Peace on Earth? I’m not feeling it.

•December 24, 2011 • 2 Comments

It’s the night before the night before Christmas.  And, as is my Christmas tradition, I’m depressed.

Yes, I’m one of those people whose mental health takes a dive after Thanksgiving.  While last Thanksgiving both of my grandmothers died within eight days of each other, most years my anxiety and feelings of futility have no solid basis in any identifiable, external cause.  Well, no identifiable, external cause except everything.

(For those of you who don’t have the good fortune to suffer depression, or at least to marry someone who suffers depression—love you, Honey!—the reason that you feel down fluctuates wildly between “I don’t know” and “everything.”)

turkey vultures on a bare tree in winter

My holiday spirit, captured in a photo, courtesy of Jolynne Photography

A handful of years ago my family “fell” into the liturgical tradition of the church catholic.  This, in part, made Christmas safe for me; partly because I don’t have to have a holly, jolly Christmas until the evening of the 24th (because the time before that isn’t Christmas at all, but Advent), and partly because, even then, there’s a certain solemnity to a religious Christmas.

This year, however, it’s the season of Advent itself that has gotten me down.

Or maybe I’m just doing Advent really well.  It’s kind of supposed to be a little depressing.  As one of my favorite bloggers puts it, Advent is “the ancient, autumnal interval of darkness and foreboding with its achy uncertainty blanketing landscapes both inner and outer.“  (Looks like someone else might be a wee depressive around the holidays.)

I think Advent is like a miniature Lent.  Retrospectively, I’m not sure I knew what Easter was before I discovered Lent.  I wonder if other evangelical Christians thought like me back then: “So what?  Christians are always celebrating the resurrection.  And without any stupid bunny, too.”  But at the Easter Vigil following my first Lent, I nearly exploded with joy during a routine recitation of the Nicene Creed.  When I said, “On the third day he rose again, in accordance with the Scriptures,” I felt like I might have had fireworks shooting out of my chest, Katy Perry-style.

(**Note to APA: you might want to include “Adult male linking to a Katy Perry video” as a symptom of dysthymia in the DSM-6.)

But here I am, at the end of Advent, and I seriously doubt that my mood is going to improve tomorrow night.  (Actually, Christmas Eve is tonight.  Insomnia, like linking to Katy Perry videos, is a warning sign of mental disorder.)

In the suspense of Advent and the throes of melancholia, I’m going to admit something that most Christians would probably not want me to admit.  And it’s this: 2,000 years after the the miracle birth, it’s possible to doubt that the world is better for it.  Not for some cranky atheist, but for a person, like me, who actually believes that Jesus is the hope of the world, the fullest revelation of Godself.  Not just possible, but probable.  Frequently.  Maybe even annually.

I can believe that angels proclaimed “Peace on earth, and goodwill towards men” to poor Palestinian shepherds.  I can believe that an unmarried teenaged peasant-girl believed the word that her mysterious pregnancy was the beginning of God’s rescue of her people; bringing down the powerful, lifting up the oppressed, and making things, in general, awesome.

What I can’t believe is that, nearly 2,000 years later, the earth seems to need peace just as much as ever and has a fair (?) share of powerful haves and oppressed have-nots.  What would those shepherd think about “peace on earth” if they saw the last bloody century?  Would Mary still insist that God has brought down the powerful and filled the hungry with good things after surveying even a first-world nation’s unemployment, housing crisis, and secret prisons?  How sometimes the killing and injustice is done by those who self-identify as followers of her son, the messiah?

Peace on earth?  I have a hard time having good will towards the people in my own family.

By faith, I’m supposed to see how God’s humble kingdom, like a mustard seed, is slowly growing and spreading its branches.  How God is among the humble, among the poor, among the faithful, slowly making beauty from ashes.

But I’m not feeling it. 

It feels like I’m waiting, like Mary’s people, for God to do something.  Except I have the disadvantage of history.  To believe and live as though God has done something can seem like lunacy…even to the faithful.

