AJ Swoboda on "Absurd Community"

Over at the Missio Alliance, AJ Swoboda has some great thoughts on the absurd community Jesus created.

Jesus chose that truth would be passed down primarily through a community of paradox. In doing so, he did not pen books but he did author communities. Unlike other Messiah’s, these communities didn’t end when Jesus did. This set him apart as different from others who claimed to be Messiah. In John 21, what are the disciples doing after Jesus resurrects? They’re fishing together. Some people make that about going back to their former assignments, but I think its about the fact that they are still hanging out together.

Jesus created “divergent community.” A divergent community that was centered on the unity of a little that made room for diversity in the many.

Swoboda also asks three questions every Christ-follower, certainly every pastor and ministry leader, should be asking him or herself: 

1) As a leader in the church, will people still be hang out after I leave? Will it fall apart if I do? Does the community transcend my presence?

2) Are people gathering around the cross or around agendas? Because we center it not on the cross but other little pithy things that we think community should be centered in. Do you have people who like Rob Bell and people who like Mark Driscoll worshipping together in the same place? Can people who speak in tongues find fellowship with those who don’t?

3) Is there room for my enemies at the cross? Can those whom I’ve had a battle with find Christ there too? Or is the cross only safe for my political and theological friends?

Maybe it's time to upgrade some of our communities to better reflect the absurd community created by Jesus.

"Love" this

Image via Flickr/FindYourSearch (cc).

Image via Flickr/FindYourSearch (cc).

A ”Like” on Facebook means far more than we’d like it to. It’s really a terrible signal because it can mean so many different things:

  1. I read this.
  2. I saw this.
  3. I appreciated this.
  4. I acknowledge that you tagged me because you thought I would appreciate this. Thanks, bro.
  5. I’m liking everything in my feed cause I’m half asleep, Facebookin’ it in bed.
  6. I agree with this.
  7. IM ON THE FACEBOOKS! CLICK CLICK CLICK
  8. This is the greatest thing I’ll never read.
  9. I’m sorry for your loss.
  10. This was an accident. I really didn’t mean to Like this. My Like will disappear suddenly and without warning, leaving you wondering why. Here, let me comment explaining why I revoked my Like. No, that’s a terrible idea. Let me delete this comment, too. Ok. Everything’s perfectly all right now. We’re fine. We’re all fine now here, thank you.

Accountability for me but not for thee

I've long been concerned by the hypocrisy, arrogance, tribalism, and celebrity culture that typifies so much of the Evangelical movement in America. The contemporary Reformed movement, an influential and vocal minority of Christians worldwide, has also been troubled by these ills along with the larger Evangelical movement of which it is a part.

Although not Reformed (I'm much closer in thought to the Arminian tradition), I've long been amenable to much of classic Reformed thought, while remaining thoroughly unmoved by the proclamations of the modern hyper-Calvinists. I've nevertheless benefitted greatly from much of what the better Reformed thinkers have had to say.

Notwithstanding my general admiration, I have been troubled the last few years by how openly critical many American Reformed leaders are of those Christ-followers outside their camp, while rarely ever criticizing even the most egregious public errors among their own. Leaders such as Mark Driscoll, James MacDonald, and CJ Mahaney all have regularly gotten a pass for behavior, words, and decisions that the ever-watchful folk at the Gospel Coalition and Southern Baptist Theological Seminary would have been quick to condemn in anyone else.

John Piper, one of the founders of the Gospel Coalition and a leading thinker of the Calvinist movement in America today, recently produced a winsome commercial for Calvinism entitled "The Doctrines of Grace." According to Pastor Piper, 

The doctrines of God's grace are my life, the source of my life, the joy of my life, the sustaining foundation of my life, the hope, the end, the goal of my life. These have been the center of my pastoral ministry at Bethlehem Baptist Church for the last Thirty-three years... I have no doubt in my mind that what has carried us through is the preciousness and truth of the Doctrines of Grace. Another name for the Doctrines of Grace is Calvinism.

