The Internet Monk Archives

Beyond Christmas Wars & Boycotts: Faith-Driven Consumers?

As Faith Driven Consumers, we choose to match our wallets to our worldview and support companies whose corporate actions are compatible with biblical faith. This is action every one of us can take, every day. And we can advocate for and grow faith-compatible businesses all over America.

Faith Driven Consumers are creating space in the American marketplace for those who hold to a biblical worldview. If you seek to steward the resources you’ve been entrusted in ways that create a more faith-compatible marketplace, join the Faith Driven Consumer community today. It all starts with you!

Faith Driven Consumer

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Here, in the midst of Christmas shopping season, your faithful Internet Monk secret shopper has found you a new way to exercise power as a person of faith in our culture. It seems that the Joint Chiefs of the evangelical-industrial complex have devised a new strategy in the ongoing battle against cultural decline.

Moving beyond the “Christmas Wars” approach of boycotting businesses that purportedly offend the faithful, an online advocacy group named Faith Driven Consumer now enables you as a believer to direct your shopping dollars toward businesses that “welcome us and respect our values.” And they want businesses to know that “we’re ready, willing and able to switch our loyalties to brands that include us.”

FDC publishes a Christmas Guide as well as buying guides for other seasons and holidays which provide rankings to help Christians choose the retailers and corporations they would like to support with their business.

What criteria does Faith Driven Consumer use to evaluate companies?

Pro-life: “This category evaluates the degree to which a company’s actions and policies align with the biblical pro-life worldview – with particular attention paid to issues surrounding the direct or indirect support of abortion, embryonic stem cell research and euthanasia.”

Biblical Sexuality, Marriage and Family: “This category evaluates the degree to which a company’s actions and policies align with the biblical worldview on sexuality, marriage and family – with particular attention paid to issues involving attempts to redefine gender, marriage and family and normalize homosexuality, bisexuality and transgenderism in the economic arena and broader culture.”

Non-pornographic Materials: “This category evaluates the degree to which a company’s actions and policies promote the production, distribution and sale of products or materials that objectify, degrade, diminish or deface the image of God we humans bear as male and female – particularly when it depicts unwholesome, unseemly, titillating behavior and nudity in ways intended to objectify others and/or cause sexual excitement.”

Wholesome Entertainment: “This category evaluates the overall wholesomeness of entertainment content produced, distributed or supported by companies in the form of books, magazines, television shows, movies, internet, music, video games, advertisements and more.”

Social Responsibility/Philanthropy: “This category evaluates the degree to which a company’s actions and policies promote philanthropic efforts to generously and freely give back to the broader community a portion of the bounty to which they’ve been entrusted. This includes sponsorships, donations and partnerships with other organizations and community groups – particularly charitable contributions that align with a biblical worldview and values system.”

Corporate Responsibility: “This category evaluates the degree to which a company’s actions and policies promote and exercise positive corporate responsibility in the areas over which they have been granted stewardship. This category examines how companies treat their employees, customers, business partnerships and the environment.”

They use a star system to rank companies by these criteria, rating them based on how strongly they “lean toward a Biblical worldview.”

Continue reading “Beyond Christmas Wars & Boycotts: Faith-Driven Consumers?”

Randy Thompson: The Sky Is Always Falling

The Sky Is Always Falling
by Randy Thompson

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
(Alphonse Karr)

The other day I went up to the local garage to have our mechanic switch our car’s regular tires over to snow tires—a winter ritual for many of us here in New Hampshire. While waiting, I looked over the assortment of magazines. It was an odd assortment, as is usually the case in places like this, but one magazine caught my eye, and I began to thumb through it.

One article in particular caught my eye. It was written by a prominent pastor and entitled “Can Protestantism Be Saved?” Naturally, as a Protestant and as a pastor, I had a certain professional interest in what he had to say, especially since it suggested that I may need to update my resume.

As I read, the author’s concern over the decline of Protestant Christianity reached alarming levels—maybe I really do need to update my resume! What are the symptoms of this decay of the Reformers’ faith? In the author’s words:

One of the most obvious symptoms of decline is the church’s apathy in the face of the challenge posed by the decaying society that surrounds it. Who can doubt that a moral blight is spreading across the face of America? Look at the filth displayed on our newsstands, the sadism on television, the pornography in our books, the preoccupation with perversion in our theater. Look at the prevalence of classroom cheating, of payola, of kickbacks, of expense-account padding. Look at the steady rise of juvenile delinquency and every other form of vice and crime. Is the Protestant church attacking these things with all the force and fire at its command?

