore things like open-handed generosity to those in need, deep dependence on God for all we are and all we have, and boldness and confidence sharing the good news about Jesus.

Sometimes, though, it looks like the Restoration Movement is trying to restore baptism by immersion for the forgiveness of sins and local church autonomy, which are great but are only a fraction of what we ought to be restoring. We in the RM should, must, evaluate how we have done over the last 200 years at achieving our goals. I'm not sure the evaluation would be very positive. In our history, three new denominations (Christian Church/Church of Christ, Church of Christ [A Capella], and the Church of Christ-Disciples of Christ) have been formed, and things are just now beginning to heal some of the wounds, a positive step indeed but indicative that we have a long way to go as the movement that promotes nondenominational unity.

Am I being too optimistic? Too pessimistic? What are we trying to restore?

Matthias: Wrong Man for the Job?

A hermeneutically funny thing happened lately. Twice in the past couple of months, I have heard an argument that has struck a small nerve with me. What makes this all more interesting to me is that I am taking a class this semester called Issues in Acts, a class in which we have looked at various themes in Acts, including the theme of the apostles and the people of God. First, the argument, then what I don't like about it.

The first time I heard the argument, it came from Andy, our very capable preacher. He began a sermon on who knows what with the scene in Acts 1 of the apostles replacing Judas Iscariot with Matthias. He used this event to bring up the question: is it possible that the 11 apostles acted rashly when they replaced Judas? We see later in Acts how Saul is chosen by the risen Christ to be his messenger to the Gentiles. Andy suggested that the 11 just could not wait on God's will to be fully realized and also suggested that Paul was supposed to be the 12th apostle, if only they would have waited on God. I then heard this argument again in another class in Johannine literature after a discussion on John's understanding of Judas. So the argument is that Paul, not Matthias, should have been the 12th apostle. I assume this means that the 11 just should have waited until Saul was converted before they added the 12th apostle.

Here's the text of Acts 1:21-22 "Therefore it is necessary that of the men who have accompanied us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us-- 22 beginning with the baptism of John until the day that He was taken up from us-- one of these must become a witness with us of His resurrection."

Here's what I don't like about this interpretation:

• The single Greek word (dei), translated "it is necessary" or "must," a word that occurs more in Luke-Acts than in the rest of the New Testament, almost always occurs in the context of the will of God or the work of God, indicating that whatever "it" is that is necessary is necessary by divine will. To see this word in action, see Luke 2:49; 4:43; Acts 4:12; 9:6, 16 and several other places.
  
• This word occurs in 1:21, indicating that the replacement of Judas is the will of God.
• The conditions laid out in v. 21-22 would preclude Paul from consideration: he must be one who "accompanied us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us - beginning with the baptism of John until the day he was taken up from us." Paul had not done that.
• The disciples prayed, asking God to intervene in the process: "show which of these two you have chosen" (1:24). They then cast lots, not an equivalent of rolling dice, but a means of revealing God's will.

This may not be a big deal to anyone out there; there is certainly no important bit of Christian theology at stake here. It is, however, a matter of paying attention to the text and doing a little concordance work, which ought not to be too much to ask of anyone preaching or teaching this passage.

"Singable Doctrine"

There's an interesting article in the current issue of Christianity Today called "Singable Doctrine." It's an interview with Keith and Kristyn Getty, songwriters specializing in "modern hymns" that attempt to go deeper (doctrinally and existentially) than the modern worship movement has gone. If you know the song "In Christ Alone" (made popular by the Newsboys), you know the Gettys. Here's a few snippets from CT's interview.

Keith (on his emphasis on doctrine): "I wanted to do two things. One was to write songs that helped teach the faith, and the second was to write songs that every generation could sing. I don't think of music as only teaching, but I do think that what we sing profoundly affects how we think."

(On their success): "If you took a list of subjects, say, attributes of God in the Psalms, probably only 10 percent of them are used in virtually the entire canon of modern worship music. Modern worship songs tend to have a very thin range of subjects. They also tend to explore subjects in a less deep way than traditional hymnody does."

(In answer to "In a worship service, is there an ideal mix between contemporary worship, modern hymns, and classic hymns?") "I don't think there's an answer. You choose great songs that have great words and sing well. Every word you give people on a Sunday has to count for something. The same thing applies to what is sung - in fact, in some ways even more so. . . . If members of a congregation aren't singing, serious questions must be asked, no matter how good the show is at the front."

This was a very good (but short) article, especially for someone like me, who, on this blog, has at times been critical of modern worship and contemporary Christian music. The philosophy of the Gettys resonates with me. They are right: so much of modern worship is shallow and does not really touch on deep thinking or profound doctrine. Don't get me wrong; there is occasionally beauty in the simplicity of a "How Great is Our God" or a "Blessed Be the Name of the Lord," and for that I'm appreciative. But we Christians tend only to go as deep as we are led, and often that's about an inch deep. Emotionally, we go deep, but intellectually, we often don't.

