April 28, 2010

Tim Keller on Justification and Justice

by Skye Jethani

The Q gathering kicked off in Chicago today. 600 Christian leaders in the church, business, social sector, education, government, and the arts assembled at the Civic Opera House to hear some very stimulating talks and engage in more conversations themselves. One of the highlights from day one was Tim Keller.

Keller used his 18 minutes (all Q talks are 18, 9, or 3 minutes...there’s a predominately displayed countdown clock the audience can see to hold the speaker accountable...clearly not invented by a preacher) to talk about the polarization in the church between the “justification people” and the “justice people.”

As Keller describes them, the justification people are all about justification by faith alone. Only after being justified can a person live as he/she ought to live. While Keller was in full agreement with this doctrine, he said the unfortunate implication for many of the justification people is the belief that “we are mainly here to do evangelism” and they view “justice as a distraction.”

The justice people, on the other hand, tend to downplay or completely ignore the doctrine of justification by faith. Instead they can focus on language about “defeating the powers” or seeking the renewal of communities. Also good ideas, but not if justification is lost in the mix.

Keller believes this rift between justification and justice is completely unbiblical. “Justice and justification,” he said, “are joined at the hip. They are a seamless cloth.” He spent much of his time arguing from scripture that the doctrine of “justification by faith leads inevitably to justice.” Citing passages like Isaiah 58, Mark 12:38-40, Matthew 25, and others, Keller said that if we truly believe that we are saved by grace alone we will care about the poor.

The doctrine of justification by faith emphasizes that “God’s justice matters,” he said. We are perpetrators of wrong. We are sinners. We are poor in spirit. But God has had mercy on us. If we understand our spiritual poverty than we cannot ignore the material poor who are presented to us. If our belief in justification does not manifest itself in care for the poor, then our faith is dead as the Epistle of James says.

This is what Keller calls the “both/and” gospel...it’s about justification and justice, not justification or justice. And when we get this right, not only do we see justification lead to more justice, but doing more justice leads more of the lost toward Christ and justification through faith.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 28, 2010 | Comments (28) | TrackBack

April 27, 2010

Tuesdays with Tozer–Simplicity

by Margaret Feinberg

I’m struck by the fact that Tozer wrote these words in 1948–more than 60 years ago. Was he ahead of time? Or is the craving for simplicity a constant one? Are there always distractions and busyness–whether you’re living in the 1970’s, the 1700’s or 700 BC?

Every age has its own characteristics. Right now we are in an age of religious complexity. The simplicity which is in Christ is rarely found among us. In its stead are programs, methods, organizations and a world of nervous activities which occupy time and attention but can never satisfy the longing of the heart. The shallowness of our inner experience, the hollowness of our worship, and that servile imitation of the world which marks our promotional methods all testify that we in this day, know God only imperfectly, and the peace of God scarcely at all.

If we would find God amid all the religious externals, we must first determine to find Him, and then proceed in the way of simplicity.

–A.W. Tozer (The Pursuit of God, p. 17-18)

God, help me to embrace the simplicity of faith you intended for each of us. Help me to come to you like a child, open-armed, fully-trusting, and experience the wonder of your embrace. In Jesus Name. Amen.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 27, 2010 | Comments (5) | TrackBack

April 26, 2010

What "I'm Not Being Fed" Really Means (Part 1)

by Steve Mathewson

This article comes from our friends at PreachingToday.com. Check out more on PT blog.

I have a confession to make. I am fed up with hearing people say, "I'm not being fed." While I do not hear it often, the comment surfaces just enough about my preaching and the preaching of others to make me want to scream. Once my emotions settle down, though, I try to discern what people are really saying. In my experience, the complaint "I'm not being fed" is usually a code phrase for some other frustration that lurks below the surface.

This realization hit me a few years ago after observing a strange turn of events. First, a young couple left the church I served for another because (drumroll here) they were "not being fed." I puzzled over this because I felt like I was in a season where my preaching really was connecting Scripture well to the lives of our people. I went through a checklist of possible problems. Had I lost my passion? No. Was I short-changing my sermon preparation? No. Had I slipped into merely talking to people about the Bible rather than talking to people about themselves from the Bible? No. Was I neglecting to preach the gospel? No. Still, this young couple—whom I'll refer to as Brett and Danielle—claimed they were not being fed, and they got involved in a nearby church plant.

A year went by, and I accepted the call to a church in another region of the United States. Then, shortly after my move, I started getting emails from Brett and Danielle. Danielle, a diligent Bible student and a Bible study leader, emailed me with perceptive questions about a Bible passage she was studying. At the end of one of her emails she wrote: "We sure miss your preaching and teaching!" Huh? I thought they were not being fed.

Not long after that, Brett emailed me and said: "We hear that you're going to preach at Hope Church [in a neighboring city] when you're back here in the area for vacation. We're coming that Sunday because we want to listen to you preach. You don't know how much we miss the way that you taught us the Word."

What? I wanted to hit reply and say: "But haven't you forgotten? I'm the guy who didn't feed you!"

So what was up with this change of heart? As I reflected on the situation, I realized that the statement "I'm not being fed" was really a cover for another issue. To make a long story short, Brett and Danielle had been pulled into a small but influential group in our church that questioned the effectiveness of our church's leadership. In retrospect, some of the criticism was fair, and some of it was unfounded. I recalled how the ringleader of this group told me that I was not providing the leadership that our church needed at the time. He, too, used the statement "My family and I are not being fed." I began to see that my preaching was not the real issue.

Of course, there will always be room for growth and improvement in my preaching, but when people complain about undernourishing sermons there often is another issue or a complex set of issues.

In the aftermath of this experience, I have been trying to crack the code to discern what people really mean when they say, "I'm not being fed." I think that can mean one of five things.

1. "I really am not being fed."
We must always entertain the possibility that we are not feeding people as well as we should. The pressure to manage staff, develop systems, trouble-shoot problems, care for the sick, mentor younger leaders, and do any number of other important things can pull us away us from the task of preaching.

