A centarian blogger’s musings

I happened to note in the blog’s stats (amazing features these folks at WordPress give you for free) just now that I’ve posted 100 times on this blog. That’s a lot, and it’s about 30 more than I thought.

It gets in your blood. I blog in my head while walking or riding or showering. Sundays almost always find me at the computer in the evening. Lots of Sunday things stimulate thinking and typing fingers, not the least of which is our 3 hours on the road every week, when my dear wife is sometimes napping.

When I started this blog about a year ago, I had no idea, really, if I’d do much with it. I’ve gone through phases of activity and tend to write 2 or more posts at a time, editing them later, and scheduling them to be uploaded over a week or so.

This summer, as would be clear from a chronological study of my essayettes here, I’ve been writing quite a bit more. I attribute the surge to these factors, at least:

1. Desire to write
2. The inspiring birth of our son
3. Summer “vacation” from the academic year

I’ve been toying with “pushing” my material out to a distribution list by e-mail. I figure anyone can hit the delete key if she doesn’t have time or interest, but few people (myself included) are going to take time to take initiative to click things in order to read things. Hmmm.

I’ve written more in the “Christian Living,” “Scripture,” and “Stupid Church Tricks” categories than I expected to. In the first two cases, that’s probably because the categories are broad, and I tend to see most things I’d write about in terms of Christian discipleship, as informed by scripture. In the third case, well, that’s because I’m chapped raw by churchianity.  The above categories also have much to do with why I recently altered the “slug” at the top of the blog’s home page.

I’ve written a lot less conceptual and practical material on worship than I expected. That’s because I’m in a personal period of less, and less effective, worship.

I’ve written more critically than I expected to. That’s because I’m getting older and figure I have the right to be irritated. I’m no longer an “angry young man” and hope I don’t come across as such. Rather, I’m indignant at what passes for “Christian” or “church” or “worship” sometimes, and I want to say something about it.

Fewer people are reading what I write than I’d hoped. More people checked in about the birth of our son than I’d assumed. Perhaps this means I should add more cute pictures, and people would read more of the other stuff.

God, if anything I write is important to Your Kingdom, may the right people read it.

Careless worship (3)

Further on Nadab and Abihu . . . the seemingly endless details in Leviticus 9 and 10 can be read contextually as support for the utter importance of doing “God” things with great intentionality and care.

Leviticus 15:1 gives us another clue: “The LORD spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they approached the LORD” [emphasis mine, bc], and then God gives a pronouncement to Moses (for him to relay to Aaron) about careful, intentional, anything-but-haphazard approaches to His presence.

Numbers 3:4, like Leviticus 15, does not appear to draw a conclusion on the exact cause of the deaths. All we have is a connection between the occasion (“when they approached the Lord” or “when they made an offering”) and the deaths. The Leviticus text does not act as coroner but emphasizes that a careless attitude toward Yahweh simply will not suffice.

I realize that some of this (from this and the previous two posts) is conjecture. Yet the texts do not state specifically that “the reason God killed them was that He had said to use Fire A, and they used Fire B, thereby committing an infraction of Rule 443.” There seems to be more to this whole incident than an emphasis on rules and violation of protocol.

God does have a pattern of making sure that people are humbled if they attempt to take some of His glory for themselves (remember Uzzah, Nebuchadnezzar, and others). Nadab and Abihu trivialized the worship of the Almighty, which dethroned God, in a sense. On the other hand, the records of the healed leper and Mary Magdalene show just the opposite—offering purposeful, spontaneous outpourings and love and adoration in order to magnify God.

May we, like the latter group, always approach God intentionally and with ardent passion for Who He is—the glorious Lord, on the throne.

Careless worship (2)

Many believers wish to pay great attention to Biblical details, and that desire certainly comes from an intent to please the Lord; but in the Nadab & Abihu incident (Lev. 10), it is not necessary to assume that their demise was based on their violation of specific details or rules. On the contrary, viewed in harmony with other Bible teachings, God’s reaction may be read as His censure of carelessness shown toward Him.

To find the crux of the Nadab and Abihu story in man’s having violated God’s specifics—which to me implies a set of rules to be followed without variation, regardless of the setting—downplays the many Biblical examples of spontaneous honor, devotion, and worship. For instance, consider David, who danced a celebration of God. And remember Mary, who poured the perfume on Jesus’ feet. And reflect on the blind man, who worshipped after having been healed; the leper, who returned to give thanks; and others. What do we say about those? Are they to be condemned in their spontaneous homage-offerings? Since God had not said, for instance, “Every leper who is healed by my Son between Pentecost and the Feast of Booths must turn after 50 paces and approach Him in order to give thanks,” are we to assume that the leper’s worship of Jesus was inappropriate?

