Digging in: John 9 (1000)

[This is public blogpost #1000.  In this post, I'm going to attempt to merge concisely some very significant areas--exegesis, religious challenge and reform, and worship.  And then I'm going to take somewhat of a break.  This is a longish blog, but I hope you'll take the time, because there won't be any more blogs coming from me anytime soon!]

Digging In:   John 9

One of the Marvelous Happenings in the Life of Jesus

Exegetical Interpretation, Focusing on Christian Challenge/Reform and Worship
With a Timely, Eulogistic Postscript

John 9 has long been a favorite chapter, and it’s not because I memorized it as a child or because it was read at a family funeral.  This chapter is of deep impact on me because the story highlights Jesus in a way that simply won’t let me go.

While it would have been nice, I suppose, to have a true essay worked out, I would need more time for that, “living with” the text for a period of weeks or even months.  I trust that it will be beneficial to see the process of asking questions of the text, not only the reaching of conclusions.

Method  Ideally, I would start with two or more readings of the entire gospel, in different versions — perhaps one with more of a sentence-for-sentence orientation, and another, more of an expansive paraphrase.   Initially, my method was simple:  to read/refresh myself on the whole of chapter 9, and jotting questions I had while reading.  The “first pass” through chapter 9 resulted in the need for a second pass.  Within about an hour and a half total, I had approximately two pages of notes/questions.  (An irresistible 3rd pass is yielding almost as many additional questions and brought tears to my eyes, but the new material will have to wait.)  For sake of brevity — ha! — I am selecting only a portion of these questions to blogshare (to coin a term).

Book-level questions

Bypassing for the moment the typical, academic, background questions that are important but are more stock-in-trade (author, date and place of writing, audience, etc.), I ask such things as these, from a perspective that is mostly “zoomed out” on the entire gospel of John:

• What special features can be found in John’s vocabulary and literary style?
• Within the whole gospel, does chapter 9 constitute a bona fide pericope?  Does John use pericopes as, say, Matthew does?
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for John?
• How does God the Father relate to Jesus in the narrative?  Is Jesus called “Son of Man” earlier? later? throughout? often?
• How does John’s stated purpose (20:30-31) relate, or not, to key aspects found in this passage, such as spiritual blindness, sin, coming to faith, and worship?  How might belief in 9:35-36 be tied to the overall, stated purpose?

Smaller-context questions

Now zooming in more to the immediate context:

• Where are we in the progression of John’s narrative when we reach the events of chapter 9?  What occurs immediately before, and immediately after?  (The answer to these questions may be singularly significant.)
• Check 9:1-2 for chiastic structure.  (Note the three mentions of blindness.)
• Note the various portrayals in this chapter:  disciples, Jews, neighbors, Pharisees, and the man.  (Larger question:  how is each group painted in John overall, as compared to Mark?)
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for each of the above people/groups?
• Could there be a larger inclusio from 9:1-34 (“the Jews’” idea of sin as bookends)?
• Note the relationship between eyesight and light and works, as in verse 4.
• Is “Siloam” Aramaic?  Translation relationship to Greek “apostle”?  Any significance to be found in Jewish background there — either with the Siloam pool or with the use of the word in OT texts?  What is John saying by inserting the definition of the word?
• Chiasm in 9:13-16 vicinity (Pharisees, had been blind, Jesus, mud ==> Sabbath, Pharisees <== mud, Jesus, see, Pharisees/Sabbath). Yes? Investigate.
• Examine the use of “disciples” in 9:27-28 vs. its use in John overall.
• How does the Father God figure in to this story?
  • What do “the Jews” and the Pharisees think of Him?  How do they “use” Him? (vv. 16, 24, 29)
  • What does the blind man think of Him?  (9:31, 33)
  • What could be made out of the fact that Jesus mentions God early in the story but not later?
• Hermeneutically speaking, are questions (such as the above group) significant from both John’s and the first readers’ points of view?  Does John show any bias or agenda that his first-century readers would naturally share, or naturally be resistant to?  How is God potentially working through John to say what needs to be said?  And how do these answers affect my own point of view?
• What is the significance of the label “Son of Man” in this particular text?  (It seems significant for John in the ultimate responsiveness of the [formerly] blind man.)  (9:35)
• There appears to be a mirroring mini-chiasm in 9:39:  blind ==> see; see <== blind?  Do “judgment” and “guilt” complete this mini-structure?
• Note some striking, possibly unusual, recurring, or significant vocabulary words and phrases in NASB:  blind, works of God, displayed, Light of the world, spit, seeing, eyes opened/opened my eyes (vv. 10, 13, 17, 30, 32), mud, miraculous signs, prophet, put out of the synagogue, “give glory to God,” disciples.

Musings  Some musings and commentary stem from these types of questions!

I.  In terms of challenge to the status quo and religious power structures … it seems to me that there are battles presented in this chapter — a battle of people and cliques, a battle of systems, and ultimately, a battle of and for the Kingdom.  Clearly, the Jews and the Pharisees are the “conservatives” here, resisting challenge and change — while the simple facts of the blind man’s story necessitate, on the other hand, that traditional viewpoints are challenged.

