Fear and Trembling

My natural tendency is to downplay the role of the minister. Because of my training and theological reflection, I know that the calling of God on a person's life to be a mechanic or a lawyer or a teacher is no less important than the calling to be a full-time minister.

You see, I don't want others thinking that a pastor is so righteous and perfect and thus serving God more than they are in their own divinely appointed vocations.

Besides....aren't we all supposed to be ministers of a sort? Aren't we all supposed to spread the gospel and live as Christ for others? If so, how can the pastor be more holy than anyone else?

In this way I try to dissuade people from the notion that ministers are better or set apart from any other Christians.

But I've begun to realize something.

I guess I've thought about it before, but it hit home yesterday during a youth group trip to Six Flags. While there, I was able to spend some time and talk with some of the young people...and I began to grasp the immense responsibility I would be taking on.

It's not that I suddenly realized my vocation as a part-time youth pastor made me better than anyone else. Not at all.

It's that I began to understand what was at stake. That being a minister was actually a very dangerous thing.

"Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you

know that we who teach will be judged more strictly."

James 3:1

"But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it

would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and

to be drowned in the depths of the sea."

Matthew 18:6

It is enough sometimes to worry about my own failings and faults. I have plenty. But when I think about the impact that these same flaws might have on others for whom I am responsible...it makes me shudder.

Hearing the Scripture speak on this matter gives me a lot to seriously think about. A lot for which I must depend on God and his never-failing grace.

For whether it is supposed to be this way or not, whether I want it to be this way or not, or whether I can help it or not, people will often be looking to me to hear God's voice and learn more about Him. What I do and what I say will have great impact.

More than anything, I want to lead lead young people to a place where they can know and serve and follow God together without a pastor telling them what to do. That is, I think, what a minister is here for.

But that doesn't get me off the hook. I still have to help lead them there.

It is this that makes me realize how much I need God's help.

The Schemer

I've recently come across a passage in the book of 2 Samuel that's pretty interesting.

The set-up is this: King David's son Absalom has murdered his brother for raping his sister. He then flees.

Though David finds himself in great sorrow over the situation and Absalom's estrangement/exile, he makes no move to bring him back.

At this point an old women approaches the king with a thinly veiled story meant to drive to the heart of David's situation and provide him with reason to bring back his son.

During this conversation, she utters the following:

"Like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be recovered, so we must die. But God does not take away life; instead, he devises ways so that a banished person may not remain estranged from him." 2 Samuel 14:14

I can't help but be amazed at the poetry of these two sentences. How honest this woman is about life. About its fragility.

For despite all we do and say and are, our lives in the end are as impossible to recover as a glass of lemonade spilled on the sand.

Yet at the same time this is not all of the story, for within the woman's words we find a promise that there is hope. That life does not have to end bit by bit, each part of our existence slowly dribbling out of a pail onto the dirt.

Because God, it seems, is a schemer. Though death is a formidable enemy, God is busy in His workshop, coming up with new ways to recover our estranged souls. Finding a way around the craziness of it all because of His love for us.

I like this picture of God. It's not one that we normally think of, but it is powerful. It is a picture of a Father so concerned with his lost and slowly dissipating children that He will use all the power and knowledge at His disposal to bring us back. To refill the cup of our lives.

It is the fullness to which the situation between David and Abasalom is only the faintest of shadows.

The fullness that reached its peak almost two thousand years ago in a distant land.

All for us.

I'm A Fairy Princess

Or at least that's what the Internet tells me.

According to this personality test, I am someone "Possessing a rare combination of wisdom and humility, while serenely dominating your environment you selflessly use your powers to care for others."

Apparently I am a paragon of virtue and spirituality.

As if.

Would that I could be so focused and directed in my walk with God. But perhaps by His grace this can still happen.

After all, who am I to argue with the Internet?

The test only asks a few questions, but it's kind of fun. Once you find out who you are, leave a post and let us know!

Back To School

But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'
-Jesus

I have a problem with sin. You see, I keep doing it. I don't really want to, but I guess a part of me does. Because I keep doing it.

As I sin, I feel guilty. I ask forgiveness of God, and then I feel better. But then I sin again.

