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Thursday, 15 May 2008

Welcome To Todd World

(And for those of you who don’t get the reference in the title, you don’t have children who watch CBeebies.)

Last week I read with interest some of the posts on Richard Hall’s blog regarding the possible ‘revival’ in Florida associated with the ministry of Todd Bentley. At the time, it was just interesting reading. On Monday, it became more important for me to grapple with this for myself. I received an email from my friend Peter Balls, the pastor of Chelmsford Community Church, a church that has a wonderful heart for the community surrounding the school where it meets for worship (see, for example, Our Cabin). Peter has invited a number of local church leaders to meet next month and pray about whether we could do something together for the kingdom of God in Chelmsford, in the light of the Florida happenings. I am free on the date he suggests, and will attend.

So I watched one of the YouTube videos that Richard had posted. What struck me first was the similarity to watching clips of the dreaded Benny Hinn. The associate with the hand-held radio microphone tells the big name the story of the person who has come onto the stage to testify. Big Name then briefly interviews, and then prays, expecting the person to fall under the power of the Spirit. I started comparing and contrasting this with what I witnessed in 1995, when I visited the Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship at the height of the ‘Toronto Blessing’. I thought this would be instructive, because some supporters and opponents of Bentley seem to have been making connections.

Here’s what I thought: yes, in Toronto, people could offer testimonies with the hope of being selected to share it on the main stage during one of the evening renewal meetings. Yes, they would be interviewed and prayed for. They normally fell under the power of the Spirit. However – I never had any worries while I was there that they were being pushed in order to fall. Sometimes I was sitting quite close to the stage: I think I would have noticed anything that would have made me suspicious. Furthermore, the person leading the meeting changed from night to night, and so no personality cult developed. Not only that, the vast majority of prayer ministry there happened at the back of the auditorium. It was not a show. (You can legitimately debate the way they asked people receiving prayer to stand on lines marked ten feet apart, with ‘catchers’ behind them. Their reply was that in a culture that resorted quickly to litigation, they had to protect themselves, and they preferred to risk the charge that they were suggesting people should fall. Every night I was there, I accompanied one of their team who was praying for people, and at close hand, I never saw anyone pushed.)

However, with Bentley, I’m less convinced. Naturally, I have only the evidence of the YouTube videos. That is inferior to the close personal observation I was able to engage in at Toronto. However, it looked to me as if there was movement of the hand and arm as he laid his hand on people’s foreheads. At least one man in the video didn’t go down to the floor immediately, and Bentley laid his hand on him two or three times until he did. Strictly, I’m not offering conclusive proof, but I am disturbed enough about it.

If that’s what happened, what might it mean? I have no doubt that falling under the power of the Spirit is a legitimate experience of God. It has happened to me some times, and it is a feeling that the body cannot cope with the presence of God. (By the way, I don’t call it being ‘slain in the Spirit’. That’s an awful term, and as far as I’m concerned, the only people who have ever been slain in the Spirit were Ananias and Sapphira in Acts chapter 5.) But if you asked all the responsible church leaders who were heavily involved in the ‘Toronto Blessing’ at least in this country, they would have said that the outward manifestation was not itself the proof of the Spirit’s work. Certainly, that was the line I heard David Pytches hold. The evidence of the Spirit’s work is the fruit. Outward signs at the time may be commentary on the manifest presence of the Holy Spirit, or they may be ‘fleshly’ human responses.

If that were the case, why would anyone push someone to the ground? One possibility might be insecurity. Certain immature charismatic cultures want to see ‘falling under the power’ as the clear sign that God is at work. Suppose Bentley or others felt they needed to ‘prove’ they were men or women of God: they might then find it tempting to do something like that. I don’t know the man, I’m just speculating. But I do know that many Christians, leaders included, get their sense of security from the wrong source. There is a great pressure to show results (and not least in elements of North American Christianity). Does Bentley feel he has to prove he’s getting results? Were that to be the case for anyone, the antidote is to know that our security is in the Triune God, and in grace. God has made us in his image; in Christ, he has redeemed us in love at immeasurable cost; the Holy Spirit indwells us. Results don’t make us loved and accepted by God: grace does. Someone not acting out of grace is capable of unintentionally hurting people.

However, it could be worse. It could be a show of power. ‘Look at me and my power.’ If someone takes that attitude, then s/he is trying to stand in the place of God. Of course, in Bentley’s case he is quick to attribute the healings to God. However, that falls by the wayside is the rest of a person’s demeanour is of the ‘Look at me’ variety. While I don’t believe the nonsense about just being channels for God (it’s rather like ‘worm theology’ – ‘O Lord, I am just a worm’) and I believe that God uses personalities, I believe that in every way we must be quick to give the glory to God and deflect it from ourselves. It comes back to the old Corrie ten Boom quote about compliments. She said that when she received a compliment, she saw it like a bunch of flowers. She enjoyed the perfume, and then said, ‘Lord, these are yours.’

Then we have the question of the healings. Richard referred in one of his posts to the Gospel story of the ten lepers, where Jesus tells them to go and show themselves to the priests. I have long felt this is an important test of healing. Some months ago, a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. At one point, after prayer, he believed he was healed. I understand he came off his medication. A month or two ago, I attended his funeral. I believe that God can and does heal in response to prayer (just as I also believe he gives grace when healing doesn’t materialise). However, if God has done something like that, it is verifiable. Rushing someone up to testify before there has been time to test the claim is dangerous. There may be other explanations for short-term improvements or remissions. In that respect, I think the Toronto church made mistakes. Clearly, Bentley does, too. If God has done something, it sticks. It doesn’t matter if we have to wait awhile before that person gives public testimony. It is probably better for the Gospel that they do.