I find no textual reason to think these examples constitute “disapproved” worship. On the other hand, there is every logical reason to see these examples as acceptable and approved.

In some Scriptural accounts, the details of submitting to the will of God seem utterly important, and in other accounts they do not. The Nadab and Abihu text does not require that we assume the specific fire was the root problem. How would we understand the text if it appeared this way in our Bibles?

“Nadab and Abihu took their censers without thought, quickly put fire in them (from a different flame, since it was closer to them than the usual flame) and added incense; and they thus ministered in the Lord’s sanctuary via a thoughtless, haphazard offering, according to their own whims and convenience. Then these sacrificers who were going through the motions of offering something to God for His consumption ended up being consumed themselves by an altogether different sort of fire—the fire of God’s anger. This punishment gave evidence of God’s extreme displeasure with Nadab and Abihu’s general carelessness and irreverence.”

That is a lot of verbal interpolation, but if the text had come to us rendered that way, I do not think any of the real import would have been stripped away. I propose that Nadab and Abihu were punished for their lackadaisical attitude in approaching God, not for the specific “violation” of using a fire other than the “authorized” one.

No, the texts do not speak directly to the condition of Nadab and Abihu’s hearts or attitudes, but Leviticus 10:3 shows that Moses interpreted the events as having to do with the people’s treatment of God. They must show respect, fear, and honor to the holy God, and the act of approaching Him must be well-thought-out and careful:

Among those who approach Me I will show Myself holy;

in the sight of all the people I will be honored.

Careless worship (1)

Ever notice how non-Christians will use the word “hallelujah” in mocking tones?

• The geeky 14-year-old in a baseball uniform draws a walk instead of striking out this time, and the team leader says, “Hallelujah! He didn’t strike out this time.”
• Uncle Frank finally comes home for dinner, and Uncle Ginny says “Well, hallelujah! He didn’t stay out for happy hour!” under her breath.
• Someone in a group conversation attempts to draw appropriate attention to Jesus, and an uncomfortable not-yet-believer bursts out with “Hallelujah!” (perhaps mocking a typical televangelist’s mode) in a vain attempt to refocus attention on humor instead of on the expectations of Deity.

Perhaps worse is the careless way some religionists fall back on the word “hallelujah” when nothing else comes to mind.  “What a great song–hallelujah!”  “Good to see you all here today-hallelujah!”  “I got out of my car and the rain stopped long enough for me to get into the church building–hallelujah!”  We’re gonna have a great time tonight–hallelujah!”

A mocking or perfunctory “hallelujah” doesn’t seem to bother many Christians, but it bothers me. “Hallelujah” is a sacred word.

Singing worship songs without care or thought or engaged spirit doesn’t seem to bother many Christians, but it bothers me. Singing is a sacred act.

The happy-go-lucky song “Ha-la-la-la-la-la-la-le-lu-jah” doesn’t seem to bother adult leaders of Christian camps, but it bothers me. Training young believers to worship is a sacred responsibility.

Those who knew Nadab and Abihu (see Leviticus 10:1 -3 and Num. 3:4) learned pretty decidedly what God thought of careless worship.  (More on this to come.)

Preacher-centrism

We used to say “preacheritis,” but I don’t think that was quite right, grammatically speaking. The preacher might well have been inflamed, but that wasn’t what we were talking about.

The subject was, and is, centering on a human. (The phrase “centering around” is redundant, I might point out.) (And so I did point it out!)

Karly had to head in one direction to pick up her grandmother this fine Lord’s Day, so I headed in another. Only having two wheels (the motorized kind) available, I went about 25 miles north to the meeting of a church in Perry, NY. We’ve driven by this place numerous times, and I thought it was about time I visited. After all, when a church is called “New Testament Church,” I’m intrigued.

Must tell you I’ve visited scores more churches that bore more resemblance to the ideal I see described in the NT writings. This one, like so many, was centered on its preacher. (I’ve opted for the word “preacher” because it seems more a functional umbrella than “pastor.” All of them preach, for better or worse, but not all of them past.)

