While Gail and I enjoy the hospitality of IM reader Ted and his wife here in Maine, I will leave it to you all to come up with today’s topics in an open forum.
Be civil.
Don’t dominate the discussion.
Listen well.
Enjoy God’s gift of conversation.
If the site holds your comment for some reason, be patient — I may not be able to release it for awhile.
Unholy Busyness
by Lisa Dye
Now I am saying this for your own benefit, not to put a restraint on you, but because of what is proper and so that you may be devoted to the Lord without distraction.
— 1 Corinthians 7:35
My mother-in-law is 90 years old, works two part-time jobs, prays daily for all her five generations of people and is busily wading through an ambitious extracurricular bucket list. She’s always been a high-energy person who thrives on activity, but even she has her moments when it is all too much. During those times, she utilizes an earthy expression I’ve changed a bit so as not to offend any reader sensibilities. “I’m like a f–t [natural human gas explosion] in a whirlwind.”
Let that settle on you for just a few seconds and tell me if it does not aptly describe the way an overly busy life dissipates not only our effectiveness in practical ways, but our spiritual focus and peace as well. Dissipation is an old-fashioned term for a very contemporary and increasingly common plight.
When I used to think of dissipation, I thought of drunkenness … probably because one of the first Scripture verses I memorized from the New American Standard Bible I used as a young Christian was Ephesians 5:18, “And do not get drunk with wine, for that is dissipation, but be filled with the Spirit.” As I’ve grown older, the definition has broadened for me.
The dictionary defines dissipation as “a wasteful expenditure or consumption.” Dissipation is also a science term … something to do with thermodynamic irreversible processes in which energy is transferred from one form to a lesser final form. At any rate, the idea is that dissipation results in weakening powers and concentrations, deviations from focus and effectiveness. Human dissipation could be caused by alcohol or drugs or sex … the things we expect to dissipate us … or it could be caused by something that blindsides us by its seeming worthiness. We don’t expect to be dissipated by the activities of family life or honorable work with which we care for our people or even the practices of our faith. Yet, we may experience as many dissipating effects from what we consider our virtues as from what we consider our vices. John Wesley expressed this thought in one of his sermons when he wrote, “A man may be as much dissipated from God by the study of mathematics or astronomy, as by fondness for cards or hounds.”
Although I’m not particularly drawn to cards or hounds, or even mathematics and astronomy, I’ve been noticing that the daily morning times I spend sitting with the Lord and which I have always considered inviolable are more frequently getting shortened or postponed to evening. The margins of time I have always kept in order to finish a project or buy a birthday present have decreased until their status is usually last minute or late. My desk is a mess. My phone is filled with unanswered text messages and emails. I stay up too late. I wake up tired and I always feel my people are unsatisfied with how much of me they get.
Don’t ask me how this has happened because I am still in the process of trying to figure it out. My nest is emptying and I don’t have the day-to-day loads of laundry and dishes and the chaos of a houseful of children. But somehow I am busier with grown children and work … and more unfocused than at any time in the history of my life. I really hate saying it, but I am in danger of becoming a dissipated woman.
Father Jacque Philippe has this to say in his book Time for God: “Time is not always the real problem. The real problem is knowing what really matters in life.” He points out that we make time to eat and do other things we consider important. The neglect of time with God is a crisis born from failing to see it as a crucial relationship. This neglect wastes our efforts and energies and scatters us to the far winds.
I look around me and see this problem nearly everywhere. We are dissipated people raising dissipated families, working in dissipated communities, worshipping in dissipated churches and living in dissipated countries. Our default is to put the blame on culture or economics or politics, the outward circumstances and influences of our lives. That is certainly where the many problems of dissipation manifest, but it is essentially a spiritual problem of leaving enclosure with Christ.
Richard Foster writes in his book, Freedom of Simplicity, “What will set us free from this bondage to the ever-spiraling demands that are placed upon us? The answer is found in the grace of Christian simplicity. This virtue, once worked into our lives, will unify the demands of our existence; it will prune and trim gently and in the right places, bringing a liberty of soul that will eliminate constant reversions to ourselves.”
The classic picture of unholy busyness versus Christian simplicity in Scripture is that of Lazarus’s household where sister Martha got herself worked into an anxious fit over the details of her dinner party while sister Mary sat oblivious and listening to Jesus talk (see Luke 10:38-42). Being a Martha by nature, I used to get annoyed when reading this story. Why was she the bad one? How does Jesus, or anyone else, think stuff gets done in this world, if not by people who will roll up their sleeves and do it? Slowly, I have come to see that Martha was not being portrayed as the bad sister. She was, however, distracted in a way that Mary was not and Jesus was reminding her of the point of her serving … relationship to Him. He didn’t say, “Stop with the dinner parties, already.” He obviously enjoyed the fruits of her labor and stayed regularly at her house. He was lovingly telling her to simplify, to come in and sit down and be a part of the conversation.
Jesus addressed the problem of unholy busyness elsewhere too. We like to think of the story of the rich young ruler as a commentary on wealth being a snare in spiritual life. True, wealth can result in dissipation, but the ruler was as hindered by all his working at righteousness as he was by his wealth. He wasn’t interested in being saved, but rather in saving himself by trying to fulfill all the jots and tittles of the Law.
In his diatribe against the Pharisees for their additions to the Law and their contrivance of a complex legal and religious system, Jesus warns against this very thing. “They tie up heavy loads and put them on the men’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them” (Matthew 23:4). Jesus’ summation of the Law was simple and succinct. Love God. Love your neighbor.