Other issues to consider include finances and politics. With regard to politics, I found the Toronto church was dangerously interested in Christian Zionism. That isn’t just a question of politics, it’s also the desire to feel part of God doing something amazing today, but that desire does lead to a lack of discernment, and hence to a cultural captivity to a kind of politics that doesn’t always favour the well-being of individuals, especially the poor. If we care enough about someone’s physical plight to pray for their healing, then it seems concomitant to me that we care for their social needs, too. Unfortunately, many Christians don’t make that link. I’ve yet to hear any connection with ministry with the poor and social justice from Bentley, and – if he fits the rest of the stereotypes – I’m not expecting to hear anything. Perhaps I do him an injustice: I hope so, but I suspect not.

Then, what about the issue of finances and the handling of money? Billy Graham led the move towards financial accountability of evangelical Christians in the States, especially after the TV evangelist scandals of the 1980s. I couldn’t find Fresh Fire on the Evangelical Council for Financial Accountability website. That may be because FF is a Canadian organisation, not American, but since Bentley seems to work a lot in the States, I would have thought he’d have had an official US operation. Maybe someone who knows the North American scene better than me can offer an explanation, but it initially looks worrying.

To some people, all that I have written so far will elicit a reaction of ‘So what?’ It’s all obvious stuff on one level. However, what if Bentley is dubious? On the other hand, even if he’s perfectly genuine, we need a lot of reflection on the question of why such people flourish. Yes, there is what my blogging friend Kim Fabricius calls on one or Richard Hall’s posts ‘gullibilitus’, but why are people gullible? I’ve already mentioned two paragraphs above that people want to believe they are part of something epic in the purposes of God. Some believe so in the light of the ‘prophetic movement’ that often speaks in large, visionary terms about what is going on in the world. Days of small things are despised.

In addition, there is the whole ‘Touch not the Lord’s anointed’ problem. This mantra has been repeated for decades in certain Pentecostal and charismatic circles. In its rightful original context in Scripture, it captures the humility of the fugitive David in the days before he was King of Israel, while his predecessor, Saul (ironically, a classic example of someone who practised spiritual abuse) was hounding him. It is never in Scripture a reason to accept everything a certain person says uncritically, and surely it is highly unflattering to be compared to Saul! Nevertheless, ‘the Lord’s anointed’ gets elevated. David was very aware of Saul’s frailties and sins. In our day, ‘Touch not the Lord’s anointed’ is misused to build up people who ought instead to be removed by church disciplinary procedures.

Worse than that, it is used to create a climate of fear. ‘Woe to you if you speak against the person the Lord has chosen.’ That is unhealthy and dangerous, creating the conditions for abuse.

‘Touch not …’ is also used as the trump card against cynicism. Yes, we need to guard against that in the church, although we should always remember the saying that a cynic is a failed idealist. What needs recovery is the gift of discerning spirits. Discernment is vital in the church, and a valuable part of church leaders’ gifts. When someone doesn’t permit me to weigh things carefully like the Berean people of Acts 17, I have every right to be worried.

This post has started with Todd Bentley, but has spun off onto wider issues that may or may not be relevant to him. On Bentley himself, the jury is out, although I have seen enough to be concerned and need convincing. He could be a holy man. He could be a charlatan. He could be a mixture of sincere Christian and someone with dangerous weaknesses. And which one of us doesn’t have a major weakness? However, unresolved weaknesses are the fuel for spiritual abuse. As Marc Dupont argued ten or so years ago in his book ‘Walking Out Of Spiritual Abuse’ (and see also his more recent ‘Toxic Churches’), it is not downright evil people who tend to cause spiritual abuse: it is those with unresolved ‘baggage’. If Bentley’s behaviour stems from serious insecurities, then watch out: danger is coming. We must not inhibit a sincere and open process of discernment. No peer pressures should be allowed to militate against that.

Before I wrap this up, let me put in a good word for a book I am reading at present, ready to review for Ministry Today. Rob McAlpine knows a lot about spiritual abuse in charismatic circles. His ‘Post-Charismatic?’ looks like it will be essential reading on topics like this.

Saturday, 10 May 2008

Tomorrow's Sermon: The Meanings Of Pentecost

Acts 2:1-21

Introduction
Yesterday morning, we held a coffee morning at Broomfield. We wanted to support our missionary charity for the year, the Mission Aviation Fellowship. You could make paper aeroplanes, take them to the balcony and throw them in the direction of the communion table. Whoever got their paper plane the nearest to the front would win a prize.

Mark, our three-year-old, got into the spirit of it, especially after someone took him to a table and made him a paper plane. Then he said, “Daddy, I want to play aeroplanes!”

I knew what that meant: with his hands, he would hold my hands. Then he would run around me faster and faster, and would lift off. I whizzed him around, and he flew with great joy and abandon. I put him down, and he laughed. As I stood there dizzy, everybody laughed at me. Jim said, “Quick, get a camera. I want a picture of the minister looking inebriated!”

“They are filled with new wine,” sneered the cynics at Pentecost, witnessing the disciples who had been filled not with spirits but the Holy Spirit.