Pauline Church Leadership as Suffering Servanthood

•July 12, 2011 • 3 Comments

     Paul’s letters speak of those who are set apart for leadership within the church: the bishops (ejpivskopoß;; literally “overseer”),1 the deacons (diakonevw transliterated, meaning to wait upon as a servant or host),2 and the elders (presbuvteroß, which has over time become the word “priest,” and literally means “old man”).3  There are passages within these epistles that lay out the characteristics of the people called to such church work.  To Timothy, Paul’s “loyal child in the faith,”4 he instructs that bishops should be faithful in marriage, self-controlled, hospitable, able to teach, temperate, gentle, peaceable and not love money.5  Deacons should also be temperate, trustworthy, and to manage their own house faithfully.  To Titus, charged with appointing elders in the church in Crete, Paul gives a similar list of qualifications: blameless, peaceable, temperate, not pursuing money, hospitable, self-controlled, holy, able to teach and encourage.6

     What is remarkable about these lists is how unremarkable they are.  The qualities that Paul wants in the leaders of the church are qualities that he has taught elsewhere to the churches in general.  It appears that what is necessary to serve as a leader in the church is a difference of degree rather than kind: Paul wants them to be exemplary disciples of Jesus.  Above all, this means that the defining characteristic of their life is one of service, putting others’ needs ahead of one’s own.  Both in his teaching about Christ and from his own experience, Paul knows that putting others’ needs ahead of one’s own often leads to suffering.

The Purpose of Church Leadership

     Leadership in the modern world has a very different nature from that in the ancient world in which Paul composed his letters.  Today the required qualities of leadership–and the education aimed at producing leaders–purport to be based on universal principals of managerial effectiveness.  But in the classical world, in the “heroic societies” of the Jews and Greeks, “morality and social structure [were] in fact one and the same,”7 and “the chief means of moral education [was] the telling of stories.”8

     To the modern mind, bishops, elders and deacons are job titles.  It is frustrating that when Paul speaks about church leadership he gives us lists of virtues rather than clear job descriptions—and that he seems to conflate the roles of bishops, elders and deacons.  But Paul’s concern isn’t to install an organizational model that works; it is to make sure that leadership in the church makes sense in light of the Christian narrative.  It is because purpose is found in living out the story of what God had done through Jesus that Paul exhorts the churches and their leaders, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”9

The Evidence of Paul’s Apostleship

     With pharisaic zeal Paul persecuted the earliest followers of the way of Jesus.  And yet, “[w]ith astonishing suddenness the persecutor of the church became the apostle of Jesus Christ.”10  How is it that Paul became not only a leader but an apostle in the early church?  Unlike the other apostles, he did not walk with Jesus before the death, burial, resurrection and ascension.  “His own repeated explanation is that he saw the once-crucified Jesus now exalted as the risen Lord.”11  A fascinating story, but what evidence could Paul offer in order to support his claim that the risen Christ commissioned him as an apostle?  The early Christians could be forgiven for doubting his claim to be a follower of Jesus12 let alone elected by God to lead the church and advance the gospel.  Paradoxically, when Paul gives evidence of his apostleship, it is not in the form of official sanction, credentials or success.  No, Paul’s evidence is how much he has suffered for the gospel.

     “As for apostolic credentials, Corinth is one place where Paul has no need to present his: the existence of the Corinthian church is evidence enough of his commission–’the seal of my apostleship in the Lord”, he tells them (1 Corinthians 9:2).”13  And yet, in a subsequent letter, we find Paul having to defend his ministry.  “Did I commit a sin by humbling myself so that you might be exalted, because I proclaimed God’s good news to you free of charge?”14  Paul is frustrated that the believers are accepting a different gospel–a different story–than the one he gave them, and they are latching on to the teachings of people that Paul refers to (ironically) as “super-apostles.”  These teachers apparently had some sort of bona fides or credentials that made them impressive to the Corinthian church.

     It is in response to this crisis of trust that Paul recites a litany of setbacks, pain, and persecution: hard labor, frequent imprisonment, beatings, torture, shipwrecks, being lost at sea, living on the run, being hated by his own people, sleeplessness, hunger, thirst and an overwhelming concern for all the churches.15  Paul is so sure that Christ’s power “is made perfect in weakness” that he boasts about his unanswered prayers!