Although the connection of blindness and sin might be an easy target for preachers of sermons, one should not dive into a topical sermon that uses a snippet of John 9 without first knowing a good deal about the context(s) here.  We could not, in other words, legitimately draw any conclusions about the equation of spiritual blindness and sin without knowing more of how John the inspired writer uses and develops those ideas (or doesn’t) within the literary context.  Just as significant would be some cultural insights — related, for example, to blindness, begging, synagogue norms, Pharisees, and more.  This area, like so many others, requires more investigation.

It has long seemed to me that the parents in this story are presented as weak and sniveling.  (Textual clues gained in further investigation could bolster or counter this impression.)  Out of fear, they deflect attention and responsibility.  On the other hand, the “Pharisees” and “Jews” groups are not “weak,” but they are in some sense blind and foolish.  Note, for example, that they pronounce a cloudy half-truth regarding Jesus and the Sabbath in v. 16, and they resort to name-calling in v. 34.  The Jews in power are more interested in protecting their system than in avowing the obvious wonder that has just occurred at the hands of Jesus.  From their standpoint, 1) Jesus is a threat, and 2) the now-seeing man — although formerly negligible — may now be a threat, too.

Something that struck me 25 years ago, and still strikes me today (and here, I hope I’m not just coddling my earlier reading) is this:  the Pharisees could not even see, much less accept, the God-glorifying miracle that had obviously occurred because they were too invested in protecting their empire.  John presents unadorned facts in v. 7 (that the man “returned seeing”) and in v. 9 (that he kept saying “I am the one”).  Waxing prophetic, I would assert that the implications of the Pharisees’ stubbornness here are momentous for institutional Christendom, and for various cliques and sects.  Could the Pharisees legitimately be seen to represent some of the entrenched “clergy” of later eras?  The implicit warning echoes through the centuries:  Watch out that you’re not building your own structures, and pay attention to the work of God, or else you may be found blindly rejecting Him.

In contrast to the Pharisees and the parents stands the blind man.  I would imagine that a Jewish person reading or hearing John’s gospel would find intense irony here:  the blind man appears as largely a positive example, although he would previously have been a worthless drain on society — a mere opportunity to be seen giving alms!  Initially, the man is trusting and obedient.  He also makes an ostensibly false assumption:  that “God does not hear sinners.”  No, he doesn’t quite “get” everything about Jesus yet (no one could), but he is open, and he is coming to faith.  (Who wouldn’t be experiencing new things after having been given sight?!)  Not only can he see the ground in front of him for the first time in his life, but he is beginning to see who and what Jesus is.  An encouraging message surfaces:  that one can travel the road of discipleship, progressively coming to see more truth.

II. In terms of worship … the response seems so beautifully unfeigned and unaffected — the man simply worships, when confronted with the truths that Jesus is 1) from God and 2) able to work miracles.  (Let alone, for now, the question of the meaning of “Son of Man.”)  The antecedent worship word here is proskuneo, which

• is not inherently a “religious” thing to do
• means “kissing toward” as an act of homage, and implies bowing down
• has nothing directly to do with so-called whole-life worship
• is rather the simple act of response — by one who recognizes greatness far beyond oneself

Letting alone the so-called worship wars of our times, and jettisoning any historical connections related to liturgy/”services,” or checking off items on a list on Sunday mornings, or any other corruptions of biblical worship ideals, we see worship, pure and simple, in this text.  We see that an unconstrained person, when he observes the reality of Jesus, worships.

And that is a beautiful precedent that both instructs and compels.  Lord, may we.

~ ~ ~

Postscript

It worked out to honor my grandfather, Andy T. Ritchie Jr., by publishing my blogpost #1000 on this, the 104th anniversary of his birth.  (I even set the posting time as 19:09 CDT, the year of his birth, but this part is useless trivia.) 

Andy Thomas Ritchie, Jr., son of Andy T., Sr. and Fannie Mae Cobb Ritchie, was born and raised in the Nashville, Tenn., area.  He married Kathryn Delma Cullum in 1933; the pair had four children — Andy T. III, Edward, Bettye, and Joan.  I am #7 of 10 grandchildren, and there are 29 great-grandchildren.

Granddaddy taught music at David Lipscomb College and Bible and music at Harding College.  (Both later become universities.)  He was a concert singer who recorded an album in addition to his performing on stage and on radio.  He influenced thousands through his

• personal conversations and correspondence
• leadership of personal evangelism meetings and “lily pool” hymn sings on the Harding campus
• direction of the Harding Chorus for several years
• much-remembered classroom teaching (see here for an external mention)
• inimitable, compelling leadership of worship  in song, and preaching — in his own congregation, and in other states
• manner of living life

I think Granddaddy would have appreciated a good deal of what I’ve written on this blog to date, although certainly not all.  He himself wasn’t known for his writing as much as for his leadership in other veins, but he did publish articles in multiple periodicals and wrote a full-length book on worship.  I imagine that, were he alive today, he would also have expressed being inspired by John 9, and would have appreciated my exegetical efforts, along with the highlighting of the challenge of the (Jewish) status quo.  (Therein, certain goals of the Restoration Movement which influenced both of us are also highlighted.)  Granddaddy probably would have appreciated most the emphasis on the worship of God the Son, as seen in this compelling story.