It’s easy on Pentecost Sunday to be hung up on the particular manifestations of the Holy Spirit described in Acts 2. Depending on your personality or your style of faith, you may either loathe or love the violent wind from heaven, the tongues of fire and the speaking in other languages. In other sermons and articles, I have examined these things, but today I want to concentrate on what Pentecost means.

1. After Easter
Pentecost was called so, because it was the fiftieth day after Passover in the Jewish calendar. For Christians, it therefore comes after Easter. You may think I have plumbed new depths in stating the obvious, but there is something important here. Some Christians would like to stop with the joy of Easter morning, but our journey must also take us through Ascension to Pentecost. As Ben Witherington III says,

Throughout Acts, the presence of the Spirit is seen as the distinguishing mark of Christianity – it is what makes a person a Christian.[1]

It isn’t just the question of speaking in tongues, it’s more fundamental. The Holy Spirit enables us to confess Jesus as Lord[2]. Hence, Peter quotes Joel here:

Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. (Verse 21)

The Holy Spirit shows us who Jesus truly is. The Spirit shows how sinful we are and us how wonderful Jesus is. But the Spirit’s work doesn’t stop there. The Holy Spirit shows us our need of God’s grace, and reveals to us the saving work of Jesus in his Cross and Resurrection. Believing savingly in the Easter events requires the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives. To see the glory of Jesus and worship the Father through him means we need the Holy Spirit. Neither worship nor evangelism are fundamentally human activities: we need the Spirit to be at work in order for them to happen.

That’s to put it a challenging way. More positively, if you have met Jesus, found the forgiveness of sins in his name through the Cross, begun following him as a disciple and worshipping him as Lord, then the Holy Spirit must have been at work in your life.

So, assuming we care about worship and evangelism as Christians, we need to embrace a post-Easter faith, a Pentecost faith. It is a faith that says, ‘Come, Holy Spirit. Be more at work in us, through us, ahead of us and beyond us.’ Pentecost faith like that is grateful for all the past signs of the Spirit’s work, but is hungry and thirsty for more.

2. Harvest
We have a lot of fun at Hatfield Peverel at harvest-time. As well as the Sunday service and bringing offerings for good causes such as Harvest For The Hungry, we have our Harvest Supper and Auction. The produce that cannot be given away is auctioned off, and the proceeds given to our cause for the year. We have great fun bidding against each other for tins of soup, home made jam and everything else. Last year, Liz Ward and I enjoyed a ridiculous bidding war against each other for a pineapple.

Now why am I talking about harvest in May? Well, our Jewish friends so enjoyed their festivals and celebrations that they had two harvest festivals each year. One was equivalent to our regular harvest festivals. It was the ingathering of the crops at the end of the summer. But they also celebrated the arrival in late Spring of the first fruits. They did this at Pentecost, or to give it its more Jewish name, the Feast of Weeks, that happened seven weeks after Passover.[3]

Spiritually speaking, we look forward to the great ingathering harvest at the end of the age, but we have plenty to celebrate in the meantime. We have our spiritual first fruits. The gift of the Holy Spirit is the first fruits of God’s harvest. The Spirit is the sign that shows us what is coming. The Spirit is the first instalment of God’s kingdom in our lives. Here is the foretaste of all that is to come.

Paul has a similar analogy in two of his letters, where he describes the Holy Spirit as like a deposit[4]. Just as we pay a deposit on an item, intending to pay the remaining balance, so the Holy Spirit is God’s initial deposit on us. He has begun his work of salvation, and – as Paul says in Philippians – he will complete it[5]. If you think of the old Magnus Magnusson catchphrase from Mastermind, “I’ve started, so I’ll finish”, the gift of the Spirit is God’s promise that he has started his work in our lives, and he will finish.

So do you see the signs that the Holy Spirit is at work in your life? Has the Spirit led you to saving faith in Christ? Does the Spirit increase your vision of Jesus and your love for him, so that you want to worship God and share God’s love? Is the Holy Spirit slowly making you more like Jesus, even if you know there are still too many ways in which you are not like him? Does the Spirit give you the courage and the words to be faithful to Christ under pressure? If so, these are the first fruits of God’s harvest in you. One day it will all come to complete fruition. These signs are the deposit God is putting on your life. One day God will complete it.

3. Law
Like many homes, a weekday morning is frantic in ours, even though I work from home. Getting one child ready for school and another for pre-school is a mad rush. It is made even more so by the fact that Rebekah is a dreamer and that ten minutes before we are due to leave, she and Mark know that their favourite TV programme starts. Yes, it’s their Spanish language course. (Otherwise known as Dora The Explorer.) We are one of the closest families to the school; we are usually one of the last to arrive. At points of great frustration, we tell Rebekah that if she is late for school, a police officer will come and tell Mum and Dad off. We have to try some way of scaring her into obedience! We pull out the same ‘policeman’ line in the car, if she doesn’t want to put on her seat belt or she dares us to drive too fast.

We are used to ‘law’ as a list of rules, with some enforcers. There was an ancient Jewish tradition that also associated Pentecost with the giving of the Law at Sinai. And the Jewish writer Philo, who predates Luke, wrote:

Then from the midst of the fire that streamed from heaven there sounded forth to their utter amazement a voice, for the flame became the articulate speech in the language familiar to the audience.[6]

It makes Sinai – where the Law was given – sound very much like Acts 2. Pentecost is the Law of the Spirit, rather than the letter of the Law. Pentecost fulfils Jeremiah’s vision of God’s new covenant, where God will not write his law on tablets of stone, but inside the hearts of his people[7].