The cycle of guilt and repentance and forgiveness continues on and on. And despite what all of this says about my ability to avoid sin and seek a higher way, there is something at work here even more insidious.

I've noticed that my own progress, growth, and maturity in the spiritual life becomes very limited when I am constantly asking forgiveness for mistakes over and over again. My prayers become very similar. When I'm in this mode of thinking, the only time I do pray is to ask for forgiveness.

Now, I know that I need constantly to recognize my own failures and turn to God for forgiveness. I need His grace in my life. But that's not all that my relationship with God is supposed to be about.

It can't be.

I like what David says in Psalm 69: "I will praise God's name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving. This will please the Lord more than an ox, more than a bull with its horns and hoofs."

The Scripture talks of salvation by grace through faith. Is this the same as what I sometimes do? Am I in a relationship with God or am I just replicating the old legalistic sacrificial system with the righteousness-seeking prison of my own vain repetition?

What kind of relationship is it if I only come to God asking for things? On the face of it, not a good one.

To have a real relationship with anyone, including God, is much more complicated--and meaningful--than that. It means opening my life and sharing, really sharing, its ups and downs and ins and outs. To listen as much as I speak. To be more concerned about the other than about myself.

This is what I need. This is what all of us need. And I hope that by God's grace I can learn to live with Him in this way more and more.

So, once again, I must listen to Jesus.

But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'

Matthew 9:13

Enough

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."
Phillipians 4:12

Yowsers.

I don't even know how to be content when I haven't had lunch.

I'm not sure why, but something happens to my personality when I haven't eaten in a while. I get a little antsy, a little snippish...and all of a sudden I am most certainly not content. Very little can make me happy...and woe to those who are around me.

I'm writing this tonight because I kind of feel like that right now. It is an interesting thing, really...because I know that when I wake up in the morning everything will be better and I'll feel fine.

It is very frustrating and very humbling to know that despite all of my training, all of my understanding of who God is, and all the progress I have made, a simple thing like skipping a meal can make me as cantankerous and grouchy as any three-year old.

Am I this weak? Am I this frail? Am I this much a prisoner of flesh and blood? Where are the lessons of my life and faith?

Washed away, I think...by the simplest of human frailties.

When I am like this, I know I'm not content. And I know I should be. That makes it worse. It's like stepping outside of yourself for moment and watching yourself do something very foolish yet having no power to change things.

In response to this situation, we might wonder if the secret of Paul's contentment is about something we need to do. It makes sense. I mean, if he could do be at peace, why can't I force myself to be content? Surely I could at least come somewhat close.

I simply need to follow his six easy steps, and all will be well.

Or not.

You see, there are no ready made steps. There are no actions that can magically make everything better. Things may have to change, but that's not what ultimately will fix me. For--in the end--Paul's contentment is is not because of what he has done.

It's because of who he knows. Who he trusts. Who carries him.

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

Phillipians 4:13

Inside Out

At present, I'm reading Henri Nouwen's The Wounded Healer. Though just a short book, I'm enjoying it and would heartily recommend it to any in the full time ministry as well as those who feel called to minister in any way.

So, in other words, every Christian.

In the second chapter, Nouwen talks about what he calls the "minister of the future." (Since the book was written in 1972, maybe we can consider these individuals the ministers of today.)

He says that a minister must be "the articulator of inner events." That the one ministering to others must be open to being a guide for those who are struggling with inner concerns, fears, and doubts. A person who "is willing to put his own faith and doubt, his own hope and despair, his own light and darkness at the disposal of others who want to find a way through their confusion and touch the solid core of life."

When we do so we are most honest and most able to minister.

That makes sense to me. I can spend all day talking theology with someone or explaining the Trinity, but if I'm never honest about my own journey and struggles...it is of no use.

The minister is called to be a guide. Most would agree to this. But to do so effectively, I think, they first must follow and trust God through the mountains and valleys. Only then might they have the experience and spiritual awareness to truly be of help to others.

Being a minister doesn't mean knowing a lot of things or preaching about five easy steps to happiness or building a megachurch.