Believe it or not, one of the more memorable aspects of Andy T. Ritchie, Jr., almost eluded mention until the fourth draft of this postscript.  He was severely sight-impaired for the last 20 years of his adult life, having suffered detached retinas related to diabetes, and later became legally blind.  This mention of his blindness, written after the main portion of this post, leads me to include, here, a prayer song I wrote for a family reunion some years ago.  Please take a moment to read at least the words of Lord, I Want To See.  (A sound file may be downloaded by clicking this link.)

Granddaddy entered the land of the eternally living and seeing in 1983.

Milestone musings (999b)

As major league baseball season gets fully underway, I think briefly of the greatest sport’s stats-consciousness.  There are stats, and meta-stats, and stats upon meta-stats.  This feature of baseball can at once be endearing and irritating — sort of like color-commentators.

Some of the stats are silly, like “first player ever wearing the number 40 to weigh 40 pounds more than he weighted in his rookie year, while stealing 40 bases in a season.”  Others log bona fide accomplishments, like “hitting for the cycle,” batting over .300 for ten seasons in a row, pitching a no-hitter, committing no errors in an entire season, or winning the Triple Crown (for leading a league in batting average, hits, HRs, and RBIs).  Another type of stat in baseball is the milestone — e.g., getting 3,000 hits, or 200 wins by pitchers.

Speaking of stats . . . as I prepare to touch my toe to the 1000-blogpost milestone, I take a moment.  A moment to think about the last five years — with 95% of the posts in the last four years, since the life-changing birth of our son.  I’ve probably spent more time than I should have on blogging, and yet there have been times that I would have dried up emotionally and spiritually without this outlet.  I’m thankful for it.

I think of the countless edits — even the compulsive error-correction, that no one will ever know of, sometimes accomplished long after the publication of a post.  I think of the handy WordPress app on my smartphone, allowing me to make minor edits and even write short posts there, if I choose.  I think of the posts shared with others — those that have drawn new e-acquaintances, those that have challenged or annoyed friends whose faces I know, and those (probably most!) that have not been read by all that many folks.  I think of the patient interest of my wife, who regularly reads and listens to so many thoughts from this blog.  By the way, I’ve recently updated my brief bio/profile; if you’re interested in that, go here.

I think of the main thrusts of these ‘blogged public writings.  Of course there have been other therapeutic pieces that never were posted or shared with anyone, and one post back there somewhere is password-protected, because I ended up wanting not to share my very intense thoughts that day.  (This is one reason I assigned the numbers 999a and 999b — because there’s actually one of the 1000 that no one can get to.)

Most of my writing has been in three areas of focus, to which I remain committed:

1.  Christian Reform & Restoration 

(categories:  American Restoration Movement (Stone-Campbell), Biblical (or abiblical doctrine), Assembly, Church tradition and practice (and the church values series), Voices, Clergy-laity system, Leadership, Christian living

Toward these worthy goals, I often challenge the status quo.  I do not always do this well, but I do it with persistent conviction.  I write about the church groups I visit for various reasons, and I write about the churches of my past.  I write about things I hear from others who have been weaned on other traditions.  I’m invigorated by writing about restoration of the ancient order.  I’m periodically intrigued, or intolerant, or even incensed, always inclined to think out loud independently . . . but I’m never infallible.

I write about doctrines that make sense, some that don’t make sense, and some that make partial sense.  I write about denominations, certainly including the one of my own heritage, but I’m more interested than ever in nondenominational Christianity.  I write about Calvinism and Romanism, which I consider involve many adulterations and  hyperbolic excesses, although there are vestiges of truth in many places.  Like my son here, I believe pretty much everything deserves scrutiny and challenge for the sake of getting a better handle on it . . . and I think truth always outlasts honest investigation.

Jedd at 3.8, with Grandmothers magnifying glass

And I write about Christian practice — both in the assembly and out.  What Christian groups do when they are together can be the source of humor, inspiration, and frustration.  The “Christian living” category deals some in repentant hindsight, in encouragement of purposeful living, and in general musings about trying to follow along as a disciple of Jesus.

2.  Worship and the Assembly

(categories:  Worship, Monday music, Hymns & church music, prayer)

In support of the everlasting aspirations of worship, I have offered, for instance, the Monday Music quasi-series:  to date, 67 entries in this series, but approximately half of the total output here has had some relationship to worship, prayer, and/or the assembly of  Christians.  (Historically, aspects of both “worship” and “assembly” have been termed “the service.”  As I have written multiple times, I earnestly believe the label “service” is a hindering misnomer, when speaking of any of these things:  private or public worship, the Christian assembly or gathering, or even “liturgy.”)

I’ve written less about the deeper concepts of worship than I would have expected, and I think this avoidance stems from having personally dwelt in worship less than in several other phases of life.  Prayer has received only a modicum of focus, too; this is probably directly related to the fact that I often find prayer to be an inertia-stymied task.