It is what Paul (again!) talked about when he wrote to the Galatians in his famous words about the fruit of the Spirit. He tells his readers that if they live by the Spirit, they will not spend their time gratifying the full range of sinful desires, from immorality to the occult to rage, envy and drunkenness. The Spirit, however, produces fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And his punch line? ‘There is no law against such things.’ Furthermore, ‘If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.’[8]

In other words, if you want to please God and fulfil his law, the Holy Spirit enables you to do so. It isn’t just about following a set of rules, but becoming the kind of person God wants to be. The law of the Spirit isn’t just about outward compliance, but inner transformation. When we try to keep the rules in our own strength, we fail miserably, and fall back into self-centredness. However, Pentecost brings the gift of the Spirit, God’s new law. Not only does the Spirit lead us to the actions that please God, the Spirit also enables to do that will of God and bring pleasure to God. If we want to please God, we need to be open to the Holy Spirit.

Conclusion
I hope the things I’ve described about Pentecost are things for which we all long in our lives as disciples of Jesus. I hope we long for a post-Easter Pentecost faith, where the Holy Spirit is always enabling us to respond to Jesus in repentance, worship and witness. I hope we also have a ‘first fruits’ faith, in which we can see signs of the Spirit’s work, but long for more, before the final harvest. And I hope we have a love for God’s law that goes beyond outward conformity to inward renewal, depending on the power of the Spirit, not our own feebleness, to enjoy pleasing God.

But what to do about it? It’s easy to preach a sermon about this and leave people feeling condemned. ‘You’re not doing enough of x, you should do more of y.’ Here’s an alternative way of approaching it.

I came downstairs the other day, and could hear a noise. “Is the tap running?” I asked Debbie. Sure enough, in the downstairs loo, the cold tap hadn’t been turned off. Mark can wash his hands after going to the toilet, but he struggles to turn off some of our taps. If he’s also managed to put the plug in, the overflow saves us from disaster.

All the blessings of Pentecost are about the overflow of the Spirit – the rivers of living water flowing from us to others. The disciples don’t speak in tongues to the crowd: the crowd overhears. It is an overflow. Pentecost is not the time to beat ourselves up about our failures. It is the time to seek an overflow of the Spirit, for then all the other things come as a natural consequence.

This Pentecost, let us ask God to soak us with the Holy Spirit – not for the sake of spiritual self-gratification, such an ambition is a contradiction in terms. But let us rather ask God to saturate us with the Spirit so that we may more truly be worshippers, witnesses, holy people and all the other things he longs for us to be.



[2] 1 Corinthians 12:3.

[3] If Passover was day one, this was celebrated on day fifty, hence Pentecost in Greek.

[4] 2 Corinthians 1:22; Ephesians 1:14.

[5] Philippians 1:6.

[6] Quoted in Witherington, p 131.

[7] Jeremiah 31:31-34.

[8] See Galatians 5:16-26

Thursday, 08 May 2008

Chelmsford Explosion

Yesterday, I was looking after our son while Debbie went to Matalan to buy some children's clothes. Mark was happily watching a DVD of Dora The Explorer when, at 1:20 pm, the power went off. Frustrated and not understanding a power cut, he kept pressing the on/off switch of the TV. Everything was dead, our phones included, for twenty minutes or so.

Debbie rang my mobile, having tried to ring the landline. Power had gone in the centre of town. Traffic lights were out, and there was black smoke. Matalan could only take cash payments and provide handwritten receipts. She had presented three items at £4 each and one at £5. The cashier had needed a battery-operated calculator to work out it came to £17.

Once power was restored, we had an email alert come in from the Essex Chronicle. There had been an explosion at an electricity substation in town, near the Rivermead campus of Anglia Ruskin University. At this point, we started surfing for information. It was an interesting, if disturbing, exercise is watching coverage develop.

The Chronicle was probably first, but commenters there (more on them in a minute) said they had heard from reliable sources that there had been a fatality. The paper wasn’t reporting this initially. However, the East Anglian Daily Times confirmed this first. Later, the BBC reported on the fire, complete with video footage. Essex Fire And Rescue’s report is here (incident 7967). The commenters on the Chronicle’s story showed the power of contemporary citizen journalism, in reporting the tragic death. Other stuff was speculative: one person claimed the explosion was caused by someone trying to commit suicide by dangling from two high voltage wires. This allegedly was the fatality, and the cause of the fire and power outage.

The explosion had been at around 12:20 pm, so our power cut was an hour later, which seems a little strange to someone like me who doesn’t understand these things. Other parts of north Chelmsford were out for longer. Our church cleaner phoned to say that she hadn’t been able to complete her duties, because the power cut had put the vacuum cleaner out of action. Others were certainly without power until about 4:30 pm, and some weren’t restored until this morning.

But I want to return to the commenters on the Essex Chronicle story. When I looked a few minutes ago, the story had 160 comments. Yesterday, I had been shocked by many of them. Some people clearly wanted to feel they were in the middle of great earth-shaking drama, hence the idiot who said it was like 9/11 in Chelmsford. That seems appallingly insensitive to those who lost three thousand loved ones.