It means helping people to see God at work. It means becoming an open window for others to see the work of God through your life. It means talking honestly about how life is tough and hard and that there is pain and doubt all around.

And through all of this, we can see somehow the gospel of a God in agony at Gethsemane...a God despised and rejected by the world He loved...a God dying painfully on a Cross. For us.

Through this one can start to process and experience life and faith and turn to God for healing.

Because there is so much to distract us from these truths, I think Nouwen is doing his best to correct the misunderstanding and misuse of the ministry as a means of getting people together, simple administration, or the management of events.

How we do this--how we press on in the face of surface level concerns--is of great import for him. If we indeed "have become unfamiliar with, and even somewhat afraid of, the deep and significant movements of the Spirit," what is there to do in response?

His answer:

"But how can we avoid this danger? I think by no other way than to enter ourselves first of all into the center of our existence and become familiar with the complexities of our inner lives. As soon as we feel at home in our own house, discover the dark corners as well as the light spots, the closed doors as well as the drafty rooms, our confusion will evaporate, our anxiety will diminish, and we will become capable of creative work."

Vocation Vacation

**I'm currently reading through Rick Warren's The Purpose Driven Life. I think a lot of my thoughts in coming weeks may derive from this experience.**

In the past few months, I've really been praying and seeking God's will in my life. For any who have done the same, you know it is a complicated process.

As time has progressed there has been some resolution to my own questions....which believe me, is a very good thing.

The idea of calling has been important to me through this process. What am I called by God to do? Am I called to minister in a church? Am I called to pursue academic work? Should I join the circus as one of those clowns that fit into the little car?

Questions like these.

But calling is much more than that. It is not only ministers and church workers who are called by God to do things. It is everyone. Yes, that means you.

The callings that we have will vary differently, just as we are each unique individuals. But each of us in our vocation (coming from the Latin vocare, "to call") can serve God and work at His purposes in the world. The specifics will figure themselves out, but we know what's what.

Love. Peace. Worship. Forgiveness. Service. Action.

And while we may feel our jobs are not necessarily callings as important as that which takes place in the rest of our life, I will say that even seemingly dull occupations can be placed in our lives to fulfill callings all their own.

Martin Luther once said that “A dairymaid can milk cows to the glory of God.” If that's true, I don't think we have anything to worry about.

Whatever our calling, it also is a great responsibility. There's no denying that. The Creator of the universe has basically asked us to do something.

But at the same time this is a great blessing. For if we know God's calling on our life, we can also rejoice in the fact that we're not alone in all of this...that God has made us for this purpose, whether it seems "big" or "small."

That God will take us beyond our own weaknesses and fears by His power.

This, I think, is vocation.

Here I am Lord, Is it I Lord?
I have heard You calling in the night.
I will go Lord, if You lead me.
I will hold Your people in my heart
"Here I am Lord"

Long Live The King....

The king is dead. As the Associated Press reported a few days ago, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia was laid to rest.

But it wasn't that which caught my attention so much as it was the manner in which he was buried.

I guess you'd expect the deceased monarch of an oil rich country to receive all the benefits of, well, a king. To be buried in a gigantic crypt. To be richly adorned. To be kingly.

But no...he was "wrapped in a plain brown cloth on a wooden plank" and buried in an unmarked grave. That was that. Throw him in a hole and walk away.

The news site indicated that this practice was followed "in keeping with the kingdom's austere version of Islam." Now, left or right, conservative or liberal, think what you will about the Muslim world...about the country of Saudi Arabia...about the leadership of oil-rich nations...but this is impressive.

Sure, maybe King Fahd lived a decadent life up until the last. Maybe for him and his family this burial is just a meaningless symbol.

But it isn't that for me.

It is a powerful example of what death means. Of what life means. Of what my relationship with God means.

Our mortality strips us of everything we think we have and leaves us only who we are inside. Who we are before God. Rich or poor, weak or strong, saint or sinner.

What do we really take to the grave with us? What is our life about? Is it about anything that will persist?

Good questions, I guess...for all of us.

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised."

Job 1:21

Simply Scandalous

I have a bit of a strange habit. I'm not sure if its a good thing or not, but for whatever reason it seems to be the way in which I tend to operate.