I'll offer more on this another day. For now, I must go to work.

"The Lima Bean Gospel"

In the most recent issue of Christianity Today, Mark Labberton wonders whether our gospel is too small and bland, like a lima bean. The church is often bland, he argues, and "the fruit of this vine appears to be lima beans." Here are two paragraphs for you to chew on:

"Rather than seek the God who spoke from the burning bush, we have decided the real drama is found in debating whether to podcast our services. Rather than encounter the God who sees idolatry as a pervasive, life-threatening temptation, we decorate Pottery Barn lives with our tasteful collections of favored godlings. Rather than follow the God who burns for justice for the needy, we are more likely to ask the Lord to give us our own fair share. A bland God for a bland church, with a mission that is at best innocuous and quaint - in a tumultuous world."

And,

"The apparent smallness of our gospel is directly related to the smallness of the church's love. When prominent Christian voices call for protests and boycotts over things like our freedom to say 'Merry Christmas,' the gospel seems very small indeed. If, by contrast, such voices called the church in America to give away its Christmas billions to the poor and needy around the world - as an act of incarnational love - that would leave a very different impression of the faith we profess, and offer a far greater hope for a love-hungry world."

I'll leave it at that, without further comment other than to say that this guy needs to get out more and see what the church is doing in the world. Chew on it and let me know what you think.

No Linguistic Socialism In Church

I read an interesting article the other day from the Nov. 18 issue of Christian Standard. Paul Williams, who writes the "And So It Goes" column, asked the question, "is keeping it simple always a good idea?" The idea of the article is that in many places and environments, insider language is expected and appropriate. If you don't know it, you will learn it in time.

He writes, "In the world of growing churches we are always encouraged to keep our language seventh-grade generic, the language of the people. Don't speak so you can be understood. Speak so you cannot be misunderstood." And later, "I want to be sensitive to those just beginning the spiritual journey, but there are times I also want to praise God for his omnipotence."

He's onto something here; for a long time, I have bristled at churches that "dumb down" everything for the sake of being relevant and understandable. It seems their M.O. is "small words leads to big numbers." Perhaps that's too harsh, but there is a trend of not using insider language so nobody feels left out or stupid. This trend is ubiquitous in contemporary worship songs. Generally, I don't have a problem with such songs; I often listen to my local Christian station, WAKW. And there are some great songs out there now (by the likes of Matt Redman and Chris Tomlin); they certainly have gotten better since the 90s, showing a renewed passion for worship songs (not just feel-good Christian songs) and songs that don't try to be too dramatic (like the melodramatic Carman) but seek to just tell God how you feel. That said, though, there sure is a lot of fluff out there, too (Trading My Sorrows, I Could Sing of Your Love Forever, and just about anything with "River" in it - thanks Danny for the idea - love it!).

Here's what I offer for your consideration: why don't we use big words, then explain them so people will: a) learn their meaning, and b) benefit from it. We have some great words: propitiation, redemption, repentance, etc. - let's keep using them and explain them to the people. You could have a whole sermon on redemption. And hymns - keep them coming. Explain the words ("here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I've come"?), but keep them coming. Sure, maybe kick out the organ and jazz up the arrangement a bit, but hymns are often very powerful, memorable, and capable aids to worship. But one thing we should not do is become vocabulary socialists: people who "level the playing field" not by raising up those with a poor vocabulary, but by suppressing those with a rich vocabulary. Or as Mr. Williams suggests, "Maybe what we need to do is make a concerted effort to more quickly turn outsiders into insiders."

Today's Miscellaneous Thoughts

Thing #1 Today was a good day at church. It is the first Sunday since returning from a mission trip to Albania (which was a profound trip, by the way), so I was anxious to be there. The sermon (remember, preaching is good, preaching is good) was about the parable of the Good Samaritan. Most of you know that story well, and even if you don't, you know what a "good Samaritan" is. Actually, if someone called your good deed an act of a "Samaritan," and you understood the historical relationship between Jews and Samaritans, then you might not be so humbled by their "compliment." To be a Samaritan in Jesus' day was not a good thing. The Jews perceived them similarly to how we today might perceive, let's say, a homeless, hillbilly half breed from the other side of the tracks (my apologies if you live on the other side of the tracks). The point of Jesus' story was that the person who got it right, the one who cared for the needs of the beaten and robbed man, was the hillbilly half breed, not the priest/minister/pastor, and not the pious, perpetually-volunteering churchgoer.

