One of the things we've been trying to overcome is the tendency of Christian people to have, exclusively, Christian friends. Even new converts to Christianity, after a few years, tend to have minimized or abandoned their relationships with non-Christians. Part of this is understandable, I guess, as we tend to surround ourselves with people who share our values. A person who goes through a values shift, like a Christian conversion, probably naturally seeks out those who will understand that shift. Still, we make a keep a variety of friendships with people whose values are diverse from ours in other ways, so why are we so exclusive about faith?
A lot of this is probably cultural. I know I grew up in an atmosphere where you sort of avoided places where you knew people would be sinning. Problem is, I can't seem to find a place where people aren't sinning - even at Sunday morning church service! So really we avoided people who had sins we didn't. We might practice self righteousness, pride, apathy, or hypocrisy, but hey, we didn't get drunk or sleep around, so it's all good, right? Kind of silly in retrospect.
At this point in my journey, I'm starting to wonder if the reason we've neglected friendships with non-believers is not because we are so much better than them, but because we are not really better than them at all. We are more religious, perhaps, but we are not, as a rule, what we claim. We are not Christ-like.
I mean, the rhetoric is that to be a Christian is to be Christ-like, or at least aspire to that. But it can be rather startling how much we Christians don't look much like our King. In fact, it seems to me we expend a considerable amount of energy justifying the differences.
I don't mean that I expect everyone to start wearing a robe and sandals and start wandering from town to town preaching, but if our lives are going to have the single minded Kingdom focus that Jesus asks of us, I don't see how we can continue to live so much like everyone else, and still hope to be like Jesus.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Our Dishonesty About Consumerism
There are few things I have less patience with than Christian dishonesty. This ought to be a contradiction in terms, but it's not. There are some things we have not come clean about. There are lies we tell ourselves that bleed over into lies we tell other people. Most of those lies, it seems to me, have to do with sex and money.
I'll save the discussion of sexuality for another post. Here are some of the lies I think we've told ourselves about money:
We are not wealthy. Bull. I live in an affluent community and I've discovered that, no matter how much people make, they don't consider themselves truly wealthy. That's a description always reserved for the guy that makes a thousand or a million more. This is almost more pronounced among Christians, because the teachings of Jesus are so critical of materialism. We simply don't want these teachings to apply to us. But if we are going to look at wealth in relative terms, let's be honest. Rather than the inevitable comparison between my estate and the millionaire's, how about I compare myself to the developing world? By this standard, my affluence is astounding. And my household is at the low end of households in this community. Which means, if I'm rich, we are all rich, and everything Jesus says about wealth and the standards of stewardship to which the wealthy are accountable applies directly to us.
We are not materialistic. Double Bull. I can't tell you how many times people have told me that it's not about how much money or stuff we have, but it is about our hearts. And I agree with this, in principle. But that doesn't mean I can embrace the same consumer mentality as the secular world and pretend I'm not being materialistic because I have a different attitude about it. As a matter of fact, if I pursue the same accumulation of wealth as the rest of my consumer society, the evidence all points to the probability that my attitude towards wealth is not significantly different from anyone else's.
If I have more, I'll be able to serve the Kingdom better. Right. That's why Jesus always went looking for the wealthy to make disciples. Because the Kingdom is so dependent on your personal and professional success. Granted, many of us are extremely generous with what we have, and someone is always trotting out the story about the guy who made millions but lived on $10,000 a year and gave all the rest away. Problem is, that isn't us. The Kingdom may indeed benefit from our financial successes, but for most of us, that won't happen until our homes have gotten bigger and our cars have gotten newer. In other words, we serve ourselves first, so let's not pretend our pursuit of materialistic goals is altruistic.
It's judgmental to assume that people are being materialistic. Ohh Pleeease! I can be honest enough with myself to acknowledge that I'm materialistic in my choice of a home, a car, a computer, and cell phone, and on and on and on. But I should assume there's no materialism involved in the choice to drive a Hummer, or buy a 7000 square foot home? That's rediculous! Of course it's materialism. But in defending the materialistic practices of others, we are really defending our own barely bridled materialism.