A complex and weighty burden of religious boxes to tick off is at least part of what Luther longed to reform with his five solae. Instead, he managed to tick off the Church, but for a moment let us put aside the divisiveness of the Reformation and think about the simplicity he advocated … Christ, Scripture, Faith, Grace and Glory to God. If we truly lived in that, we might not have as much to argue and we might not get caught in life’s whirlwinds.
St. Therese of Lisieux captured this simplicity with her “little way.” She was convinced that anything she accomplished in life came by loving God and living in union with him and that when she entered eternity, it would be holding onto nothing but him. Thus, even having lived a cloistered life and dying at a young age, she made a mark in the Church and an impact on Christians throughout the world.
St. Teresa of Avila was a more complicated woman who spent considerable time in silent contemplation of God’s presence. It was a difficult struggle and she admits to often being distracted by worldly things and her own vanity, especially as a young woman. Even as she matured in her faith, distraction in prayer was a continuous battle. She wrote much about it in her autobiography. “Sometimes I say to Him: Oh my God, when can my soul be entirely united in Your praise, instead of being distracted and unable to control itself?”
Granted, these examples are of people whose “work” was religious devotion. Some of them may not have had the cares of family or of trying to scratch out a living in the world, but the principle of simplicity is vital for anyone who wants follow Christ. Distraction and busyness are the springboards to turning aside from God in ever-increasing and ever-broadening ways. They are the little foxes that come into spoil the vine (Solomon 2:15). They are the thorns that choke out the good plants (Mark 4:7). They are the essence of what goes awry and precedes dissipation. Whatever distracts us from loving, enjoying and attending to God in the life to which he calls us is the precursor to the wasteful expenditure of ourselves.
Dissipation is a sly infiltrator. It can sneak up and take us without a shot being fired. We wake up one morning out of money, out of time, out of energy, out of hope and out of ideas. We can no longer keep up with life. It’s easy to get in this predicament, but much harder to get out of it. One problem that comes with dissipation is inertia or apathy. We might be so out of gas physically, emotional and spiritually that we don’t care anymore. It’s one reason why periodic examination to determine how much of anything we should have and do in every area of life is essential. We must edit.
Richard Foster recalls a particularly exhausted and busy time of his life years ago. He sat in an airport reading Thomas Kelly’s A Testament of Devotion. Suddenly, he was conscious of tears falling on his coat. The moment, though quiet and personal, was life changing. It was the moment he realized he had to learn to say, “No” … no to people, no to possessions, no to more and more work. Sacramental living is selective and purposeful. It is lived at God’s feet, in submission to his will, and to no one else’s. If we let ourselves be spent by the demands of others, no matter how worthy or urgent, we will not be spent by God, who knows all things and who knows us.
Once when I was at a writer’s conference, one of the speakers told us that as writers we needed to develop a habit of sanctified selfishness. On the surface that seems … well … selfish. But writing does not happen in the press and stress of life. The press and stress may be good fodder for what we do write, but it is the quiet alone times that call up worthy words. I have found this to be a true and needful principle of writing that translates to life and to spiritual life as well. It’s not that we are to live self-centered and narcissistic lives, but we are to live protectively of and exclusively for what God calls us to do and who he calls us to be. For that, we need sanctuary. We need Christ. We need to sit awhile and abide in him. We need to discern his will for our talents and energies and days.
Jesus did this in his own life. When his days grew long and the crowds pressed in constantly, he drew away to quiet places to talk to his Father. He invites us to do the same … to come out of the whirlwind. “Come to me. I will give you rest.”
Note from CM: Names have been changed. This post was first published in 2011. This past weekend we talked about “Carl” and his wife with many friends, remembering their strength and God’s faithfulness to them. I was impressed afresh at how much I learned from such simple, daily relationships as this one in my first pastorate.
• • •
His name was Carl.
An old New Englander, he was strong and mostly silent. He was always pleasant to me, a young minister who had come to the mountains to take the pulpit in my first church. As with many of the men who lived in those hills, it was his wife who was actively involved in the church. There were notable exceptions, but a majority of those men would rather hang around the volunteer fire department or find some chores to keep them busy on Sunday morning. Carl would attend services with his wife, but I didn’t see him much at church activities besides that.
Still, we did exchange pleasantries often. His wife was the church treasurer, so every Monday I’d stop by their house for my check. At other times, I might have bills or receipts to turn in or questions about some financial matter that took me to their house, so I’d see him out in the yard or in the kitchen. Sometimes I’d sit with them and have a cup of coffee. He mostly smiled and listened as his wife and I talked.
I was young and naive, clueless about adult life, ignorant of the culture where I had just relocated, and wrapped up in moving away from home, getting married, living in a place of my own for the first time in my life, being called to my first church — you name it, everything was new. I was a babe in those hills. What’s more, I had landed among people who were deeply rooted in the rocky earth of those green mountains. The congregation itself had first been established in 1814. The buildings in which we met were over a hundred years old. Most of the folks belonged to families who had been there for generations. I was a fresh sprout among ancient oaks.
I am sure guys like Carl shook their heads in wonder at my youthful brashness, the silly things I said, the social blunders I committed. When you’re twenty-two, you know everything and you’re ready to take the world by storm. I’m thankful I went to a place where people had their feet on the ground. They had seen young pastors come and go, had heard the bluster and dogmatism, had put up with being experimented upon and forced to try newfangled practices. They mostly outlasted ‘em. They would do the same with this young buck.