But others were cruel, if not obscene. Today, there is an extended comment from the paper’s assistant editor, Matt Adams. Here his his post:

IT'S a peculiarly British trait to find humour in the face of doom and gloom, but it takes a certain kind of person to laugh at the loss of a human life. This week the town of Chelmsford was plunged into chaos when a man was killed in an explosion at a sub-station near Anglia Ruskin University. At the time of going to press we have no idea as to his identity or motivation, and it will be up to an inquest to determine whether he did in fact take his own life. As part of our remit to bring you the news as it happens, the Chronicle published breaking details about this story on our website - www.thisistotalessex.co.uk - something we do on a daily basis for other items without cause for concern. But for inexplicable reasons, the tragedy of a man losing his life in a terrible, horrific fashion, proved stimulus for a barrage of sick humour and mindless insults posted as comments in relation to this story. As literally hundreds of these comments began filtering through, our website team deleted the most extreme and offensive, but ultimately chose to allow freedom of speech to the twisted individuals who decided to make mockery of this tragedy. Why? Because we believe in the fundamental decency of the majority of our readers to shame these few offenders into ceasing their abuse. Your outrage at their lack of common decency was just as inspirational as their comments were offensive. Had we simply deleted everything posted on the site we would have been accused of censorship, rather than allowing freedom of debate between two such dichotomous viewpoints. Maybe as a consequence those who posted the more unpleasant comments will be suitably humbled to never do so again. We can but hope.

I endorse much of what he says. However, I find some of it puzzling, if not worrying. I don’t see why the paper is worried about the accusation of censorship. It isn’t about censorship, it’s about editorial judgment. The foul comments would never have made their way to the letters page of the print edition. Even some of those that were let through are still profoundly offensive. Just what is it that makes us worry about censorship when we are on the Internet, but happily accepts editorial judgments in print? Internet users are in any case used to the idea of comment moderation, and a set of terms and conditions to accept before entering a discussion on a website. So the censorship argument doesn’t wash with me.

I can leave our copy of the Essex Chronicle around the house without worry, even if I might need to explain some stories to our children. Yet there is no way I would have read out to them some of yesterday’s comments. Not only were the sentiments foul and bereft of what Matt Adams calls ‘common decency’, some even worked offensiveness into their user names and alleged home towns. However, there were clearly no filters in place to prevent the appearance of profanities on the site. On this basis, I’ll have to include the Chronicle’s site in the appropriate restricted list for parental control.

Apart from that, it seems a futile hope to me to think that outraged comments will shame these people into better behaviour. They can perpetrate their filth from behind a computer screen and it all feels so remote, which is why they wouldn’t make these statements face to face. But for the same reason, outrage will not humble them. Matt Adams says, ‘We can but hope.’ I am sure he is genuine. But the tone of his final sentence gives away the sense that this is a weak hope (if not a forlorn one, in my opinion). I think it’s time to question the libertarian ethos behind much Internet philosophy. You don’t have to become the Chinese government to believe in decent comment moderation.

UPDATE, 4:40 PM: Our weekly copy of the Essex Chronicle has arrived this afternoon. It transpires that Matt Adams' post reproduced above now constitutes one of this week's two leader articles.

Sunday, 04 May 2008

Security, Faith And Hope

I didn't preach today. I presided at Holy Communion, while Mike, a Local Preacher led the first part of the service and preached. I was glad it worked out that way this weekend. It meant that on Friday, I had been able to head down to see my parents. I stayed there until last night. Mum has been in more pain again, since her fall just before Christmas.

So now you know why I didn't post a sermon this weekend on the blog. But it was good to sit under Mike's ministry this morning. He preached from Isaiah 35 about 'streams in the desert'. Feeling that ministry here often is a desert made it all the better to hear him.

Actually, it wasn't just Mike and me leading this morning. Mike has a musician friend called Ian, who also took part. As well as leading one or two songs from the guitar, he also performed a couple for us to meditate upon.

Now I am perfectly used to this approach to worship. I am used enough to an Anglican approach where one person leads the service and another preaches. However, it was interesting to note how nervous some of the congregation were about whether three leaders would 'work'. Just that simple change put some people outside their familiar context, and temporarily raised anxieties. (I believe the anxiety quickly passed, however.) The frames of reference established by the patterns familiar to us can be powerful things. There have been convulsions at one church I know. The new minister recognised quickly that in a large congregation, the traditional Methodist way of distributing the bread and wine at Holy Communion was unwieldy. He quickly adopted an Anglican 'continuous flow' method. I don't know how he managed the change, but I gather there was pain at the AGM. Familiarity seems to equal normality for many of us. Fear of the unknown is a big factor in many churches.

Yet the Christian faith has something powerful to say to those who are afraid of the unknown. It is the doctrine of hope. I don't say this glibly, after the fear I faced early last year when a routine urine test showed evidence of blood, and I had to be seen urgently at hospital. However, within routine church life it seems we bind ourselves up with some very mundane familiarities in which we find a degree of security. Discipleship is surely an adventure. In the understandable and important pastoral task of making church a 'safe place' for the hurting, we have both found the safety in the wrong things and also forgotten that faith is meant to be dangerous.

It is as if we have become the 'health and safety' church. By that I mean that health and safety regulations in our culture have operated in such a way as to remove as many risks as possible from all public activity. Before long, we shall need a risk assessment before getting out of bed in the morning. We have taken this attitude to church. We are the church of the buried single talent.