Since, as Pastor Piper concludes, the Doctrines of Grace is a another way of talking about Calvinism, it would be interesting to consider Piper's opening words in the video with that one, small, change.

{Calvinism is} my life, the source of my life, the joy of my life, the sustaining foundation of my life, the hope, the end, the goal of my life. {Calvinism has} been the center of my pastoral ministry at Bethlehem Baptist Church for the last Thirty-three years... I have no doubt in my mind that what has carried us through is the preciousness and truth of {Calvinism}.

What about Jesus? Isn't Jesus supposed to be life for his disciples? Isn't it Jesus who is to be the source his followers' lives, the joy of their lives, the sustaining foundation of their lives?" Furthermore, Piper doesn't claim Jesus is the center of his ministry. Instead, Calvinism is claimed as the center. That's an admission passing strange from one who claims the virtues of being "gospel-centered."Ironic that a leader who helped found the Gospel Coalition and who regularly speaks and writes of the need for churches to be more "gospel-centered" could make such a video, over seven minutes in length, and never once utter the name of Jesus.

Jared C. Wilson of the Gospel Coalition separately ironically tweeted not long ago, "'They will know you are Christians by your mentioning 'God'. - American Jesus". He is, of course, commenting on the lamentable fact that so many American Christians are comfortable speaking often of "God," but rarely utter the name of Jesus. Sadly, his irony wasn't directed at Piper, who in his video mentions God many times, but claims Jesus nary a single time.

To my knowledge not a single member of the Gospel Coalition, or of the leadership and faculty at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary (one of the foremost Calvinist schools in America) has written to critique Piper's shocking lapse of pastoral judgment in giving primacy to a theological system over the Savior it purports to proclaim. In many conversations about the video with Calvinist brothers and friends I heard the same refrain I have heard whenever any Calvinist leader falls into error: "I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I don't want to be critical of him; his ministry has been important in my life. He's a great man who means well. No one should be evaluated by a few, very small errors in his theology or ministry. We just need to have grace. Do I think he was wrong? I'm uncomfortable being critical of him. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt."

These are all understandable responses from well-intentioned and goodhearted people. Notwithstanding that fact, there is something profoundly wrong when Christ-followers are more comfortable critiquing (as so many often do) their own pastor's leadership, speaking style, sermon content, and theology, than they are voicing even the most mild of constructive criticism about their favorite podcast preachers. I understand and applaud loyalty to one's friends and family. I understand such loyalty less when it's given wholly, uncritically, and unreservedly to Christian leaders whose lives are largely unknown to us and with whom we have no real relationship. Loyalty such as that is no gift, but rather one of the root causes for the development of our contemporary culture of Christian celebrity.

There is something decidedly unhygienic about the habitual way some Calvinist leaders criticize the perceived lapses of their non-Calvinist brethren, yet can't find the time, interest, or digital ink to offer even the most mild correctives of those who share their theological tent. Albert Mohler and Denny Burke come immediately to mind here. Both are quick to criticize pastors who are not Calvinist when they believe them to be in error, but virtually always hold strangely silent when one in their own camp fails to maintain financial, doctrinal, ethical, or moral purity.

In recent months, however, the wall of silent acquiescence among other Reformed leaders and their followers is beginning to show signs of cracking. For example, Calvinist theologian Paul Owen wrote an essay not long ago decrying the "TULIP Cult." Some time later, after viewing Piper's video on "The Doctrines of Grace," he commented about the video at theologian Roger Olson's blog saying,

That is an amazing example of what happens when Christ our Lord is taken out of the center of Christianity and replaced with TULIP. Supposedly, were it not for TULIP, Piper would not have been able to overcome his prostate cancer, and a family in his church would not have been able to get through the nightmare of discovering their child had been molested. Sorry, but that is just doctrinally aberrant and bizarre. I cannot imagine Calvin, or any historic Reformed theologian from centuries past speaking in such a worshipful tone about any particular theory regarding election, the atonement, or the mechanisms of the ordo salutis. And people accuse me of building a straw-man when I say that modern Calvinists have reduced the essence of Christianity to the never-ceasing gnostic contemplation of TULIP? That’s precisely what I mean by the TULIP cult.