In my second year at the church, Carl had a stroke.
I did my best to visit the family at the hospital and see them through the critical care period. To be honest, I don’t remember much about those days. What I recall is later, after Carl came home. As far as most of his body was concerned, he remained healthy and active. But Carl could no longer communicate. This strong silent man now had no words to speak at all.
This young pastor began to visit more often. Carl’s wife stayed home more and church attendance became less regular. Social situations could be a bit awkward. You see, Carl would give the appearance of talking and entering into conversations, but he made no sense. It was impossible to tell if he was comprehending anything that was being said to him or in the gibberish he spoke. But Carl would smile and “talk” just as if he was a full partner in whatever discussion was taking place around him. In fact, he may have been more talkative than before.
Sometimes this could be kind of funny. Sometimes it was heartbreaking. All of the time, it was Carl’s new reality, one his wife shared with him. It became hard on her. The partner with whom she had shared words for decades could no longer communicate. She got frustrated trying to help him with any number of simple tasks. She got cabin fever. She didn’t feel as useful at church or in other activities in which she’d been involved. The young pastor had a parishioner who needed regular encouragement.
And so I visited. And there we sat, the three of us. Carl’s wife and I would talk about church, what was happening in the community, our families, and how she was getting along with Carl. Carl sat with us and smiled and made his unique, incomprehensible contributions. I was in way over my head.
The novice minister had come to the end of his tricks fast. I had to learn right then and there that things happen in life I can’t change, fix, or make better. I came to the realization that words don’t solve all problems. I had to admit that I don’t have answers, that I don’t even understand the problems sometimes. I was forced to practice and come to appreciate the art of simply being with someone, sitting, listening, attending to the situation at hand without “working” in any tangible fashion to improve it.
I watched an unforgettable demonstration of love, as a woman kept her promise “for worse” and “in sickness.” Recognizing right away that I had little to offer in the light of such profound devotion, I learned the power of simple encouragement. All I brought to Carl’s home were a few words of affirmation, a couple of Bible verses, and a prayer or two. Such were the rudimentary tools I had to work with in those days. But, to be honest, I probably could have said the same simple things every time I visited — or nothing at all — and frankly, it would have been enough.
I learned that just dropping by, having a cup of coffee, showing a bit of kindness, and sitting for awhile could make a real difference for somebody. Who knew?
And that a pastor, even a young and clueless one, can represent the gracious, healing Word of God to hurting people.
And that pastors are made by means we would seldom choose and might never imagine.
I’m thankful for everything I’ve learned in church, in Bible college, and in seminary. But when it comes right down to it, it was people like Carl and his wife who helped me learn what it means to be a pastor.
Reunions make me sad. I enjoy them, but in the end, they do not satisfy.
As I wrote last week, we are spending this weekend with friends in the congregation of our first church, where we served from 1978-1983. A Friday evening service, Saturday breakfast and evening music night with ice cream social, Sunday worship and dinner on the grounds — it will be a delight to see everyone and participate.
But it’s not enough. This weekend will provide yet another example of Qoheleth’s maxim:
Smoke, nothing but smoke. . . .
There’s nothing to anything—it’s all smoke.
What’s there to show for a lifetime of work,
a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone?
One generation goes its way, the next one arrives,
but nothing changes—it’s business as usual for old planet earth.
• Ecclesiastes 1:2-3, MSG
Eugene Peterson’s translation catches the thought much better than many translations, which render the Hebrew word hebel in philosophical terms: vanity, meaninglessness, pointlessness, uselessness, etc. The word carries the thought of transiency rather than absence of meaning. I like his rendering: Smoke. Like a fragile bubble which is easily pricked and which dissipates immediately, so is life. It is a vapor, a breath, a puff of smoke that appears and then vanishes into thin air.
There are certainly philosophical and psychological implications that grow out of this: for example, if life is so ephemeral, what’s the use? What’s the point of trying to build anything that lasts if this is the nature of our existence? In the end, as EP renders it, “What’s there to show for a lifetime of work?”
Another observation that accompanies the realization of life’s fleeting nature is that life moves relentlessly forward. You can’t go back. Like a river whose waters flow continuously to the sea, nothing is actually the same when we return to our favorite spot along its banks.
I am in the season of life now when reunions beckon. This weekend we’ll enjoy one of those. But reunions are bittersweet. The dear friends we’ll see are people with whom we once shared a moment in time. Though it feels like we pick up right where we left off, that is not really the case. I am a different person today, and they too have changed in ways I will never understand.
I can tell you about leaving the church and becoming a chaplain, and you can tell me about caring for your husband day by day with his debilitating disease, but since we didn’t share those experiences it’s not the same as talking with Leonard about the time I had to wake him up in the middle of the night to get the gas pump from the volunteer fire department and haul it up to my place in waist-deep snow so I could keep my furnace from being flooded in the spring thaw.
Those memories stick with you and it’s a good thing they do, because Leonard’s in his 90’s now and I live in the Midwest and haven’t had to worry about a flooded cellar in thirty years. But after laughing together for a few moments, the former fire chief and I fidget a bit and I say, “Gee it’s good to see you, Leonard,” and we walk off to the next conversation. The river that once ran under my house has moved on.
This is one reason I am uncomfortable when people talk about the life to come as a reunion.
I can’t imagine that for a second, though I know what they’re getting at. They have this vision of a long missed embrace, the sound of a voice that’s been silent for years, that characteristic expression and unique greeting they’ve been waiting to receive.