His answer: “Hardly!”

But he has not yet exhausted his concern. He notes another disturbing cultural trend, “the church’s indifference to what seems to be an anti-religious movement in the United States.” According to him,

The leaders of this movement say openly that it is their intention to drive religion out of all aspects of public life. They want to remove the religious mottoes from our coins and the chaplains from our legislative bodies. They want to eliminate the tradition of swearing on the bible. They want to do away with school prayers . . . the simple, non-sectarian prayer with which many of the state’s [New York] public-school children began each day.

In response to these troubling trends, our author feels that “the church should be fighting back.” However, he apparently believes that this is not likely to happen, due to the erosion of the theological integrity of the mainline churches and the lax membership standards of these churches. His point on church membership is well summarized by Groucho Marx’s response to being accepted for membership in a local country club: “I’m not sure I want to join any organization that would have someone like me as a member.”

At this point, dear reader, we need to pause for a moment. I’m sure you are as concerned as our author about the spiritual state of the Protestant Church in this “decaying society” (unless, of course, you’re Catholic, in which case you have your own worries). But, who is our author? When did he write this jeremiad? And which “decaying society” is he referring to?

(If this was a radio game show and not an article, I’d give you an opportunity to answer these questions now, even though I couldn’t promise that you’d get Carl Kassell‘s voice on your home answering machine if you got the right answer.)

So, instead, a Spoiler Alert: The author of this article was Norman Vincent Peale, and his “Can Protestantism Be Saved?” was published in “The Reader’s Digest,” in September, 1962.

The article is over fifty years old.

Continue reading “Randy Thompson: The Sky Is Always Falling”

Let’s Discuss: Christmas Music Recommendations

Back in 2010, Jeff and I had dueling posts about our favorite Christmas music. Jeff’s top five were:

Bells of Dublin, The Chieftains
Christmas Portrait, The Carpenters
Ultra-Lounge Christmas Cocktails, Part Two, Various Artists
If On A Winter’s Night, Sting
Christmas, Bruce Cockburn

He also gave honorable mentions to: A Charlie Brown Christmas, by Vince Guaraldi, Nat King Cole’s, Christmas Song, and, just for fun, Twisted Christmas, by Bob Rivers.

When I followed up with my post, I noted that Jeff focused on folk and contemporary music for his list. So I came back first with my list in those genres:

Precious Child: Story of Christmas, by Thom Schuyler, Craig Bickhardt (with various artists)
Christmas, Singers Unlimited
New England Christmastide, Various Artists
Merry Christmas, Love Honeytree, Honeytree
White Christmas, Bing Crosby
Ella Wishes You a Swingin’ Christmas, Ella Fitzgerald

I couldn’t stop there, however, but had to make a list of traditional favorites as well. They were:

Christmas Around the World, Quink Vocal Ensemble
James Galway’s Christmas Carol, James Galway
Christmas Night: Carols of the Nativity, John Rutter/Cambridge Singers
Christmas with the London Brass, London Brass
Carols from Trinity, The Choir of Trinity College

There were numerous honorable mentions, and I also encouraged us all not to forget the classical Christmas pieces: Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, the Christmas portion of Handel’s Messiah, The Nutcracker, and Britten’s Ceremony of Carols.

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I have not stopped buying and listening to Christmas music since these were posted, but rather than me updating you on my more recent favorites, let’s discuss Christmas music that you have discovered in the past couple of years, which will now become a favored part of your seasonal reflections and celebrations.

It’s all yours…

iMonk Classic: “Lo, How a Rose” – Experiencing The Power of Beauty

Note from CM: I remember reading this post as a fairly new reader to IM and feeling a strong connection to Michael and his experience. Yesterday morning, our choir sang a rendition of “Lo, How a Rose,” and my thoughts went back to the beauty of this season, the beauty of the Rose springing forth in our hearts and in the world, and the power of music to refresh our spirits and make things new.

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“Lo, How a Rose:” Experiencing The Power of Beauty
A classic Michael Spencer article, from December 2004

It was Christmas of 1968. I was a seventh grader at Estes Junior High School. School was a huge part of my world. My father was beginning down the road to depression. I was an only child, and my life wasn’t full of the activities of a typical middle school boy today. My dad didn’t want me to play sports, so I came home every day and watched television, or played with my friends up the street. Looking back, there was a simplicity and goodness to my life, and there was also, right in the center, an emptiness.