During Lent this year, I ran a weekly course based on the DVD version of John Ortberg's book, 'If You Want To Walk On Water, You've Got To Get Out Of The Boat.' I had read the book a few years ago, and enjoyed it. What struck me this time was how everything I had ever heard before about the story of Peter walking on the water to Jesus was about his sinking, because he failed to keep his eyes on Jesus. Peter was the failure. But Ortberg makes a great play on the idea that Peter was a success, compared with the other disciples who stayed in the boat. At least he got out of the boat and took a risk of faith, even if he wobbled. Some people, however, gained a big affinity for the other disciples. Traditionally, a boat has been a symbol for the church (think of the World Council of Churches' logo). We may like to stay in the boat of the church rather than meet Jesus outside the church, on the rough waves.

I sense that one of the calls of Christian leadership today is to expose people to danger. Church needs to be a risky place once more. We need to embrace that before wider society makes it that for us, or before many of us die out. What can we do to make Christianity something that raises the pulse?

Doing that may involve exposing people not merely to risk and danger but to chaos. I am currently reading Alan Roxburgh's book 'The Sky Is Falling' from 2005. He says that in a period of great discontinuous social change, people often want to do one of two things. One is to revert to how things were in an earlier time, when all seemed peaceful and ordered. The other is to rush through to the new shape of the future. But, he says, the transitional phase, or 'liminality', may last a long time. The only way to come through faithfully is to stay with the chaos until the new order emerges. I have done a lot to try to help congregations realise that we aren't in Kansas any more, Toto. Through reading Roxburgh I am beginning to understand even more the importance of entering into biblical narratives of liminality, the biblical literature that describes or emanates from times in history when the familiar had been ripped from them, but the new had not yet come. The best example I know of that is the Jewish exile in Babylon. I have preached several times in recent years on Jeremiah's letter to the exiles (Jeremiah 29). I am beginning to think I may need to engage with that most painful of Psalms, Psalm 137.

Where, then, is hope? Where do we find our security? The moment we pose such questions we should as Christians know the answer. It is in God. It is in God's character as faithful, even when faithful doesn't mean he does what we want him to do. Our faith and hope remains in God even though the fig tree may not blossom, as Habakkuk said. Yes, we can look to the long term future for what we believe God may do. But God is true, even before the Second Coming, and whether or not 'revival' comes, or whether it comes later rather than sooner. God is God; our church securities are not.

Tuesday, 29 April 2008

Theological Roots Of Mission

In which Len Hjalmarson develops Alan Hirsch's view of mission as Christology - Mission - Ecclesiology: NextReformation » missional rooting. He points out that God has always been on mission, and that God's work of mission begins with forming Israel. Hence the root of mission is not Christology but the Trinity.

Monday, 28 April 2008

If Jesus Had A Blog

I can only aspire to this: Letters from Kamp Krusty: New Kamp Krusty Feature: "If Jesus Had a Blog"

Support

Ten days ago, my blogging friend Will Grady wrote this heartfelt post: Loneliness in Ministry « Ramblings from Red Rose. He poses important questions about church leadership.

There are structural attempts to support, but they tend to have inbuilt defects. A Methodist District will run a group for those in the first five years of ministry (the so-called 'Under 5s Group' - kind of like playgroup for ministers). Some Districts even run these groups for those in the first ten years. I remember being ordered to avail myself of the fellowship - something wrong there! A lot depends on whether you get on with the leader and the other members.

The same is true of the regular circuit staff meeting. That, though, has a further handicap: you can be consumed with business and forget the soul. It does have the advantage of being a good place to talk through difficult issues, but whether you bare your soul there is a judgment call, especially as the superintendent minister is your 'boss' and could be involved, if there were disciplinary issues. What exactly can you confess?

That in turn has a connection with the rôle in our system of the Chair of District. At one stage, District Chairs were seen as pastors to the pastors. I don't doubt that many intend to be so, and on the odd occasion one has been so for me. However, one gave the game away in an annual letter when he said that each minister in the District was entitled to one hour of his time a year. Thanks, but no thanks, I thought. Furthermore, they would be even more closely involved in any disciplinary procedures, so a certain caution can inhibit you, especially if you're thinking some non-Methodist thoughts.

Where have I found support? I've learned over sixteen years to look for it outside the structures, and often outside Methodism. That isn't a criticism of Methodism, it's just a fact about the tendencies of structures and institutionalism. Friendship is vital, and in my first circuit while I was single the local URC minister (herself also single) spotted my need for support, and invited me to join one of her church's home groups. It was a generous move on her part. Out of that group and some other work came a bunch of us who used to meet socially on a Friday night for pizza, a video and some red liquid you wouldn't use in a Methodist communion service. Those people became among the dearest friends I have ever had in my life.

In the last circuit, it was the monthly meeting of a group of similarly-minded church leaders from across the denominational spectrum. We worshipped and prayed together, shared our news and supported each other.

I have also found the need for inspiration from outside. In the first circuit, I travelled regularly to St Andrew's Chorleywood while David Pytches was the vicar, for leaders' days. These were held about six times a year. I was also a member of the (now defunct) Evangelical Forum for Theology, a small academic Methodist network. Our annual conference/retreat was a highlight.

Here, I meet monthly or so with a vicar friend as prayer partners. We have a similar outlook and have similar church situations. Other support has been more difficult to garner, and I often feel quite dry spiritually. There are some possibilities, but diary clashes have been the usual problem.

What means of support do others use and recommend? Let's encourage one another.