But I’m afraid when most of us anticipate that reunion, our next thought is, “Then, at long last, things will be like they were before.”
Not a chance. Things will be like they’ve never been before. And after we visit, and reminisce, and catch up on lost time, two strangers who look like old friends will have to learn to get to know each other all over again.
What I hate about reunions, what makes me sad about them, is that they make me realize these friends and I only truly share the past, a past that is gone like Qoheleth’s smoke. Thankfully, as it vanished into thin air, a story took root in unseen places that keeps those memories vital. We all know what a precious thing that is.
However, I can’t picture the life to come as the continual rehearsing of old stories. Eternity is not a scrapbook, but a blank book waiting to be filled.
The river of life still flows in the new creation, I’m told.
Fast-food culture wars, Dumb and Dumber sermons, and judges who are okay with incest. Welcome to the weekend, fellow imonkers.
The big news in sports yesterday was that LeBron James announced he is returning to Cleveland. That city has not won a sports championship of any kind in over 50 years. But with three number one draft picks in the last four years, and now the King coming back…well, let’s just say expectations are a little high: 
It’s Argentina versus Germany for the World Cup final tomorrow. Out of the almost 200 countries in the world, the final two countries are also the two home countries of the two living Popes. Coincidence? 
Readers may recall a few weeks ago we reported that the Polish Prime Minister, in a fit of historical amnesia, made the statement, “Regardless of what his conscience is telling him, [a doctor] must carry out the law.” He was referring to a doctor who refused to perform an abortion because of religious objections. The doctor has now been fired.
“God can take your dumb and dumber and turn it into greater and greater!” Thus tweeted Mega-church Pastor Ed Young, obviously doing his best to channel Augustine. The tweet was to promote his new sermon series, At The Movies, and in particular the first installment, the 1994 comedy, Dumb and Dumber. Yeah, this one:
The ever informative Christian Post even has a sample of Young’s “exegesis”. First he showed a clip where one character (not sure if it was dumb or dumber) says, “I’m sick and tired of having to eke my way through life. I’m sick and tired of bein’ a nobody. But most of all… I’m sick and tired of havin’ nobody.” Pastor Young then explains “If you also feel you’re a nobody … Jesus died on the cross for nobodies like you and me…Why are we nobodies? Because we are sinners. We decided to move from being a somebody created in God’s image to being a nobody”. But after speaking so profoundly about our depravity, Young brings a word of hope: “We’re somebody because Jesus gave His body; He sacrificed His life, His blood for our shortcomings…” Okaaaaaaaay. And they say deep Bible teaching is a thing of the past…So this is what we have: a dumbed down sermon illustrated by Dumb and Dumber. A perfect example of the old chestnut, “the medium is the message”. Which leads me to this discussion starter: Name a preacher or church and the movie which would best represent their presentation of Christianity. Be (somewhat) nice.
Pope Francis met with some American televangelists this week. He even gave James Robison the first recorded papal high-five: 
This seems odd to me. Francis has been a consistent and vocal critic of clergy wealth. But perhaps this just demonstrates that he will meet with anyone, just as Jesus was mostly willing to do.
“A jury might find nothing untoward in the advance of a brother towards his sister once she had sexually matured, had sexual relationships with other men and was now ‘available,’ not having [a] sexual partner.” This from a judge (!!!) in Australia, arguing that incest really isn’t that bad. Garry Neilson argued that incest is still a crime only “to prevent chromosomal abnormalities” in any potential pregnancies, “but even that falls away to an extent [because] there is such ease of contraception and readily access to abortion.” Neilson further argued that just has society had changed its mind about the morality of homosexuality, it is bound to do so about incest as well. 
Author and pastor Thom Rainer this week listed 6 signs of a dysfunctional church.
1. Severe theological errors are pervasive in the church.
2. The church is known as a “pastor-eater.
3. The congregation experiences severe conflict.
4. Hardly anyone in the community knows the church exists.
5. The church is declining while the community is growing.
6. The church is “family owned and family operated.”
I wrote my own list, but you are encouraged to make additions in the comments.
1. New member’s kit includes a bible, copy of Mein Kampf, and an Uzi
2. The church staff consists of Senior Pastor, Youth Pastor and Chief Legal Counsel.
3. Pianist plays “Stairway to Heaven” during altar call
4. Ushers ask, “Snake-handling, or non-snake-handling?”
5. Youth Pastor announces a new ministry of spray-painting bible verses on city buildings; Calls it “evandalism”.
6. Church cross replaced by dollar sign
7. Baptistery has wave-maker and/or Jacuzzi jets installed
8. Ushers take communion with offering plate in one hand, cattle prod in the other
9. Worship Team has its own twerker
10. Senior Pastor is married to the Ladies Trio
The always helpful Cosmopolitan this week gave us an article entitled, 19 Things Not to say to a Young Christian. #13 is “Do you play with snakes?” Apparently Cosmo readers need to be informed that snake-handling is not in the mainstream of Christian practice. This makes me curious: what is the strangest question you have ever been asked about your religious beliefs?