Downward Mobility

     Paul can boast about his weakness as evidence of God’s power because the gospel is a story of suffering servanthood.  Paul quotes an early Christian hymn in his letter to the saints in Philippi:

Jesus Christ, though he was in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death–even death on a cross.  Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”16

     In Christ, God came low.  Jesus, in his flesh, is both the glory of God and the human exemplar.  In a world of violence and exploitation, God makes himself vulnerable to violence and exploitation rather than making use of them.  Salvation came to all because Jesus was a suffering servant.  That is the Christian story, and therefore, according the classical way of thinking, Christian virtue is cruciform.

Conclusion

     Paul knows that God has paradoxically overcome the powers and the authorities of this world by becoming a servant.  That is why Paul “exercise[d] his apostolic freedom by tending his converts with paternal care and spending and being spent for them.”17  Christian leadership is therefore fundamentally different than leadership according to the powers of this world, which is known by its talent, privilege, authority, strength, wealth, success, fame and effectiveness.  Instead, Christian leadership follows the pattern of God’s sacrificial self-giving in and through Christ, lived by the great saints and martyrs of Christian history.  And, not least, Paul.

………………………………………………….

Notes

1New Strong’s concise dictionary of the words in the Greek Testament with their renderings in the King James Version.  (1995).  Nashville: Thomas Nelson, p. 35.
2New Strong’s, p. 22.
3New Strong’s, p. 74.
41 Timothy 1:2.  Unless otherwise noted, all scripture references are from the New Revised Standard.
51 Timothy 3:1-3.
6Titus 1:6-9.
7MacIntyre, A.  (2007).  After virtue: a study in moral theory.  Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, p. 123.
8MacIntyre, p. 121.
91 Corinthians 11:1.
10Bruce, F. F.  (1977).  Paul: Apostle of the heart set free.  Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, p. 74.
11Bruce, p. 74.
12Acts 9:26, “When he came to Jerusalem, he attempted to join the disciples; and they were all afraid of him, for they did not believe that he was a disciple.”
13Bruce, p. 259.
142 Corinthians 11:7.
152 Corinthians 11:22-12:10.
16Philippians 2:5-11.
17Bruce, p. 278.

A Tribute to St. Alban’s Yucaipa, and especially Father Dick

•June 24, 2011 • 6 Comments

About three years ago I had approached a point of near-total cynicism regarding church.  I thought that the church, in its quest to successfully peddle marketable religious goods and services, had allowed the Holy Spirit to quietly escape from North America.  I tried being a part of a small group of Christian burnouts worshiping at a local kickboxing club, then tried worshiping at home as a family.  I felt disconnected, but when my wife would suggest that we get out there and find a church to go to I would respond, “What’s the use?  They all want to be like the ones we’ve left.”

At the time, my friend Graham Holmes recognized my frustration.  He wrote me a note online saying, “I’m so sorry, Joey.  Maybe sometime you can visit our humble little Episcopal church.”  Typically, if someone calls something of theirs “humble,” they’re lying.  But if you know Graham, he is totally a sincere guy.  Plus, he is from England, and they talk funny there.  I decided to visit St. Alban’s, even though it was a 35 minute drive from my home.

Going to St. Alban’s was like coming home.  The things that I was longing for when I attended a church – participation, freedom, openness, connection, diversity, a sense of the “bigger picture” of church and history, humility – were there in abundance within the liturgy.  I thought that my non-denominational, non-traditional church background was the entire church (seems so stupid now), so I can’t tell you how much it felt like someone opened a huge wooden door to let light in for me.  Here was a church that spent moments in silence, that spent time confessing their brokenness, that spent quite a bit of time praying around the Lord’s table.

This was totally new to me.  I had been splashing around in a pond my whole life and thinking it was the ocean.  This was like accidentally discovering the ocean, being pushed into it.  Wide, deep, clean, mysterious, kinda scary.

Apart from the liturgy, it was Father Dick who made me feel immediately comfortable in three moves.

