.

Trees are a reoccurring symbol in the Bible. There is a tree at the beginning in the garden, and a tree at the end in the city. There is a tree in the middle on which Jesus was hung. Trees are also used to describe the people of God. Psalm 1 says the righteous man is “like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither.” And Jesus uses the imagery of a tree to describe our communion with him in John 15: “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”

Likewise, in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 7:15-20) and again in Matthew 12:33 Jesus compares people to trees. A person, like a tree, is known by its fruit. A good tree yields good fruit, and a bad tree produces bad fruit. The principle is simple and profound. As a friend’s bumper sticker reminded me: Fruit Happens. Who we are will ultimately be revealed by what we do. If our lives are marked by love, joy, peace, patience, and kindness we can conclude that what is in us is from God and good. But if our fruit is anger, discord, jealously lust, hatred, greed, selfishness, and pride...

Still, despite the simple nature of this truth, we are stubbornly reluctant to accept it.

When Rob Bell's book, Love Wins, debuted last year it sparked a debate about the nature of salvation (and damnation). Some recognized elements of Orthodox theology in Bell's view. But if you're confused about the difference between the Protestant and Orthodox views of salvation, this short video helps explain each tradition's approach. Is one right and the other wrong? Or are they two facets of a greater mystery?

For the last two weeks we've been talking about the temptations and maladies created by our the celebrity culture within the church. Pastors are measured by the magnitude of their platform rather than the maturity of their faith.

Ed Dobson was a celebrity pastor with a large congregation and broad influence. Then he was diagnosed with ALS, a fatal disease that changed his life and ended his church leadership role.

In a new set of videos, Ed shares how leaving pastoral ministry uncovered how the role had actually prevented him from following Jesus. And he now recognizes one-on-one ministry is far more important than having a growing platform or mega congregation.

I highly recommend that everyone take 10 minutes to watch Ed's video titled "My Garden."

Some of the most important moments of faith do not come from the places we expect. They may not come from behind a pulpit or an altar, in corporate worship, or during a retreat. Those of us leading congregations are often tempted to think God works through us most. In our best moments, we are able to point to God’s work and simply step aside. But sometimes we forget that the Spirit of God is working even harder than we are. Sometimes this can catch us off guard. Like when I met Annie.

Annie was sitting outside the doors of our sanctuary. She had a battered, plastic blue shovel in one hand, her father’s hand in the other, and drool dripping on her shirt. Her father looked tired. No—beaten. Beaten by the unfulfilled dreams his daughter’s disease stole from him. Beaten by the guilt of wanting something more for his child. Frustrated at a God who would allow his daughter not to be “normal.”

I had just finished leading our children’s worship when I saw his daughter. To my naive surprise, Annie didn’t join the other children during their worship. And at the moment I thought about it, the reason was obvious. Kids with Down Syndrome aren’t like “normal” kids. They belong to the group of “special needs.” And since most churches don’t have the resources to accommodate this segment of our population, families who have to live with this struggle seldom feel fully welcomed.

Now I know why people enjoy listening to Mark Driscoll. He’s engaging, funny, provocative, pastoral, and so darn interesting. Here are a few of his best one-liners:

•"Some people deal with fear by reading books on the rapture and continually asking, ‘Are we freakin’ done yet?’ No, we’re going to be here for a while, so put a cup on, kid.”

•“The New York Yankees lost last night [in a playoff game against the Detroit Tigers] which proves two things: God is sovereign and he loves us.”

•“You don’t have to fear death because when we die we’re going to be with Jesus. So is death really that bad? It’s not like we’ll die and go to Detroit.” After a smattering of boos, Driscoll said, “Hey, I don’t write the mail; I just deliver it. There’s a reason why we’re not having this conference in Detroit.”

You can either love or hate the guy, but he'll never bore you.

As a preacher, Driscoll is simple, clear, and utterly gospel-centered. He started with a human problem: we’re afraid. Then he relentlessly exposed the idolatry underneath our fear. The real question for leaders to ask is not “What are you afraid of?” but “Who are you afraid of?” Then he offered the following diagnostic questions for every leader:

1. Whose opinion matters way too much to you?
2. Is my appetite for praise unhealthy?
3. Am I overly devastated by criticism?

Whenever we lead with fear we allow other people to become our functional god. We live under their sovereign rule. We are holding that person in awe, and by fearing them we cannot love them. When we live with fear we have vision without hope. We see the future, but God isn’t in it.

But here’s what I loved about Driscoll’s message: he didn’t just preach Law—as in, just stop being afraid. Instead, he preached the gospel.

To celebrate the release of my new book, WITH: Reimagining The Way You Relate To God (Nelson, 2011), I wanted to share with you a brief excerpt. In case you're not familiar with the premise of the book, and how could you be if it's just been released, I explore five "postures" of relating to God: Life UNDER God, Life OVER God, Life FROM God, Life FOR God, and Life WITH God. The book explains why the first four are very popular, including within evangelical churches, but how each fails to deliver us from fear or generate lives of faith, hope, and love. Life WITH God, however, stands at the heart of the gospel. Below is a brief excerpt.

Thanks to everyone who helped me with this project, including my colleagues at Leadership Journal and all the Urbanites who've read my posts over the years. Your comments and engagement with my writing definitely contributed to this book.

From WITH:
To begin we must understand how the life with God posture differs from the other four. Life under, over, from and for God each seeks to use God to achieve some other goal. God is seen as a means to an end. For example, life from God uses him to supply our material desires. Life over God uses him as the source of principles or laws. Life under God tries to manipulate God through obedience to secure blessings and avoid calamity. And life for God uses him and his mission to gain a sense of direction and purpose.

But life with God is different because it’s goal is not to use God; it’s goal is God. He ceases to be a device we employ or a commodity we consume. Instead God himself becomes the focus of our desire. But before we can really desire God we must have a clear understanding of who he is and what he is like. The reason most people gravitate to one of the other four postures is because they’ve never received a clear vision of who God is, and so they settle for something less.

My 6 year old son has a serious sugar addiction. I came to this realization when as a toddler he spotted a blotch of powdered sugar on the floor near a funnel cake stand at a minor league baseball stadium. He dropped to his knees and proceeded to lick the concrete. (His mother needed resuscitation.) Despite his obvious passion for sucrose, if I said to Isaac, “Would you like to try some creme brulee?” he would immediately decline. The words “creme brulee” might conjure images of vegetables or some other unappetizing adult cuisine in his imagination. But I know he would respond differently if I said, “Would you like some vanilla pudding, covered in sugar, and cooked with a blowtorch?” The idea of combining large quantities of sugar with the forbidden danger of open flames is too much for any boy to resist. Even more compelling than my description would be actually seeing the dessert and it’s preparation. I would have to bind him to his chair to keep him from leaping at it.

Just a quick heads up for urbanites. Skye Jethani, senior editor of Leadership Journal and a regular here on Ur, has a new book being released this August- WITH: Reimagining the Way You Relate to God. Thomas Nelson has released the first chapter of the book online for free. Check it out and come back to share your thoughts.

Do you dare?

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, March 9th. The purpose of lent is for prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial. It could be a grueling 46 days. People ask me about the options for observing this season of the church calendar. Well, here’s a list that is a bit different. It’s a top ten hardcore ideas for Lent 2011.

1. Don't Lock Your Doors. Do we hide behind gated walls and doors too much? Do we need that much security? Maybe keeping open doors reminds us it’s not healthy to live alone. Be radically welcoming! Throw more parties with people you don’t know. (Btw, that’s what hospitality really means in the Holy Book- welcoming strangers.)

2. Don't Wear Makeup. This was inspired by someone close to me who loves her glow. This individual mentioned to me that not wearing makeup it helped her to focus on other aspects of beauty. Btw, if you’re wondering I do like make up. . . on other people.

The upcoming March/April issue of Catalyst Leadership features an interview with Matt Chandler. Just over a year ago he was diagnosed with brain cancer. Through surgery and ongoing radiation and chemo treatments, Chandler has maintained his leadership role at The Village Church and kept everyone up to date on his journey through his blog posts. Skye Jethani spoke with Chandler to hear how cancer has impacted his view of leadership, the church, and himself. Here is a preview of the interview:

How has fighting cancer changed your perspective as a leader?
It’s made me think a lot more about my mortality. For example, if I die and The Village Church falls apart, do I care? I’ll be honest, I don’t. It seems to me that when you look at history, God raises up certain men for certain seasons in certain places. He pours out his Spirit on them, and when they’re done its very rare for God to continue the work that was done uniquely through him. If I die and The Village ends, I’m alright with that. If believers here find a place where the gospel is preached, and people are being saved, and the mission is being lived out, then I will not have failed.

If I’m going to die in two years, I started asking God what I should do. I put a lot of pressure on myself because in our culture there is the expectation that a ministry has to flourish even after you’re gone. That’s unfair, unhistoric, and maybe even unbiblical. Realizing that took a lot of pressure off of me. I had peace to just faithfully do what I’ve been doing here since day one. Then just let go and see what the Lord does with it.

It seems like many in ministry define success by perpetuity--if something keeps going it’s a success. You’ve rejected that.
That’s right. And because they define success that way they cannot let go. They’re focused on “their legacy.” That’s why we see churches with senior pastors in their 70s and no succession plan. They can’t let go.