My parents were uneducated and unsophisticated “country” people. Mom had grown up on farms in rural western Kentucky. Dad was an eastern Kentucky mountain boy who wound up making his way to the oil fields of western Kentucky where, after a painful divorce, he met and married my mother. We had a good family in many ways and a broken one in others, but it was completely devoid of anything you would call beauty; artistic beauty. There was no music. There were only a few cheap wall decorations. There were almost no books. Because I was an only child, I was treated as special, but I wasn’t introduced to the world of beauty. My parents knew the beauty of nature, but they lived in a city. They knew the beauty of family, and shared that with me. But what they knew of the beauty of music was the sound of folk music in the hollers and on the porches of farmhouses, and I was not there.

My parents did not know the world of artistic beauty. They were strangers to it, and would remain so throughout their lives. I went with dad to stock car races and with mom to Gospel quartet shows. At church, I heard the choir and sang hymns, but there was no awareness in my life of the beauty of great music; music that moved the soul and told the mind and heart of a greater beauty beyond. Every week, we would go to a friend’s home and hear a little country band play in the basement while my parents played Rook. I never knew there was anything else or anything more.

School was my only hope of an outlet from this world. It was at school a year before that I had first watched a real play; “Macbeth,” no less. I never forgot that introduction to Shakespeare and that bloody story of evil unfolding before my childish eyes. And it was at school that I first discovered the beauty of music, in “Lo! How a Rose, E’re Blooming.”

Seventh graders were required to take music class. We were not music enthusiasts, to say the least. There was about us all the sense of artistic compulsion, but in the cause of sheer endurance. Nothing more. Our teacher was Mr. Waite, the assistant principal. Mr. Waite was a towering, imposing, intense force to be reckoned with. He managed rooms full of junior high students with a firmness that produced consistent results. Fear of impending doom concentrates the mind wonderfully, and sometimes, in our case, frees the voice to do great things.

I later learned that he was, in fact, a boisterous, happy and spontaneous man who could make anyone smile, but we rarely, if ever, saw that smile. He was turning seventh grade Philistines into singers, and this was war. His entrance into our tiny music room was like the arrival of a holy prophet bound and determined to convert the captive heathen to the true faith. He did not abide any misbehavior, and we would sing whether we liked it or not. We were there to sing, and we would learn to sing and we did sing. Or else…I’m not sure what would have happened, but I didn’t want to find out.

I couldn’t read a note of music, and though Mr. Waite diligently taught us, and I surely nodded at every lesson, I never learned to actually read music. But that didn’t mean I didn’t learn to sing. I was blessed with a good voice and memory. I loved to sing with a group. If we couldn’t read the music, we could still memorize our part, and I did.

Christmas approached that seventh grade year, and we prepared for a Christmas music program for our parents. I am sure I was in the choir and sang several pieces, but I only recall one piece. Mr. Waite used a small, seventh grade boy’s choir, and among other things, we sang a classic arrangement of “Lo, How a Rose E’re Blooming.”

I knew the usual Christmas Carols from church, but I had never heard this song or anything of its kind. I didn’t understand the text. I didn’t understand the scriptural references. I certainly didn’t understand the beautiful arrangement by German composer Michael Praetorius. I did know that this song was an experience of beauty that moved my young soul like no other music I’d ever heard. The mysterious moving of the notes, slipping in behind one another, created an interaction and harmony unlike anything in my hymn-singing tradition. (Think “When We All Get To Heaven” and you have my total experience.) I was captivated. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling, but it was what C.S. Lewis called “longing for joy.” Having once experienced it, we are never the same, and we are pointed toward God with our sails to the wind of joy.

I remember our performance well. There was a small group of us formerly rowdy boys, all standing in white shirts, singing words from the 15th century, in almost complete ignorance, but now under Mr. Waite’s tutelage, becoming instruments of beauty despite our depravity and barbarian natures. My mother was there, and I am sure she was proud of me in my shirt, tie and cowlick, but I could never tell her, or anyone else, what I was really feeling. I didn’t have words for it myself. I couldn’t have told Mr. Waite what happened to me in those rehearsals and in that performance, but I had entered a whole new world.