3.  Biblical Studies

(categories:  Scripture [and all its book-level subcategories])

I have devoted much time to transcribing notes from group studies I have prepared, and to sharing notes from respected teachers and commentators.  I have also focused largely on exegesis.  It was no accident that one of the final posts leading up to #1000 was on exegesis.  I believe that scripture-grounded Christianity is the only valid kind of Christianity — not for the purpose of worshiping  the Bible, of course.  The Bible is not an end itself, but in studying the ancient, well-attested writings, one uncovers more of God’s intent for the early Christian community.  I grew up in a Bible-oriented congregation, and all but one church I’ve ever been a part of has paid serious attention to the scriptures on some level . . . but I now find most of the “Bible study” of my past to have been lacking in depth.  I advocate deeper, more intentional study, and I want to be both contextually responsible and devoted in my approach to biblical documents.

Yes, there are other areas I’ve dealt in besides the above three — e.g., government and Christianity, and various rants about things like cell phone laws and the misplaced apostrophes of the world.  I do have other interests and once even misused some summer hours devising a tongue-in-cheek “Shelter” for all my pet peeves.  But the things that are most important to me have gotten the most attention.  I like to call the important-stuff umbrella “Things of the Lord” or “Kingdom Matters.”  Not only my blog categories and tags, but also my thoughts and my filing systems (although not my consistent life patterns) generally reflect this priority.

God helping me, I will continue to 1) challenge the ways humans have messed up God’s intent for the Christian Way.  And I will continue to 2) pursue the One God and His true worship.  And I will continue to 3) study the scriptures seriously.

Special note:  in the next post, public post #1000, I’m going to attempt to bring these three, overarching topical areas together in one, and then I’m going to take somewhat of a break.  Regular readers will hear from me less often; for a while, any bloggings will probably be either historical re-diggings or brief thoughts.

In praise of exegesis (999a)

If you’ve got a detail in a score that’s hard to hear, that’s not an excuse for not hearing it!

- Ken Ward, The Bruckner Journal, Vol. 12, No. 1 (March 2008), p. 41

Spoken with reference to complex musical texts (a/k/a “scores”), the above is also easily applicable to investigating the riches of scriptural texts.

[This is blogpost #999a.  (#999b has now been inserted, but that's a dull story.)  As I write, I have a rough idea of what #1000 will be, and then I'm going to take a break, probably posting some more "voices" from the past, things I read, etc. -- but not doing much new, original writing for a while.  I have loose plans for some beginning to write three different series, but no one will see those for weeks or maybe months.]

Anyway, it seemed appropriate that this near-last (for a while) post be on biblical exegesis — a topic close to my head and heart.  This is no primer on exegesis; I wouldn’t be able to write one if I tried.  It is merely intended to 1) motivate by highlighting the importance of the topic, and 2) offer a few particulars.

I believe that Christians should be consistently engaged in seriously investigating — and submitting to — scripture texts.  Toward that end, to state a sort of conceptual baseline:  we may not elevate any scripture text out of its historical and literary contexts, in order to respect a specific religious tradition or an individual interpretation.  Neither may we discard a text for those reasons or any others.  (The problem comes not so much in the positing or the believing or the dreaming, but in the doing.)

I suppose that, given my book-oriented Christian upbringing, I ought to feel I’ve studied scripture more than most.  But the more I come to understand the exegetical mindset and mode, the less I think I’ve actually studied scripture exegetically in the past.

Exegesis is not a particularly “religious” word but has perhaps come to be associated more with the serious study and interpretation of biblical texts than other types of texts.  Exegesis is not hermeneutics, exactly, but the two are related.  Exegesis is inextricably associated with the enterprise of digging into a specific text, and using available means to understand that text on its own terms.

One way of envisioning this type of goal is articulated by Dr. Greg Fay in his forthcoming two-volume series on the Bible (and here, I’ve taken a couple liberties with his statement):

The challenge is to stop interrupting God when He’s speaking to us — digesting scripture fully, even holistically, in its historical, literary, and sometimes very personal contexts, as if we were present in the defining moments of God’s first conversations with his people.

One way of “interrupting God” is pasting a “verse” (yanked from here or there) on top of another “verse” that comes from a completely different context.  Or, as Gary Collier’s imagery has it, we get things mixed up when we put a bunch of different text-ingredients into a blender and press “puree.”  If on the other hand we get into a single text and attempt to understand what it is about, we stand to gain immeasurably.  We may use various ways and means, including reading and re-reading the text itself, reading multiple Bible versions in English, delving into the original languages, investigating the cultural/historical background in which the text was written, highlighting recurring words, analyzing the structure of the text, reading multiple commentaries, and more.  (A sample listing of some possible exegetical tools may be found here, and a portal to many others, in the red section of this page.  A Christian college offers a master’s-level concentration in Biblical Exegesis; oh, that this were a required concentration for the majority of those training for jobs in official Christian capacities.)