Alan Noble has a very well-written article about the fast food culture wars. Didn’t know there was a fast food culture war? But comrade, it is all war, all the time! The battle ground this week was Burger King promoting a Proud Whopper. Noble: “for Burger King’s part, that YouTube video uses customer reactions to imply that they’re taking a real and meaningful stand for LGBT rights by wrapping their strictly meh burger in a rainbow wrapper with the words, “We Are All the Same Inside.” So, sex, gender, and orientation are just like cheap, fattening, mediocre burgers? Setting aside the problematic division of outside/inside as an analogy to orientation and gender/humanity, doesn’t this promotion trivialize advocacy for LGBT rights? Isn’t it kind of condescending? And the jokes about wanting “meat” and going “both ways,” how did they make it past the marketing department? Middle school jokes about gays hardly seem supportive, but if that’s the style they were going for, they at least could have changed their name to “Burger Queen” for the commercial.” I like this guy.
I have no idea what to make of this: apparently the seven-year sabbatical cycle in the Torah controls current events in America. This is the thesis of Jonathon Cahn, a Rabbi who wrote a book called Harbinger which sold 1.6 million copies. The Great Depression, 9/11 and even the rise and fall of America are linked to the seven year pattern. Imonk reader Randy Thompson sent this my way, along with a very good question: Why does it always seem to take 2000 years before someone is smart enough to figure these things out?
Well, that wraps up this week’s Ramblings. I will be camping next week, and so will not be with you. Grace and peace to you all.
Ed Stetzer is the President of LifeWay Research Division, a prolific author, and well-known conference and seminar leader. Stetzer has planted, revitalized, and pastored churches, trained pastors and church planters on six continents, holds two masters degrees and two doctorates, and has written dozens of articles and books.
Stetzer is a contributing editor for Christianity Today, a columnist for Outreach Magazine, and is frequently cited or interviewed in news outlets such as USAToday and CNN. He is the Executive Editor of The Gospel Project, a curriculum used by more than 400,000 individuals each week. Stetzer is also Executive Editor of Facts & Trends Magazine, a Christian leadership magazine with a circulation of more than 70,000 readers.
Stetzer serves as Visiting Professor of Research and Missiology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and Visiting Research Professor at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, and has taught at many other colleges and seminaries.
He also serves as Lead Pastor of Grace Church in Hendersonville, Tenn., a congregation he planted in 2011.
In his post in Christianity Today this week, Everything Is Terrible: How Bad Stats Fuel Disillusionment, Ed points out that bad statistics are making things out to be much worse than they are, especially regarding young Christian Evangelicals and sex. He also points out that media are all too quick to use these bad statistics to denigrate the church.
The reason why I mention all this, is that one of the sources that he mentions as being particularly bad, was a source that I had used in a post a few years ago at Internet Monk entitled Increasing Marriage Age and Its Implications.
How do youth in the church look compared to society at large? Well there is some good news, but it is not overly good. For example, according to the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth (NLSY), when we look at youth in society between the ages of 18 and 23 who are in a relationship but not married, 93% are sexually active. Among conservative protestant youth, that number is 80%. Look out over your congregations Pastor, according to the numbers, on average 80% of your college and career group who are currently dating are sexually active. The number is lower that society at large but not by much.
I used the quote above because the conclusion I drew was faulty. As Ed points out:
But Wait! There is a problem here—it turns out that the question asked if they considered themselves as a “born-again Christian, evangelical, or fundamentalist,” not if they actually were practicing.
The mistake and assumption that I made was the the same mistake pointed out in an email by Ted Olsen to Ed Stetzer:
[The] assumption is that 80 percent of evangelicals being ‘sexually active’ means that 80 percent of committed, Bible-believing, church-going evangelicals are ‘sexually active.’ That’s the mistake.
In that particular part of my article, I failed to distinguish between church going and non church going evangelicals. To my credit, I do mention the significance of Church attendance in another part of my post. I don’t think my article was completely wrong, but I don’t think it was completely right either.
So here is what I would like you to do? Have a read of my original article. Then pop over and read Ed’s article on the topic.
Did I get it mostly right? Where do you think I hit the mark and where do you think I missed the target completely? Do you agree with Ed’s contention that bad statistics are causing disillusionment in the church? Error(s) aside, was I being a pessimist or a realist in the article that I wrote? I would love to hear your thoughts on this one.
Succession Is For Us Too
By Lisa Dye
“We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.”
—The Nicene Creed
I remember standing in my old Presbyterian church as a girl, feeling the cool stone floors under my feet and smelling the polished wood of the pews. I admired the gothic architecture, the stone interior, the arched windows and the rich tapestries hanging in the choir loft. An adventurous friend had once led me on a tour of the cavernous structure. We whispered and giggled and tried to stay hidden from a janitor in hot pursuit of who he thought to be intruders or vandals. The church seemed like a castle or great cathedral and I enjoyed the thrill of trying to elude capture. Being there was a happy experience and it gave me a peaceful respite from upsetting things that happened at home. Eventually, I had a youth leader there who would give me my own Bible and make me hungry to know God.
It was in this church that I learned the words to great hymns and began to sense that God was real and holy, though I thought it strange that weekly we recited the words to the Nicene Creed. Why did we believe in one holy catholic apostolic church if we were standing there in Tabernacle Presbyterian Church? I fixated on the word “catholic” every time for a very long time. Yes, I finally figured out what catholic meant, but stopped thinking about these words during later years when I attended a non-denominational church … the years of not reciting the creeds.