As soon as I walked in the door, I could tell that the 2nd handshake met a preacher’s hand. There’s a certain centering that occurs in a church lobby when the preacher is there, you know. Everything revolves around him, and all the body language and verbosity manifests his centrality. My suspicions were born out when he walked over, used-car-salesman-like, 30 seconds later and introduced himself as “Gene–I’m the pastor here.”

The preacher’s wife, as in so many churches, was the “worship leader.” Not that she led me, really, but she did play the keys and made the decisions as to how many repeats on the choruses.

His daughter ran the overhead projector.

He made the announcements.

He plugged the upcoming event.

Asserting his centrality, he interjected (mostly unnecessary, unhelpful) comments between songs.

And as if this weren’t enough, he did what every other preacher does, 99.4% of the time. He preached for too long. It took, in this case, approximately 2/3 of the assembly time. Often, it’s 1/2 the time, but this was even more disproportionate.

Who put the pope and all other religious centeroids high atop Clydesdales?  Not one of us is infallible, and no single human should be talking that long. Jesus or the apostles, yes, but not a 21C preacher.  There’s more collective wisdom than is accessed in most churches; congregational worship and edification have many forms that can and should be exploited; and, hey, what ever happened to letting God speak through oral readings of the scriptures?

Believe it or not, this wasn’t the most distasteful thing at this church. It had to do with three colors–flying colors, that is–and it turned my stomach. But that’s a topic for another time.

Denominating is not a capital offense

Churches are, at least in some sense, institutions. As such, churches should have all primary words in their official names capitalized. I always find it curious when church letterheads, bulletins, etc., have a lower-case “c” on the word “church” when referring to a proper-name entity. It’s incorrect to label a church the “Eastside church of Christ” on a sign, though it is perfectly fine to refer informally to the “family of God at Eastside” or to “God’s church that meets in Grover’s Corners.”

Perhaps the lower-case “c” initially intruded because of a well-intentioned desire to exalt Christ, i.e., to give Him the only capital letter in the name. Great! But Why is “Main Street” more deserving of capitals than “church”?

More likely is that the odd use of the stunted lower-case “c” came a from a desire not to appear to be denominational. A well-known Church of Christ newspaper, The Christian chronicle, [sic] has a policy of referring to specific congregations as, for example, the “Forest Hills church of Christ”–ignoring English capitalization conventions in favor of this tradition of thinly veiling our own denominationalism. For better or worse, we are known to the public as congregations of the Church of Christ; this single biblical description has become our name.

Apparently, some of us don’t like to be faced with the reality of our having denominated ourselves, so we try to hide it by decapitalizing the “C.” While the informal expressions “a church of Christ” or “Jesus’ church” are just fine, “Melrose Boulevard church of Christ” is not. It’s just a name, folks, and it needs capital letters. Simple as that. Denominating is not necessarily bad; it’s exclusivity and sectarianism that are inherently wrong.

Of course, God’s church “has no formal, exclusive name.” Sure, a little variety in terminology would be great. But a Yellow Pages-identifiable church’s name must be capitalized, and that includes the “C” on “Church.” It is within the realm of possibility that we refer to institutions and corporations with proper English capitalization while maintaining a primary belief that God’s people comprise a spiritual group that transcends human, geographically bound institutions.

I’m a list-maker . . .

. . . which may be one of the reasons I’m repelled by “prayer lists.” May I explain further?

Maybe you’ve heard phrasings such as these:

1. Debbye needs our prayers.
2. So, keep Steve in your prayers.
3. That just shows us the power of prayer.
4. Kelly is thankful for everyone’s prayers.
5. Lori has a prayer request.
6. Please keep Brad on your prayer list.

Ack.

In order,

1. No, Debbye doesn’t need our prayers. She needs God.
2. I couldn’t care less whether Steve is “in” my prayers or yours. The keeping of someone “in our prayers” is sometimes offered as though “our prayers” is some holy vat of enchanted prayer elixir that somehow immerses the need, and/or the person who has the need, in mystical hope and healing. But no, it is God—the source of all good—Who hears our hearts’ devotion a) to others and b) to His capacity to provide.
3. Prayer is said to be powerful by metonymy. That is (c’mon, don’t we know this?), God is the source of power, and it is by His elective extension into the realm of communication with human that that power is seen. A contextual reading of James 5 will show this, I would suggest. The ultimate attention is to God’s power, not to prayer’s power.
4. Wouldn’t it be better if Kelly were thankful to God, giving him credit for what she perceives as His activity?
5. Could it be a “God request” instead of a “prayer request”? I find the endless suggestions to “remember Derek in your prayers,” keep him in your prayers,” etc., time-consuming, tedious, repetitive, and flat-annoying. “Prayer request” itself is a very tired expression.
6. I’m left high and dry by prayer lists. The brain switch is turned off, and that circuit, I’m afraid, includes my heart. This is especially true when the prayer list includes a sincere, but oh-so-misplaced, allusions to the dead turtle belonging to the cousin of one of little David’s 1st-grade classmate’s neighbors. Maybe the lists would reside more comfortably in my heart in a small/cell group prayer, but not in a large group.