Have you noticed God refining your character, and not just your view of leadership, through this crisis?
Absolutely. I noticed that some of my cynicism died this last year. Maybe it’s because I’ve been backstage too many times, but I’ve tended to think the worst about other evangelical leaders who have had a lot of success--the kind of success I’ve had. I just assume they’re sellouts because they market themselves in a way I wouldn’t, or because they wear expensive jeans and keep their tans in the winter. I was really quick to judge.

In the most recent issue of Leadership, John Ortberg shares this important observation:

I once was part of a survey on spiritual formation. Thousands of people were asked when they grew most spiritually, and what contributed to their growth. The number one contributor to spiritual growth was not transformational teaching. It was not being in a small group. It was not reading deep books. It was not energetic worship experiences. It was not finding meaningful ways to serve. It was suffering. People said they grew more during seasons of loss, pain, and crisis than they did at any other time.

The same truth surely applies to pastors. We grow most in our leadership and maturity not through our successes but through our failures. So why are so many of our pastoral gatherings focused on celebrating successful ministries and triumphant pastors? Wouldn’t we be better served by learning from those who have failed; wouldn’t they be a better font of wisdom?

If you’re like me, you may walk away from some ministry conferences feeling worse about yourself and your calling rather than better. I’ll never be as gifted as the guy on the stage. I’ll never have a church that size and making that kind of impact in my city. I’ll never get my hair to do that no matter how much product I put in it. And the skinny jeans? Forgetaboutit. The cool train left my station 20 years ago.

Well, if you’ve felt that way someone has finally developed the conference for you: the Epic Fail Pastors Conference. (This is not a joke).

Leadership Journal is now in its 31st year of publication, and it seems that church leaders struggling with pornography has been a constant theme we've covered through all of those years--even well before the age of the internet. Does the rise of Calvinism and the Neo-Reformed movement have anything new to add to the conversation? John Piper speaks with Tim Keller and D.A. Carson about the role of gospel-centered theology in fighting the temptations of pornography.

What do you think? Do they have anything new or helpful to add, or are these the same answers and ideas you've been hearing for years?

People ask me all the time, “Who do you read?” In most cases they’re looking for book recommendations. (Some people, particularly Calvinistas, are trying to determine if I’m safe--are my ideas and my theology grounded in what they see as credible sources.) But my answer usually surprises them: “I read dead people.”

What do I mean? In my role with Leadership Journal I get dozens of books sent to me almost every week from publishers. They’re looking for some good press, an endorsement, or a review in our pages. And while there are some very good books being written these days (we feature the best every year with our Golden Canon awards), there is also a lot of chaff. I simply don’t have time to read everything.

So here’s what I’ve learned. If someone has been dead for a while and his book is still in print and widely read, then it’s probably worth reading. And, if we’re honest, there are precious few books written by Christian authors today that will still be read in 24 months, let alone 24 years. I want to use my reading time to immerse myself in powerfully formative material, and not just flash-in-the-pan trends. Does this mean I never read living authors? No, of course not. But if they’re not dead, I like them to be pretty close. I can usually trust that they’re not going to waste what time they have left on this earth writing sappy Hallmark card sentimental Evangelical fluff.

A few months ago, Al Mohler set off a firestorm when he pronounced yoga to be incompatible with Christian faith. The comments came in a review the Southern Baptist leader wrote about Stephanie Syman's book The Subtle Body: The Story of Yoga in America. Mohler said:

Yoga begins and ends with an understanding of the body that is, to say the very least, at odds with the Christian understanding. Christians are not called to empty the mind or to see the human body as a means of connecting to and coming to know the divine. Believers are called to meditate upon the Word of God -- an external Word that comes to us by divine revelation -- not to meditate by means of incomprehensible syllables.

To his surprise, Mohler received a significant backlash from Christians who use yoga as part of their exercise routine as well as those who believe the practice can mesh with Christian forms of reflection and meditation. But Mohler would have none of it. He wrote, “Most seem unaware that yoga cannot be neatly separated into physical and spiritual dimensions.” In other words, those who merely use yoga as a form of stretching and muscle strengthening are mistaken. He continued:

Christians who practice yoga are embracing, or at minimum flirting with, a spiritual practice that threatens to transform their own spiritual lives into a 'post-Christian, spiritually polyglot' reality. Should any Christian willingly risk that?

Not to be ignored amid a cultural controversy, Mark Driscoll added his $.02 into the discussion. In this video the pugnacious pastor calls yoga “absolute paganism” and says it opens the door to demonism. But he adds this caveat: “Is it possible for a Christian to do stretching and read scripture and pray and do so in a way that is exercise that is biblical? Yes, it is possible. But if you just sign up for a little yoga class you’re signing up for a little demon class.” (BTW, Driscoll also warns against watching Avatar…the “most demonic movie ever.”)

I. You shall not make for yourself an idol out of Scripture.

This is a particular temptation among evangelicals who hold a very high view of Scripture. We forget that our highest calling is not to have a relationship with the Bible but with Jesus Christ about whom the Bible testifies. (John 5:39)

II. You shall honor the Scriptures as sufficient.

We have a common temptation to get “behind the text” or discover what “really happened.” While archeology and other disciplines are incredibly important, we must not forget that what God has given in the Scriptures is enough for life and faith.

III. You shall remember the metanarrative and keep it wholly.

In my experience more Christians can recap the meta-narrative of the Star Wars saga than can recap the biblical meta-narrative. It’s not enough to know the stories and events in the Bible. We must know how they fit together to tell a single story.

When I entered seminary 12 years ago, I was humbled by many of my classmates. While we all suffered through "suicide Greek" (an intense six-week summer course that only a gifted linguist with a penchant for self-flagellation would enjoy), I learned that some students sacrificed far more than others to follow God's call into pastoral ministry.

Scott left his position as a Navy pilot, with a stable salary and excellent benefits. David left his management job with a Big Three automaker and relocated his family. He attended classes all day and studied while working as a night security guard. I have no idea when he slept.

Gregory, an engineer from China, brought his wife and two young girls from Hong Kong to Chicago—he'd never seen snow before, let alone 12 inches of it covering his car. In six months Gregory taught himself enough English to successfully translate the New Testament from Greek into English, and then into Cantonese for his congregation in Chinatown.

These pastors represent the power of godly ambition. God's call upon their lives, and their desire to serve his people, was the engine that drove them to make enormous changes and sacrifices.

But seminary revealed the dark side of ambition as well.

Daniel Pink is the author of "Drive," a new book about motivation. He brought his core message to the Catalyst crowd.

Money is a motivator, he admits, but it is limited. (You can’t pay someone unfairly. But once you pay people enough, you don’t get additional satisfaction or motivation. The application: Pay them enough to take the issue of fairness off the table.) You need to provide three other motivations to bring out the best efforts in people.

1. Autonomy. “Management is a technology” (Gary Hamel) -- organizing for productivity. Managemeht leads to compliance. But we don’t want compliance anymore. We want ENGAGEMENT. And management doesn’t lead to what we want them to do.

People perform better when they know they have some freedom of their time, technique, team, and task.

2. Mastery. Desire to get better at stuff. An inherent desire. Single most motivating thing is “making progress.” The only way to measure that is feedback. How am I doing? That’s not neediness, that’s seeking immediate feedback. DIY feedback (do it yourself). Effective teams do this themselves. What’s going well; what’s not.

3. Purpose. Profit motive is insufficient. When profit motive is unhitched from purpose motive, bad things happen. Marry the two, good things happen.

“The tension is good.” That’s the theme of this year’s Catalyst Conference, and Andy Stanley’s opening session talk described the tensions caused by our appetites: “Food and sex, and food and sex, and the guys in the room are saying ‘I’m sure there’s more … oh, yeah, and sleep,’ ” deadpanned Andy, before pointing out that our appetites create an inner tension. They always want “more.”

In leaders, appetites are heightened beyond normal person’s, especially appetites for progress, greater responsibility, the desire to be envied, the desire to be loved and admired. No matter what we accomplish, we still want more.

All of this is a reflection of the image of God.
1. God created them, sin distorted them.
2. Appetites are never fully and finally satisfied. Ever.
3. Appetites always whisper Now and never Later.
These will always create tensions, temptations. This is part of being human, but you can’t let appetites rule your life.

Perhaps my favorite lab of the day was led by Pete Wilson, pastor of Cross Point Church in Nashville. He titled the session: “Temptations in the Dip,” and by that he means seasons of life when things aren’t going well.

He pointed out that ideas and images are the means Satan most often uses when he wants to tempt us. We are vulnerable to certain ideas when we’re in a ministry downturn. Here are some of the tempting ideas that Satan uses against leaders in such times.

Our colleague over at Christianity Today, Sarah Pulliam Bailey, has snagged an interview with John Piper that Ur-banites will want to read. Piper has been on an 8-month leave from ministry to focus on "soul check, marriage and family check, and recalibration of life."