Recently, I spent an entire morning talking to probation officers and writing a policy-and-procedure statement to help our church navigate the issues we face when registered sex offenders show up in our worship services. I wanted to use this time for sermon preparation. Some other task will demand my attention next week, and another one the week after that. Even so, like the apostles in Acts 6 I must not let legitimate concerns eclipse my devotion to prayer and the ministry of the Word. Furthermore, I must stay rested, refreshed, and inspired—even though this is a constant challenge. Otherwise, physical and emotional fatigue can keep me from delivering the kind of messages that God's Spirit uses to change lives.

2. "The church is not meeting my needs."
Sometimes, those who claim to be famished are concerned not so much with your preaching as with other ministries in the church.

I remember a woman who told me in not-so-friendly terms that she and her husband were leaving our church because her husband was not being fed. Yet, when we did an exit interview with him, he said nothing about preaching. What he talked about was the direction of the men's ministry. That was the real source of his frustration. Similarly, a pastor-friend of mine discovered that one of his parishioners who complained loudly about not being fed was really upset that no one had visited him while he was in the hospital for gall bladder surgery.

If the real issue is dissatisfaction with a small group ministry or children's ministry, no amount of work on your preaching is going to solve the problem.

3. "You are not addressing my struggles and challenges."
When we hear people complain about not being fed, we tend to think in terms of sermon content. We wonder how people can say that when we have done our exegetical homework. After all, we did a mechanical layout of the Greek text, or we spent a couple hours poring over several articles in the New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Then, when we stand up to preach, we provide solid content. We explain words, discuss theology, and trace arguments. This is certainly legitimate and necessary as a means to an end. The end, however, is not content but challenge or encouragement. People want help with the escalating conflict in their marriages. People want hope to get them through difficult economic times. People want help coping with cancer. If people do not see how the gospel relates to the struggles they face, we will hear them say, "I'm not being fed."

4. "I do not like your style."
Occasionally people complain about not being fed because they feel you are too strong or not strong enough in your preaching.

When I announced that I would be preaching a message on hell as part of a series on objections to Christianity, a parishioner came up to me, waved his index finger in my face, and said, "Don't be soft on this one!" I understood what he meant when he asked me if I'd ever heard Ray Comfort or Kirk Cameron share the gospel.

A few weeks later, another parishioner wondered if I had been too negative in a sermon from one of the minor prophets. A staff member pointed out to her that my tone was actually more positive than the tone of the biblical passage. This particular text was in-your-face, and I had actually stated some of the negatives in positive ways.

I remember speaking with one family that did not attend our church who remarked that they were not being fed by their current pastor as well as they had been by their former pastor. I knew a little bit about the church, and I thought the current pastor was doing a better job feeding the flock than the former pastor. The former pastor had a way of telling stories that left people in tears. When my friends did not get this from their new pastor, they concluded that they were not being fed as well as they should have been.

Yes, people do like a certain style. Some want my demeanor to be more like Mark Driscoll's, while some want me to be less like Mark Driscoll's. That's fine, until people begin equating their "full-ness" with how they are connecting, or not, to my style of preaching. Wise is the preacher who remembers that preaching is "truth through personality." We can learn from the style of others, but we must find our own voice.

5. "I want you to entertain me."
Sadly, there are always some who equate being fed with being entertained or engaged. Yes, we should engage our listeners, but there is a limit to how short our sermons can be, how many stories they include, or how many laughs or tears they can produce. Preaching is not more spiritual when it is more boring—absolutely not!—but it is easy to make an idol out of being interesting.

Read part two: "Reflections on how we can preach in a way that feeds God's people" on the PreachingToday.com blog. In the meantime, what do you think of part one? Agree? Disagree? Want to add anything?

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 26, 2010 | Comments (24) | TrackBack

April 22, 2010

What Evangelicals and Atheists Have in Common

Skye Jethani

For obvious reasons, atheists and evangelicals often find themselves on opposite sides of the cultural battle line. The rise of “New Atheism” via best selling books by Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens, and the emergence of “Constitutional Evangelicals” comprised of people more likely to know the Second Amendment than the Second Commandment, has inflamed the tensions between the two groups.

But the new breeds of atheists and evangelicals may have more in common than they’d like to admit.

For example, some within New Atheism are proselytizing their beliefs with the fervor, and in come cases anger, more often associated by our culture with evangelicals. From an international ad campaign on buses dismissing belief in God, to rallies at universities inviting students to exchange their Bibles for pornography, some atheists are no longer content with a live-and-let-live approach to those adhering to religion. Instead, they are actively trying to convert, or is the word un-convert, the masses.

Last October NPR reported that Christopher Hitchens told a packed crowd at the University of Toronto, “I think religion should be treated with ridicule, hatred and contempt, and I claim that right.” He told NPR, “If I said to a Protestant or Quaker or Muslim, ‘Hey, at least I respect your belief,’ I would be telling a lie.”

Of course not all atheists agree with Hitchen’s “evangelistic” approach.

Paul Kurtz, a more traditional atheist, worries that the rhetoric of Hitchens, Dawkins, and others will actually set the movement back:

“I consider them atheist fundamentalists,” Kurtz says. “They’re anti-religious, and they’re mean-spirited, unfortunately. Now, they’re very good atheists and very dedicated people who do not believe in God. But you have this aggressive and militant phase of atheism, and that does more damage than good.”

I can’t help but see the irony. It appears some New Atheists are incorporating the very traits they’ve often condemned about evangelicals—intolerance, dogmatism, and now even the church’s penchant for schism. It seems anything can be turned into a religion, even anti-religion.

But we should take no delight in pointing out the speck in the atheists’ eye while a log remains firmly lodged in our own.

The common criticism levied on atheists is that they are seeking to live “above God” with no regard for his existence or instructions. Atheists, the argument says, have given up on a theistic universe in favor of a humanist one—a world in which purpose and truth are fluidly defined by the individual or at best one’s community. This prideful posture toward God is the core of sin evident in Lucifer, Adam, the citizens of Babel, and everyone else seeking power over the Creator.