Carl Trueman, one of the more faithfully prophetic voices in the American Reformed movement, has also weighed in on what ails the contemporary Calvinist movement in America with a typically thoughtful critique in First Things. He surveys some of the movement's pathologies, and comments specifically on the almost universal failure of the movement's leaders to hold each other accountable.

And then, finally, there is the silence. The one thing that might have kept the movement together would have been strong, transparent public leadership that openly policed itself and thus advertised its integrity for all to see. Yet the most remarkable thing about the whole sorry saga, from the Jakes business until now, has been the silence of many of the men who present themselves as the leaders of the movement and who were happy at one time to benefit from Mark Driscoll’s reputation and influence. One might interpret this silence as an appropriate refusal to comment directly on the ministry of men who no longer have any formal connection with their own organizations.

Yet the leaders of the “young, restless, and reformed” have not typically allowed that concern to curtail their comments in the past. Many of them have been outspoken about the teaching of Joel Osteen, for example. In their early days, when the Emergent Church was vying with the new Calvinism for pole position in the American evangelical world, they launched regular, and often very thorough, critiques of the Emergent leaders. In retrospect, however, it is clear that these were soft targets. Their very distance made them safe. Problems closer to home are always much harder to speak to, much more likely to earn opprobrium from one’s friends, and thus much more likely to be ignored. The result, however, is that some leaders become very accustomed to always doing things their way. All of us who are thought of as Evangelical or Reformed now live with the bitter fruit of that failure of leadership.

There are hints even among regular churchgoing followers of the American Calvinist movement that long needed correction is finally occurring. Formerly silent supporters are awakening to the fact that their reticence to hold their leaders accountable has not been helpful but instead gave license for even worse misbehavior. Sarah Cunningham writes in the Huffington Post,

I think people like me are {an} enabling part of the problem. Whether it is because we prefer to keep our distance from inflammatory culture wars or whether it is because we're hesitant to critique someone who still bears some similarities to our mission, some of us who are more moderate have perhaps allowed a tragic silence to be our default response...

In recent days Mark Driscoll released a letter of apology for much of his past misbehavior and ethical and moral lapses. I read it with relief. I'm guardedly hopeful that Pastor Driscoll is sincerely repentant and not merely engaging in damage control to protect and preserve his brand. He certainly seems repentant.

Wise followers will trust but verify. They should take his repentance at face value while also requiring him to show lasting progress and change for the better. For now, it is an immensely positive occurrence when leaders such as Mark Driscoll finally develop enough self-awareness to correct course, change their behavior, and make amends to those whom they have wronged.

How different might the church look with but a few beginning correctives. For starters, when moved to critique another Christian teacher, a leader might first consider his or her own failings (Matt 7:3-5; Rom 3:23). They could take care to ensure their lives model what they teach (Matt 23:3). Leaders should avoid at all costs the adulation of celebrity that they may not seek to foster but which their followers nevertheless seek to lavish on them (Matt 23:3, 6-7).

If they are compelled by conscience and circumstance to speak critically of another leader, leaders should do so kindly, civilly, and in such a way as to minimize any rancor (Gal 6:1; Eph 4:32; Eph 4:15). Lastly, it would be good for all Christian leaders to remind themselves that we are far more likely to be effectively heard by those with whom we are in relationship than those outside our fellowship (Prov 27:6). 

One can only hope the recent signs of greater accountability in the Calvinist movement are but green shoots of new and positive changes that will over time grow to maturity and bear much fruit. How uplifting it would be for all ministry leaders, regardless of denomination or theological affiliation, to see such leaders practice among themselves the same accountability and transparency which they preach to others. What an incredibly positive development for the Kingdom if an ever-growing number of Reformed leaders returned to the early hallmark of the Reformed church of being "reformed and always reforming." There's still time for the Reformed movement to reform itself.

On the "Twible" and swerving into truth

Read a review of a silly little book, the Twible, I can't imagine ever reading or recommending. The marketing hook for the Twible is that is a summary of the entire Bible in 1,189 tweets of 140 characters or less. The reviewer loved the book, even though he admits it's almost pure snark.