John Piper also discusses the controversy that erupted when he invited Rick Warren to speak at his Desiring God Conference. Piper admits that he's still not sure the invitation was the right thing to do, but he feels Warren has "been slandered." When asked if Rick Warren exemplifies "thinking" (the subject of Piper's new book), he responds:

No, I don't think he exactly exemplifies what I'm after. But he is biblical. He quoted 50 Scriptures from memory. Unbelievable, his mind is Vesuvius. So I asked him what impact reading Jonathan Edwards had on him. What these authors like Karl Barth and Edwards do for him is give him a surge of theological energy that then comes through his wiring. What I wanted to do with Rick is force him to talk about thinking so pragmatists out there can say, "A lot of thinking goes into what he does."

Be sure to read the entire interview on the Christianity Today website.

Earlier this year we ran an interview with Francis Chan in Leadership journal about the significant shifts he's led at his church in Simi Valley, California. Just as that issue of LJ when to print word leaked that Chan had resigned from his role as senior pastor. Usually news of a sudden resignation is quickly followed by rumors of a scandal. Not so with Chan. But that left everyone wondering--why did he leave?

This video features Joshua Harris, Mark Driscoll, and Francis Chan. In it Driscoll (true to his reputation) asks what many have been thinking but unwilling to say. He wants to know why Chan decided to leave a thriving church.

What do you think of Chan's response? Would have left if you were in his shoes?

What did Jesus mean when he said, “Judge not, and you will not be judged.” It’s one of the most commonly quoted verses from the bible (Luke 6:37). Many of us, and not merely politicians, invoke the verse as a first defense when accused of wrong. It is also a favorite stone thrown by those outside the church to accuse Christians of hypocrisy.

In 2007 a book was published called UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity. It’s based on research done among non-Christian 20-somethings. One of their core findings was that nearly nine out of ten young people view Christians as “judgmental.” And given the prohibition against judging issued by Jesus, this would mean most people view Christians as hypocrites.

Given these findings, it’s pretty important that both Christians and non-Christians understand what Jesus means when he says “judge not.” The key is recognizing that the word judge can be used in two different ways in the New Testament. Sometimes judge is used to mean “judge between things,” to differentiate, or discern. In this case we judge between right and wrong, good and evil, righteous and unrighteous.

Read part 1 of Brett McCracken's post.

Perhaps pastors and church leaders should focus their energies more on understanding and valuing culture for itself instead of always trying to use it to bolster their church's insider credibility, suggests James Harleman, a pastor at Seattle's Mars Hill Church:

Instead of trying to be cool, we should seek out and support the places in culture that we believe are hitting the nail on the head. We need to re-train our minds in how we engage culture. Why do we listen to the music that we do? Why do we like the films that we like? Rather than force ourselves to like what is cool, we should seek to understand better why we like what we like. Be authentic to what you like.

The problem with the wannabe cool, "inner ringer" mindset is that it blinds us to our true desires and true enjoyments, replacing them with an overarching desire—pervasive and deeply ingrained in humanity—to want to be in the know. But being “in the know” is never as fulfilling or respectable as being in tune with what we’re truly passionate about.

This year I have begun making the transition from student to teacher by teaching an introductory course on World Religions at a local college (while I’m still taking doctoral classes myself). We’re a couple weeks into our journey, and earlier this week we talked about indigenous (“pagan”) religions. One aspect of pagan religions that strikes me is that the relationships between the adherents and their gods is most often manipulative. When the gods are happy, the rains come, the crops grow, people have babies, people stay healthy. When the gods are unhappy, the land is blighted by drought, famine, barrenness, and disease. In order to set things right, the people have to make sacrifices, perform rituals, or repeat incantations to appease the gods. The system is set up to control the power of the deities. (Forgive me: this is an oversimplification, but we don’t have a lot of space.)

Biblical Christianity is essentially the opposite: the relationship between God and humans is not based on rites, rituals, and incantations; it is not a religion of manipulation. Instead, the relationship between God and God’s people is based on covenant and, first and foremost, on God’s gracious desire to love us in Christ.

That’s easy to say. But I’m ashamed to say that I catch myself from time to time beginning to think about my personal relationship with God in pagan terms.

It’s true confession time. I struggle to be thankful.

I’ve been reading a lot in the Old Testament recently (for a class; I’m not so holy.). One of the themes that has jumped out at me again and again throughout the Pentateuch and Historical Books is how often the Israelites respond poorly to God’s grace and generosity. Before the class I would have summarized Israel’s attitude as “rebellious” or “stiff-necked” or “ornery.” Now I think I would say their primary sin was thanklessness. I think that’s probably my primary sin, too.

God’s first major act of redemption for Israel as a nation was the miraculous Exodus from Egypt. Under God’s leadership, the entire community—which had been enslaved for 400 years or so—is snatched out of the oppressor’s hand with no loss of life. The Bible tells us not even a dog barked at the people as they left (Exodus 11:7). If that’s not enough, God parts the Red Sea, the Israelites cross through on dry ground, and the most powerful army on the planet at the time is swept away in the current. Three days later, the Israelites start grumbling against Moses because they are thirsty. Again God provides miraculously—a stick turns bitter water sweet. Shortly thereafter the people give up completely. Hungry and tired, they say, “If only we had died by the LORD's hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death” (16:3).

Ingrates.

I suspect the narrative is designed to make the Israelites look ridiculous. And it would be funny, if only I were not so much like them.

It is amazing to me! There are people within the ranks of Christianity who have been taught and who believe that Christ will shield His followers from wounds of every kind.

If the truth were known, the saints of God in every age were only effective after they had been wounded. They experienced the humbling wounds that brought contrition, compassion and a yearning for the knowledge of God. I could only wish that more among the followers of Christ knew what some of the early saints meant when they spoke of being wounded by the Holy Spirit.

Think for a moment about the apostle Paul. I suppose there is no theologian living or dead who quite knows what Paul meant when he said, “From henceforth let no man make trouble for me: for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus” (Galatians 6:17). Every commentary has a different idea. I think Paul referred to the wounds he suffered because of his faith and godly life.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, p. 59)

There are many peculiar ideas about biblical repentance. I have talked with people who tried to tell me that repentance is necessary because “it makes you fit so that God can save you.” The Bible does not teach that, and it never did. No man or woman has changed the character or goodness of God by an act of repentance. All the repentance in the universe cannot make God any more loving, any more gracious, Repentance is not a meritorious act. God is eternally good, and He welcomes us into His love, grace and mercy when we meet His condition of an about-face so that we are aware of His smile.

Repentance means turning around from our evil ways in order to look to Jesus. The person who will not repent still has his or her back turned on God. Repentance is a condition we meet in order that God, already wanting to be good to us, can be good to us, forgiving and cleansing us. In that sense then, the man who loves his sin and hangs on to it cannot reasonably expect the goodness and the grace of God.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, p. 45)

Yesterday a dear friend and Christian leader and I were engaged in a conversation about repentance. After we repent, change our ways, do a 180, how do we get those we work with to do the same? Or can we? Or is that the work of God’s Spirit?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 once attended a Good Friday service where the pastor encouraged us to look at Good Friday positively, to see the crucifixion through “Easter eyes.” To be honest, the bright lights and the upbeat music and mood felt to me like a missed opportunity. His intentions were good. He wanted to protect us from feeling defeated as we meditated on the death of Christ. But in doing so, he robbed us of exactly the feeling and experience that Good Friday is meant to give us.

Those of us who inhabit the sphere of “American Christianity” live in a world that doesn’t know when, how, or even why to grieve. For us, Christianity is about victory, it’s about feeling better about ourselves. It’s upbeat, inspiring, short, and peppy. I know one pastor of a large church who once asked his worship leaders not to play any songs written in a minor key. Too much of a downer.

Like all of us, I was hit hard by the events of September 2001. I was up early on the morning of the 11th for a meeting and was actually watching TV when the second plane smashed through the tower. I walked around the rest of the day numb and in shock. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t.

At the same time that many evangelical leaders lament the sin in our midst, talk of transforming the world for Christ rallies big crowds to action. We bemoan the present world as we long for Christ to return and make all things new. Somewhere in between, we eventually realize that we can accomplish more for the cause of Christ than we have so far, but not so much as our rhetoric sometimes suggests. Trevin Wax, author of Holy Subversion: Allegiance to Christ in an Age of Rivals, offers pastoral wisdom on living according to the next world’s values even now.

You pastor a Southern Baptist church in Tennessee. How has your experience as a pastor shaped your desire to write Holy Subversion?

For five years I served in Romania, a formerly Communist country where evangelicals were the minority. The majority of Romanians were Orthodox, but most were Christian in name only. So there were clear lines of distinction between evangelicals and the rest of society. Once we returned to the American South, we discovered the situation was completely reversed. I was ministering in a context in which everyone seemed to be Baptist, but the name was just a name.

So living in one context as part of a beleaguered minority and then being thrust into a different context where we were part of the “majority” opened our eyes to the way evangelicalism mirrors the world in the West. Holy Subversion is an attempt to call the Western church away from cultural captivity, and to shine light on the blind spots that we often miss.

What are the key threats to the church that you believe Christians need to subvert?

1. A self-centered understanding of salvation that centers solely on personal benefit at the expense of radical grace that transforms our hearts and lives.
2. A church-less gospel that individualizes the Christian life to the point where there is no longer any real reason for a Christian to be part of a church.
3. A worldly understanding of success.
4. A slavish addiction to work, wealth-accumulation, and entertainment.