We are rampant consumers within a society where consumption is a value, having little to do with need. It has shaped the modern church, and the modern practice of Christianity. And the fact that we fit in so well in this setting is not an indication that our behavior is acceptable, but is rather a cause for shame.
I'll save the discussion of sexuality for another post. Here are some of the lies I think we've told ourselves about money:
We are not wealthy. Bull. I live in an affluent community and I've discovered that, no matter how much people make, they don't consider themselves truly wealthy. That's a description always reserved for the guy that makes a thousand or a million more. This is almost more pronounced among Christians, because the teachings of Jesus are so critical of materialism. We simply don't want these teachings to apply to us. But if we are going to look at wealth in relative terms, let's be honest. Rather than the inevitable comparison between my estate and the millionaire's, how about I compare myself to the developing world? By this standard, my affluence is astounding. And my household is at the low end of households in this community. Which means, if I'm rich, we are all rich, and everything Jesus says about wealth and the standards of stewardship to which the wealthy are accountable applies directly to us.
We are not materialistic. Double Bull. I can't tell you how many times people have told me that it's not about how much money or stuff we have, but it is about our hearts. And I agree with this, in principle. But that doesn't mean I can embrace the same consumer mentality as the secular world and pretend I'm not being materialistic because I have a different attitude about it. As a matter of fact, if I pursue the same accumulation of wealth as the rest of my consumer society, the evidence all points to the probability that my attitude towards wealth is not significantly different from anyone else's.
If I have more, I'll be able to serve the Kingdom better. Right. That's why Jesus always went looking for the wealthy to make disciples. Because the Kingdom is so dependent on your personal and professional success. Granted, many of us are extremely generous with what we have, and someone is always trotting out the story about the guy who made millions but lived on $10,000 a year and gave all the rest away. Problem is, that isn't us. The Kingdom may indeed benefit from our financial successes, but for most of us, that won't happen until our homes have gotten bigger and our cars have gotten newer. In other words, we serve ourselves first, so let's not pretend our pursuit of materialistic goals is altruistic.
It's judgmental to assume that people are being materialistic. Ohh Pleeease! I can be honest enough with myself to acknowledge that I'm materialistic in my choice of a home, a car, a computer, and cell phone, and on and on and on. But I should assume there's no materialism involved in the choice to drive a Hummer, or buy a 7000 square foot home? That's rediculous! Of course it's materialism. But in defending the materialistic practices of others, we are really defending our own barely bridled materialism.
We are rampant consumers within a society where consumption is a value, having little to do with need. It has shaped the modern church, and the modern practice of Christianity. And the fact that we fit in so well in this setting is not an indication that our behavior is acceptable, but is rather a cause for shame.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Religious Institutionalism
We have good reason to hold religious institutions in suspicion, but no more or less than we do other cherished cultural institutions. While our culture is largely founded upon the idea of rugged individualism, the reality is that our institutions have, as an intrinsic purpose to their being, the goal of turning out a relatively uniform constituency. Governments are infamous for their inefficient bureaucracies and apathetic non competitive workforces, because government does not reward innovation nearly as well as it rewards uniformity and compliance. Public schools, which have the presumed goal of educating the youth of a society, actually produce relatively few truly bright students, because the environment and curriculum is too uniform to produce creativity, too programmed to produce self teaching learners, and just generally too much geared toward the lowest common denominator. Thus, our educational institutions produce a few remarkable students, and an exceedingly large number of unremarkable or even deficient students. Granted, the self motivated can sometimes glean an exceptional education, but it must also be presumed that this environment suppresses the real potential of others.
These institutions produce a public that is educationally sufficient, industrially uniform, and easily manipulated. This might explain why, as a nation, we are willing to believe that the government, with its lackluster management track record, is going to suddenly and magically possess the ability and knowledge to fix our ailing economy. We are not, generally speaking, taught to think for ourselves or to resolve our own problems.