I wonder how many people in my world have never been moved by music? They listen to the radio or CDs and are excited, or manipulated, but never moved by pure beauty like a visit from a spirit. How many have never been drawn into the beauty and the mystery of wondrous art like this seventh grade boy? Perhaps that day was my biggest step toward believing that God was real, good and loved me. Could the empty universe of the scientists have produced such a sound, and such a feeling to accompany it? Was this all there was, or was there more? And when this world is exhausted, is that all there is, or is there more beside? Is there what Lewis called a heaven of music and silence?

Mr. Waite, I owe you a great debt. You transformed us into the conduits of beauty, and you put the music of the gods on our lips when we were too young to know what it all meant. You rescued me from an artless world and showed me worlds beyond. You did what every educator should long to do- bring the experience of truth, beauty and wonder into young hearts and minds, and so capture us that we can never be happy again without tasting more of that miracle. You gave me a great gift, a gift that life, with all its pain and loss, will never take away. I will always have that song. And now, I have the Rose of whom the poet wrote, and the beauty that made that wonderful song beautiful is mine as well.

Homily for Advent II: Four Metaphors for Advent

The Sermon of John the Baptist (detail), Bruegel

Four Metaphors for Advent
A sermon for the second Sunday in Advent, 2013

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’ This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.” ’

Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

‘I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing-floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’

– Matthew 3:1-12

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Tom Wright points out the four primary metaphors in today’s Gospel narrative:

The road
The water
The axe
The fire

These four pictures tell us a great deal about the ministry of John the Baptist, and also about the meaning of Advent.

First, he came to prepare a way for the coming of the King. The imagery comes from Isaiah 40, which introduces the great message of the second half of the Book of Isaiah: exile will end and God’s people will once more know the presence of God in their midst (Immanuel). The land, which has become a wilderness, will blossom, all enemies and obstacles will be removed, and the world will be on its way to a new creation.

Second, he came to bring his people safely through the waters, from death to life. John took up his position at the Jordan River for a reason. He was reminding Israel that God first brought his people into the Promised Land by leading them through the water. His ministry amounted to a reenactment of what happened in the days of Joshua. God always creates and saves through water. It symbolizes cleansing, birth, refreshment. Sacramentally, it speaks of resurrection and new creation. For Israel, it meant the end of exile and a new entry into God’s promises.

Third, he came to destroy false hopes and ways. He took the axe to them. The Pharisees and the Sadducees who receive the brunt of his rebuke here represented two ways of dealing with living under the rule of their enemies. The Pharisees said the answer was to become people of the book and to separate themselves by practices of law and purity. The Sadducees, on the other hand, took a more “secular” approach of accommodation and compromise, showing a willingness to set aside fundamental beliefs and practices for the sake of peace. They were the “conservatives” and “liberals” of their day, each pursuing policies they thought would help restore God’s blessing to Israel.

In addition, there were groups like the Zealots, the radical revolutionaries, and communities like Qumran, who fled to the desert and sought refuge in asceticism and radical community. John called all these groups to repent of their approaches and look to the hope that God had promised and that God alone could bring through the Messiah.

Fourth, he warned of the coming fire. John was not speaking of eternal judgment and a final apocalypse, but the end of the world as the people of Israel knew it. This judgment would fall on Jerusalem in 70AD, and the Jews would be scattered from their land, not to be a nation there again until 1948. The fire was just over the horizon.

Here are four helpful metaphors for us this Advent.

Am I active in preparing to welcome the King?
Am I living a “baptismal” life — dying and rising anew with Jesus each day?
What false hopes and ways is God pointing out, of which I need to repent?
Do I keep in mind that, when Jesus comes, he will bring judgment as well as mercy?

The road, the water, the axe, the fire.

Which of these metaphors speak most strongly to you during this Advent season?

Saturday Ramblings 12.7.13

It’s beginning to look a lot like … well, in the middle of these United States, it’s beginning to look a lot like winter. And feel like winter. It might even smell like winter for all I know. I’m trying to stay inside as much as I can. I like to be warm. Not too warm, mind you. But not cold either. Lukewarm is not good spiritually, but it is bodily. Blankets and sweatshirts and slippers, oh my. It’s beginning to look a lot like … let’s ramble, shall we?

Those of you who know me know what my reaction was when I saw the headline, “What Dave Ramsey Gets Wrong.” I first wondered how they could get it all in just one article. Then I saw it was what he gets wrong about poverty. And it was written by our friend Rachel Held Evans. Now you want to read it, too.