The solution, say many who adhere to an evangelical worldview, is to embrace a humble life “under God” by submitting to his commands.

This “over God” versus “under God” split is what has led to a great many cultural conflicts about same-sex marriage, abortion, stem cell research, public displays of religious symbols, prayer in school, and even last month’s decision by the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals to retain “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance despite arguments from atheists that it violates the First Amendment.

But in their attempts to conform the United States’ law and society to God’s commands, have culturally-crusading evangelicals exchanged the Gospel of Jesus Christ for a Gospel of Morality? And in the process may many of our evangelical sisters and bothers find themselves guilty of the very sin they peg on atheists—seeking a position of authority above God? Let me explain with a few examples.

Shortly after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, one evangelical leader made the following statement for which he subsequently apologized:

"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'"

Sadly, these kinds of judgments are not uncommon. Other church leaders have made similar remarks after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and again following the earthquake in Haiti earlier this year. Presumably, according to the logic within these proclamations, the way to prevent terrorist attacks and natural disasters in one’s country is by earning the Almighty’s affection and protection through moral behavior, adherence to prayer, traditional family values, and frequent worship.

This “life under God” approach also applies to individuals. Countless evangelical teens have been taught that if they abstain from sexual activity before marriage God will bless their sex lives after the wedding. Evangelical parents clamor for “biblical” parenting methods guaranteed to result in moral, obedient children. And I’ve counseled a distraught business owner in my church who believed that if he gave generously to Christ’s work that God would prosper his company. He gave but apparently God didn't bless.

The problem with this “life under God” view of the world, apart from the obvious fact that it doesn’t work, is that it is predicated on fear and control rather than love. What drives many who buy into such an approach is not love for one’s Creator, but a desire to control God as a means of survival and advancement. In this construct of the universe, God becomes a means to an end rather than an end in himself. Whether an ancient culture sacrificing a virgin in the volcano, or contemporary conservative evangelicalism, the “life under God” view inevitably results in human attempts to control the divine through ritual, morality, and the dogmatic manipulation of others.

The great irony is that while claiming submission to God, those advocating a life under God are actually seeking control over him through their religiosity. Pray X, sacrifice Y, avoid Z, and God’s blessings are guaranteed. This was the error of the Pharisees—they reduced God to a predictable, controllable, even contemptible formula. Some evangelicals condemn the atheists for exalting themselves over God without realizing they may be dangerously close to the same sin by other, more pious, means.

Don’t assume I’m painting all evangelicals with a broad brush of hypocrisy. I am an evangelical, and despite the many problems associated with the name I haven’t abandoned it like some others. In addition, there are many among us who recognize the danger of exchanging the message of the New Testament for a false message of national morality.

But I believe both the New Atheists (advocating life over God) and the Constitutional Evangelicals (advocating life under God) are far closer in their values and worldview than either would like to acknowledge. They are two sides of the same coin. But there is a third dimension; a third way between “life over God” or “life under God.” There is also “life with God”—the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 22, 2010 | Comments (54) | TrackBack

April 21, 2010

The Pastor as Docent

Magrey deVega

A friend told me that Eugene Peterson’s Under the Unpredictable Plant should be required reading for every pastor who has served for at least five years. That was how long it had been since my ordination. I picked up a copy.

Peterson claims that there are two common types of unhealthy clergy. The first is the messiah. Messiahs seek out wounded, broken people, to make them healthy again. It is a noble task, except for its motivation: messiahs need to feel needed. They consider healed people to be numbers, accumulated to suggest pastoral effectiveness.

Then there are managers, who seek not the unhealthy but the healthy: talented, faithful, and prepared people. Managers plug them in, finding the right places for them to serve in an ever-expanding congregational machine. The bigger the church gets, the better managers feel effective and useful. Once again, people become numbers.

I have both messianic and managerial tendencies. It is too easy for congregants to become statistics, which I can use to inflate my sense of clergy effectiveness.

That realization prompted me to search for a new pastoral identity, one that treated people more personally. I found one at the Louvre.

Rather than being my church’s messiah or your manager, I see myself as its docent- a tour guide in a museum or art gallery. Clergy showcase to the world the architecture and artistry of the Christian faith. We are tour guides, leading people from one gallery to another, shifting their attention from one work of God to the next. At times, we offer language to describe the unutterable: magnificence, awe, anguish. We are wordsmiths for life’s most muted moments.

Sometimes that moment demands explanation, and like a docent we offer information. We love when someone looks at a familiar passage of scripture in a fresh way, or unpacks some mystery of God in their life that transforms. Those are galleries that buzz with energy.

But other rooms we visit demand nothing but silence. We pause, speechless, when confronted by the mysteries of our liturgy: the breaking of bread, the lifting of a cup, the pouring of water. And there are times when our silence emerges from the ache and anguish of souls: the graveside of a loved one, a doctor’s diagnosis, or a future swirling with shadows. Our job in these moments may not be to speak but to stand. To let people know they are not alone in this gallery, and that someone has been there before.

We also know that our tours are temporary. It is a holy privilege to serve as pastor temporarily. Contemporary mobility ensures that our relationship is only for a season, so we cherish this time together.

This leads me to best thing about this metaphor: the docent never steals attention from the artist. I can tell you about some amazing works I’ve seen: the Venus de Milo, the Mona Lisa, the Code of Hammurabi, and The Thinker. But I can’t for the life of me remember the name of a single docent that explained them to me. That’s the way it should be.

Too many churches are served by pastors focused on their own celebrity. Congregations might swell in numbers as they gravitate toward these larger-than-life preachers and their personal charisma. Such a model is blasphemous and unbiblical. Pastoral docents merely point to the Artist, rather than becoming the art itself. We must decrease so that God might increase.

The docent image isn’t perfect. Churches aren’t museums -- mere mausoleums of entities long deceased. People are drawn to churches that are committed movements, not to monuments.