I sorely (sic) wish that prayer were more solidly, and more often, experienced as worship than as mere begging, though I know God does hear it all, and wants us to ask Him for things. I’ll keep making my lists of tasks for the day, but I’m just not a “prayer warrior” who keeps a list on the refrigerator or in my pocket. (Can I still be your brother?)  I move away from the computer for recreation (read:  I don’t like playing computer games) and choose to move away from my business list-making mode for my praying.  That’s not to say you have to; it’s just me.

All those enumerated items up there are merely semantic differences, you might say. Wouldn’t you rather expend your energy on other things? Maybe I should. But somehow, I can’t keep from encouraging a more God-oriented philosophy and practice of prayer. It might just make a difference in how we see Him and how we live. It’s not a Christianish sort of system we’re supposed to uphold, speaking Christianese. It’s more radical than that.

Understanding authors

If I want to understand Mark Twain’s socio-political scruples as implied in The Prince and the Pauper, I probably won’t get much from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

I’ve admired several of Frederick Buechner’s writings. If I want to dig into his life, I won’t get insight into the impact of his father’s suicide, which is detailed autobiographically in The Sacred Journey, by reading his fictional interpolation of Abraham and Isaac (Son of Laughter).

If I want to know who Horton is and why he hears a Who, I probably won’t find much help in the legend of the green eggs and ham. Sure, I get a little surface insight by reading another Geisel/Seuss work–something is clear about the author and his overall bent–but not much more than that.

Just wondering why we Christians are typically so careless with this type of thing. . . .

I mean, yeah, Paul wrote Galatians and 1 Timothy and was somehow divinely inspired to do so, but they’re different letters, written at different times, to different people, for different purposes.  Paul wrote them both, so, as with Seuss, we can get a general idea of his M.O. by reading two distinct letters, but one doesn’t help all that much to interpret the other.

This didn’t start out to be a plug, but I feel called to plug now. Two men whose spirits and intellects I respect greatly are working toward related Bible-reading goals. Gary Collier (http://www.CoffeeWithPaul.com and http://www.CoffeeWithPaul.com/aroma/index.html has embarked on a voyage of significant “instructive devotion” as he teaches how to read New Covenant scripture with careful attention to literary context (yes, with some Greek). Gary’s learning and gift with words, together with his insight into relationship, uniquely qualify him for this pastoral task.

Greg Fay is simultaneously writing a magnum companion-volume set on how to read the Bible. Yes, this type of thing has been done before, or so it would seem if you just look at the title. But I submit to you that if these books are published, the modern Christian world (and more) will have its best-ever methodologies for how to read scripture. I’ve been privileged to read the chapters as he writes them; I know both the wealth of content and the well-supported logic in the writing. Greg’s diagnosis is, essentially, that we read scripture verses sort of like “ink-blots,” isolating them from all context and imbuing them with meanings that sound good in Christianese but that are causing us to miss God’s original intent. The therapy for this malady is also prescribed by Dr. Greg.

If both Gary’s and Greg’s works are disseminated and utilized by as many people as they should touch, we could see a mass biblical intelligence boost that changes the face of Christendom. Wishful thinking, yes. But perhaps you would ask God to accomplish His purposes through these works, elevating the labors of these men’s minds and hands as they attempt to bolster God’s Kingdom?

To the sisters who sought recently to explain Romans 5 by appealing to 1 Corinthians 13 (or, further afield, to James or 2 Peter!): you are victims of a decades-old problem with the hermeneutical control tower that directs our scripture-reading flights. It’s not all your fault.

Public prayersphere (does that rhyme with “Shakespeare”?)

I didn’t even know I had this little paperback edition of Shakespeare sonnets. Must’ve picked it up at a yard sale. In straightening & reorganizing around the house this summer, I came upon it and it picked it up. Anyway, according to the editor, C.S. Lewis once likened a good sonnet to a good public prayer: “the test is whether the congregation can join and make it their own.”