I have to confess that I used to be a Rushaholic. I listened gleefully to all three hours of his hot air every day. Then I read in Michael Horton’s Beyond Culture Wars that many Christians would put up more of a fight if you disagreed with Rush’s opening monologue than if you disagreed with one of the basic tenants of the Incarnation of Christ. I realized he was right, and haven’t listened to more than 15 minutes total of Rush for 15 years. And after Rush declared Pope Francis to be spewing Marxism, I have to say I think Al Franken may just be right. Rush is a big, fat idiot.

And then there is Adam Shaw of Fox News who says that Pope Francis is the Catholic Church’s Obama. Sigh … Do you think it is possible to discuss this pope without using the terms “liberal” or “conservative”?

Have I mentioned that I really like this leader of the Church? Not the pope. This leader. A Cross that has no weight is not worth carrying. Indeed.

Rev. Randy shares the story of a Baptist preacher and Hindu monk who got married. It sounds like a joke (and I’m sure you could make a good one out of that), but it’s a true story. Is this being “unequally yoked”?

Continue reading “Saturday Ramblings 12.7.13”

Thoughts on Southern Africa

With the passing of Nelson Mandela yesterday, the world lost a great statesman. Through his words of reconciliation South Africa was able to transition out of Apartheid without the bloodshed that characterized so many of the independence movements of the region.

While I am known as the Canadian voice on Internet Monk, my family had roots in Africa going back to 1905. My great-grandfather was an American of German Mennonite heritage who was a pioneering missionary in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe.) Many of my family members were born in Rhodesia or South Africa, which resulted in me living as a teenager in Rhodesia, just north of South Africa, during the height of Apartheid. Rhodesia was going through a civil war at the time. While I escaped the direct results of the war, I was certainly impacted. The department store that my Mother shopped at was bombed. When we traveled out of town, as a 15 year old my job was to hold the shotgun out the rear window of the car to discourage attacks. Once, while travelling down to South Africa to a youth camp the bus immediately behind us was ambushed. Whites were conscripted into the army, and my Father was away for months at a time. (He had volunteered to fix radios before he was conscripted in order to avoid being in armed conflict.) There were other incidents: The ferry that we had taken in an overnight trip along Lake Kariba was attacked one month later. The small lake where we liked to swim and camp experienced a sniper attack. A couple of times when visiting my Uncle’s farm we had to arm ourselves against the potential of imminent attack. He was of retirement age and had offered the farm to my Father, but for various reasons we chose to come to Canada. A year later a mortar was shot into my Uncle’s garage and killed his foreman.

Why do I mention this? Having gone through this war, and knowing what horrible things war brings, my hopes and prayers in the eighties and early nineties were that South Africa could avoid this fate. In 1989, during my University days in Canada I went to see the South African band Savuka. Along with their predecessor Juluka, they were my favorite band. During the concert Johnny Clegg, the leader of the band, started speaking: “The time for negotiations is past. It is time to rise up and overthrow the oppressors. Blood needs to flow in South Africa.” I got so angry I nearly rushed the stage. (My friend who I was with was certainly glad that I didn’t.) I was very much afraid that this kind of rhetoric would kindle a civil war.

I had started to see the seeds of change in South Africa. The Afrikaner National Party and the Dutch Reformed Church were very much intertwined. In 1985, 92% of Afrikaaners belonged to the Dutch Reformed Church. Government leaders were Sunday School teachers, and elders in their respective churches. The Dutch Reformed Church was described as the National Party at prayer. Apartheid at its heart had a theological foundation. The Calvinistic Afrikaner saw themselves as the “elect” who were to be separated from the world. Apartheid literally means apart-ness. The church had not only tolerated Apartheid, but had been at the forefront of implementing it and encouraging it. In October of 1986 the first ray of hope came from the church. It declared that “South Africa’s system of racial separation and minority white rule is morally wrong and has done the country and its people grievous harm.”

This was I believe the key moment in South African history. Although Savuka was blind to this, the government could not be out of step with its church for long. When F.W. de Klerk became President in 1989 he immediately signaled the start of negotiations with Mandela’s ANC. Mandela being released from prison in 1990, and a few short months later the church declared Apartheid to be a sin. It was not surprising then that a white’s only referendum in 1992 overwhelmingly supported the continuation of negotiations. In 1993 de Klerk and Mandela shared the Nobel Peace Prize, and in 1994 Mandela became President of the country.