Nevertheless, the idea of serving as docent energizes me and grounds me in my calling. I am neither messiah nor manager, and parishioners are much more than statistics. Together, we journey in awe through the splendor and artistry of the work of God in our lives and throughout the world.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 21, 2010 | Comments (8) | TrackBack

April 20, 2010

Tuesdays with Tozer- Holy Men & Women

by Margaret Feinberg

Some people have a knack for making me hungry to know God. I know a few people who when I’m done talking with them make me want to know and love Him more. I treasure those people. They don’t try to be religious. They don’t attempt to be spiritual. They simply are themselves and in the process radiate the presence of God. Many of them have trekked through dark valleys yet they still carry a hopeful, persistent, passion and love about them.

To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too-easily-satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart. St. Bernard stated this holy paradox in a musical quatrain that will be instantly understood by every worshipping soul:

We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread,

And long to feast upon Thee still:

We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead

And thirst our souls from Thee to fill.

Come near to the holy men and women of the past and you will soon feel the heat of their desire after God. They mourned for Him, they prayed and wrestled and sought for Him day and night, in season and out, and when they had found Him the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking.

–A. W. Tozer (The Pursuit of God, p. 15)

Tozer notes that when you come near the holy men and women you “feel the heat of their desire after God.”

I pray today radiate such passion, fervor and love of God. May that warmth flow through the core of your being. In Jesus Name. Amen.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 20, 2010 | Comments (3) | TrackBack

April 16, 2010

A Church by Any Other Name ...

Url Scaramanga

Have you noticed that church names are getting increasingly strange? Our friend Dennis Baker has. He's been keeping a list of church names in order to document how far we've come from the days of "First Presbyterian" and "Springfield Baptist." He sent us the following list of 129 church names. I've added my reactions in parentheses.

1. Resonate
2. Revolution (Where only senior pastors get beheaded.)
3. Radiance (Where the female vocalists all glitter like Mariah Carey.)
4. Elevation (U2 songs every bloody Sunday.)
5. Restoration
6. Renovation (You can do it! God can help.)
7. Mosaic
8. enCompass (Wii th-|-nk [outside] the box. We R crAtiVe.)
9. Epiphany Station (Next stop, Conjunction Junction!)
10. Soma (Our pastor knows Greek.)
11. Sanctuary
12. Rock Harbor (If your life hasn’t run aground yet, we can help.)
13. Journey (“Don’t Stop Believing” is our theme song.)

14. The Rock (If film producer Michael Bay ever created a church…the pyrotechnics are amazing.)
15. The River (The pastor ends every sentence with “… in a van down by the river.”)
16. The Flood (Natural disasters always provoke worship.)
17. The Bridge (William “the Fridge” Perry’s post-ordination nickname.)
18. Bridges
19. Real Life Ministries (Where reality TV stars come for healing.)
20. Mars Hill (Mars was the god of war … prepare for battle.)
21. Imago Dei (Our pastor knows Latin … well, one phrase anyway.)
22. Corem Deo (Our favorite movie is Dead Poets Society.)
23. Celebration Church (We don’t do funerals.)
24. Passion City (Not to be confused with the adult superstore on I-94.)
25. Oasis Church (Serenity Now! Serenity Now!)
26. Paradox (Modernity sucks.)
27. Renaissance Church (Are nude frescoes a distraction in worship?)
28. Origins (Home of the Young Earth Gospel. Darwin was a chump.)
29. Legacy (We’re scared to death we won’t have one.)
30. Tapestry (Our pastor really loves that “the threads don’t make sense until you turn the cloth over” illustration.)
31. Church w/ No Walls (And a never-ending building campaign.)
32. Sojourners (Wait. We didn’t know it was liberal Christian magazine too. Dang.)
33. Out Post (The parsonage is known as the “Out House.”)
34. Generation (which one? X? Y? Pepsi? I’m confused.)
35. Encounter (Sounds like a ride at Epcot. Where are the aliens?)
36. Warehouse (Where Christians are organized, packaged, and safely stored until the rapture.)
37. Warehouse 180 (If we can’t grow a church we’ll start a nightclub.)
38. Relevant (Our name is writing checks the preacher may not be able to cash.)
39. Radiant (Sounds like a line of makeup for pre-teens.)
40. Elevate (Our pastor’s pedestal is higher than yours.)
41. Illuminate (The lights are on but nobody’s home.)
42. Anthem (For God and country. Yee haw!)
43. TerraNova (Trekkies for Jesus. Live long and prosper.)
44. Crux (Ah Shux. How cute.)
45. True Spirit Ministries
46. The Well (The un-well best worship elsewhere.)
47. Jacob’s Well (Where bachelors hang out to find their future wives.)
48. Matthew’s Party (Where the tax collectors and thieves have been replaced by IRS agents and investment bankers.)
49. The Brook
50. Awakening (We do early services like nobody else.)
51. Mercy Street (Where Sesame Street characters go for rehab. Cookie Monster has checked in 7 times.)
52. Expedition (Anything with an “x” is cool.)
53. Carpenter’s Shed (Where church discipline happens the old fashioned way.)
54. Outcast Fellowship (The “Table 9” of churches.)
55. Flipside (If you don’t get the reference to vinyl records, you’re probably too young to attend.)
56. Harbor 316 (God so loved the world ... that whoever believes in him might have a 30’ boat and reduced fee slip.)
57. True North (not like all those other North wannabes)
58. A Village Community (Ambiguity is the best way to avoid controversy.)
59. Refuge (Is this what we offer, or what we long for?)
60. Substance (Come for the substance, leave with the residue.)
61. Solomon’s Porch (The guy had 1,000 wives. He was a tough dog to keep on the porch.)
62. The Salvage Yard (Jesus loves white trash.)
63. The Upper Room (Where we cling to our guns and religion and hide from the authorities.)
64. Urban Refuge (AKA the suburbs.)
65. New Spring (We give away bottled tap water.)
66. New Song (Be the 10th caller if we play the same artist twice, and you’ll be entered to win a trip to Cancun.)
67. New Beginnings (Where we make new resolutions every Sunday and break them on Monday.)
68. New Life (Same baggage.)
69. The Church @ 514 (Man, that’s early.)
70. The Pursuit (Speed dating every Wednesday at 10 p.m.)
71. Crossings (We yield for pedestrians.)
72. FrontLine (No fleas or ticks for up to 3 months guaranteed.)
73. Depth (We’re so deep even the poets at the indie coffee shop can’t stand us.)
74. Haven (Some get Haven, others get Hail.)
75. Sandals (Church membership includes a timeshare in the Bahamas.)
76. Compass (Our sermons have four points.)
77. Paradox (See #26. Redundant is bad. Repetition is good. Ahh. Hmm.)
78. 2 Pillars Church (Islam has 5. Christianity is way easier. )
79. Standing Stones (No clapping, hand-raising, or swaying during worship, thank you.)
80. 12Stones Church
81. Vintage (We use real wine for communion.)
82. Vantage
83. Cross Culture (It was this or Empty Tomb Culture ... )
84. Scum of The Earth (Finally some honesty in advertising.)
85. Guts Church (We’re here to pump [clap] you up!)
86. The Cause (Because our marketing consultant told us 20-somethings are activists.)
87. Healing Place
88. The Homeless Church
89. Overflow Church (For those who couldn't find a seat at the megachurch down the street.)
90. NorthPointe (Adding an “e” tells everyone we’re sophisticated. We drink lattes.)
91. CenterPoint (We used to have a space in the middle, but we grew. Now even our name is crowded.)
92. OceanPoint
93. SouthPointe
94. WestPoint (Praise the Lord. Pass the ammunition.)
95. EastPoint
96. MidPoint Chapel
97. CrossPointe
98. GracePoint
99. LifePoint
100. FaithPoint
101. MercyPoint (Okay! Okay! I’ve got the point!)
102. The Point is to Serve (Where the whole service is announcements.)
103. BridgePoint
104. VantagePoint (Where we look down from our lofty perch.)
105. 7 San Diego (Stay classy San Diego.)
106. The Intersection (Where sermons can crash and burn.)
107. In-Between (A church for the undecided.)
108. Element 3 (Lithium. We worship Lithium.)
109. The Orchard (What we tore down to build this facility.)
110. The Fields (What we paved over to build the parking lot.)
111. Harvest
112. Life On The Vine (Even poop is organic.)
113. The Table
114. The Free Church (If something sounds too good to be true …)
115. Spread Church (Cream cheese, strawberry preserves, honey butter … communion is sweet.)
116. The Exchange (We give you religious goods and services in exchange for your tithe.)
117. The Encounter (There are two "n's" in our name. How many in our mission statement?)
118. The Hub (Where the pastor spoke and the people never tire.)
119. Tribe
120. Enclave
121. Axis (For a generation raised to believe the world revolves around them.)
122. Praxis (We adapt whatever Willow does.)
123. Cool (All other churches drool.)
124. Synergy Church (At last, an energy source we will never deplete.)
125. Immersion (It sounds way cooler than “Baptist.”)
126. Impact
127. EpicLife Church (The space bar is for losers.)
128. Liquid (Where the meat of the Word is processed and blended into delicious and nutritious shakes for the busy Christian on the go.)
129. SoulSearch (We really thought StarSearch would be around a lot longer.)