When you think of exegesis, you might think “Exodus,” when the people came out of Egypt. The literal roots of the word “exegesis” have to do with being 1) guided or led 2) out of something.  So many people seem to want to read onto or into (eisegeting) instead of drawing a well-founded interpretation out of (exegeting) a text.  This trend is as disconcerting from a broad perspective as it is unhelpful to the individual who wants to continue in the way of discipleship.  Initially, at least, exegetical study is the way to go.  It does not preclude a more subjective, devotional approach, but some solely devotional approaches can be wispy and not true to the text.  It can be very exciting to dig into the original texts more intentionally, peering over the obscurant mountain built by centuries of ignorance and decades of Christian marketing.

Effort is required in digging into texts, extracting their riches.  But as the writer said in relation to a musical score, having to expend some effort for the reward is no excuse for not expending said effort.  The details can be incredibly illuminating!

One aspect of digging into some texts involves, conveniently enough, digging!  (Excavating and exploring uncharted territory may add to the imagery here.)  Biblical archaeology (which is a bit of a clumsy term that refers to excavating sites of biblical significance, not to digging into the Bible itself) can be an enticing field, and I recently had opportunity to hear Dr. John Monson in an insightful (online) lecture on the value of “Physical Theology.”  I’d like to offer the following quotes as appetite-whetters, hoping you’ll click the link below when you have time to listen to a lecture online.

Increasingly, the academy and the church are propelled by the prevailing intellectual trends of our time.  Many scholars and theologians discount such concepts as reliable history and purposeful text, while the community of faith is often complacent toward biblical context as the Bible’s central role continues to decline.

The urgent quest for personal religious experience often displaces Scripture, not to mention the archaeological and linguistic material that can elucidate and enliven the biblical text.  It is a supreme irony that the Bible’s original context is often dismissed or discounted by the academy and the church precisely at the moment that corroborative evidence abounds like never before.  – Dr. John Monson, lecture, “Physical Theology: The Bible in its Land, Time and Culture,” Feb. 11, 2012, Lanier Theological Library lecture series (web-housed recording accessed 3/13/13)

Forward and backward thinking (998) — jointly written

I’m happy today that the latter half of this post was written by a guest writer I’m very close to — Karly Rose Casey.

I recently spent more than an hour watching a baseball World Series game that was played more than 30 years ago.  I doubt I watched that game back when it was actually played, but in a strange way, it was more enjoyable for me than today’s games, because that game was played in my time — an era in which I related more to to pro phase of the greatest game ever invented.¹

In some areas of life, looking backward nostalgically is pleasurable.  In other areas, looking forward seems more appealing.  As you consider the first two areas below, realize that they are short sections that will be of most interest to musician-readers.  If you’re not interested in those, skip right ahead to the section my wife wrote!

Composers   Take Brahms and Wagner as examples.  Now, I pretty much detest the thought of Richard Wagner, not being an opera fan, and not being a fan of overblown megalomaniacs, either.  But I can admire his having looked ahead, creating newness within a larger art form.  I also admire Brahms, who was quite the backward thinker in terms of structure, form, and genre — but who infused so many of his works with new expressiveness.  Many other composers of art music can be analyzed in these terms:

Palestrina was probably mostly a backward-thinker.  

Bach, as much as I hate to admit it, was probably more a forward-thinker.  

Mozart and Haydn seem to have dwelt more in their present than in the future.

Dvorak and Mendelssohn seemed mostly content in past structures, infusing works with beauty that fit frameworks then current, or recently past.

Liszt did some things with the past while decidedly moving forward.

Debussy and Schönberg thought ahead (the former with more success than the latter!).

Instrumental music structures in academia today  In another area of musical life — the one in which I find my vocation — score study and rehearsal planning method “templates” are fairly standard.  Most of us approach daily life in ensembles in the same vein:  more or less, we study a score in certain ways, we prepare certain sections for the next rehearsal, and we lead our ensembles.  In contrast to this standard model comes the creative thinking of Carolyn Barber, Director of Bands at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln.  It’s outside my scope here to provide any of Barber’s details; suffice it to say that she is a forward thinker and an articulate, compelling leader.  She inspires many by looking ahead methodologically and musically.

Church values and practices.  Ever notice that some churches seem to delight in being backward, while others seem to thrill to being ahead of the curve?  The following thoughts on the church disparity are my wife’s.  I appreciate her having gotten out of her comfort zone to write them, and I am delighted to post them here.

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I like antiques.  The attraction to things of times past is somehow ingrained in me.  I find value and some bits of wisdom in the way things used to be.  Butter churns and wash boards are intriguing.  However, I’ll keep my washing machine and I’ll make butter in the blender in 40 seconds if I want to.

What about antique church?  We visited a conservative² Mennonite church this past Sunday.  Men and women sit on opposite sides, the women all wear head coverings (the majority are “Amish style”), the men all in white shirts and dark suits.  The sermon focused on the value of the printed page which, to give the guy a bit of credit, was an interestingly unusual topic.  His push to the congregation was to get each member to pass out 50 tracts a week.  His stats told him that if every one of the 60+ members would meet the quota, that there would be 2,000 responses in a year.  *sigh*  Really???

Apparently, he/they are completely unaware of what it takes to reach people in the real world in the year 2013.  I appreciate their simplicity, their sincerity, their steadfastness … but they’re like antiques.  I dare you to tell any random woman that using a washboard instead of the modern washing machine is better because its simpler!  OK, that’s not equal to differences in religion, but you get the point.