But further, it illuminates a frightening reality about the institutional church. That too, I'm sad to say, has as a central goal the production of a uniform and marginally educated membership. Religious institutions, as a rule, do not produce members who routinely think for themselves about the faith, but rather individuals who are loyal to the institutions interpretations of Christian principles. Nor do these institutions teach their members to seek or expect a calling. That is, we have all sort of bought into the idea that a few people have a calling from God to do something of significance for the Kingdom of Christ, and that the rest of us have no higher calling than membership in the institution.
At its worst, institutionalism in all its expressions becomes a vehicle of indoctrination rather than hope. A few will emerge as leaders. A few will excel as students. A few will rise to prominence in the work force. And a few will follow the Spirit of God into new places. The remainder of the society will practice rigid compliance.
The frightening prospect in this, for the church, is that it suggests a subcultural ethic in which a few are called to walk in the Spirit, and the rest are called to membership, wherein they participate, by proxy, with the Spirit led among them. Too many Christians in the church today are entirely too content to let others live the life of a disciple for them, while they donate a bit of time and money and try, generally, to keep their noses clean. Too many more non-believers reject the faith entirely because its original import and vitality have been dimmed by institutional varnish.
Seems like we need a good old fashioned rebellion.
These institutions produce a public that is educationally sufficient, industrially uniform, and easily manipulated. This might explain why, as a nation, we are willing to believe that the government, with its lackluster management track record, is going to suddenly and magically possess the ability and knowledge to fix our ailing economy. We are not, generally speaking, taught to think for ourselves or to resolve our own problems.
But further, it illuminates a frightening reality about the institutional church. That too, I'm sad to say, has as a central goal the production of a uniform and marginally educated membership. Religious institutions, as a rule, do not produce members who routinely think for themselves about the faith, but rather individuals who are loyal to the institutions interpretations of Christian principles. Nor do these institutions teach their members to seek or expect a calling. That is, we have all sort of bought into the idea that a few people have a calling from God to do something of significance for the Kingdom of Christ, and that the rest of us have no higher calling than membership in the institution.
At its worst, institutionalism in all its expressions becomes a vehicle of indoctrination rather than hope. A few will emerge as leaders. A few will excel as students. A few will rise to prominence in the work force. And a few will follow the Spirit of God into new places. The remainder of the society will practice rigid compliance.
The frightening prospect in this, for the church, is that it suggests a subcultural ethic in which a few are called to walk in the Spirit, and the rest are called to membership, wherein they participate, by proxy, with the Spirit led among them. Too many Christians in the church today are entirely too content to let others live the life of a disciple for them, while they donate a bit of time and money and try, generally, to keep their noses clean. Too many more non-believers reject the faith entirely because its original import and vitality have been dimmed by institutional varnish.
Seems like we need a good old fashioned rebellion.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Organized Religion Problem
So, if I'm not opposed to organization, then what, exactly, is my issue with organized religion? It has mostly to do with the way an organization tends to separate us as individuals from our responsibilities. Large companies incorporate, in part, to insulate themselves from liability or, in other words, to avoid a measure of personal responsibility for the actions of the company. I'm afraid churches often work the same way. It is somewhat symptomatic of our culture. We turn over more and more responsibility to the government, relieving ourselves of the threat of personal responsibility for our success or failure. We let public schools educate and partially raise our children for us, and we become less responsible for their future. We let organizations accomplish the work of being the church for us, and we then get to just "go to church." We may opt to be more involved than that, but as a baseline, all we expect of ourselves is to show up on occasion, and perhaps to fork over a little money for a good cause. Thus organized religion fosters an atmosphere where church is a place I go, rather than a movement of which I am a part.
Most people reject organized religion, it seems to me, for fairly legitimate reasons. Organized religion is not what it purports to be. It does not accomplish, in large part, what it was created to accomplish. It actually has a tendency to make its members less accountable to the ideals of the faith, by diminishing these as a matter of personal responsibility in favor of a more corporate responsibility.