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 16, 2010 | Comments (36) | TrackBack

April 14, 2010

The Hansen Report: Is 26 the New 18?

Following this blog, I figured the best way to rack up comments was to write about health care. So I thought I might explore one element of the recently enacted health-reform legislation that grabbed my attention as a prospective pastor. Though I worked for a short time on Capitol Hill, much of the far-reaching legislation eludes my understanding. We will be sorting out the implications of these reforms for years, if not decades. But one provision stands out as noteworthy, because it exposes a major social change with questionable merit. Until young adults turn 26, insurers are now required to let their parents retain them as dependents, no matter whether they have married or found gainful employment.

The move will benefit many of the 13.2 million Americans between the ages of 19 and 29 who currently do not have health insurance. According to the Commonwealth Fund, almost 30 percent of this age group foregoes health insurance for a variety of reasons. Students may continue from college to graduate school through at least their mid-20s. An unhealthy job market directs others into internships, residencies, or part-time positions that do not provide benefits. Youth (with its high risk-tolerance) convinces some to take their chances that no catastrophic illness will befall them.

This new insurance mandate matches the new social reality for 20-somethings who cannot or do not become independent adults when they turn 18, or even 21. According to the Brookings Institution, about 70 percent of 30-year-old adults in 1960 had married, started a family, and achieved financial independence. That figure had dropped below 40 percent by 2000. More young men and women are attending college, but the median number of years needed to complete a degree has risen from four to five since 1970. Men between the ages of 25 and 34 without college degrees earned less money in 2002 than did men from the same age group in 1975, when adjusted for inflation. But their 2002 peers who finished college and completed at least some graduate school earned more than both groups. So if you want to achieve economic independence in your 20s today, college and perhaps even graduate school has become something of a necessity.

Many young adults, regardless of gender or ethnicity, associate marriage with economic independence, so they have delayed this common transition to adulthood. In 1970, 69 percent of white men married by the time they were 25, according to Brookings. That figure dropped to just 33 percent by 2000. The declines between 1970 and 2000 were similarly steep for black men (from 56 percent to 18 percent), white women (81 percent to 47 percent), and black women (64 percent to 24 percent). The level of student debt is a contributing factor, and a difficult job market is another.

So if good jobs are scarce, leading young adults to delay marriage and denying them quality health insurance, where do they get disposable income? As the health insurance mandate reflects, Boomer parents have stepped into the void. According to the Network on Transitions to Adulthood, 40 percent of Americans between 18 and 24 receive $10,000 or more from their parents each year. It’s not that young people don’t want to work, the network cautions. But it would appear that many parents are willing to help their children make ends meet.