Back up two weeks.  We were in the gathering at The Journey church.  They have electric guitars, people in jeans, and a coffee bar.  Do they hand out tracts?  No way.  But people are flocking to them.

Why?…

Because they’re reinventing the way we “do” church so that people who don’t know Jesus will come looking . . . without having to worry about not “fitting in.”  Try that in a church that requires head coverings.

What’s more important…  That the already-Christians are cozy in their routines? Or that people who don’t know Jesus find him?  (There’s only one correct answer.  Choose wisely.)

Now, it’s not impossible for people to come to know (or re-meet) the Savior in a “normal church”, but the rate at which that is happening compared to what The Journey is getting is pretty dramatic.

“Meet people where they are” is cliché.  But, as much as I shy away from it, it applies here.  A guy with tattoos and spikey hair isn’t going to walk into a conservative Mennonite church looking for salvation.  He isn’t.  Nor is a single mom with two kids and a live-in boyfriend.  It’s not going to happen.  As a matter of fact, neither is likely to walk into ANY church building, because it’s uncomfortable.  They feel inadequate.  And/or they don’t see the need … maybe they think they’re doing “fine” as they are.

People need Jesus.  If they will come to a place where the preacher guy wears jeans and a bright plaid shirt, great; I’m all for it.  Free coffee?  Even better.  Unconventional?  A bit.  And the next generation is depending on it.

- Karly Casey

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¹ By the way, my childhood baseball hero’s birthday was two days ago, but I’m not even identifying him here, because he’s proven himself so unworthy of any more attention in this life that I don’t want to be the one to give him any more!

² “Conservative Mennonite” might also be known as “black bumper Mennonite,” as opposed to “color TV Mennonite” on the one side of the spectrum, and “Amish” on the other.

Prefixes and Suffixes (997)

Sometimes, the things we add to the beginnings and ends of things appear superfluous.

Words

Certain English words tend to take on unnecessary prefixes.  Consider the plight of “regardless” and “flammable,” which in some circles seem to have lost their identity, becoming bloated and now irretrievably linked with superfluous prefixes (“irregardless” and “inflammable”).

Church Practices

In countless churches, a man designated to preach and/or shepherd (plus, he usually also tends to a multitude of administrative affairs) frequently has his first name prefixed by some honorific title.  ”Pastor Jim” and “Brother Henry” are two examples of this superfluous prefixing.

Also, suffixes are heard in church prayers.  For example:

• “in Your name” (without much real biblical example)
• “in Jesus’ name” (as a thoughtless incantation instead of a spiritually intercessory request)
• “amen” (which doesn’t seem to me to be patternistically enjoined for all time)

The animal kingdom — always something interesting there

A quick glance at the character below might make you go, “Huh?  A brown donkey.  Right.  Why did he put that in there?’  But look more carefully.  It’s a “zedonk” (or zonkey, a type of zebroid) I saw in recent travels, humbly exhibiting an almost bizarre, unnecessary “suffix” (or prefix, I suppose, if one got kicked by it — but it was pretty docile)!

Israel, Syria, and the Christian nation (996)

A long-lived misunderstanding has been perpetuated regarding the nature of 1) biblical Israel and 2) the new “Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16).  While there surely remains some gray area in this topical arena, it is my intent in this brief post to assert the notion that that modern political entity of Israel has no special place in God’s plan.

[First, as an aside, I'm offering two paragraphs of self-disclosure, since I expect that a few readers will click in based on the blog title and tags, without having previously seen what I write about.  I am a seriously committed Christian. That does not, by any stretch, mean that I should be associated with mainstream evangelicalism, the Christian Right, or mainline Protestantism ... and certainly not with Roman Catholicism (which in my view is thoughtlessly, perturbingly associated inextricably with Christianity; it comprises a system quite distinct from the one described in the New Covenant writings).  While I have close ties to the first "ism," I prefer non-franchise Christian gatherings, I manifest a restorative interest in the unadulterated message of historically attested Christian scripture, and I gravitate toward simpler expressions of church and Christian discipleship in general.

I am always hoping to draw otherwise disinterested readers who would see something new and/or worthwhile in Christianity; my attention-getting inclusion of Syria in the title for this essay was probably a bit disingenuous.  The Inquisitions and Popes and Phelpses and Bakkers and Mormons and so-called Jehovah's Witnesses of the ostensibly Christian world have deeply -- and very publicly -- harmed what could have been a more solid reputation, and I want to do what I can, in my small corner, to give another perspective to stereotypes.  Anyway, my only specific thought related to Syria is that Damascus is inside it, and some important events occurred near that city, approximately in the years 34 and 37 A.D.  See this post on "the birth of Christianity" as chronologized by Paul Barnett.  Now, for the substance of this post. . . .]  