Recently, I’ve had a hunger to renew my familiarity with some of the ancient statements of faith. I’ve heard the arguments against reciting religious words by rote and formerly shared the sentiment. One day it dawned on me that hymn singing was essentially the same, only with melody. Most of us either sing or have sung hymns. Psalms were meant for singing, though now we usually just memorize one or two or a few to speak or think about because they are Scripture. We forget they are songs and few, if any, people on earth know the original melodies. Whether we sing or recite something from memory we are practicing a form of meditation and it provides an opportunity for its deeper meanings to develop and grow within us. I have come to appreciate how singing hymns, memorizing Scripture and reciting the creeds and praying old prayers helps to form our theology. It is a way that spiritual revelation, born from those who walked and fished and ate and preached with Jesus, is passed on from generation to generation. It is the succession of Christian knowledge and understanding.
Of late, I have thought more about the idea of succession and many years after standing in my old church reciting the Nicene Creed, the word “apostolic,” the fourth mark of the Church, jumped out and grabbed me. I began to wonder exactly what it means and if I really do believe in an apostolic church as I professed from habit all those years ago.
I am struck by the implications and significance for the Church as a whole and for us as individuals, though still trying to examine the full meaning. As with most people, much of my spiritual thought and practice arises from the culture in which I was raised. Culture isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s what often makes us feel at home in the world. But culture is usually decidedly opinionated and subjective. Knowing this about my own cultural influences and realizing the haphazardness of the theological formation I received, I find myself distrusting of my own conclusions. For this reason, I believe I will always be in the process of being formed. Michaelangelo once wrote, “Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” I think this applies to how we develop in our thinking and practice as we walk with God. If we will let him, He will be the sculptor chipping away at us until a beautiful form emerges … that is if we don’t resist his chipping and settle prematurely into hardened and unformed miscarriages born of skewed culture and smug thinking.
I’m not a theologian, so I can barely wade into the meaning and importance of apostolic succession, but it is the launching point for a more personal application. Either way, the subject seems worth thinking about and discussing for the good of the whole Church and, on an individual level, for the good of our people who come after us.
For some, including Catholics, Orthodox and certain of the Protestant denominations, apostolic offices are taken as a permanent assembly. Passages such as Acts 20:28, I Corinthians 12:27-31, I Corinthians 15:3-11, I Peter 5:2-4, I Timothy 1:11,12 and II Timothy 2:2 have given rise to hierarchies in the Church, with bishops believed to be the spiritual descendents of the apostles, their offices continuing to the end of time and their mission of handing on the Gospel continuing as well.
For others, namely, certain Protestant denominations … or non-denominations, apostolic succession is taken more symbolically or perhaps not taken at all. The same passages listed above may be applied generally rather than exclusively. Believing in the priesthood of all believers, many Protestants take these passages as intended for all Christians and not a hierarchy of clerics. My perception as a young and not-thinking-very-hard-about-it Protestant was that we believed that the teachings of the apostles laid the foundation of our belief, but not necessarily that their mantle of apostleship passed to a successor. At least, this was my perception from what I saw going on around me. This is where I have lived all my Christian life. Those several years ago, I recited the Creed along with my fellow churchgoers, but I believed it in a way that lacked a concrete application. Later, in my non-denominational church, we gave no real recognition of it at all. To be honest, I didn’t notice. We weren’t behaving like a cult. We worshiped. We walked with Christ. We prayed. We served.
We also trail blazed. We pioneered. We stood alone as a church in a sea of churches and we often forgot about the Church. We re-invented the wheel … dare I say, a lop-sided wheel at that? We used up and spit out pastors faster than … well, pretty fast. As far as succession, there was none. I think I grew weary and leery of this approach long before I associated it with my questions about apostolic succession.
When I did start considering succession I wondered how it would change things in the Body of Christ if we viewed our ministers as anointed and in a long line of anointed ones with the torch for a ministry or responsibility being passed from one to another, much as a kingdom passes from one king to the next. We might be at least kinder, more respectful and submissive to authority if we saw our pastors to be descended, spiritually speaking, from the Apostle Paul … or name your favorite apostle. (Lest you think me naïve, I see the potential and know actual examples of how this can be abused … perhaps a topic for another day.) If we kept in view of the apostles’ original mission, we might be less likely to morph, to split and to insulate ourselves into little cliques born more of culture and less of Christ. We might also see ourselves as part of a much bigger picture … the Body of Christ worldwide, the Body of Christ in the whole of history, the Body of Christ in Heaven as well as Earth, the Body of Christ graced in infinite ways to complete one mission.
Recently, my family was invited by Nigerian friends to attend an important event. The evening culminated in a rite of passage originating in their African culture. In it, elders or fathers stood in front of their teenage sons asking them if they were ready for the responsibilities of manhood. They listed these responsibilities and values in which their sons had been mentored. These included things like working with excellence, always to the benefit of community rather than self and being faithful to care for wives and children. The sons replied that they were ready. The ideals and standards were reiterated a number of times, seemingly to give the sons any opportunity to refuse the torch which they were about to receive. At last, one speaking for the elders turned to the audience to ask if the sons should be allowed to take the place of men in the community. Everyone shouted, “Yes.” With that final affirmation, the elders removed the cloth signifying manhood from around their shoulders and placed it around the shoulders of their sons.
This event has stayed at the forefront of my thinking as a visual reminder of what is at stake for us as the Church, for our countries, our communities, our families and ourselves. We are not here to occupy space and take up time. Our lives are our vocations. We are called by God to live according to our unique gifts in our unique places in our unique times for the common mission of bringing the Kingdom of Heaven to Earth. We are meant to receive a spiritual heritage and leave a spiritual legacy. I find myself believing more and more in apostolic succession because it seems God’s way to draw us a picture. Jesus told us stories and the Father draws us pictures … pictures like a beautiful Garden, an ark of safety, a father’s sacrifice of a long-awaited son and all the implements and rites of tabernacles and temples, to name a few. Similarly, he may be picturing by the establishment of succession that we all are called like the Apostle Paul to first receive the Gospel … a Gospel which isn’t always preached with words in formal church settings, but in jobs, large and small, where we try to reflect the excellence of God, in marriages where we love spouses like Christ loves the church, in families and neighborhoods where we labor in love and make sacrifices of service … and in so doing, teach the ones coming after us.