“The continuing relationship between parents and young adult children is a really momentous change in the operational meaning of being a parent in the early 21st century,” Brookings senior fellow William Galston told The Washington Post. “No one resists or resents it. Young people expect it.”

They expect it because their parents won’t let them fail. Some employers report phone calls from parents demanding to know why their son or daughter did not get a job. It’s understandable that parents would want to ensure a secure standard of living for their children. But that’s just the problem. Parents may actually train their children to immediately expect the same standard of living they achieved after decades of work. No wonder their children don’t think they can get married until 30 and have secured a suitable paycheck, good health benefits, and a nice home of their own.

These trends have rippled through our churches, where few are blessed with a large crowd of 20-something singles. Scouring church classifieds, I’ve noticed several openings for pastors who want to reach this growing group. Churches rightly recognize that they can’t wait for these young adults to marry and start families before they come back to church.

Still, I wonder about the potential pitfall of catering to these trends without challenging them. We can’t do much about the macroeconomic factors that have destabilized the job market for young employees. But we can question the latent assumptions of consumerism when they control decisions to delay marriage and depend on parents. We need to be sure our 20-something ministries have a vision for church integration and service that transcends the need for an older youth group. How can we help 20-somethings work unto the Lord in their vocations, serve according to their gifts in the local church, and start new, separate families?

So go ahead, 20-somethings, get married if you meet that special someone. You’ll never have as much money as you want or think you need. Consider singleness, so long as you’ve been called. Serve your neighbors and fellow believers as your spiritual family. Use your parents’ health insurance until 26 if you must and they remain willing. Just don’t presume upon their kindness to support your nightlife. And by all means, please don’t let them call your boss.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 14, 2010 | Comments (14) | TrackBack

April 13, 2010

Tuesdays With Tozer- Worship

by Margaret Feinberg

As you discovered last week, we’re going to be celebrating Tuesdays With Tozer this spring. Tozer has a knack for stirring up the hunger to know God in my own heart and I hope he’ll do the same for you.

“One of the most liberating declarations in the New Testament is this: ‘The true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship Him. God is a Spirit: and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth’ (John 4:23, 24). Here the nature of worship is shown to be wholly spiritual. True religion is removed from diet and days, from garments and ceremonies, and placed where it belongs - in the union of the spirit of man with the Spirit of God.” -A.W. Tozer, Man: The Dwelling Place of God

As I reflect on these words I’m reminded just how hard it is to worship God in spirit. Worshiping God requires focus, energy, commitment, and discipline. It moves us into a place of humility and dependence where we are invited to embrace the goodness of God, His grace, His mercy, His love and in the process we love in spite of ourselves and find ourselves enthralled with Him. Lord, Help me to worship you in spirit and truth. Amen.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 13, 2010 | Comments (4) | TrackBack

April 8, 2010

Who Are the De-Churched? (Part 2)

by Skye Jethani

I ended Part 1 of this post with a question—what is the church to do about the growing ranks of the de-churched? I believe the answer depends on which de-churched group one is talking about. In Part 1 I identified two sides of the de-churched population—those who have left the church because they had received a false gospel, and those who have left because they’ve encountered the true gospel.

Let’s start with the false gospel side. As Matt Chandler explained, these de-churched are fed, knowingly or unknowingly, a false gospel of morality. They believe that if they just follow God’s rules he will bless their lives. When things fail to work out as promised, they bail on the church. Christian Smith, a sociologist of religion, has called this belief MTD—moralistic therapeutic deism. I prefer a more sinister and downright damnable name: Moralistic Divination—the belief that one can control and manipulate God’s actions through moral behaviors.

While there are many churches that promote this sort of false thinking, including those within the prosperity gospel crowd, I believe most do not. So why do so many Christians, particularly the young, carry these beliefs? In most cases the problem isn’t what the church is preaching, but in what it is assuming.

For example, the popular summarization of the gospel known as “The Four Spiritual Laws” begins with the statement, “God love you and has a wonderful plan for your life.” This idea, drawn from scripture and rooted in orthodoxy, may be faithfully preached in your church. But how is it received? How does a person formed and hardened for decades in the furnaces of consumerism hear this statement?

The biblical understanding of a “wonderful life” looks dramatically different than the consumer culture’s definition of a “wonderful life.” If this assumption is never identified, named, and deconstructed, a person may hear “God love you and has a wonderful plan for your life” very differently than we intend. This is the problem we must begin to address if we hope to slow the exodus of people from the church. It’s not that we are failing to preach the gospel, but that we are failing to deconstruct the consumer filter through which people twist and receive it. The result is a hybrid consumer gospel in which God exists to serve me and accomplish my desires in exchange for my obedience—voila, Moralistic Divination.

When this consumer gospel fails to deliver on its assumed promises, as it inevitably does, frustration, disappointment, and disillusionment quickly follow. And the pool of the de-churched gains another swimmer.

But what about the other side of the de-churched demographic—those who’ve left the church because they’ve found more meaningful relationships, mission, and transformation outside the parameters of the local church? They force us to examine a different issue—structure.

The recent book by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne, The Trellis and the Vine, illustrates the dilemma. In David Mathis’ review of the book he summarizes it’s core metaphor:

The vine of Christian ministry is people; the trellis is the various organizational structures that exist for the health of the vine. So vine work is “the work of watering and planting and helping people to grow in Christ”, while trellis work has to do with “rosters, property and building issues, committees, finances, budgets, overseeing the church office, planning and running events” (p. 9). The warning the authors offer repeatedly is that our tendency in Christian ministry is to let the trellis work take over the vine work (p. 9).

In other words, the structures and programs of the church exist to establish and equip the people. People do not exist to support and advance the structures and programs. Or as I put it in The Divine Commodity: “Every relational community, like a family, needs structure. But the goal of any structure should be strengthening, not replacing, human relationships which are the medium God uses to carryout his transforming work. The Holy Spirit inhabits human beings not institutions.”