Last summer I had the opportunity to interview Matt Chandler in Dallas. (Read the interview.) I should confess that I wasn't particularly excited about the interview. I'd never met Matt before, but I held certain assumptions about how the conversation would go. After all, he was a young leader of a rapidly growing church getting loads of media attention and buzz at conferences--a combination that usually meant no depth/fluff interview.

I was wrong.

Matt proved to be a deep thinker, theologically rooted, and humble. I walked away from our 2 hour conversation impressed with his perspective on ministry. I became a fan of Matt Chandler. One thing he said caught my attention in particular. He noted that he regularly takes walks in cemeteries--an unusual habit that I also have. Matt said that it reminded him of his mortality and what really matters. "It's good for my soul," was his remark.

The editorial team here at Leadership Journal is praying for Matt, his family, and The Village Church.

Go to The Village Church website for updates on Matt's recovery.

Social media like Facebook and Twitter have received an abundance of critique, not the least of which is that social media users are self-absorbed. But I wonder if we might turn answers on Twitter to the question “What are you doing?” or on Facebook’s status update into an opportunity for self-examination. It might even be an opportunity for Twitter and Facebook users to examine not just what they are doing but how it aligns with our mission.

I’ve spent some time observing pastors who tweet or regularly update their status on Facebook, and I’m far from convinced it’s simply self-absorption or an attempt by little people to make themselves famous. But these updates do reveal what is uppermost on the mind. But let me begin with a confession: I use these social media tools to draw folks to my blog and to the concerns I have there. In addition, on Facebook I have a good time with my “Friends” discussing sports or the news.

And I’m not alone. The idea of both Facebook and Twitter is to share with friends – real friends and not just cyberfriends – what you are doing. We all know that this can slip into silliness with tweets like: “Having a chocolate macchiato latte, double shot espresso with a raspberry scone” But we should also admit that tweets can be a valuable communication form. And another thing is clear—Twitter and Facebook are here to stay. Over time the craziness will wear off and the abilities of social media will become more clear.

As we finished our tea and truffles, I took Lynne to the book of 1 Samuel. I explained that the first mention of someone in Scripture often reveals something significant about the person’s character. The first king of Israel, Saul, is introduced as a young man trying, unsuccessfully, to find his father’s donkeys. This humorous scene hints at Saul’s later inability to lead others well. Though his early years of ruling God’s people are marked by humility and self-control, over time Saul becomes disobedient, jealous, and full of hatred. He’s known as the foolish king who lost his crown.

The introduction of Saul stands in sharp contrast to the first mention of David, the second king of Israel. The prophet Samuel is told by God that one of the sons of Jesse will be the next king. Noting that the Lord hasn’t chosen any of the first seven sons of Jesse, Samuel asks the father if he has any other sons. Jesse responds, “There remains yet the youngest, and behold, he is tending the sheep” (1 Samuel 16:11). When we meet David, he’s watching over his family’s livelihood.
The Hebrew word for youngest, qatan, implies insignificant and unimportant. One translator even uses the word “runt.” Though David is the runt of the litter, God selects him to rule over Israel.

“Does it surprise you that the youngest child was caring for the sheep?”

“Not at all,” Lynne said. “In ancient societies, and even today in remote areas, the weakest members of a family are often the ones assigned to care for the sheep. When we were in Peru staying with a family, a five-year-old boy, a few women, and an old man took care of the family’s sheep. The shepherds were those who lacked the strength or skill to do more physically demanding labor.”

There is nothing like a recession to put Americans in a reflective mood. Unemployment and a devalued stock market have led many to consider whether money is the pre-eminent form of American idolatry. New York Times columnist David Brooks has called for a new culture war, a “crusade for economic self-restraint” in a self-indulgent age. Adam Sternbergh wonders whether thrift is a virtue that can be developed or a trait that must be inherited. ABC’s Nightline invited Mark Driscoll to discuss the allure of celebrity and corporate idolatry. And Tim Keller has turned his attention to rooting out idolatry with his latest book, Counterfeit Gods: The Empty Promises of Money, Sex, and Power, and the Only Hope that Matters.

For Keller an idol is “anything more important to you than God, anything which absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.” Elaborating on the book’s title, Keller writes that a “counterfeit god is anything so central and essential to your life, that, should you lose it, your life would feel hardly worth living.” What does Keller have in mind? Well, everything: family, children, career, earning money, achievement, social status, relationships, beauty, brains, morality, political or social activism—even effective Christian ministry.

The prolific author (without her constant canine companion, Hershey) introduced her latest book, and gave a copy to each attender at Catalyst: Scouting The Divine: My Search For God in Wine, Wool, and Wild Honey (Zondervan).

To write the book, Feinberg spent time with a shepherdess in Oregon, a farmer in Nebraska, a beekeeper in Colorado, and a vintner / winemaker in California. She learned lessons for life and growth in God.

The irrepressible financial guru Dave Ramsey burst on the Catalyst stage talking about “momentum.”

“When you have it, you look better than you are. When you don’t have it, you’re better than you look.”

He talked about times his ministry had no momentum and times that it had it. He poked fun at those who don’t work hard enough to make momentum a possibility. Some people are so low key, he said, they can’t experience burnout because they’ve never been on fire.

Momentum is created; it does not randomly occur. And it requires our best efforts.

He talked through “The Momentum Theorem”: “Focused Intensity over Time, multiplied by God, creates unstoppable Momentum.”

As a leader, you face a lot of great projects to take on, a lot of good directions to go. But in Friday’s first session, Priscilla Shirer reminded the Catalyst crowd to proceed only down those paths on which you sense God’s presence.

“God often shocks you with his plan,” she said. “But when God interrupts your life, will you obey?

In her sermon she unpacked the story of Joshua leading the Israelites across the Jordan. She presented Joshua as a paragon of leadership. What did he do right?

Malcolm Gladwell told the story of the battle of Chancellorsville, VA, in which General “Fighting Joe” Hooker maneuvers his Union Army to encircle the Confederate Army on three sides, and then delivers a speech to his troops: “God Almighty Himself cannot prevent us from victory in this battle.”

What led to such misguided certainty? As the battle unfolded, it turned out he was horribly wrong.

Nancy Ortberg, founding partner of Teamworx2 and editorial advisor and contributor to Gifted for Leadership and Kyria.com, spoke on powerful themes inspired by her books, "Unleashing the Power of Rubber Bands" and "Looking for God."

For one of the first Catalyst lab sessions, three of the top Christian bloggers took the stage to talk shop: Ann Jackson (www.FlowerDust.net), Carlos Whittaker (www.RagamuffinSoul.com), and Jon Acuff (www.StuffChristiansLike.net)

So what wisdom did these titans of the blogosphere impart?

Stay away from blogging.

Well, take breaks at least. Basically, blogging is like cat nip for your ego, so taking the odd break is advisable.

Mark Batterson led off the Catalyst lab sessions with a few words from his upcoming book Primal, which led into a reflection on the foundation of ministry. (Kevin Miller was across the room blogging this session as well, and his report follows this one.) Mark's emphasis:

"What is the primal essence of what we believe? Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. That's more foundational than the forms we employ to live that out. ... There are ways of doing church that we haven't thought of yet."

Then Mark pointed out: "We come to conferences too often to find methodologies that we can take out of context and apply to our context. But that too often is misguided. We can learn 'how' but forget 'why.' "

He reflected on 1 Samuel 14-15, where Saul sets up a monument to himself. He suggests we need to erect not monuments to ourselves but altars to God, to remind yourself of the greatness of God and the cause to which you have been called.

Mark told about the moment he was aware of God calling him into ministry. He was in a pasture in Minnesota. Years later, he framed a photograph of that pasture and hung it in his office as his "altar," to remind him of the greatness of God and of his calling.

All of us listening are forced to consider: Am I performing my ministry as a monument to myself? Or to show the greatness of God?

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Skye Jethani, managing editor of Leadership and www.OutOfUr.com, introduced Mark Batterson, lead pastor of National Community Church in Washington, DC. Batterson described his forthcoming book, Primal (Multnomah):

Hear more from Donald Miller at the STORY conference October 28-29 in Chicago. Learn more about the event at storychicago.com.

Clint Eastwood taught me something the other day. The veteran actor and director's latest film sheds light on the tendency by many of us to seek the cultural values of homogeneity, stability, and comfort rather than finding God in the midst of our confusing, painful, and volatile circumstances.

In Gran Torino the 79-year-old actor and director plays a newly widowed retiree. A veteran of the Korean War, Walt Kowalski has spent his life in the same Michigan town, raising a family and working for the Ford plant. Surveying the neighborhood from his front porch, it's clear that much in Kowalski's life has changed. His neighbors are recent Hmong immigrants, people whose language and customs incur Kowalski's derision. Crime has become commonplace and rival gangs cruise the streets staring menacingly at Walt who, while drinking beers from his front porch, is all too happy to glare right back. The neighborhood is not what it used to be and the old man's sons repeatedly try to convince their father to leave it behind and join them in the suburbs.

The conversation based on Eric Reed's report, "Trouble Brewing," in the latest issue of Leadership has been...stimulating. What should church leaders be modeling for their flocks? Everyone agrees that sobriety is essential, but is enjoying an alcoholic beverage ever okay? Or should we prohibit ourselves and other leaders from drinking out of sensitivity to "the weaker brothers" among us?