Sunday, 27 April 2008

links for 2008-04-27

Saturday, 26 April 2008

Tomorrow's Sermon: Recalibrating Christian Mission

Acts 17:16-34

Introduction
Voting. However cynical we are about politics, our culture is saturated with it. We are a democracy, and we vote for our leaders. Local elections are looming in many parts of our country. Opinion polls attempt to predict who will win a General Election, and politicians pay close attention to them.

Voting is present in the epidemic of reality shows on the TV. We decide the fate of a wannabe singer on The X Factor. We judge the aspirations of someone who wants to be famous for being famous on Big Brother. We choose between desperate has-beens, trying to resuscitate their careers on I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.

Now, if I asked you to take a vote on the Book of Acts, as to which passage had led to the most discussion, I doubt you would choose today’s reading. Perhaps you would choose chapter 2, with its account of the first Christian Pentecost. Maybe you would go for chapter 9, dramatically recounting the conversion of Saul on the Damascus Road. Both those stories are popular and controversial. But among the scholars, Paul in Athens wins the vote:

‘In fact, it has attracted more scholarly attention than any other passage in Acts.’[1]

Apart from the question of how Paul’s speech here relates to his teaching in his epistles (which I won’t bore you with in a sermon),

‘Luke has presented us here with the fullest example of Paul’s missionary preaching to a certain kind of Gentile audience (namely, an educated and rather philosophical pagan one without contacts with the synagogue)’[2].

In that respect, this story commends itself to us, if we are to have a missionary engagement with our world. It is to some extent a pagan one, and has little contacts not with the synagogue but with the church. For several years, I have referred to this passage in that respect. Indeed, I chose to preach on it only a month after starting here, when I did a series of sermons about our missionary relationship with a changing world. Today, the Lectionary brings me back to these verses[3], and the chance to reflect again on how we exercise our missionary calling today. What does missionary commitment require of each one of us?

1. Passion
Paul is waiting for some friends. Rather than idle his time away, the first thing Luke tells us is that

‘While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols.’ (Verse 16)

‘Deeply distressed.’ The Greek is the word from which we get our word ‘paroxysm’. It’s a word for strong negative emotions. The city was full – no, weighed down – with idols. That it would be upsetting for someone Jewish like Paul is obvious on one level: the Ten Commandments prohibit graven images of God, so idols are out. But it was worse in Athens. Jews often alleged that there was a link between idolatry and immorality. The content of some Athenian idols would have backed up that claim.[4] As it’s Sunday morning, I’ll spare you the tawdry details.

We too face a culture that is ignorant of the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. There are many reasons for this, some of them our fault as the Church, but the desire (need?) for worship persists, and so we have idolatry today, some of which is connected to immorality.

We can list today’s idolatries easily: sex, shopping, money, possessions, and so on. But there are bigger questions for us: does seeing people worship in this way arouse passion in us as Christ-followers or not? And if it arouses passion, is it a godly passion?

There are several reactions we can have to contemporary idolatry. One would be apathy. We see false and unhealthy worship, but can’t be bothered to make a stand. Either that, or we’re more worried about people’s reactions if we say something, so fear keeps us quiet.

Another is that we can react passionately, thinking we are doing so for God, but being quite ugly. Passion turns to judgmentalism.

Or we can be passionate for the wrong reasons. We look at the numbers flocking to sporting events or the shops on a Sunday, and bewail our own small numbers. If we’re not careful, our real reason is not a desire to honour Jesus Christ, but the fear that our little religious club might close. ‘Can we fill all the vacant jobs here?’ is a poor reason for evangelism.

The passion Paul had was a passion for the glory of Jesus. If the worship due to his name were being directed elsewhere, even if out of ignorance rather than deliberate choice, that moved him. He challenges us to leave behind apathy, anger and selfishness as reactions to idolatry, and instead react out of a heart full of love for Jesus. I believe Paul could only have reacted as he did in Athens if he regularly remembered how much God in Christ had done for him who once had been a sworn enemy of the church.

We don’t have to have had dramatic ‘Damascus Road’ conversions like him, but a sense of how wonderful God is, how much he has done for us, how gracious and loving he is in contrast to us will do more for mission than a thousand training programmes. It’s a passion that comes from God’s grace, and which is nurtured in worship, prayer, fellowship, Bible meditation and getting on with the life of a disciple. In other words, God has acted in extravagant love towards us, and we receive and respond. Then we have a passion for Jesus and a passion for those who do not love him.

2. Engagement
If you have a passion for Jesus and for those who don’t know him, then the last thing you can do is sit around and moan. Nor can you bury your head in the sand and say, ‘It’s all hopeless.’ Passion will drive you to engage the love of Jesus with those yet to know him.

And that passion drives people out into the world to engage with the idol worshippers and others. It doesn’t say, ‘We’ve got an interesting event on here, why not come and join us?’ Those happily worshipping idols see no reason to do so, and nor did the Athenians. Paul went to them to engage them with the Gospel; he didn’t set up camp and invite them onto his territory. So – he went to the synagogue (not that he considered his fellow Jews idolaters, but he believed Jesus was the fulfilment of all their hopes), where he didn’t get up and give an altar call: he ‘argued’ (debated) with the Jews and the Gentile God-fearers (verse 17). That is, he was in conversation with them. He didn’t solely use set-piece speeches.