As we mourn Mandela’s passing, let us be in prayer for the country of South Africa. There is a sustained level of violence in many parts of the country. HIV/AIDS is endemic. 5.7 million South Africans are HIV positive, 18% of the adult population. Life expectancy at birth has shrunk to 41 years for men and 46 years for women. There is a horrible myth circulating in the country that raping a virgin will cure AIDS. It has the highest incidence of rape in the world, with an estimated 500,000 rapes happening each year. 41% of these attacks are on those under the age of 18. Youth leaders in the ANC appear to be becoming increasingly radicalized, and I believe that the country faces a very real risk of sliding into increasing levels of violence and poverty. Please, please, pray.

Let’s Discuss: The Legacy of Paul Crouch and TBN

After having written this, I have to chuckle. Just to clarify: these are my words, not John MacArthur’s…

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I must admit, I didn’t pay much attention when I heard that Paul Crouch of Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN) had died on Nov. 30. I have dismissed TBN and the world of televangelism for so long that anything which happens in that world barely crosses my radar.

I consider the vast majority of what takes place in that realm as sub-Christian and unworthy of serious discussion. Instead of Micah 6:8’s clear description of what the Lord requires of us — to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God — the world of Christian televangelism has always appeared to me to be about doing rapaciously, loving money, and walking proudly in the spotlight.

I can barely stand to watch any preaching on TV (I don’t think the medium lends itself to true Christian communication), much less the carnival barkers who call themselves preachers on a network like TBN. When I think of how many dollars have been given to support these empires –er, ministries — many millions of them by folks who could ill afford to contribute, texts like Jesus’ denunciation of those who “devour widows’ houses” come immediately to mind. When you add horrible theology and over-the-top tackiness of presentation to the constant, dishonest, and predatory appeals for money that transparently take advantage of people’s pain and suffering, gullibility and religious sensitivities, you end up with a mix that makes Tetzel look like a Desert Father.

The news reports of Paul Crouch’s death mention not only his media empire (84 satellite channels and over 18,000 television and cable affiliates around the world), but also the scandals that have dogged the Crouch family and TBN in recent years, such as this one, which Christianity Today reported in 2012.

The usual suspects have paid their tributes. Today, I would like for us to discuss the legacy left by this man and the business of televangelism on the Christian faith in the U.S. and around the world. I’ve done my best to ignore it over the years, but it is clear that millions of people tune in and find something they think is worth watching. I believe these “ministries” have also led many, many people to flee into the post-evangelical/charismatic wilderness if not out of the faith altogether, in addition to trapping multitudes in bondage to theologies of glory that cannot save or show us the real Jesus.

TBN will broadcast a special celebration of Dr. Paul Crouch’s life and legacy Sunday, December 8th.

I won’t be watching.

Pope Francis: Living “From the Heart of the Gospel”

I have downloaded and am reading through Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel), the Apostolic Exhortation by Pope Francis on the proclamation of the Gospel in today’s world.

The document reflects the emphasis in the Church regarding “The New Evangelization.” As the Pope states,

Attentive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit who helps us together to read the signs of the times, the XIII Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops gathered from 7-28 October 2012 to discuss the theme: The New Evangelization for the Transmission of the Christian Faith.

…I was happy to take up the request of the Fathers of the Synod to write this Exhortation. In so doing, I am reaping the rich fruits of the Synod’s labours. In addition, I have sought advice from a number of people and I intend to express my own concerns about this particular chapter of the Church’s work of evangelization.

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Today, here is a portion of Evangelii Gaudium that reflects something observers of the Pope have noticed and about which many comments have been made. He has attempted to refocus the message and ministry of the Church around “the heart of the Gospel.” Without abandoning the Church’s moral teaching, he has sought to put it in proper perspective. He wants Christians to remember that our central message is not about abortion or homosexuality, etc., but about God’s saving love in Jesus Christ.

I’d like for us to discuss Pope Francis’s words today, and not my comments on it. However, I will underline certain portions of the excerpt that I find significant and want to point out to you.