Aside:  sometimes I write theoretically, sometimes it’s unabashed opinion, and many times it’s out of experience. I think this combines all three of those. First, the opinion and the theory (skip a paragraph if you’re only interested in real life!). . . .

I’m of the opinion that public prayer is much-overemphasized in Christendom. The plural pronouns in the so-called “Lord’s Prayer” (which really isn’t) do seem to indicate a validity in collective prayer-thought, i.e., unison prayer-verbiage from a group of people. And 1 Corinthians 14 implies a spoken-out-loud-ness mode of prayer.  But one is hard-pressed to find nearly as much example or instruction concerning public praying as about private praying.  I do find that there’s an art to public praying, and it’s in the ear of the auditor.  Personally, I’m a better oral reader than a public prayer, so I tend to work a little harder at the latter.

In my own public prayersphere of late, I’ve had two opportunities to lead our group of gathered saints. A couple of weeks ago, I led what I consider the “main” prayer in our assembly. (In print, it’s known as the “Adoration and Confession” prayer, and it tends to gravitate toward one or the other, depending on the intentions or inclinations of the given leader.) On that occasion I spent a couple of hours collecting and arranging thoughts in advance.  My intent was to blend the notions and practices of 1) adoring God worshipfully and 2) confessing our humanness to Him.  I think I failed rather decidedly.  The preparation was–as usual for me–more fruitful in terms of Kingdom work than the actual spoken prayer was in the assembly.  The prayer was, in one sense, pretty well constructed, but I really don’t think it was very effective in bringing along other hearts before the Throne.  I’m just guessing here, having heard from no one.

Today, I led the “closing prayer.”  You know the one, if you’re in my branch of Christendom–it’s the prayer they usually ask the least “ept” guys to lead, because it’s the least embarrassing if you mess it up.  Not because of this stereotype, but more because of my own frame of mind, I opted out of advance preparation this time, figuring I could probably tie things together in a relatively brief, effective public prayer without much thought.

Last Sunday, the Adoration and Confession prayer was theologically deeper, more polished, and more prepared.  Today, the closing prayer appealed to faith examples of Hebrews 11 (from the sermon), other examples of living folks nearby, the Apostle John’s particular testimony (being one who had seen and touched the risen Lord Jesus), and the experience of Jesus and Thomas, post-resurrection.  All this was in less than a minute, and my closing words were something like this:  “Now help us all to move from simple belief in the reality of the risen Jesus to a living, intimate trust relationship with Him as we live this week.”

I have no real point to make about preparation or lack of it here; it’s only a bit of personal experience.  Take it for what it’s worth. . . .

The kingdom, the beatitudes, and Christian living

This post is adapted from something I received by e-mail some months ago and did not give appropriate attention to.

I agree with this statement you made:  “The centrality of the Kingdom is not a peripheral issue in Scripture.”  Jesus came not only to die for us but to first show us how to LIVE!  Thus the Mt. 5-7 “sermon” or collection of theology, whatever one believes, given the character that those who submit to the King will then display.

I do think, like most seem to, that (Matthew’s) “kingdom of heaven” & (the other gospels’) “kingdom of God” are probably synonymous.  However, there are both “now” & “future” kingdom meanings.  Of course, the “now” includes when Jesus was teaching — before the church or kingdom, in the complete earthly sense, was begun.

The prophecy of Is. 61:1 (“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor”) is repeated in Luke 4:18.  Echoed in the first beatitude?  He came with the GOOD NEWS of the Kingdom!  The Beatitudes (and whole Sermon on Mount) described the way those of the Kingdom, then being inaugurated, would think, behave, react and be blessed or favored by God.

I believe the beatitudes are not so much directives as they are statements of fact. (emphasis mine – bc)  Yes, they are standards required by the King of his subjects, but the emphasis is on the blessedness of being a part of that kingdom & the naturalness of character accompanying that blessing.

I liked this statement, gleaned from somewhere:  “What makes a person ‘blessed’ is not poverty of spirit (etc.), but being rightly related to God as sovereign (‘theirs is the kingdom of heaven’) and as father (‘they will be called sons of God’).”

As you might perceive, this dialog is helping me prepare.  Maybe thinking on these things will somehow help you to become less irritable.

“Go to sleep in peace.  God is awake.”

I should probably say that the words above came from my mom.  Pretty neat mom, huh?