We wrap up with two insights. First, a video depicting the era of Prohibition that shows how the church spoke about the issue in decades past.

And finally, a comment posted by "J. Joyce" from our previous post on the subject. Joyce has an interesting perspective on abstinence as it relates to other "sins":

I spent a semester abroad in Edinburgh, Scotland, during college and attended a great church there. On my first visit to the head deacon's house for dinner, he asked me what I'd like to drink. I asked him what my options were. "Well," he said, "we have beer, lager, ale, stout, scotch, sherry, wine - whatever you like."

"I'll have water, please."

It became more obvious the longer I was in Edinburgh that abstinence from alcohol was not a Christian distinctive. Christians decried drunkenness. But the pubs were where they had spiritual conversation and met for small group.

I chalked up the differences between my teetotalling background and Scottish license to cultural differences. A lot changes when you cross the Big Pond. But now a growing number of American pastors are passing the bottle in the name of Christian liberty. As Eric Reed reports, the changes may be leading to a new battle over prohibition.

The excerpt below is from Eric's article, "Trouble Brewing." Follow the link below for the full text.

Last week, blogger and author Anne Jackson stopped by the Out of Ur offices. Anne runs the popular blog FlowerDust.net and recently published Mad Church Disease: Overcoming the Burnout Epidemic with Zondervan.

Anne began struggling with an Internet porn addiction at a young age. To help us with our ongoing conversation about dealing with addictions, Anne spoke to Skye and Brandon about her journey and what the church can do to help others in her situation.

Anne Jackson on Battling Porn Addiction from Url Scaramanga on Vimeo.

Earlier this week Brandon O'Brien wrote about the new debate among clergy over alcohol. Even if we believe the Bible permits consumption, what does wisdom tell us? Should pastors drink as an expression of Christian liberty, or should we refrain for the sake of the weaker brother/sister? This video from Frontline, the young adult ministry at McLean Bible Church, highlights the dilemma.

In the upcoming issue of Leadership (in print mid April), we'll hear from a number of pastors - including Craig Gross, John Burke, and Matt Russell - who are committed to taking the gospel to people with addictions.

We're also featuring a couple of articles about how pastors can and should deal with their own addictions.

One article I suspect will get people talking is Eric Reed's report on clergy alcohol use. Here's a preview: Some younger pastors in traditionally teetotalling denominations are beginning to view bans on alcohol use as out of date. Is their so-called liberty in Christ simply an excuse for bad behavior? Or are the old timers adding laws to the gospel?

Most of the church leaders attending this morning's session at NPC probably thought they don't share much in common with mega-church pastor, mega-celebrity, mega-author Rob Bell. They were wrong. Bell spoke about being criticized - the "million little paper cuts" of criticism that pastors face all the time. He used that common pastoral experience to talk about the "absolute imperative that we become masters at forgiving people."

Bell recounted the story of a letter he received from a supporter. The note, in which the writer recounted how he defended Bell when another person accused him of being nothing more than "fluff and irrelevance," was intended to edify and encourage. But he said the only part he remembered was the criticism. This, says Bell, is the definition of a "chocolate covered turd." It looks sweet on the outside until you take a bite. Then it betrays you.

That's how ministry is. You may hear nine really good things, but it's the one critical comment that will eat away at your soul. We tell ourselves that it's really nothing, that "you just have to laugh about it," and that those small paper cuts really don't hurt. But they do. Over time, says Bell, those small wounds build up and we experience "death by paper cuts."

The great Reformer Martin Luther famously found the letter of James to be a strawy epistle because, in his judgment, it did not teach enough Christ or faith or grace. It had too much law for him. Most of us have forgiven Luther for overcooking his confidence, but he illustrates how many of us often read the Bible. We fasten upon a "maestro" ? and Luther's maestro was clearly the Apostle Paul ? and make the rest of the Bible fall in line with our maestro's lens of interpretation. Let me trade a moment in a few stereotypes.

Protestant liberals, Anabaptists, and Red Letter Christians have all made Jesus the maestro of their Bible reading. Everything is seen through the angle of the words "kingdom" and social justice as "discipleship." We are tempted, of course, to forgive anyone who makes Jesus their maestro, but the wisdom of God in giving us a canon - a list of 27 books that included Paul and Peter and John and Hebrews and Jude - which renders making even Jesus the maestro suspect.

Conservative evangelicals and the (strongly) Reformed have made Paul their maestro, at times a bit like Luther. In their view the rest of the Bible either anticipates or clarifies "justification by faith" and "soteriology" and "grace." Paul's theology, it must be admitted, is gloriously rich and his categories breathtakingly clear and the implications profound. But the wisdom of God was to give us a bundle of books and a bundle of authors. A fully biblical approach to reading the Bible reads and accepts each author and each book.

In an earlier post, I outlined the content of Scot McKnight's new book, The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking how you read the Bible. Here are a few reflections on what I consider the book's primary strengths and weaknesses.

First the strengths.

There is much about The Blue Parakeet that is praiseworthy. McKnight's conversation about reading the Bible as story is immensely helpful. I was in college before I learned (in a Bible interpretation class) that the Good Book is really one giant narrative that runs from Genesis to Revelation. That insight changed the way I understood and approached the Scriptures. What McKnight adds to that observation is the idea that each of the 66 books of the canon is a wiki-story - a unique retelling of the metanarrative.

The major benefit of thinking about the Bible in this way is that it forces us to recognize that the later writers (like Paul) are translating and applying the older writers (like Moses). Growing up, I thought of the relationship between the books of the Bible in this way: picture all the authors of the Bible standing on the platform at your church. When Moses finishes his part of the story, he hands the microphone to the writer of Joshua, who talks for a while, passes the mic down the aisle, and so on until Paul takes over the story. If each author is simply giving one part of the whole story, then it gets really confusing when the author's seem to contradict each other. But if we think of each author as retelling the single, major story from his unique context and perspective, then we get a real sense of the way God's relationship with his people has developed over time. So Paul doesn't contradict Moses' teaching on the Law; he interprets it in the first century.

While the majority of academics won't - or can't - write for a popular audience, Scot McKnight is willing and able. And in The Blue Parakeet (Zondervan, 2008), he opens the complex issue of biblical interpretation to the uninitiated with a great deal of grace.

Because the issue is complex, I'm going to tackle this review in two parts. In this one, I'll just describe the book. Next time I'll identify what I consider its key strengths and weaknesses.

I'll let the author tell you how the blue parakeet became his metaphor for exegesis. For now, suffice it to say that the bird represents biblical passages (and even personal experiences) that "make us think all over again about how we are reading the Bible." For example, evangelicals tend to be fairly lax about resting on the Sabbath (whether we observe the right day is another question). Yet right in the Decalogue God says, "Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." Our task as Bible readers is to decide whether this is a valid command for today or a context-specific regulation that we can more or less ignore. How you answer that question says a lot about your understanding of biblical interpretation.

And that appears to be the primary objective of McKnight's book: to help the reader recognize that all of us pick and choose which of the Bible's commands apply to us and which ones do not. In other words, the book is not a how-to manual for exegesis. Instead, it offers insights into three foundational principles of biblical interpretation.

by Skye Jethani

Day 1 at Catalyst in Atlanta is dominated by the Labs. These smaller breakout sessions give conference attendees a more intimate setting to hear from authors, thinkers, and leaders in a more interactive environment. My first stop was Scot McKnight's lab "The Blue Parakeet" based on his new book by the same title. The book advocates a "third way" of reading the Bible. (Scot is a friend and a regular contributor to Out of Ur.)

Next week, Brandon O'Brien will be posting his review of The Blue Parakeet so you should stay tuned for a more in depth discussion of McKnight's ideas. For now, I'll just mention a snippet from his lab I found helpful.

McKnight outlined five flawed ways many people read the Bible:

1. The Morsels of Law Approach
These people search the Bible and extract ever commandment. They see Scripture as fundamentally a book of rules to be obeyed. The problem, says McKnight, is that no one really obeys - or even tries to obey - every commandment. And we're not just talking about some obscure stuff in Leviticus. Scot mentioned a number of New Testament commands that many Christians dismiss as well. We are all selective.

Pulling up to a busy intersection recently, my wife and I were startled to see a car with its rear windshield shattered. Out of the damaged car leaped a man with a baseball bat, yelling and chasing the two apparent perpetrators. As we slowly drove by, my wife reaching for her phone to call the police, we saw into the back seat where a young girl sat trying to make sense of the chaos that had erupted around her. Arriving at our apartment three blocks away I became aware of an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

Three months after moving into Chicago from one of its affluent suburbs, we are still getting our bearings. Is it the Mexican or Polish market that has the better produce? What time is too late for my wife to take a walk by herself? How long will it take to get from the church office to my lunch meeting via the Blue Line? We expected these kinds of questions. Unanticipated, however, was the proper response to shattered windshields and guys with baseball bats. I knew the transition to life and ministry in the city might be tough, but this tangible sense of fear came out of left field.

Our eight years of suburban life and ministry were not without fear, albeit of a different kind. I oftentimes worried about the effect of affluence on our congregation. Anxiety about spiritual formation in a landscape of individualism and crass consumption is enough to keep any pastor awake at night. Conversations with friends and suburban colleagues often centered on pursuing the way of Jesus while being surrounded by the deep-seated values of safety and comfort. You could say my fear was of a spiritual nature: I was anxious about how suburbia affected our souls.