III. From the heart of the Gospel

34. If we attempt to put all things in a missionary key, this will also affect the way we communicate the message. In today’s world of instant communication and occasionally biased media coverage, the message we preach runs a greater risk of being distorted or reduced to some of its secondary aspects. In this way certain issues which are part of the Church’s moral teaching are taken out of the context which gives them their meaning. The biggest problem is when the message we preach then seems identified with those secondary aspects which, important as they are, do not in and of themselves convey the heart of Christ’s message. We need to be realistic and not assume that our audience understands the full background to what we are saying, or is capable of relating what we say to the very heart of the Gospel which gives it meaning, beauty and attractiveness.

35. Pastoral ministry in a missionary style is not obsessed with the disjointed transmission of a multitude of doctrines to be insistently imposed. When we adopt a pastoral goal and a missionary style which would actually reach everyone without exception or exclusion, the message has to concentrate on the essentials, on what is most beautiful, most grand, most appealing and at the same time most necessary. The message is simplified, while losing none of its depth and truth, and thus becomes all the more forceful and convincing.

36. All revealed truths derive from the same divine source and are to be believed with the same faith, yet some of them are more important for giving direct expression to the heart of the Gospel. In this basic core, what shines forth is the beauty of the saving love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ who died and rose from the dead. In this sense, the Second Vatican Council explained, “in Catholic doctrine there exists an order or a ‘hierarchy’ of truths, since they vary in their relation to the foundation of the Christian faith”.[38] This holds true as much for the dogmas of faith as for the whole corpus of the Church’s teaching, including her moral teaching.

37. Saint Thomas Aquinas taught that the Church’s moral teaching has its own “hierarchy”, in the virtues and in the acts which proceed from them.[39] What counts above all else is “faith working through love” (Gal 5:6). Works of love directed to one’s neighbour are the most perfect external manifestation of the interior grace of the Spirit: “The foundation of the New Law is in the grace of the Holy Spirit, who is manifested in the faith which works through love”.[40] Thomas thus explains that, as far as external works are concerned, mercy is the greatest of all the virtues: “In itself mercy is the greatest of the virtues, since all the others revolve around it and, more than this, it makes up for their deficiencies. This is particular to the superior virtue, and as such it is proper to God to have mercy, through which his omnipotence is manifested to the greatest degree”.[41]

38. It is important to draw out the pastoral consequences of the Council’s teaching, which reflects an ancient conviction of the Church. First, it needs to be said that in preaching the Gospel a fitting sense of proportion has to be maintained. This would be seen in the frequency with which certain themes are brought up and in the emphasis given to them in preaching. For example, if in the course of the liturgical year a parish priest speaks about temperance ten times but only mentions charity or justice two or three times, an imbalance results, and precisely those virtues which ought to be most present in preaching and catechesis are overlooked. The same thing happens when we speak more about law than about grace, more about the Church than about Christ, more about the Pope than about God’s word.

39. Just as the organic unity existing among the virtues means that no one of them can be excluded from the Christian ideal, so no truth may be denied. The integrity of the Gospel message must not be deformed. What is more, each truth is better understood when related to the harmonious totality of the Christian message; in this context all of the truths are important and illumine one another. When preaching is faithful to the Gospel, the centrality of certain truths is evident and it becomes clear that Christian morality is not a form of stoicism, or self-denial, or merely a practical philosophy or a catalogue of sins and faults. Before all else, the Gospel invites us to respond to the God of love who saves us, to see God in others and to go forth from ourselves to seek the good of others. Under no circumstance can this invitation be obscured! All of the virtues are at the service of this response of love. If this invitation does not radiate forcefully and attractively, the edifice of the Church’s moral teaching risks becoming a house of cards, and this is our greatest risk. It would mean that it is not the Gospel which is being preached, but certain doctrinal or moral points based on specific ideological options. The message will run the risk of losing its freshness and will cease to have “the fragrance of the Gospel”.

Lee Adams: Advent Hope

Note from CM: Thanks to IM friend Lee Adams, for today’s moving meditation on Advent. He blogs at Homilies, Prayers, and Bread for the Journey.

* * *

I stood and watched him sleeping in his grandmother’s bed. “His name is Ezekiel”, she said. “He blind.” He seemed normal enough. Small for his age, maybe, but any three year old would be dwarfed by the immense king-sized bed where he lay. The grandmother, young in years as far as grandma’s go, but definitely an old soul, tucked the covers around his neck. The child never moved, but rested peacefully and secure.