One strong point Andy, the preacher at my church, made was that our society is becoming more like the priest and the Levite: not that we don't care, but that our lives are so busy that the needs of our neighbors become invisible. We're so busy in our compartmentalized lives that we probably don't know our neighbors' names, let alone their concerns and needs. This is a problem for America, not just for Christians.

Thing #2 I was reading the July 22 issue of Christian Standard today at McDonald's (I took it from the church; Cincy's conservative, but not that conservative) because the title intrigued me: "Preaching: Like Everything Else, It's Changing!" The writer of the cover story, Chuck Sackett, is someone I respect a lot, so the article carried more weight for me (plus I knew I'd agree with his concerns about modern preaching). After expressing concerns about the long-term effects of using video and other media in sermons ("Might it be possible that too much video puts the mind to sleep and then the challenge arises to 'wake it up again' with 'mere' words?"), he asks this brilliant question: "Have preachers given up on words? Or have they merely lost the ability to use the right ones?"

Sure, compared to many other countries, most Americans have more of a "sprint" attention span than a "marathon" attention span. I think part of the reason is that we just don't try hard enough to engage people with wordsmithing. Yes, this blog is guilty of posting rough drafts and often ill-thought-out sentences. Lynne Truss wouldn't always be proud of me. But I try. I must try, because as a teacher (though presently without a classroom), I am a mechanic of the mind, and words are my tools. Our lives revolve around words. A person cannot "change their mind" without words. Without words, there is no persuasion, understanding of experience, conversion, debriefing, mutual understanding, apology, story, organization, or progress. So we might as well use words shrewdly.

My Favorite King of the Hill Episode (Part Two)

If you haven't read Part One, read that first.

There are several things I like about this episode:

1. That the show would even deal with Christianity, and that in a positive light.


2. They rightly point out that different Christians worship in different ways.


3. There are a ton of great lines from this episode (e.g., Pastor K: "Don't you think Jesus is on this half pipe?" Hank: "I'm sure he's a lot of places he doesn't want to be.")


4. It raises questions for both edgy and traditional Christians to consider.


5. It's hilarious.

What I want to discuss, however, is Hank's whole problem with what I'm calling Edgy Christianity (EC). EC takes on a lot of forms: hard rock, rap, and other intense forms of music; tattoos and piercings with a Christian message to them; Christian clothing (like Bobby's "Satan Sucks" T-shirt, or the once-popular "Hell, No!" shirts), offensive bumper stickers, and other related stuff. Hank's statement reveals his feelings: "Can't you see? You're not making Christianity better; you're just making rock-'n-roll worse."

Is that true? Is Christian rap good for Christianity, or is it bad for rap? When does becoming "all things to all people" turn into "making rock-'n-roll worse"? Is it true that "Body Piercing Saved My Life" as one T-shirt says? Yes, it's true that nails pierced Jesus, but is that the same as today's body piercing? Obviously not; what we have here is a classic case of equivocation, using the same word (or phrase) in two different ways to argue one point. All fallacies aside, why do we feel that we need to make Christianity cool? Is it cool? Is Jesus really our "homeboy"? What happened to Jesus being the "King of Kings and Lord of Lords" before whom "every knee will bow . . . and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord"?

My fear is that relevance has trumped reverance. Don't get me wrong; I want the gospel to be understandable to everyone. But why be relevant? What does "relevant" mean? Relevant to whom? If we don't ask and answer these questions, we are simply using relevance as a justification to toy around with the eternal truths of God. Is faith a product to sell? Is planting the seeds of the gospel a matter of proper marketing? Are we asking youth (THE main target of EC) to deny themselves, take up their crosses and follow Christ, or are we asking them to think that Jesus is cool and would be worth making a friend on their MySpace?

Maybe I'm (too) cynical. But I can't help but be reminded of what Simone Weil said about relevance: "To always be relevant, you have to say things which are eternal."

For the youth out there to whom we're trying to be relevant (btw: do we really think that we can keep up with all the changing trends of kids these days, always adjusting the message to be right on top of things? Ha!), we must communicate Christ in such a way as to prevent, five years from now, Jesus ending up in the box of trends which were cool at the time but are now rather embarrassing.

Becoming a Christian means your whole life is changed, not just your vocabulary. It means that you are transformed by the renewing of your mind, not that you transform your music collection to Christian music you don't mind. It's about putting on Christ and becoming a new creation, not putting Christ on a T-shirt or putting a fish on your car. Yes, you vocabulary should change; your music should be evaluated; your clothing might change. The question is: why?