I am only moderately politically aware, but it seems to me that Israel has figured far too prominently in the political policies of the Western world.  I suspect that multiplied attention given to Israel has related, in part, to imputed guilt over such major happenings as the Nazi Holocaust.  I find the major political parties in the US to be needlessly divergent on Israel; these divisions firmly place most Christian interests on the right; and most liberal, inclusive interests (i.e., inclusive of other religious traditions), on the left.  I don’t claim any insight related to foreign policy, but I figure Israel should matter no more than any other nation.  The fact that it does seem to matter more, I presume, is related to religion and maybe history, more than to economy or politics.  (If you’re a Christian Rightist reading this, and I’m ticking you off right about now, stop to think about why you clicked in to this post but ignored those on biblical exegesis or worship or matters related to church.)

Israel is now merely a political entity in God’s eyes, no longer constituting the “chosen people.”  This assertion, if accepted by Christians far and wide, ought to lead to less rancor about Israel and Syria, Israel and Jordan, Israel and Iran, Israel and the Gaza Strip, and what-have-you.  Less rancor, and, dare I say it, more hands off.

Considering NT references to Israel in the past, I had thought it was obvious that the expression “Israel of God” in Galatians 6:16 (also see Romans 9:6) had nothing to do with the old Israel, but I now think that I was biased and that there could be a double entendre here.  Could the expression refer jointly to these groups?

1. those Gentile believers who “line up” (see Gk. stoichesousin) in thinking that circumcision is immaterial
   
2. the Jewish believers, i.e., if they are really of God in following promise, Spirit, and the Christian New Covenant

In any event, it is clear in Galatians that the Old (Hagar, Mt. Sinai and law, flesh, child-guide, etc.) is painted negatively, so it makes little sense to read “Israel of God” in 6:16 as referring to theocratic Israel/Jews, alone, in a positive sense.  This old-is-bad sense may not be as fully present in other documents, but in Galatians, it is.

Portions of Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapters 9 to 11, are problematic for those of us who believe that, as of the crucifixion and shortly after, the Jews were no longer considered favorably by God on the basis of their Jewishness.  Moreover, even the most careful and well informed New Testament scholars find different emphases in the different documents that make up our New Testament canon.  For instance, Luke’s writings in his gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles are seen by some to emphasize more of the Jewish connections than most of Paul’s letters.  On this point, please consider this note by by Dr. Robert Wall in his paper, “Israel and the Gentile Mission in Acts and Paul:  a Canonical Approach”:

There is a sense in which the deeper logic of a theology of Acts differs from that of the Pauline corpus, although this may be one result of different literary genre.  An historical narrative will tend to privilege the fact of experience as the setting for occasion of the logical reflection, even as Pauline literature tends to privilege core theological convictions as the setting for religious experience.

Here, Wall suggests that Luke’s (inspired) narrative purposes naturally deal with the Jewish lineage.  I might take that a step further, perhaps, by asserting that Paul’s writings on this subject (and most subjects) constituted bona fide theologies more than Luke’s.  In other words, what we have in Paul’s letters (e.g., Romans, Galatians) was more of an intentional, watershed articulation of the new status quo, whereas Luke’s literary purpose was in this respect more narrow, focused on historically connected narrative of God’s work — as it progressed from Jerusalem to the rest of the world.  Inasmuch as Luke was concerned with this progression, it would be natural to build more on Jewish foundations.

As of the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, ca. 33 A.D., the new scene is one in which “Israel of God” equals “people of God according to the New Covenant.”  The current people of God are those who are in Christ, regardless of ethnic background or (former) Jewish status.

I share with most evangelical Christians an inclination to resist unfounded, pluralistic ways that affirm other faith-pathways that supposedly lead to the one God.¹  Consisting largely of evangelical Christians, the “Religious Right” tends to be associated with undying support for political Israel today, yet that very political (military, even?!) support constitutes pluralism, in that it allows room for non-Christians.  To be inclusive of Israel today is, curiously, the more liberal position — a fact that may annoy some of my politically conservative friends.  :-)

I don’t believe Hinduism or Taoism or any other, non-Christian faith system has the answers.¹  I acknowledge a particularly deep-seated fear of Islam, and this fear stems not only from fear of Muslim extremists.  Whatever my fears or yours, these are human and are limited by time.  The Christian Right needs to realize, too, that being in Christ far transcends anything that may or may not happen with world religions and political boundaries in the 21st century.  All these things will pass.

When Jesus said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s,” He was saying that His followers should pay taxes submissively; He wasn’t expounding the benefits of wholesale purchase of a political system.

When Peter re-appropriated Exodus and spoke of the “holy nation,” the “people for God’s own possession,” he wrote of Christians, not of the U.S. or Israel.

When Paul advised Timothy singularly to please the one who enlisted him, Timothy was involved in Christian Kingdom, not in a military or political cause.

Christians who seriously enlist on the side of Jesus and His kingdom will be much less concerned with current, geopolitical Israel than with being in Christ.

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¹Not believing Hindus and Buddhists, etc., will end up with God eternally doesn’t mean I consign all non-Christians to hell.  God is judge, and I suspect that His grace will include lots of ignorant and erring ones — or else we’d all be damned.  I do believe the (bona fide) Christian faith is singular and should be adhered to by all who have the opportunity.