When the church loses sight of this and begins seeing people as a means of bolstering the institution, it breeds cynicism. The faithful begin to feel like cogs in a machine, a means of production, human commodities. They don’t feel valued for who they are, but for what they can do, give, or contribute. And to be fair, this confusion between means and ends can happen in both large and small churches, in a megachurch or a house church.

The call then is too investigate anew our ecclesiology—both on the level of theory and practice. What do we really believe about the church? What is the proper role for structures and programs? What do we believe about God’s intention for his people and the role of spiritual leadership? And do our beliefs align with the structures we create and sustain?

My hunch is that where people feel like the priority, and where love rather than efficiency is the operating value, we will see far fewer people being de-churched. Unfortunately for the last few decades, our ecclesiology in North America has been heavily influenced by the values of secular corporations. And I can’t think of a profitable corporation that has achieved success by promoting love above efficiency.

Consider this excerpt from Dallas Willard in the spring issue of Leadership (What!? You’re not a subscriber! What are you waiting for, a free issue?):

[Pastors] need to have a vision of success rooted in spiritual terms, determined by the vitality of a pastor’s own spiritual life and his capacity to pass that on to others. When pastors don’t have rich spiritual lives with Christ, they become victimized by other models of success—models conveyed to them by their training, by their experience in the church, or just by our culture. They begin to think their job is managing a set of ministry activities and success is about getting more people to engage those activities. Pastors, and those they lead, need to be set free from that belief.

What should we do about the de-churched? Clearly I’ve not answered that question entirely, but I hope these reflections provide some ideas to kick start your own thinking. For those leaving because they’ve held a false gospel of Moralistic Divination, we need to put on our prophetic camel hair coats and start deconstructing their consumer assumptions. For those leaving in search of a more authentic life with Christ, we need to turn those prophetic pronouncements upon ourselves and examine our own assumptions about the way we lead and minister. Taking either approach seriously may result in fewer de-churched Christians…or your head on a platter.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 8, 2010 | Comments (19) | TrackBack

April 7, 2010

John Piper's "Poisonous Cup"

Url Scaramanga

As nearly everyone has now heard, John Piper is taking an 8-month leave of absence from public ministry starting in May. The announcement was made to his congregation during his sermon on March 28. He plans to examine his life and focus on his marriage and family. Piper said:

"You could view this as a kind of fasting from public ministry. One of the goals in this kind of fasting is to discern levels of addiction. Or, as Paul Tripp or Tim Keller might say, levels of idolatry. The reality check is: What will happen in my soul and in my marriage when, to use the phrase of one precious brother on staff, there will be no 'prideful sipping from the poisonous cup of international fame and notoriety'?"

Whether it's international or merely local, pastors who find themselves on a platform week after week are going to face some level of notoriety. But how do we keep it from poisoning our souls? Many have applauded Piper for his honesty and preemptive disconnection from public ministry rather than the punitive disconnection so often seen among celebrity pastors. But rather than focusing on Piper, what should this development make the rest of us think about?

Below is an excerpt from Piper's announcement. You can read the entire sermon on his site.

As I have stood back in recent months and looked at my own soul—my own sanctification, my own measures self-denial or self-serving—and my marriage and family and ministry patterns, I have felt an increasing need for a serious assessment—a kind of reality check in the light of God’s word. Am I living in the mindset and the pattern of life that Jesus calls for here in Mark 8:31-38, especially in relation to those I love most?

On the one hand, I love my Lord, Jesus; I love my wife and my five children and their families. These are the supreme treasures of my life—my Lord, my wife, my children. And I love my work of preaching and writing and leading Bethlehem. Indeed, I hope that the Lord gives me at least five more years as the pastor for preaching and vision at Bethlehem. That’s my dream. And that’s my plan, if God wills.

But on the other hand, I see several species of pride in my soul that, even though they may not rise to the level of disqualifying me for ministry, grieve me, and have taken a toll on my relationship with Noël and others who are dear to me. Noël and I are rock solid in our commitment to each other, and there is no whiff of unfaithfulness on either side. But, as I told the elders, “rock solid” is not always an emotionally satisfying metaphor, especially to a woman. A rock is not the best image of a woman’s tender companion.

In other words, the precious garden of my home needs tending. I want to say to Noël that she is precious to me. And I believe that at this point in our 41-year pilgrimage together the best way to say it is by stepping back for a season from virtually all public commitments.

What I have asked for is something very different from a sabbatical or a writing leave. In 30 years, I have never let go—not on writing leaves or on sabbatical or on vacations—of the passion for public productivity—writing and preaching. In this leave, I intend to let go of all of it. No book-writing. No sermon preparation. No preaching. No blogging. No Twitter. No articles. No reports. No papers. And no speaking engagements—with a very few exceptions that you can read about online on Sunday afternoon.

You could view this as a kind of fasting from public ministry. One of the goals in this kind of fasting is to discern levels of addiction. Or, as Paul Tripp or Tim Keller might say, levels of idolatry. The reality check is: What will happen in my soul and in my marriage when, to use the phrase of one precious brother on staff, there will be no “prideful sipping from the poisonous cup of international fame and notoriety”?

You may think: My, a leave of absence is a pretty drastic step in the war against pride and idolatry. That’s true. It is. But I’m not the only one affected. And I hope that you will trust me and the elders that it will be good for my soul, good for my marriage and family, and good for you and for the next five or six years of ministry together, if the Lord wills.

For your encouragement about the spirit of our church, Noël and I are known inside-out by a few friends at Bethlehem—most closely by our long-time colleagues and friends David and Karin Livingston, and then by a cluster of trusted women with Noël and men with me. We are accountable, known, counseled, and prayed for. Oh how deeply thankful I am for the grace-filled culture of transparency and trust among the leadership at Bethlehem.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 7, 2010 | Comments (23) | TrackBack

April 6, 2010

Tuesdays with Tozer

by Margaret Feinberg

I'm thrilled to welcome Margaret Feinberg to Out of Ur this spring. Margaret is a fine author and speaker, and she's a great addition to the conversation on Ur. For the next few weeks we'll be posting her reflections on the writings of A.W. Tozer. -Url Scaramanga

This spring I’ve decided to shake things up and throw a Tuesday with Tozer party every week. I hope to offer short snippets from this wonderful writer and lover of God who penned classics including: The Pursuit of God and Knowledge of the Holy.