My Favorite King of the Hill Episode (Part One)

King of the Hill is one of my favorite TV shows. The Hill family, living in Arlen, Texas, go through many interesting life situations in this animated comedy. The usual story line goes like this:

1. The first scene is Hank, Bill, Dale, and Boomhauer standing out in the alley drinking Alamo beer and saying, "Yup."
2. The theme for the episode is usually introduced in their opening conversation (which does go beyond "Yup.").
3. Most of the problems revolve around Bobby, Hank and Peggy's teenage son. He usually gets involved with a new hobby or group of friends who are quite different from him, and he begins taking on the new group's characteristics/language/behavior, causing conflict at home, especially with Hank.
4. Bobby's involvement eventually leads to a situation from which Hank must rescue Bobby, with or without Bobby's desire for rescuing.
5. Hank and Bobby reconcile, and everything returns to how it was before the whole mess got started.

My favorite episode is "Reborn to be Wild." Bobby is found rockin' out to heavy metal music, angering Hank. Taking Bobby to the church, Hank is referred to a youth group who would be glad to take in Bobby. Hank takes Bobby to a community center where they meet.

[Pause here for some of the dialogue from the episode:

Bobby: "Dad, this is totally not cool."

Hank: "You know what's not cool, Bobby? Hell."]

Bobby meets the group, which turns out to be a bunch of Christian skaters led by Pastor K, a skater himself with Christian tattoos and long hair.

[Bobby (after seeing Pastor K do a stunt): "THAT was AWESOME!"

Pastor K: "Thanks, but not as awesome as Jesus!"]

Bobby's hooked. And it shows. At dinner, Bobby, to Hank's delight, offers to pray. But what comes out does not delight Hank at all: "I wanna give a shout out to the man that makes it all happen. Props be to you for this most bountiful meal that sits before us. OK, check it: God, you got skills. You represent in these vegetables and in this napkin and in the dirt that grows the grain that makes the bread sticks that are on this table, yes, yes. [Hank tells him to wrap it up] Thanks, J-man. Peace."

Soon Pastor K invites Bobby to be on stage with him during his performance at MessiahFest, a Christian praise-a-palooza. Bobby gets an earring, which in turn gets him grounded. He sneaks out and goes to MessiahFest. Hank goes to the Fest and finds Bobby making a fool of himself on stage, shrieking out Psalm 23 to heavy metal music. Hank yanks Bobby off the stage and there is a final confrontation between Hank and Pastor K, which includes this classic line from Hank:

"Can't you see? You're not making Christianity better; you're just making rock-'n-roll worse."

The episode ends with Hank taking an angry Bobby home and showing him a box in the garage. In the box is all the things Bobby thought were cool and had since abandoned: a virtual pet, a Furby, a "Bean Bag Buddy" (obvious reference to Beanie Babies), and a photo of Bobby in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume. Bobby can't believe he thought those things were cool.

Then comes the moral of the story, from Hank: "I just don't want to see, you know. . . the Lord end up in this box."

In my next entry, I want to explain why this is my favorite episode, as well as the lessons evangelicals can catch from it.

Ecclesiodicy, The Justification of Church

[Mood: contemplative and a little crusty]

I've been thinking about theodicy lately. If that term is new to you, don't worry: it's a fancy term meaning "the justification of God," but it's used in philosophical and theological writings to describe an entire discussion which boils down to this: If God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving, then why is there evil and suffering in the world? Is it because God cannot stop it, or is it because he will not stop it? A theodicy, therefore, argues how God can be what Christians say he is and yet allow evil and suffering. I will not go into all that now; if you are interested, I would refer you here.

Philip Yancey, in his excellent book Where is God When it Hurts?, was asked to boil down the meaning of that book to one sentence. His answer: "Where is the Church when it hurts?" This is a brilliant point; if the church is the body of Christ, the primary agency through which God interacts with the world, and evil exists, then perhaps the question could be altered a bit: If the church is empowered by God (as defined above - all powerful etc.), then why is there superfluous evil and suffering in the world? Is it because the church can not stop it or because it will not stop it? Maybe we should back the question up more: does the church even want to stop it?

You are probably crying out, "False choice!" And I would agree with you; the church does want to stop the evil and suffering in this world. The problem is that, unlike God, the church cannot be everywhere at once in the same way. And, unlike God, the church does not have unlimited physical and financial resources.

But still, why aren't churches always the first responders to disaster? Why doesn't the church do more to help in places like Darfur? Or is the church really helping and also going unnoticed by the media? How much does the church have to do before skeptics will say, "Ahh, now the church cares"? It seems that no matter what the church does, it will never be enough.

Let's bring it home: when someone in your church or surrounding community suffers or experiences evil, where is your church? Do they help? Take up offerings and donations? Turn the other way? Add them to the prayer list?

Where is the church when it hurts?