Guys with baseball bats? Never crossed my mind.

Something's wrong. We pastors are the stewards, the spokespeople, the advocates of a message of hope, life, and peace. And yet so few of us seem to be experiencing these qualities in our own lives. Something's wrong. In a world saturated with fear, insecurity, and stress, we are to show a different way. And yet those at the center of the church are burning out and leaving ministry at a rate of 1,500 per month. If that's what's occurring at the heart of the church, why would anyone on the fringe want to move in closer?

I've just read an article by two Christian counselors about the soul-killing impact of church ministry on leaders. (The statistic above comes from them.) They note that the pressure to grow the church is a significant factor leading to pastoral burn out. And some pastors "admitted they promoted growth models that were incongruent with their values because of a desperate need to validate their pastoral leadership." It seems too many of us have our identities wrapped up in the measurable outcomes of our work rather than in the life-giving love of the Christ we proclaim. Something's wrong.

I spent last week in western Iowa and met many wonderful pastors and church leaders. These men and women don't lead megachurches. They're not in chic urban or suburban communities where new cultural trends are born. In other words, they're not the people you're likely to see on the platform at a ministry conference. More than one church leader approached me during the week holding back tears. Each confessed he was on the verge of mental/spiritual/emotional collapse. The cause sited by all: the pressure to perform.

This year's roster at Willow Creek's Leadership Summit conference includes an impressive lineup of leaders from both the ministry and secular business realms. Pastors John Burke and Efrem Smith, and Bill George (current Harvard Business prof and former CEO of Medtronic Inc.) spoke yesterday, as (of course) did Bill Hybels. Today we heard from Craig Groeschel and Chuck Colson, and later from Brad Anderson, vice-chairman and CEO of Best Buy. But for my money, the two most challenging and inspiring presenters were relative unknowns--two women who lead small but incalculably influential organizations.

In a recent issue of New York magazine, Adam Sternbergh accuses, "You Walk Wrong." And I can't help but think that his insight into feet has spiritual application for Western Christians.

As the title suggests, Sternbergh claims that none of us walks correctly. But it's not our fault; it's shoes. "Shoes are bad," he claims. In fact, he cites researcher William Rossi as saying, "Natural gait is biomechanically impossible for any shoe-wearing person." After comparing the feet of 180 people from different cultures, along with a few feet from 2,000-year-old skeletons, researchers concluded that feet were healthier before shoes became fashionable (the skeleton feet were better off). And people who don't wear shoes - Zulus, in this case - have healthier feet than we Westerners. Athletes who wear cheaper, less padded, shoes have fewer injuries. Elderly people with back, knee, and hip problems report less pain when barefoot. This is, to oversimplify, because feet absorb shock better than shoes (because they flex) and because we walk lighter when barefoot (because we can feel the ground).

Growing up, I loved the feeling of shag carpet and cool mud between my toes and feeling the earth as God made it, with all its points and sharp edges. So I was particularly pleased at Sternbergh's conclusion: that our feet - and the rest of our ambulating parts by extension - are healthier when we avoid the temptation to wrap them in foam. Lacing up to avoid the momentary discomforts of walking unshod causes long-term problems, because although our feet adjust to walking without shoes, our joints never adjust to walking with them.

Now for the spiritual application.

A century and a half ago, Herman Melville (he wrote Moby Dick, but don't hold that against him) observed, "In certain moods, no man can weigh this world without throwing in something, somehow like Original Sin, to strike the uneven balance." It's remarkable to me that even today artists often come to the same conclusion: human experience doesn't quite make sense without some provision for inborn and radical evil. Even Hollywood has explored this theme in recent years. There Will Be Blood is a chilling story of humanity's incorrigible greed. Cormac McCarthy's novel (and the Cohen brothers' movie) No Country for Old Men deals directly with the concept of incarnate evil through Anton Chigurh, a villain who toys with human life mostly out of boredom. Apparently screenwriters are beginning to ask questions novelists have been asking for years.

G. K. Chesterton called sin "a fact as practical as potatoes" and original sin "the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved." Of course, not everyone takes it so seriously. Comedian Eddie Izzard calls it a "hellish idea. People have to go, ?Father, bless me for I?did an original sin. I poked a badger with a spoon.'" And there are those, too, like Oprah and Eckhart Tolle, who think too highly of human potential to entertain the idea of depravity.

In Gordon MacDonald's monthly column at LeadershipJournal.net, he asks this provocative question:

Is there a significant difference between Jeremiah Wright's "God damn America," and the comment so oft-quoted in evangelical pulpits (attributed to a well known preacher who shall go unnamed): "If God does not judge America for its sins, He will have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah."

Don't quibble about word-choice; think substance. Is there a significant difference?

I figure Out of Ur is as good a place as any to answer MacDonald's question. Have at it.

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I have a confession to make: I'm a thief and a murderer. I haven't actually killed a living, breathing human being (I have stolen a thing or two, though; mostly pens and pencils). But one summer in college, a roommate and I played Grand Theft Auto: Vice City until we'd both done pretty much every awful thing there is in the world to do, including killing and stealing.

And it was great fun.

The newest installment of the Grand Theft Auto series is anticipated to be dang near the most lucrative media release ever. Take-Two Interactive Software, the company that owns GTA creator Rockstar Games, expects to sell 9 million copies of the game by the end of their fiscal year in October. They expect sales to gross $400 million in its first week; that's a measly $1 million less than the top grossing movie of all time, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, made in its first week.

Together the series of three games has sold around 70 million copies so far, which puts it in competition with (and actually slightly ahead of) Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code (Doubleday, 2003). It will also be in league with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the last of Rowling's Harry Potter books, which sold 12 million copies in its first run in the U. S. Think of that: if the game's popularity is comparable to that of Harry Potter and The Da Vinci Code, there's no doubt that people in your church will soon be stealing cars and chasing women. Virtually, of course.

Now that the Da Vinci Code and Harry Potter comparisons have been made, that makes me wonder, What is the church to do with Grand Theft Auto IV?

There is no need to reiterate the statistics on sexual immorality among clergy. We all know them. And we also know that addiction to pornography is at epidemic levels even within the church. But do we know how many gifted young leaders never answer their call into ministry because of the guilt they feel over past sexual sins?

John Piper has written an article for Christianity Today addressing this problem. He says:

?so many young people are being lost to the cause of Christ's mission because they are not taught how to deal with the guilt of sexual failure. The problem is not just how not to fail. The problem is how to deal with failure so that it doesn't sweep away your whole life into wasted mediocrity with no impact for Christ. The great tragedy is not masturbation or fornication or pornography. The tragedy is that Satan uses guilt from these failures to strip you of every radical dream you ever had or might have. In their place, he gives you a happy, safe, secure, American life of superficial pleasures, until you die in your lakeside rocking chair.

Chad Hall is experiencing the simpler life. Intentionally. And he's wondering what effect his quest for less has on those he leads. And he has three questions we can ask.

Everywhere I go these days, big is in. My combo meal is super-sized, my SUV is third row, and the TV of my dreams is 62-inch plasma. We Americans are big eaters, big spenders, and big wasters. Even our churches are into big, enlarging auditoriums, renting big malls and even bigger coliseums in order to accommodate big crowds and enable big growth. Like the population at large, we Christians seem to have a growing acceptance of the bigger is better credo.

But all this growth might be creating some big problems.

Our society and systems seem incapable of handling the never-ceasing expansion of want and need. Our souls are groaning and the planet is buckling beneath the collateral damage of growth. Landfills are full, the air is thick, and we cannot drink from many of our streams.

In light of our growing problems, maybe the church should give small a chance. I propose that ministry leaders are just the ones to help Christ followers exchange big for small. After all, leaders are supposed to help usher others toward something better (not just something bigger), so maybe we should start ushering folks toward living lives that are less hectic, less cluttered, less selfish, less toxic. And maybe instead of a big ad campaign advertising "LESS!" we should start living with less ourselves. Instead of just preaching it from the pulpit, maybe some personal choices would help slow down the growth, bring some sanity to our lives and make the world more livable.

This week I am attending the Midwest Regional Spiritual Formation Forum at Elmbrook Church near Milwaukee. The conference theme is "spiritual formation and the mission of the church." Most interpret "mission" to mean a measurable impact in the world. Are people coming to Christ? Is the church making a difference? But the first plenary speaker, Dave Johnson - pastor of Church of the Open Door in Maple Grove, Minnesota - says our desire for external impact should take a back seat to internal transformation.

Johnson spoke about the pressure that comes from being anointed for ministry. When God empowers us with the skills to powerfully carry out his purposes it is like a weight being put upon us, and it takes real interior strength to carry it for any amount of time. This interior strength is a character formed in the image of Christ.

Drawing from the life and downfall of Samson, he went on to tell the stories of men and women who were used powerfully by God to accomplish even miraculous things, but who eventually collapsed because their characters simply could not carry the weight of their anointing. These leaders had not made the transformation of their characters the first priority in their life and ministry.