Each generation, each nation, each community, each family and each person is called upon to pass the torch of mission and faith and the keeping of brothers. We are empowered by an outpouring of grace by the Holy Spirit for each work God has prepared in advance for us to do according to Ephesians 2:10.
It is easy for us to think that our coming into the world and our going out of it is often hardly noticeable. Are we here for a brief span only to breath Earth’s air and consume some of its goods? If we look through the eyes of the world, we might agree. But the Apostle Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians (1:4-11) that God “chose us in him before the foundations of the world.” He chose us for many purposes, one being “to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” We are not accidents of conjugal unions no matter how it may seem at times. We were chosen in advance for specific purposes and specific works, all culminating in God’s grand work of bringing Heaven and Earth into Communion once again.
Others were here before us. Maybe they taught us well and communicated an eternal vision and purpose for us to embrace. Maybe we struggle alone and frustrated to find what we know is there but can’t seem to apprehend. What’s important now, is that we begin to believe why we are here and that we live as torchbearers purposefully delivering to the next ones what we have received.
When we die, we will leave behind jobs that still need to be done, ministries that still need to be fulfilled and people who still need to be loved and to know Christ. The little space we occupied for a time does not close up and disappear. Creation will groan if we do not pass our mantles, our knowledge and our positions. Maybe we are not apostles. But we know Christ. Succession is for us too.
Note from CM: I’m happy to introduce a guest author today, one who comes to us by way of our friend Jeff Dunn. Her name is Marci Alborghetti, and she is the author of several books. Marci’s most recent titles, People of the Nativity: Living the Christmas Story Then and Now
• • •
Sanctity of Life and the Death Penalty
By Marci Alborghetti
I’ve been to a lot of churches, met a lot of priests and ministers, and listened to a lot of sermons. Sermons about the evil of abortion. Sermons about the “moral emptiness” of contraception. Sermons about the “slippery slope” of euthanasia. Sermons about the sinful despair of suicide. Sermons about the sanctity of marriage, declaring that no good Christian should vote for any politician who supports choice, contraception or gay rights. Sermons about the degradation of legalizing same sex unions. One minister actually explained why “homosexuality and homosexuals” were “abominations.” Didn’t stay for the end of that one, but I have a feeling the arc didn’t change much.
In churches, I’ve been told whom to vote for, harangued to sign marriage “protection” petitions, had collection baskets pushed in my face for anti-abortion efforts, and urged to participate in sidewalk “counseling” protests at family planning clinics.
And did I mention sermons about the evil of abortion? One of my favorites on this topic was a sort of feint right, slam left deal that I heard around the time Obamacare was being condemned as the end of religious freedom in the known world. The priest, on a weekend close to Veterans Day, respectfully asked all parishioners who were either veterans or service family members to rise. How nice to recognize them, I thought, as a handful of people, with typical Catholic reluctance to be singled out, shuffled to their feet. Turns out they had good reason to hesitate this time. There was a smattering of applause and just as they were all finally straightening themselves up in realization that they did indeed have a reason to be proud, the priest’s benevolent features contorted into a mask of outrage as he snarled, “How does it feel knowing that you served or that your loved one died to ensure that young girls have free contraception?”
That was a moment.
As a Christian writer and researcher, I sometimes feel I’ve heard it all. But here’s what I’ve never heard from a pulpit: I’ve never heard a minister condemn the death penalty as an attack on the sanctity of life. I’ve never heard a pastor observe that only God should give or take life in reference to a death row inmate. I’ve never heard a priest point out the inherent racism in the implementation of the death sentence, or the fact that the most active killing states are former slave states. I’ve never heard a preacher point out that America’s global colleagues in execution are Iran, North Korea, Somalia, Sudan, and China. Wait, did someone say Axis of Evil? Oh, I see, not for this.
I’ve never heard a priest declare that he would deny the Holy Eucharist to an elected official who supports the death penalty. I’ve never heard a minister call legal murder an “abomination.” I’ve never heard a preacher praise the European Union for denying EU entrance to any country with a death penalty on its books, or for refusing to export drugs that might be used in a legal lethal cocktail. I’ve never heard a pastor discuss the “slippery slope” of executing individuals with developmental disabilities. I’ve never heard a minister compare a death row inmate to Moses, David, and Saint Paul, murderers who were redeemed by God’s mercy.
In churches, I’ve never been asked to sign a petition protesting a death warrant, donate to an organization advocating to abolish the death penalty, vote for or against a politician because of his/her position on legal execution, or join a March on Washington to protest against the 1976 law that allowed legal murder in the United States.
I most notably haven’t heard any of these sermons or had any of these experiences in the two months since the State of Oklahoma’s botched murder of Clayton Lockett, a death row inmate who witnesses watched writhe in agony after being administered the death drugs only to die later of a heart attack.