A Sunday morning will roll around and I will be sitting in church. The pastor will begin their sermon and...I'll start to write down sermon notes. But not from their sermon. From other sermon ideas that suddenly pop into my head and have nothing to do with what the pastor is saying. I jot them on random pieces of paper, on the back of church bulletins, or whatever I can get my hands on.

Now this doesn't happen all the time and admittedly should happen less than it does (because God needs to speak to me through the sermon as well). But I can't deny that I've gotten some good ideas while sitting there in a pew.

One of these is a meditation on the "Scandal of the Cross" coming from I Corinthians 1. As Paul says, for those who cannot imagine God becoming human and dying on a cross for humanity, Jesus' whole existence seems dreadfully scandalous and just plain silly. It is an inversion of everything the world says about power and getting ahead.

It is great and wonderful and amazing...but it's a scandal.

It is a scandal I like, but all the same not the one people often think of when considering the Church 2000 years after our savior walked the earth.

I compare Paul's discussion with a scene from the miniseries entitled "Jesus" that was on television a few years ago. Near the beginning of the show, the title character is given visions of the future. Visions that did not focus on his own death, but rather the way in which his name would be used in the future. War. Crusades. Inquisition. Extermination. Hatred. Violence. He was not excited to receive these visions. I was not excited to view them.

But they are true.

And this is a scandal too. The way in which Jesus has been used through the centuries as a tool for gaining power and oppressing others hurts and saddens me. It has wounded many beyond our imagining. Is it any wonder the world isn't too keen on the Church?

Yet I know there is a way back to the principles of Paul in I Corinthians. I wonder, in this imaginary sermon, how we might go about reclaiming the true scandal of the cross. How we might avoid the scandals of our own making and turn to the scandalous and confusing love of God.

Confusing because it is free. Confusing because we don't deserve it. Confusing because even though God knows the darkness of our hearts and how we might use His name to make the most hideous scandals, He still dies for us.

It comes to this: which scandal do we want to be known by---God's or the mess of our own making?

But God chose the foolish things of the world to
shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the

world to shame the strong.

I Corinthians 1:27

The Bible Code

Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.

Ecclesiastes 12:12

Sometimes in our desire to be relevant to today's culture and gain a greater understanding of our faith, we Christians read a lot of books.

We turn to books about faith, books about theology, devotionals, spiritual writings, and others in an attempt to understand what God is saying to us in the Scripture.

It makes sense. As the body of Christ, we live in a community of fellow believers--whether we know them or not. We want to learn from others to whom God has spoken. It's natural.

I've been excited myself to recently read the work of Donald Miller, Lauren Winner, and Henri Nouwen. Each has spoken to me in a powerful way and I recommend their writing to everyone.

But there is a danger. A danger that I know far too well as a theological student and minister. A danger that from a certain point of view looks completely safe, yet upon extended inspection reveals itself for what it is.

It is the danger of leaving the Bible behind. It comes about innocently enough, often because of a desire to utilize the writing of others to learn more about God. To grow in faith. To be relevant to today's generation. Yet slowly but surely, I can begin to completely ignore the reason I engaged in these enterprises in the first place and the center around which they must revolve.

I'm not trying to be old-fashioned or anti-intellectual or anything of that nature. I love books. The walls of my room at my parents' house are lined with them.

I want and need to read how others have experienced God's love and His Scripture and walked with Him through life. As a matter of fact, someone just recommended a book or two to me yesterday that I'm hoping to check out.

But if I do this without consistently being immersed in the Scripture and letting it speak to me, it all amounts to nothing.

It is like shopping at the store to buy ingredients for which I have no recipe. Like building the second floor of a house without the first. Like pouring water into a paper cup with no bottom.

Maybe those legendary old churchladies reading nothing but the Bible had it right. Maybe to be a vital Christian we don't have to try to be theologically profound or contemporarily relevant.

Maybe we just have to read the Bible again and again, not looking it like a textbook or trying to find easy answers but asking God's help and illumination and getting to know it like the back of our hands.

More and more, I'm becoming convinced that's what is needed.