Tozer wasn’t a man of means. While on his way home from work at a tire company, a street preacher cried out, “If you don’t know how to be saved…just call on God.” When Tozer arrived home, he followed the street preacher’s advice and his life changed forever. Tozer’s story, like many others, reminds us not to mock to those whose approach to sharing the good news of God is different than our own.

Though he lacked formal theological training, Tozer became a pastor of a small church and continued to pastor for more than four decades. What made Tozer extraordinary was his approach to prayer and faith. He became enthralled by God in a way few men or women do-though many hope to. In his first editorial, he wrote:

“It will cost something to walk slow in the parade of the ages, while excited men of time rush about confusing motion with progress. But it will pay in the long run and the true Christian is not much interested in anything short of that.”

I read those words multiple times, because I didn’t want them alive in my mind as much I wanted them true in my soul. I find that same desire to be true of much of Tozer’s writings. The beauty of his words are that they reflect God in such a way that they make us want to radiant Him even more.

Simply put: Tozer makes me hungry for God.

I hope you will join me for the upcoming weeks of Tuesdays with Tozer.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 6, 2010 | Comments (8) | TrackBack

April 5, 2010

Glenn Beck is Not the Enemy

by David Swanson

The email provided a helpful link and instructed me to “Tell Glenn Beck: I’m a social justice Christian.” The blunt Fox News pundit had recently outed “social justice” as code language for socialism. According to Beck, should you uncover this sinister conspiracy at your church, the best course of action is to run “as fast as you can.” As Skye pointed out on this blog, the interesting thing about Beck’s claim is not its validity or his sanity but how “the church engages this issue of social justice and its role in the life and mission of God’s people.”

In the days following Beck’s rant, links were posted via Twitter and Facebook to articles and videos lampooning Beck’s character and claims. I was invited to join virtual groups to demonstrate my opposition to any version of Christianity that doesn’t claim social justice as a central tenant.

Why the stampede to distance ourselves from this talking head’s pontifications about social justice? I’d like to suggest two motivating factors—the tarnished public image of the American church and personal insecurities about our Christian identity—that, unfortunately, cannot sustain the actual pursuit of social justice.

Over the past few years, the American church has been told in no uncertain terms of its image problem. They Like Jesus But Not The Church (Zondervan, 2007) was the self-explanatory title of Dan Kimball’s book about younger non-Christians. Around the same time Kimball’s book came out, we were shown by the research in UnChristian (Baker, 2007) exactly what about the church is so repellent to these outsiders. Need more convincing? Visit a satirical blog like Jesus Needs New PR for a look at the most cringe-worthy moments from our subculture. The message has been heard loud and clear: We Christians are a ridiculous bunch of folks, consumed with cultural pet peeves at the expense of our witness to Jesus in the world.

With a public image this bad, would you be surprised to find “Glenn Beck groupies” on the next survey of things people don’t like about Christians? No wonder many of us want everyone—especially our non-Christian friends—to know that Glenn Beck doesn’t speak for us when he belittles social justice.

While we despair of this lousy public image, personal anxiety about our Christian identity also has us grasping for easy ways to label ourselves. Many of us exist in an uneasy tension between a comfortable American existence and our costly discipleship to Jesus. Our churches admire those who have made significant sacrifices in pursuit of God’s justice and mercy—missionaries who serve the newly displaced in Haiti or youth workers in our nation’s inner cities—yet many of us struggle to take even small steps toward such sacrifices ourselves. In reality there is little evidence of our alleged commitment to social justice to be found within our comfortably safe way of life. Many of us feel guilty about this identity crisis and are glad for any chance to prove the sincerity of our faith, even if it means using Glenn Beck as our foil.

Our anxieties about image and identity are heightened because, regardless of where we live, it is nearly impossible to ignore the pressing needs for justice. A church doesn’t have to be surrounded by urban blight or rapid gentrification to grapple with these needs. To take but one example, the fear and poverty faced by undocumented immigrants is becoming increasingly evident to suburban and rural congregations. As we benefit from the hard work and taxed income of these immigrants, it’s hard not to wonder about the inherit injustices of our immigration policies. Yet the majority of us remain motionless.

In his excellent book The Beloved Community (Perseus, 2006), about the critical role of faith in movements of social justice, Charles Marsh notes that many white Christians supported the Civil Rights movement of the early 1960’s…from a distance. Willing to chide their backward Southern brethren, these more urbane Christians ultimately disappointed the movement’s leaders with their lack of action. About this ongoing tendency for privileged American Christianity to only talk about social justice (and never get around to doing it) Marsh asks,

“Do Christians in North America really believe that the world is God’s creation, and that reconciliation and redemption are his work to accomplish? Then let us have the courage and the humility to recognize that God is most certainly tired of all our vanity and our talk… Ours is a nation that could use a lesson in stillness.”

I wonder—is our cheap outrage toward the Glenn Becks of the world any different from those outspoken but dormant Christians 50 years ago? Is claiming social justice as part of our Christian identity any more impressive than supporting civil rights with lip service alone?

I think Marsh is right. If we believe that social justice is central to God’s character and mission, then it is time for most of us to ignore Glenn Beck. Instead of simply talking about social justice perhaps we can begin taking our identity in Christ very, very seriously. Who knows? Maybe rediscovering this genuine identity—crucified with Christ and resurrected to a new life of mission under his easy yoke—will also solve our image problem. We will be known not by feigned outrage or easy labels but by sustained and loving action rooted in our new life in Christ.

Posted by UrL Scaramanga at April 5, 2010 | Comments (66) | TrackBack