Just because I’ve never heard these sermons, doesn’t mean they’re not being preached. In small, but dedicated, pockets of Christianity they are. Indeed, I know from my own experience as an advocate and member of the Death Row Support Project, a Church of the Brethren ministry, that pretty much the only people fighting to abolish the death penalty and supporting death row inmates are church people. The Quakers, some Catholics, Jews, and progressive Protestant congregants are often the only ones in the front lines, and also the only ones in the scant lines of protestors when a death warrant is signed and the moment of execution comes.
But when you consider Jesus on the death penalty – “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer … But love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Mt. 5:38-39, 44. – the numbers of Christians out there advocating against the death penalty simply don’t add up. Because, just for the record, you can’t claim to follow Jesus Christ and support legal murder. Aside from what He said and did, what He was and is cries out against such hypocrisy. How can you worship and follow the Author of Life, Who was Himself legally executed, when you are advocating for the execution of another?
Still not sure how Jesus felt about the matter? Not once in the Gospels does Jesus concede the power over life and death to secular – or religious – authority. “Do not judge and you will not be judged; do not condemn and you will not be condemned.” -Lk 6:37. Even as Messiah and Son of God, Jesus as Son of Man is reluctant to take on the mantle of judgment: “Indeed God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.” -Jn 3:17.
Jesus even denies Pilate, and thereby Rome, the greatest empire in the known world, the power to execute Him despite the fact that the Romans had already judged and crucified countless men in Palestine. When Pilate upbraids Jesus for not speaking to him – “Do you not know that I have power to release You, and power to crucify You?” – Jesus responds, “You would have no power over Me unless it had been given you from above.” -Jn 19:10, 11
Yes but, come the arguments, the Catholic church and many Christian churches are very clear on their official position against the death penalty. Technically speaking, yeah. Church hierarchies, especially those spending millions on favored social and political issues, are notoriously difficult to pin down on how much money they shell out for various causes. But if you want an idea of how committed Christian organizations are to certain sanctity of life issues over others, there is a highly scientific experiment you can perform. Google: Christians against abortion. Then, Google: Christians against same sex marriage. Note the number of results for both these subjects. Finally, Google: Christians against the death penalty. You can be sure that the money and manpower follow the numbers.
Why is the clamor of Christians against the death penalty not nearly as loud, unified, organized or financially powerful as protests against abortion and same sex marriage? Why are those advocating against the death penalty poorly funded, scattered, and so far out of the mainstream that they are sometimes considered pariahs by some of their fellow congregants?
In part at least, because the people we advocate for are not easy to love. Many of them have done terrible things, mostly after having had terrible things done to them. They cannot be presented as adorable, sad-eyed babies – though each of them once was an adorable, sad-eyed baby. They are not thought of as church-going Christians – not like us – yet the death row convicts I know have spent years studying scripture and seeking God. One has taught himself to read the Bible … in Hebrew.
However, the men and women on death row cannot generally compete in the annals of our affection with gurgling babies and Christmas card photos of smiling nuclear families with Mom, Dad, and children happily ensconced on the sofa. Death row inmates do not make good subjects for ad campaigns.
But when did we get the idea that Christianity – true Christianity – was supposed to be easy? Indeed, Jesus warns us repeatedly that it is not. “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” -Mt. 10:16. Later, on the eve of His crucifixion, Jesus warns the disciples, “Because you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world – therefore, the world hates you.” -Jn 15:19.
Moreover, where did we ever get the idea that we are supposed to love only the lovable? How did the radical way of love, forgiveness and poverty, preached by Jesus Christ, become a religion of puppies and kittens, wealth and power, righteousness and cowardice? How did we, and even worse, our Christian leaders, become so complacent, so eager to reach only for the ripest, low-hanging fruit?
In America today, we have elected officials who are so busy pretending to be God that they’ve stopped trying to follow God; for the essence of God is mercy and love. Just as disturbing is the fact that too many Christian leaders and clergy have forgotten that too.
Well friends, I don’t know how it is where you live, but here in the Crossroads of America the roads are clogged with family trucksters inhabited by Griswold families from all across this great country of ours. It’s summer vacation time, and your venerable Chaplain is about to take to the interstate too.
This year, it will be a special combination of spending time with family, walking down pastoral memory lane, and sharing some face to face fellowship with members of our Internet Monk community in various places around New England.
FIRST STOP: East Dover, Vermont.
This little mountain village is the home of our first congregation, the East Dover Baptist Church, which is celebrating its 200th birthday this year. At the ripe old age of 22, I became the pastor of this historic church in the fall of 1978.
It was the season of “firsts” in my life. First move away from home. First church call. First wife (I’m joking, she’s still my wife — my only one, by the way). There I performed my first funeral, my first wedding, my first baptism, and led my first congregational meetings. We had our first baby there. When we left, five years later, it was our first move as a family.
Roger Olson wrote a piece recently giving his personal perspective on the changes he has seen in American evangelicalism during his lifetime. He is well qualified to do so, and in the article he lists his personal and professional credentials:
I’ve been in the “thick” of evangelicalism my whole life. I attended an evangelical college and an evangelical seminary. I have taught at three evangelical institutions. I have served as editor of an evangelical journal and on the editorial board of Christianity Today. I have published articles in evangelical magazines and journals and had books published by evangelical publishers. I have served as chair of the Evangelical Theology Group of the American Academy of Religion. I wrote The Handbook to Evangelical Theology published by Westminster John Knox Press. I have been a member and sometime deacon of about ten evangelical churches in my life. I have served on the steering committee of city-wide evangelical evangelistic crusades. I could go on. I doubt there are very many people in America with stronger evangelical credentials than I have.
The Internet Monk Archives