The review confirmed I have no need to buy the book (although the reviewer thinks I should). Nevertheless, the reviewer did swerve into truth at one point:

The fact is, as much as we might try to fight it, the Word of God is a dangerous thing. In various places, it describes itself as  “like fire . . . and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces” (Jer. 23:29) and “sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow” (Heb. 4:12). When the God of the Universe speaks, no one is safe, nor should anyone expect to be, given the source—how can the profane stand in the presence of the holy? “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts . . .’ declares the Lord” (Is. 55:8), so is it any surprise that so many find the Bible confusing, frustrating, frightening, and—worst of all—boring?

No wonder so few have read the whole thing. Polls show that while about 80% of Americans consider themselves Christian or Jewish, 80% of Americans (the same 80%?) haven’t read the Bible, because who would choose to struggle through 2,000 pages of troubling ideas when they could be playing Xbox instead? Making things worse, Christian communities that both take Scripture seriously and encourage people to wrestle with it honestly are few and far between.

That last line echoes something that frustrates and saddens me to no end, and of which I think about daily. May God forgive his people for how thoughtlessly we have squandered his treasures.

Is "religious liberty" in America already a lost cause?

Jeremiah G. Dys at Canon and Culture has written a thoughtful essay entitled, What Has Happened To Religious Liberty. If one reads his essay, and follows the numerous supporting links, the inescapable thought intrudes: is religious liberty under assault or has the battle for religious liberty, at least for American Christians, already be lost?

The answer to that, I suppose, lies in the definition of religious liberty itself. It is more than merely allowing for walls and a steeple-topped roof in which some may gather to sing about, pray to, and study the holy writings of God. Religious liberty is the idea that every man, woman, boy, and girl is permitted (indeed, created) to order their lives — every aspect of it, both private and public — according to the teachings of their faith.

Well, that’s almost the entire definition. Religious liberty has one key component at its core that is fashionably left off the end. It is so assumed that we have forgotten to restate it over the years and, as a result, it has atrophied. Most of us grew up in homes and neighborhoods that did not think twice about this part of the definition of religious liberty. Why would we? This is America, where “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or the free exercise thereof.”

That key component of religious liberty for every human being is that every human is permitted to order their lives according to the teachings of their faith and, absent the most compelling of reasons, to be free from government telling them what that faith ought to be or how it is to be practiced.

That is what we have forgotten and, in fact, what we have reversed. Now, Congress does make the laws that prohibit the free exercise of religion and few blink an eye because it furthers their socio-political agenda. Government, in the form of courts, damages centuries of jurisprudence that has broadened religious liberty by elevating perceptive rights found in outlying penumbras to the constitution above those specifically enumerated therein. Government demands our worship as the highest authority of all. It assumes too much, destroying itself from within in the process.

Read the whole essay. Dys' thoughts are worth consideration.

Scot McKnight on power and authority in the church

Scot McKnight in a recent blog post comments on Joseph Hellerman's book, Embracing Shared Ministry

McKnight first quotes Hellerman: 

The volatile combination of (a) emotionally needy, narcissistic leaders appealing to (b) naively receptive followers {in} (c) corporate, institutional settings proves to be a set-up  for the abuse of ministerial authority (256-257).

To which words McKnight adds his own thoughts:

Add to this an almost solo concept of power or authority, and add to this the fact that knowledge is power and pastors have knowledge (often unchallenged), and you’ve got the making of problems. And add to this the desire for people to come to church and hear a good sermon, so that the good sermon-maker rises to the top of a church and, bingo, you’ve got churches that are shaped not by the gospel but by something else. Churches need crosses at the front of their buildings to remind the congregation (and the pastors) that the Way of Jesus is the Way of the Cross. Rome had its throne, the church has its cross.