The first was that when he gave the homily, he admitted that there was a disagreement in the way he understood the book of John and the way it was understood by Francoise, a seminarian studying for the priesthood (a woman studying for the priesthood!).  Wait…you’re allowed to not only disagree about the scriptures, but to do so openly?  For someone who had found that my aging faith resulted in more questions rather than less, this was a refreshing amount of humility and openness.

The second move was in Father Dick’s office.  He was talking to me about the liturgy, about a prayer that we inherited from the earliest church, and what it meant to him.  In the course of telling me this he became animated and used…how shall I say it…a word from his Navy days.  I often ribbed him after that for his “Navy words,” but I don’t think I ever told him how much he put me at ease by being both totally himself and yet passionate about the kingdom of God.  He made me feel that I could be safe at St. Alban’s, to explore the ways of Jesus without pretending to be somebody I’m not or being judged.  In other words, he signaled that this was a place for Christianity with more Christ and less bullshit.

The third move was when he took me to lunch.  I told him how I felt “ecclesially homeless,” and didn’t know where I belonged.  He said to me, “Don’t worry about all of that.  Be where God has you.  You might be here for a couple months, or a few years.  Just enjoy where God has you.”

And that is what I did for a few years.

Now I’ve been offered a job as a part-time worship leader at a church closer to my home.  I’m eager to do this new thing, but I was never eager to leave St. Alban’s.  Never has my family felt so supported, so accepted, so encouraged.  The people and the worship at St. Alban’s were a huge part of my healing.  They showed me that the Holy Spirit was still at work in her church, through humble people who approach God as they are with the hope that they will be changed in God’s good time.  I’m going to miss hearing Father Dick preach, Francoise boss me around, Larry feeding me the Eucharist, Rob, Amy, Graham and Teddy reading the scriptures, Donna leading special prayers, Judy leading the choir, Antoinette anointing us with oil when we were sick, Diane giving us the kiss of peace…there’s no way to name every person, but every single one made the difference for us.

If you live in the Yucaipa, CA area and are looking for a good place to explore the things of God, go to St. Alban’s.  Or if you are a church burnout who lives as much as 45 minutes away.  You might be there for a couple months…or a few years…

Almighty and everliving God, ruler of all things in heaven and on earth, hear our prayers for this parish family.  Strengthen the faithful, arouse the careless, and restore the penitent.  Grant us all things necessary for our common life, and bring us all to be of one heart and mind within your holy Church; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen. (BCP 817)

Love: A Deadly Threat to Imperial Power

•June 9, 2011 • 4 Comments

I had a few weeks off from school, which was needed.  But a couple weeks in I began to miss it.  Now that I’m four days into my new class, my anticipation has been rewarded by being assigned a great textbook.  Here’s a sample:

“The message of Jesus was so radical that it challenged all those authorities [political and religious] at once.  He did not challenge the Roman occupation like those who tried to meet force with force.  That would have meant accepting the Romans’ own conception of power, the only question at issue being who wielded the power.  But when he bade the children of the kingdom cultivate righteousness and mercy, poverty and meekness, purity of heart and peace among men, when he taught them to turn the other cheek and go the second mile and requite their enemies by doing them good, when he insisted that the will of God was fully done in the performance of acts of love, he turned accepted canons upside down and posed a more deadly threat to the basis of imperial power than those who offered it armed resistance.”  (F. F. Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, 57-58)

Walking Out of Church.

•May 25, 2011 • 33 Comments

Neil at Evolitionist walked out of the Passion Conference.  Read his story.

It got me thinking of the time that I walked out of a church gathering.  I’m going to share my story, because I would love to hear your stories of times you walked out of church…not walking away from Church in the giving up sense—though it certainly could lead to that—but just walked out because you couldn’t in good conscience participate in the foolishness that sometimes happens when you get enough Christians in the same room.

I was leading worship at a rocking little church.  One Sunday the pastor (who I am still close friends with) took the sermon as an invitation to talk about Memorial Day.  He gave apocryphal stories about the “Founding Fathers,” talked about how important it was for the u.s. to return to Christian values, and how thankful he was that representative democracy makes us free.