The flip side of this problem is that few of the people who claim to have a problem with organized religion are doing much at all about their spiritual health, either in or out of organized religion. There is hard spiritual work to be done, if we are at all serious about it. But most people don't seem to be prepared to do it. Some will rely upon organized religion to be spiritual for them, and some will do little or nothing about faith and will blame organized religion for their disinterest. Neither will do the hard work of following Jesus.
Most people reject organized religion, it seems to me, for fairly legitimate reasons. Organized religion is not what it purports to be. It does not accomplish, in large part, what it was created to accomplish. It actually has a tendency to make its members less accountable to the ideals of the faith, by diminishing these as a matter of personal responsibility in favor of a more corporate responsibility.
The flip side of this problem is that few of the people who claim to have a problem with organized religion are doing much at all about their spiritual health, either in or out of organized religion. There is hard spiritual work to be done, if we are at all serious about it. But most people don't seem to be prepared to do it. Some will rely upon organized religion to be spiritual for them, and some will do little or nothing about faith and will blame organized religion for their disinterest. Neither will do the hard work of following Jesus.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Organized Religion
In our community, like in so many others, there is a high level of skepticism about organized religion. Since I make my living as a minister, some people make the mistake of thinking I'm a sort of advocate of organized religion. Truth is, I'm probably as skeptical as they are. But I don't think its the organization that is at issue. I think the issue is the import people place on the organization - making a specific practice of religion the point of religion.
If you think about it, when we say we believe in God, but not organized religion, its a little like saying we believe in accounting, but we're against organized accounting. So we will practice accounting, but we will reject accounting software, accounting firms, CPA's or anything else that appears organized.
Organized religion is merely a tool we use to accomplish certain objectives of our faith. Some people have tried to make that tool more than a tool. Some people have used the tool very poorly. But it's still just a tool. The sad thing is we sometimes get so focused on keeping the tool of organized religion in motion that the tool isn't even accomplishing its purpose. The resulting emptiness and irony of organized religion is easily recognized, and thus, we reject it.
If you think about it, when we say we believe in God, but not organized religion, its a little like saying we believe in accounting, but we're against organized accounting. So we will practice accounting, but we will reject accounting software, accounting firms, CPA's or anything else that appears organized.
Organized religion is merely a tool we use to accomplish certain objectives of our faith. Some people have tried to make that tool more than a tool. Some people have used the tool very poorly. But it's still just a tool. The sad thing is we sometimes get so focused on keeping the tool of organized religion in motion that the tool isn't even accomplishing its purpose. The resulting emptiness and irony of organized religion is easily recognized, and thus, we reject it.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Towards a Transformational Community
"Community" has been a focus of my ministry for some time now, but I'm fairly certain that many of the people I talk to about it—even those who listen so often they are tired of hearing about it—don't really understand what I'm talking about. It's not really their fault. It's just that real community is such a rare commodity today, that people often are not aware of its existence. We don't know what we are missing.
So, when I start talking about community, a common reaction is for people to say, "Oh yes, I have that...I have a great community." When, in fact, what they may more likely have is a healthy social network. They have friends. In regard to their church involvement, they have a sense of belonging and they feel welcome and valued. These are all great things, but they don't approach the level of community required for our mission. Real community is interdependent and nearly constant. Few people have that outside their immediate families, and many don't have it at all. As a society, we are far too independent to form healthy communities.
I'm working from the premise here that the ministry of Jesus, and of the early church, invoked a rather profound level of community that, in addition to being very close knit, was extremely countercultural, and yet, integrated with the larger surrounding culture. This band of believers, living out their countercultural identity while integrated in community with non-believers and pagans, had a transformational influence on people.
In other words, the experience of that faith community and its radical adherence to the person and teachings of Jesus, impacted others such that they became radical disciples of Jesus as well.
In the absence of such deep community connections, modern evangelism has become much more individualistic. Its all about a personal relationship with Jesus. We "get saved" as an extremely individual experience, then, ideally, become integrated into a faith community. I'm pretty sure this is backward. I think we are integrated into a community, in the context of which we encounter Jesus. It's no mistake that Scripture associates such public declarations as confession and baptism with the decision to follow Jesus. These point to the fact that salvation is inherently realized in a community context.