"Rome had its throne, the church has its cross." I'm pondering that line today as I consider contemporary church leadership (of which I am a part). We so often embrace the power and politics of secular institutions in the church. We apply good marketing theory to attract people to our "services" (could just as easily be "consumers" to our "goods."). We use best practices of corporate management theory to keep our churches running like well-oiled machines. When things get tricky, messy, and contentious, we subtly and shrewdly begin to pull on the levers of power to accomplish our clearly well-intentioned and good-hearted aims (at least in our minds) which are being opposed by clearly disturbed, shallow, disputatious congregation members who are in rebellion against our "spiritual" authority, as all good politicians have done for time immemorial. 

Some of these things have benefits to be sure. Specifically we can of course learn about and apply good principles of efficiency and character-led management. The rub comes from our often uncritical adoption of corporate business theory without consideration of Biblical principles which supersede. The Kingdom has a King, and we are not him.

Don't write obituaries yet for the American mall

James Lileks has a fun little ode to American malls over at National Review. I've enjoyed Lileks witty insight (or should that be insightful wit?) over the years. He's written for a number of publications and even when I disagree with him he's still fun to read. The whole piece on malls is worth reading, but I especially liked this passage:

There are those who want malls to be over, though. After all, they’re one of the horrid forces that remade America. Suburbs, cars, and the mall: the unholy trinity of American life that ruined the natural order of things. People are supposed to live packed in boxes, ride public transportation so you can marinate in the radiating funk of Mr. Natural next to you, shop in small stores, and schlep it all back to your flat after waiting 20 minutes in the rain for the bus.

Suburbs, on the other hand, are nothing but endless expanses of ticky-tacky boxes planted on a former potato field, a place of suffocating conformity. Cars make polar bears drown and encourage individuality. (Somehow the horrible individuality the cars produce does not offset the conformity imposed by the suburbs.) Malls are the worst, because they are temples to consumerism and make everyone go into debt against their will. Oh, you may go to the mall for a pair of jeans, but everyone else is going there to fulfill the programming beamed into their brains by mass culture.

So it’s great when suburbs die! Except they’re not dying. A recent story in my local paper noted how the first-ring suburbs are great bargains for young people, which makes them cool again. So: Twenty-somethings in 1962 with two kids and a house full of Danish Modern furniture with push-button appliances and a Siamese ceramic cat on the mantle: the oppressive falsehood of the postwar American dream. Twenty-somethings with the same house in 2014, the same decor (they’re into mid-century design), and two pugs: the salvation of urban America, because the style section can do a piece that includes the phrases “lovingly restored” and “Josh works as a web designer for a nonprofit.”

10 Signs you might be a legalist

Jeremy Meyers of Till He Comes blog writes on the 10 signs you might be a legalist. What do you think about his list? Any additions?

  1. If you believe there is a sin you think God cannot forgive, you might be a legalist.
  2. If you believe there is a limit to the grace of God, you might be a legalist.
  3. If you believe that God’s blessings are reserved only for the obedient, you might be a legalist.
  4. If you believe that certain behaviors disqualify a person from joining God’s family, you might be a legalist.
  5. If you believe that the presence of ongoing sin in a person’s life causes them to lose their eternal life, you might be a legalist.
  6. If you believe that the presence of ongoing sin in a person’s life proves that they never had eternal life in the first place, you might be a legalist.
  7. If you believe that God loves us more if we obey Him more, you might be a legalist.
  8. If you believe that all Christians must believe and act like you do, you might be a legalist.
  9. If you believe that our standing with God is based on how well we keep the Ten Commandments, you might be a legalist.
  10. If you believe that people who accept evolution, love homosexuals, and vote democrat cannot be true Christians, you might be a legalist.

The fountains of the great deep burst forth

In light of the upcoming "Noah" movie, I was thinking about Genesis 7:11 and Genesis 2:6 when I read this fascinating article

"...on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth..."

"...on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth..."

A small, battered diamond found in the gravel strewn along a shallow riverbed in Brazil has provided evidence of a vast "wet zone" deep inside the Earth that could hold as much water as all the world's oceans put together.

The water is not sloshing around inside the planet, but is held fast within minerals in what is known as the Earth's transition zone, which stretches from 410 to 660km (250-400 miles) beneath the surface.