The reason many of us ignore the formation of our character, says Johnson, is because it will slow us down. Many ministry leaders want success, a big church, or a crowd. But how many of us want a real life? How many of us want a life in God? We can have that, Johnson believes. We can have a character that produces love, peace, patience, kindness?but it will slow us down. It might mean the church won't grow as big as quickly. It might mean the crowd will get smaller.

A few weeks ago Dave Johnson questioned our adherence to a gospel that does not call forth or expect transformation in our lives. In this post professor and blogger extraordinaire Scot McKnight continues the discussion. He contends that many of the problems facing the contemporary church can be traced to the individualistic gospel we preach. Both Johnson and McKnight will be featured presenters at the upcoming Spiritual Formation Forum in June.

When I was in high school, my youth pastor ? may his soul rest in peace ? opened his home to me and my girlfriend, Kris (now my wife). David King became our personal theologian and one thing that impressed me deeply at the time was this contention of his: he often contended in a rather robust manner that every problem that he encountered as a pastoral counselor could be traced to a "spiritual" problem.

Most of us would not agree with this conclusion, but many of us would contend that we do need to do more "systemic" analysis to find the underlying issues that give rise to many of the problems we now face in the Church. I'd like to suggest a significant underlying issue that gives rise to more than one problem today.

Because of some research I did on the "gospel" in the Bible, leading to a book called Embracing Grace, I have come to a conclusion not unlike that of David King: namely, when I see "problems" or "issues" in the Church, I often say to myself, "What kind of gospel would have been preached and responded to that would give rise to this kind of practice, problem, or theology?" At the bottom of lots of our problems is a "gospel" problem. Students of mine that grow up in Christians homes often admit to me that the gospel they grew up was this: Jesus came to die for my sins so I could go to heaven. This parody of the biblical gospel, I contend, is at the heart of many of our problems.

What is a Christian response to the flap over radio personality Don Imus's description of the Rutgers women's basketball team? Is his firing a concession to pressure groups or an appropriate judgment? In this debate, is there something deeper to be said about language and the coarseness of public conversation? This column by Mark Labberton, appearing in the Spring issue of Leadership and arriving in mailboxes this week, was written before current controversy. In it Labberton speaks to the deeper issues of naming and labeling. He offers a biblical perspective on the words we apply to others and to ourselves.

Every day our naming of the people around us gives life and takes it away. Really? Really.

Being rightly named means being truly known. It changes our lives. Embedded in our words, and in our actions, are the names we give to and receive from others. Gestures of value, nods of recognition, glances of curiosity, looks of compassion, signs of paying attention build one another up.

God created by naming: "Let there by light," and "let us make humankind in our image." In turn, the human beings named with unflinching instinct, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh." Yet right from the start our very capacity for rightly naming includes our freedom to misname. "Did God really say . . ." are words that rename God's intent, and reality cracks. "This at last is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh" easily becomes, "The woman you gave me."

Misnaming misidentifies who we are and our relation to others. The tragic consequences are everywhere.

"When our goal of worship is to receive God's help to be successful, pride is taking over. Then we are just using God to further ourselves. Could it be that we want church-growth secrets, or even God's Spirit...for the wrong reasons? Have we slipped into a proud and competitive mode? Is this part of the reason why the American church seems so crippled right now?"

-Miles Finch recently retired as pastor of New Life Christian Center in Polson, Montana. Taken from "Surprised by Pride" in the Spring 2007 issue of Leadership journal. To see the quote IN context, you'll need to see the print version of Leadership. To subscribe, click on the cover of Leadership on this page.

Leadership's editor-at-large, Gordon MacDonald, is back with further reflections on life and faith. This time he addresses the nature of spiritual brokenness - a truth incarnated by his temperamental 1950 Ford. (Sorry, I have a weakness for bad puns.)

My first car was an 8-year old 1950 Ford (stick shift on the steering column) purchased for $200. Its mileage was north of 100,000. To call it a lemon is not an exaggeration. The starting motor was a fifty-percenter, meaning frequent pushes. The radiator leaked like a sieve. The fuel gauge was accurate to the nearest 25 gallons. The engine drank a quart of oil every 200 miles. The tires were bald, and the muffler was absent without leave.

On cold winter nights, I had to park the Ford at the crest of a hill near my college apartment and drain the water from radiator to prevent a freeze-up. In the morning I would refill the radiator, nudge the car downhill, release the clutch and hope that the engine would leap into life. No amount of prayer seemed to directly affect the success of this process.

I used to imagine that the Ford talked to itself when it saw me coming. "Looks like he's in a hurry today. I'll slow ?em down." Or, "he looks like he's dressed for a date. Probably wants to impress a pretty girl. He's toast." I tell you, it was not hard to believe that the Ford despised me.

Doug Pagitt and Tony Jones, two prominent voices in the Emergent conversation, have edited a new book called An Emergent Manifesto of Hope (Baker, 2007). The dictionary defines the word manifesto as, "a public declaration of principles, policies, or intentions." That should encourage people who see Emergent as being too ambiguous, but the book will undoubtedly give additional ammunition to its critics. In the coming weeks Out of Ur will feature excerpts from the book. The first comes from a chapter titled "Converting Christianity: The End and Beginning of Faith" by Barry Taylor.

What it means exactly when a person declares himself or herself to be "spiritual but not religious" is a matter of some debate. Some people find spiritual an irritating term that means nothing of any real substance, a marker for a sort of "wishy-washy" sentimentalism that passes itself off as real faith. Others have embraced it wholeheartedly, and the rise of spiritual language in sermons and discussions, as well as a growing interest in spiritual directors in many churches, point to an embrace of the term on some levels even amongst the "religious."

I don't think there is one definition for the term or for its usage. Spirituality is an umbrella word, a catchall concept used to characterize a commitment to the sacred elements of life. It defies a singular definition, hence the fluidity of the usage of the word; it is also an evolving term rather than one of fixed determination.

One thing that it does signify, almost universally, is the rejection of traditional faiths as a primary source of connection to the divine. I would argue that traditional faiths are no longer the first resource that people go to in order to develop and nurture their spiritual lives, but instead function more as secondary archives with which new spiritual permutations are created. Those who do choose to explore their spiritual quests within traditional faith environments do so with very different eyes and intentions than previous generations of seekers have. For me spirituality is the religion of the twenty-first century.

The spring issue of Leadership is just a few weeks away from the mailbox. The issue focuses upon the formation of the pastor's soul and character; the behind-the-scenes work of God in the lives of very public church leaders. Matt Branaugh, our colleague at Christianity Today International, recently attended a ministry conference where his assumptions about character were challenged. In this post he shares his new, broader, perspective on what a leader with character looks like.

"Our character," goes the quote often attributed to H. Jackson Browne, "is what we do when we think no one is looking." That's how I've typically defined character. But not anymore.

Last week, I heard Dr. Henry Cloud speak at Willow Creek's Children's Ministry Conference. The psychologist, author, and speaker said how we define character is at the core of understanding why leadership problems develop in the church and beyond. "Character equals the ability to meet the demands of reality," Cloud told the gathering of about 3,500 people.

Based upon his own research and consulting experience, Cloud said problems of character in situations he's asked to help repair rarely have to do with a lack of brains, competency, or even honesty with the leader.

How can a church leader keep their soul rooted in Christ and still keep pace with their ministry? The next issue of Leadership, due in mailboxes in April, will focus on that question. Phil Vischer may seem like an unlikely person to address the darker corners of a pastors' souls, but his new book, Me, Myself, and Bob: A True Story about God, Dreams, and Talking Vegetables (Nelson, 2007), wrestles with questions every church leader should be asking.

In 2000, Phil Vischer was running the largest animation studio between the coasts, had revolutionized Christian family entertainment by selling thirty million Veggie Tales videos, and was named one of the top ten people to watch in worldwide religion. Vischer's vegetable empire, better known as Big Idea Productions, seemed poised to become a Christian Disney.

But by 2003 the dream was over. After a heartbreaking court decision, later overturned on appeal, Big Idea declared bankruptcy and Vischer had to sell the company's assets, including his computer animated characters Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber. We spoke with him recently about his life after Big Idea, and how God has transformed his understanding of ministry.

In the book you talk about growing up in evangelicalism. How did that shape your sense of mission when you started Big Idea?
In college I heard a sermon in chapel about knowing God's will. It was given by a former mathematician. He said that if God's will is not clear we should use the test of spiritual expediency. Which of the two choices in front of me will impact more lives? That one is God's will. My evangelical upbringing said more impact is better. It's better to be Bill Bright than Mother Teresa. Better to impact millions at once than one at a time. God has given us limited time and resources and we have to help as many people as possible - not just two or three. Mother Teresa should have franchised a system for feeding the poor on a massive scale. She needed an MBA.

Last year at the National Pastors Convention, Dallas Willard spoke at an early morning Bible study gathering. Unlike the main sessions the Bible study had no music, no flashing lights, no massive screen. There was nothing remotely worshipful or stimulating about the physical setting. Still, I recall feeling most blessed and caught up into something divine during that simple lesson by Dr. Willard.

Yesterday morning I had a similar experience. For the second year I have been blessed by a soft-spoken, gray haired sage. This morning it was Eugene Peterson. In the same bland ballroom Peterson opened the Bible to share his reflections on prayer. There was nothing spectacular about his presentation, but it carried the gravity of a godly life.