He did the same in the mainstream Athenian culture, because he also went to the market place to debate with whoever was there each day. Here, we need to understand that the market place wasn’t simply where you went to buy your strawberries and potatoes: it was the centre of civic and cultural life in Athens. If you wanted to make an impact upon the life of the city, you went to the agora, the market place and started networking with people there. Therefore, we have our priorities out of kilter when we are happy that someone answers a call to preach or offers for the ministry, but we are less impressed when somebody becomes a bank manager, a teacher, an artist, a musician or a secretary.

Yesterday, I read the words of a Canadian businessman who had been reflecting on Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, where he tells his disciples they are the salt of the earth. Here is just one of his thoughts:

‘Salt NEVER serves its purpose staying in the shaker. The purpose of the Christian life is found when “shaken out” to flavour the world. Too often the highest vision of ministry given to Christians is to be on the church platform, rather than changing the flavour of the world.’

If disciples are the salt of the earth, then, the church is the saltshaker. Our purpose is not to create an alternative social life and entertainment menu for Christians: it is to shake the salt out into the world, where it will do its work of engagement. Yes, we are here to heal, comfort and encourage, but never by keeping the grains in the saltshaker.

3. Contact and Conflict
Paul causes a stir in Athens. Some find him intriguing, others are disparaging. Still others are confused: he is advocating a god called Jesus, and a goddess called Anastasia (the Greek for ‘resurrection’, which is a feminine noun). The Areopagus, the city council that decided which gods were acceptable to be worshipped, decides almost to put him on trial – or at least put his views under their microscope.

How does Paul respond? Much of his speech follows the conventions of ancient rhetoric. He speaks in their style. Unlike when he is in a synagogue, he doesn’t quote the Scriptures – but his content is scriptural. His only direct quotes come from Greek cultural sources such as poets – but he uses them to support his argument and bring the challenge of the Gospel to his hearers.

And his point is this: the Athenian approach to God is plain wrong. God the Creator doesn’t need idols, nor is he dependent upon what human beings do. You’re muddling around in the dark, he tells his listeners. God excused that in the past, but not any longer: he will judge the world. His promise that he will do so is that he has raised Jesus from the dead. This isn’t comfortable stuff. Paul is under suspicion. In response, he criticises Athenian beliefs, and ends by proclaiming the Resurrection, and Athenians didn’t believe anyone would be raised from the dead[5].

Paul, then, knows the Gospel, and has taken the trouble to know the society to which he is proclaiming that Good News. The Gospel is his foundation, but how he shares it depends on the people with whom he is engaging.

It’s this knowing the Gospel and knowing our world that is important for us. Some of us know one far better than the other. There are those Christians who spend so much time in Bible study, but they wouldn’t have a clue how to relate to non-Christians. But there are others who wrap themselves up in the world and are ignorant of the faith. The world easily squeezes them into its mould[6]. They are barely distinguishable from their non-Christian friends.

Let me pose this as a challenge, then: do I fall into one of these extremes? Am I so caught up in Bible study and Christian books that I can’t connect with people who need the Gospel? If so, will I take the time to listen and understand our world? We can do this by nurturing conversations with friends, reading newspaper leader columns and paying attention to popular culture, such as music and television. While we do this, we look for the underlying assumptions and subject them to Gospel scrutiny.

Or am I so absorbed by the world that I am losing my Christian distinctiveness? If that is me, then I have a different challenge. I may need the discipline of daily Bible reading. Good quality Christian books may help me. (Ask me if you want recommendations about books or Bible study notes.) I may well find it helpful to join a fellowship group where we spur one another on in our discipleship.

Conclusion
Sometimes in a world that seems increasingly ignorant of the Gospel, if not hostile to it, the task of Christian witness seems daunting, if not hopeless. But when we read of Paul taking the Good News to pagan Athens, we realise that nothing is impossible with God. No, he didn’t see masses of converts, but he did make some headway.

The change requires a degree of recalibration for us as Christians from what we have been used to. We can’t rely on commonly accepted beliefs or the idea of a ‘Christian country’: we need a passion for Jesus and for people not yet in the community of faith. Nor can we expect to do things on our terms and our territory: we need to move out in engagement. Finally, we need to bring the Gospel and the world together, not only in our actions but also in our thinking, so that we can shape our missionary task appropriately.

Are we up for the challenge?



[2] Ibid, main text.

[3] Although it only includes Paul’s speech from verses 22 to 31. I think you need the whole story for the context.

[4] Witherington, p 512f.

[5] Witherington, p 532.

[6] See J B Phillips’ translation of Romans 12:1-2.

Funeral Poetry

Kim opines about that awful funeral poem, 'Do not stand at my grave and weep.' Yes, the closing words 'I am not here, I did not die', are dreadful. They play to the denial that happens in the face of death. The loved one did die: that is why we are here.

Worse for me is Henry Scott Holland's, 'Death is nothing at all.' Holland was, I believe, a canon of St Paul's Cathedral. Of all people, he should have known that (please forgive the double negative coming) death is not nothing. It is the last enemy.

Such poems provide false comfort. Sometimes I have had to have them included in a service, often because the family has already told the undertaker what they want in the service before I have been contacted. In such situations, I have found diplomatic ways of explaining in the service why I see things differently. I have never had poor feedback from doing so.

Ironically, in the face of all the denial these poems propagate, W H Auden's bleak 'Funeral Blues' (popularised in 'Four Weddings And A Funeral') seems more honest, even if it is tragically devoid of hope.

And from a Christian perspective, I am happier with 'What Is Dying?', the piece about a ship sailing away out of sight over the horizon, but being greeted in another port.

What do others think?