“He blind ’cause his mama was bad on dope. She done gone to the jail down in South Georgia somewhere. She’ll be there until.” At first I thought she was going to finish her sentence with a stated limit on her daughter’s sentence, but she didn’t. The “until” was final and indefinite, firm but undefined. It was understood that Ezekiel’s mother was going to be incarcerated for a very long time. “I got custody of all her kids, except two. The other one’s is with my other daughter. They was older, and I just didn’t have room for all them.” She had four of her grandchildren in her care, the “other daughter” had three more, plus a few of her own.

She stroked Ezekiel’s face as she spoke, “I was on dope for a long time, then Family and Children Services took my kids. I got myself in rehab then, and got myself off the dope, and got my chirren back. I been clean thirty years. Ezekiel’s mama tried to get clean a few times, but she got other stuff going on in her head, like my sister.” The sister had rushed out the door as I was invited in, and was smoking on the front porch. She was talking non-stop, though she was alone. The grandmother said, “She talkin’ to her dead child. She talk to her all the time. If she start talkin’ like she’s mad or something, I just go pet her a little bit, maybe sing a little song to her, and she be alright. She schizophrenic, like my daughter.”

She only briefly mentioned Ezekiel’s grandfather, a fun-loving man, at least until he scrapes together enough pennies to buy a gallon of Glen Moore Gin. It’s then he does things to children that I dare not mention in my own home, for fear the demons that torment him might hear the notion of their handiwork, and consider it an invitation into my own children’s lives. It was the grandfather’s actions that had brought me to her home. He had forcefully poured Glen Moore down Ezekiel’s brother’s throat while the grandmother was at church with the other children. The child had been admitted to a local hospital with a blood alcohol content of .24. Pretty significant for a child that weighs a little more than 50 pounds. That’s where I came in, the Child Protective Services Investigator. The boy was fine; grandmother had grandfather leave the home; but per policy, I had to check on the well-being of every child in the home.

It was policy that led me to this boy, named for an Old Testament prophet; quiet, but speaking volumes to me as he slept in his grandmother’s bed. Adherence to policy led me directly to revelation of prophecy. Isn’t that how it so often goes? God strikingly displays Himself in the midst of our rigid routines, and opens our eyes to brand new possibilities we haven’t considered before.

The grandmother continued stroking the child on top of his blankets as she spoke, saying, “He a cripple, too”, gesturing toward a walker in the corner that looked more like a toy than a piece of medical equipment. “He blind, and he a cripple, but he a gift. It’s a miracle he even alive.”

I couldn’t stop looking at him, lying there sleeping. I wondered what he dreams about. I wonder if he dreams in pictures and color the way I dream, and wakes up in dark wonder, considering what he has envisioned in his mind. Maybe he dreams of sounds: the bark of a dog, falling rain on a tin roof, or the rambling voice of his tortured aunt, speaking to her lost child, somewhere between reality and fantasy.

Perhaps he dreams of textures and touch: the feel of grass beneath his bare feet, the pattern of the fabric on the couch where he sits most of the time, or the gentle, loving touch of his grandmother’s hands, calloused and firm but loving and compassionate all at the same time.

He could even dream of smells or tastes of grandma’s cooking. She was preparing chittlins (that’s chitterlings to you Northern folk), fried green tomatoes, and turnip greens for a Thanksgiving feast later in the evening. I swear, I haven’t been able to wash the scent out of the clothes I was wearing, despite several tries. How could he dream of anything else?

Or maybe he dreams of things I can’t perceive. Could it be that he dreams of those moments in his mother’s womb, times when the very hand of God traced the shape of his lips, shaped the contours of his face, and painted the color in his eyes? Could he be dreaming of times when that divine encounter was broken by the poisons that his mother transferred from her own body to his: a poisonous fruit passing from one hand to another, from hand to mouth, processed into nourishment that was as cold as death to Ezekiel; as welcome as mustard gas to an wounded and helpless soldier lying in the mud of a battlefield, alone, in the dark, waiting for his rescue. For my baby girls, their time in the womb was a period of nurture, warmth, safety, and care. They cried with great objection when they had to leave. For Ezekiel, the womb was a concentration camp, where cruel experiments were done on his body. He was so anxious to get out, he was delivered months too soon.

Or could it be within the reach of rational thought that Ezekiel, in that broken shell of a body, with eyes that cannot and will not ever enjoy a morning sunrise, a waterfall, or the wonder of the sight of a deer jumping a fence line in fall…Could it be that his dreams are filled with the wonder of hope?

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