Peterson spoke about the prayer he begins every day with as he walks the quarter mile from his front door to retrieve his newspaper. Living amid the natural beauty of Montana, Peterson greets the squirrels and the deer as he recites the words of Zachariah in Luke 1:68-79.

Making a resolution for 2007? Before you do, check out the resolutions of one of America's most celebrated pastors. Eric Reed shares with us Jonathan Edwards' effective resolutions.

Jonathan Edwards was a serious man. Even at 19, the young man who would become a leading figure in the First Great Awakening took his faith seriously. In several sittings over a one-year period, Edwards drafted 70 resolutions by which he governed his life and ministry.

For such a young man, he wrote a life's code that was amazingly well-rounded. He addressed personal spiritual growth and physical temperance, and matters of attitude, behavior, and relationship. Edwards wanted to live as if he had "already seen the happiness of heaven, and hell torments."

The phenomenon of celebrity pastors in the American church cuts two ways. When a mega-pastor succeeds everyone buys their book, attends their seminar, and emulates their strategy. And when a mega-pastor falls we all look into our own souls for evidence of similar frailty. Although the Ted Haggard story has been all but forgotten by the popular media since the election, there are many church leaders still reeling from the revelations. In this post we highlight insights from other blogs about how pastors can guard their souls from the self-destructive power of immorality.

Professor Scot McKnight address how the environment created by evangelicalism contributes to pastors hiding their sins, and the importance of developing the discipline of confession:

In evangelicalism, and the charismatic stream in which Ted Haggard swims, sin is bad and sin by leaders is real bad. This leads to a complex of features that creates a serious problem.

1. Christians, and not just pastors, do not feel free to disclose sins to anyone.

2. Christians, including pastors, sin and sin all the time.

3. Christians, including pastors, in evangelicalism do not have a mechanism of confession.

Daniel Haase, a professor at Wheaton College, is a frequent visitor to Ur. The last time he shared one of his poems with us it was after a heated conversation on the blog that turned ugly. Haase has composed another poem in the wake of the Ted Haggard scandal.

After reading Gordon MacDonald's recent post about Ted Haggard, I have been reminded how knit together and effected we are by the actions of others. As John Donne puts it, "No man is an island." This in turn has led to a reflection on my own actions and the "assassins" I allow within my heart and mind. What follows is a poem that has been written as a prayer of lamentation. I hope it might lead to a prayerful reflection of our own darkened corners and hidden places.

The Liar's Lament

Sabbath.
Stillness.

I am sitting in a chair attempting prayer.

The assassins within make their way to the rooftops of my mind.

"The nuclear family is not God's most important institution on earth. It is not the social agent that most significantly forms the character of Christians."

-Ken Fong is pastor of Evergreen Baptist Church of Los Angeles in Rosemead, California
Taken from "Our Faith Village Family" in the Fall 2006 issue of Leadership journal. To see the quote IN context, you'll need to see the print version of Leadership. To subscribe, click on the cover of Leadership on this page.

In the wake of serious moral failure, church leaders are quickly asked about "restoration." What does a person have to do to be deemed worthy of reinstatement as a church leader?

In many ways, the question is premature, like asking a toddler to decide on a college major. Too much has to happen, too many decisions along the way have to be made, a new direction of life has to be established before it's even appropriate to weigh the possibilities of restoration.

And yet, the process is important. A direction does need to be pointed toward.

"There's no sense that people need to be born again. There's no sense that Christians are different altogether at root level from non-Christians in society."

-J. I. Packer is the Professor of Theology at Regent College in Vancouver, B.C. and the author of Knowing God (IVP, 1973)
Taken from "God's Triple Team" in the Fall 2006 issue of Leadership Journal. To see the quote IN context, you'll need to see the print version of Leadership. To subscribe, click on the cover of Leadership on this page.

Okay, so no one's had the chutzpah to frame the question so baldly. But each group seems to assume the answer in its favor--at least, that's the impression you'd get from some emergent critiques of traditional evangelicals and from some traditional-evangelical critiques of emergents. But what if we asked the question directly, and tried to answer it just as directly: Who is more spiritually mature? On the whole, are emergent believers or traditional evangelicals more faithful in their following of Christ?

Our Good Friday this year included no sermon, no worship team, no cutting edge technology or lavish drama. And still people lingered for hours to pray, teenagers returned later in the night with their friends, and children begged their parents for the opportunity to stay longer. Why? I believe it's because our church chose to nourish the most emaciated aspect of people's spiritual lives - their imaginations.

Traditionally discipleship has focused upon two areas - knowledge and skills. Churches have poured enormous energy into communicating knowledge about God through preaching, classes, and small groups. In recent years an increasing number of voices have challenged the effectiveness of information based discipleship. That has resulted in churches shifting their focus to skill driven formation - "how to" have a healthy marriage, share the gospel, or parent difficult teenagers.

However, knowledge and skill based models, while necessary components of spiritual formation, both miss the imaginative aspect of the human spirit. And by ignoring the intuitive capacity of the mind the church has essentially surrendered people's imaginations to the pop secular culture without a fight.

Last month we shared the disturbing late night experience of Pastor Nick Overduin. While sleeping in his study Overduin had a frightening encounter with "The Voice." His experience started a conversation about our openness and skepticism toward the supernatural. Nick Overduin is back to respond to many of your comments and concerns, and to keep the conversation going.

I appreciate the comments that were made in response to my Aug. 18, 2006 article "Old Men Will Dream Dreams." I have searched the links regarding "sleep paralysis," and definitely resonated with those descriptions. I think, physiologically, this was my experience. However, according to my understanding of God as the Creator, such a scientific diagnosis does not eliminate the possibility that God was saying something to me precisely at such a time.

All pastors are crazy; I've known that since seminary. Some pastors, however, have fewer cards in their decks than others. Nick Overduin, pastor of Toronto First Christian Reformed Church, began to question his own sanity after an experience that was beyond explanation.

Overduin now believes God was in this encounter. You may believe otherwise. In either case, reading Nick's account has made me wonder - as more church leaders are rethinking the nature of ministry in a post-Christian culture, is it also time to rethink our assumptions about the supernatural, and its place in our communities?

Who wants to be known as a crazy nut-case preacher that hears voices? I don't advocate hearing voices; I just happen to have heard one.

I did not hear any strange "voices" in my first church. Nor did I feel distracted by the supernatural during my second charge, a University Chaplaincy. In my third posting I was perhaps too busy to hear any divine whisperings. My congregation had 800 members. My fourth church is conceivably the most implausible setting for a semi-mystical deviation. Many of its 120 members are certified experts, executives, or independent entrepreneurs. My wife Nandy and I have been married 25 years, and at first I didn't tell even her. I am writing the episode now partly because I believe it could be sinful to keep it to myself.

About three years ago I woke up one night very suddenly. It was as if I had been jerked from deep sleep into alert wakefulness in less than a second.

Recently friends from a major publisher of Sunday school curriculum called me. They were researching trends in spiritual formation, they said, and they thought I might help them.

After a few warm-up questions, they got to the heart of the matter: "What would you recommend for spiritual formation in our time?"

"The monastery," I said.

There was a long pause.

"I'm serious," I said.

Another long pause. "You're going to have to unpack that for us," they finally said.

Recent posts on Ur have focused on the nature of Emergent - is it liberal Christianity recast for a new generation, or simply a forum of conversation for those looking for a better understanding of their faith? Critics have accused Emergent's better known participants, Tony Jones and Brian McLaren, of being evasive with answers to pointed doctrinal questions. In response, Jones and McLaren have pointed to the importance of dialogue and thoughtful questions over definitive answers.

Ed Gungor's new book, Religiously Transmitted Diseases (Nelson Ignite, 2006), equates definitive answers with "dead religion." In this excerpt from the book, Gungor affirms the life-giving role of mystery within our faith.

I think Christianity is supposed to be the unreligion. That's because the strictness and predictability of religion causes simple, pure faith to become diseased. If not stopped, religion can even kill living faith. And dead things just aren't very interesting. Case in point?

I was eleven years old the first time I dissected anything. I was on a scouting trip. Armed with flashlights, a few of us wandered into the woods after dark to explore. Joe was the first to spot him. He was a pretty good-sized frog. And he was quick. Flashlights and size 8 feet darted every which way as we scrambled to grab him. Something in us boys wanted to know what was inside that frog, what made that living thing alive.

(Here's a post from Cory Whitehead, editor of the Building Church Leaders newsletter, one our Leadership guys on site at the Catalyst conference here in Atlanta.)

Integrity. We hear all about it today, or at least the lack thereof. Enron, Martha, fallen church leaders. We hear about the breakdown of integrity constantly, but we don't hear much about the upright, about those that do not and will not compromise their integrity. Those stories usually have to come out in our personal conversations and experiences.

At this year's Catalyst Conference, Andy Stanley spoke about integrity. In 1 Samuel 24:1-4a, David had the perfect opportunity to kill Saul, stop living like a bandit, and take over the leadership of Israel as God had promised. David had the opportunity to put an end to it when, in the only place in the Bible that it speaks of "relieving oneself," Saul enters a cave to do so. Consequently, Saul enters the cave that David and his men are hiding in.

But David didn't take offense. The perfect opportunity to move forward, to make progress, to "follow God's will," but he didn't take it. Why?