So, when I start talking about community, a common reaction is for people to say, "Oh yes, I have that...I have a great community." When, in fact, what they may more likely have is a healthy social network. They have friends. In regard to their church involvement, they have a sense of belonging and they feel welcome and valued. These are all great things, but they don't approach the level of community required for our mission. Real community is interdependent and nearly constant. Few people have that outside their immediate families, and many don't have it at all. As a society, we are far too independent to form healthy communities.
I'm working from the premise here that the ministry of Jesus, and of the early church, invoked a rather profound level of community that, in addition to being very close knit, was extremely countercultural, and yet, integrated with the larger surrounding culture. This band of believers, living out their countercultural identity while integrated in community with non-believers and pagans, had a transformational influence on people.
In other words, the experience of that faith community and its radical adherence to the person and teachings of Jesus, impacted others such that they became radical disciples of Jesus as well.
In the absence of such deep community connections, modern evangelism has become much more individualistic. Its all about a personal relationship with Jesus. We "get saved" as an extremely individual experience, then, ideally, become integrated into a faith community. I'm pretty sure this is backward. I think we are integrated into a community, in the context of which we encounter Jesus. It's no mistake that Scripture associates such public declarations as confession and baptism with the decision to follow Jesus. These point to the fact that salvation is inherently realized in a community context.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
What's Different?
At a seminar I heard Hugh Halter say that people often want to come to their worship gatherings to see what they are doing that's different from the rest of the church world. The problem is, it isn't that different. Their worship (at Adullum) is not remarkably different from what you might experience at any Sunday morning assembly at the local community church.
I took some comfort in hearing this, because, from the standpoint of evaluating how we are living out our calling to "the different life" our Sunday gatherings are remarkably unremarkable. We do meet in a sort of circle configuration, which is kind of different. And our congregation is extremely friendly and welcoming (I'm pleased to say they are this way naturally, and not because they've been coached to be so). And my preaching is very Bible focused, and pays more attention to cultural contexts than many preacher today seem to do. But, overall, I don't think you would enter our worship time and go, "Wow, these people really are different!"
I could be wrong. But I'm thinking the difference is not in our assemblies (And it is our western notions of big church and Sunday services that always has us looking their for what a church is made of). Rather, its in what we are becoming at home and in our neighborhoods that I hope the real difference is beginning to emerge.
I mean, the whole idea of incarnational ministry is that through the body of Christ (the church), God continues to reveal himself (to be incarnated). Our lives are meant to give flesh to the Gospel. Incarnation is not most evident when God's people meet together, but rather when they are simply living and building community. It happens in homes and between friends. It happens in work cubicles and block parties. It happens whenever the people of God are willing to live like Christ in a context where Christ has not been evident.
And sometimes, it happens in a stable.
Merry Christmas.
I took some comfort in hearing this, because, from the standpoint of evaluating how we are living out our calling to "the different life" our Sunday gatherings are remarkably unremarkable. We do meet in a sort of circle configuration, which is kind of different. And our congregation is extremely friendly and welcoming (I'm pleased to say they are this way naturally, and not because they've been coached to be so). And my preaching is very Bible focused, and pays more attention to cultural contexts than many preacher today seem to do. But, overall, I don't think you would enter our worship time and go, "Wow, these people really are different!"
I could be wrong. But I'm thinking the difference is not in our assemblies (And it is our western notions of big church and Sunday services that always has us looking their for what a church is made of). Rather, its in what we are becoming at home and in our neighborhoods that I hope the real difference is beginning to emerge.
I mean, the whole idea of incarnational ministry is that through the body of Christ (the church), God continues to reveal himself (to be incarnated). Our lives are meant to give flesh to the Gospel. Incarnation is not most evident when God's people meet together, but rather when they are simply living and building community. It happens in homes and between friends. It happens in work cubicles and block parties. It happens whenever the people of God are willing to live like Christ in a context where Christ has not been evident.
And sometimes, it happens in a stable.
Merry Christmas.
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