I was shaken…literally unable to control my body from shaking.  Rather than standing up and correcting my friend in front of everybody, I walked out the back.  I made it only a few steps before falling to my knees and lowering my face to the concrete in prayer.  I asked God to forgive us our idolatry and begged him to tell me what to do.

I went back in when the sermon was done (glass doors!), and before leading the congregation in any more songs, I read a large portion of scripture.  I figured that we should at least hear a message from God, since that’s part of why we gather.

After the service I took my wife and another faithful friend with me so that I could talk to the pastor.  The main thrust of what I said is that I couldn’t lead worship and try to invite people into the throne room of God if he was going to follow that up by preaching another kingdom.  He disagreed with me on various details (wrongly…he’s not well-versed in history nor theology), so I tried to put a fine point on it before we get totally off topic.  “Listen.  We are sheep.  The job of the pastor is to faithfully lead us by helping us hear from God.  If you can tell me that what you brought today came from studying the scriptures and from prayer, that you asked yourself what God had to say to the church and felt this was the answer, then I will feel a lot better.  On the other hand, if you just have these opinions and wanted to say share your own thoughts about Memorial Day, and then gathered up a whole bunch of scriptures that seemed to support those ideas…well, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll never do that again.”

My friend was very gracious and understanding, but he was never really able to answer whether he was listening for what God had to share with the church or whether he was using the scriptures carelessly.  We’re still friends, but it wasn’t too long afterward that I found myself giving up on “cool church” and attending St. Alban’s, a fairly traditional Episcopal church.

What about you?  When did you walk out?

Sorry You’ve Been Left Behind e-card

•May 21, 2011 • 12 Comments

Well I, for one, have been raptured.  The wireless up here is awesome!

So are the impeccable manners.  That’s why our first project is to create sympathy cards for all our friends and family who have been left behind.  You should get yours soon.  This one says:

I’m so sorry you’ve been Left Behind…

At times like these it’s hard to find the right words.  I wish you the best in your tribulation.

I told you not to play Dungeons and Dragons.

I’m just going to use the same picture for all of my list, because I like this picture my wife took and I totally want to get a look around my new mansion before it’s time to praise Jesus for all eternity.  So I’m just going to swap out the last sentence.  Here are some samples of how the other cards will end:

I told you not to vote for Obama.

I told you not to go to the Episcopal Church.

I told you not to play pool.

I told you not to watch R-rated movies.

I told you not to sell all your possessions and donate the money to Harold Camping.

I’m totally going to miss you guys.  Take care!

…………………………………………….

And, if you’re wondering more about this “end of the world stuff,” you could read this excellent post from my friend Kurt Willems.

Free Album Download – Skypark’s NoAmbition

•May 16, 2011 • Leave a Comment

You may not know that the Charismanglican once made his living as a rock musician in the band Skypark, alongside Tyrone Wells, Keith Gove and Tony Deerfield.

For a limited time, our last record is available as a free download.  It’s a weird record…raw, inconsistent, analog…our “white album,” so to speak.  I sing a couple tracks, including “Sister Loves A Speed Freak.”  Enjoy.

America is Exceptional!

•May 13, 2011 • Leave a Comment

America is exceptional!

And, while America doesn’t have the worst income inequality, it’s still pretty exceptional in that area…and getting better at an exponential rate.

I can’t figure out if it’s because of America’s exceptional moral character and faith that God has blessed her so much, or because God is just really nice.  To us, I mean.  Not them.

What Would Gandalf Do? J.R.R. Tolkien on the War on Terror

•May 2, 2011 • 2 Comments

“What a pity Bilbo did not stab the vile creature, when he had a chance!”

“Pity! It was Pity that stayed his hand, and Mercy: not to strike without need.”

“I do not feel any pity for Gollum. . . . He deserves death.”

“Deserves death! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give that to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the wise cannot see all ends.”

………………

I saw these words on Barry Harvey‘s facebook page and thought they were appropriate for the day.

Be very afraid.

•May 1, 2011 • 3 Comments

Just in case you missed the message today from the president and from the news:

  1. Nothing brings America together like violence.
  2. We must continue to be afraid and to fight.

When the hate-hangover wears off, and the world is really not much different than before, please consider the way of Jesus.

 
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