MWM: a future filled with hope (995)

If you were looking for something about President Obama or the new U.S. budget or same-sex marriage (or healthcare reform, or some hopeless initiative to label GMOs in our food, or Korea, or anything related to the current geopolitical situation to get upset about [or to agree with]), you won’t find it here.  As far as I’m concerned, there can be no transcendent, ultimate hope in a political nation.

Rather, we look to the second coming of Jesus . . . no, we long for that parousia.  We place our firm hope — and this is no wispy wish! — in the future event, knowing by faith that all present joys will be magnified beyond belief, and all temporary struggles will be erased.

Aside:  incidentally, one of the two or three primary “second coming” texts, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, was probably not intended as a focus of Paul’s message.  It is a highly significant text, and not to be ignored, but neither does it constitute the main thrust of a letter that deals more in relationship and in walking/living Christianly.

So, what will the first day be like — that first “day” after Jesus’ return?  (Days may not exist, as such, but they might not have existed during the creation of the world, either.)  What might we imagine in terms of our own presence in that moment of all moments, that event to end all earthly events?  How will it be for me?  I have no idea, really, but I know, by faith, that my spirit’s awareness of God will eclipse all else.

I shared words from this favored song in the past and would like to do so again now, more completely and with commentary:

“Still, Still With Thee” (Harriet B. Stowe)

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
 
Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
 
As in the dawning o’er the waveless ocean
The image of the morning star doth rest,
So in the stillness Thou beholdest only
Thine image in the waters of my breast.
 
When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
Sweet the repose beneath the wings o’ershading,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.
 
So shall it be at last, in that bright morning,
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee;
O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee.

One and Two:  The first two stanzas, unified, poetically express the encounter of the eternal in terms of a resplendent, earthly daybreak.  All the beauties of the dawning of a new day while in a natural surroundings are, however, eclipsed by the breathless adoration of our stunningly brilliant God.

Three:  I didn’t previously know this stanza.  Its message is a simpler, more confined, yet remarkably redemptive, one:  The saved person is not even “seen” by God as himself … no, because of having put on Jesus Christ, what the holy, exacting God does see is the image of the spotless Lamb.  If this soteriological truth were not present, all the poetic beauty in the world could not resolve the need for atonement, and this salvation-less situation would require our spiritual death to an eternal existence with God.

Four:  as death appears imminent, and even potentially in the actual experience of dying, the believing soul casts his eyes in faith toward God.  As a foreshadowing of the final rest, for the human who experiences the Lord’s protective peace, a certain rest may come.  Yet a humanly experienced peace is neither satisfying nor absolute.  The waking — the arising to a consciousness of a Presence like no other — this is the completion.

Five:  there is no more lofty, no more finally fulfilling thought than to be with God forever.  Come, Lord Jesus, and take Your bride home.

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[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

From Jesus to Paul (994)

I remain struck by the closeness in time between the historical Jesus and the earliest evidence about him.

Even for the important people like emperors the lead time tended to be much longer.  It is likely that fifty years elapsed before Tacitus wrote his account of Nero’s assault. . . .

Paul R. Barnett, The Birth of Christianity, 21

Caveat lector:  This is a post about the dating of events, and about historically attested evidence.  It is “academic,” but it is far from academic in its ramifications.  It takes determination to work through the details in this post.  If you’re not interested in details, just re-read the quotes above, and skip to the paragraph near the bottom with the bold sentence in it.

I’ve been impressed with Paul Barnett’s 1st-century chronologies that grew out of his ardent study of Christian origins.  I borrowed Barnett’s book from my dad’s shelf once and, convinced of its value, promptly bought a used copy myself.  From that volume come these chronological notes.

Barnett suggests the following in his investigation of the timeline.  First, Acts firmly fixes two dates (details in Barnett, p. 24-25) within world history:

1. A.D. 29 (15th year of reign of Tiberius):  initial prophesying of John the Immerser¹
2. A.D. 50:  Paul’s arrival in Corinth

(1) above also fixes A.D. 29 as the earliest possible year for the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  But in what year is the endpoint for Jesus’s life — the year of the crucifixion?  (This answer will also be the earliest possible year for Saul’s conversion.)

Astronomical considerations relating to Passover have resulted in only two generally accepted possibilities for the last year of Jesus’ life on earth:  A.D. 30 or 33.  I don’t know of anyone who would hold that Jesus’ ministry proper started in 29 and was completed in 30, i.e., was only one year in duration.  Rather, the duration of the recorded ministry is much more rationally set at 3-4 years, starting in ca. 29.  So, the crucifixion and ascension must have been in 33.

Now, about Paul’s conversion … what happened after Damascus Road for Paul, and when?  Both Paul and Luke, whom Barnett finds to be “independent authorities” (i.e., neither copied from the other), have the same sequence for Paul’s life, albeit with less detail in Luke’s accounting (this info from p. 18):

Paul’s sequence (Galatians)	Luke’s sequence (Acts)
P. attempted to destroy God’s church	P. ravaged church in Jerusalem
God revealed His Son to Paul	“light from heaven … voice”
Damascus	Damascus
Arabia
Damascus
Jerusalem	Jerusalem
Syria-Cilicia	Tarsus
[Antioch]	Antioch
Jerusalem	Jerusalem

• For sake of discussion, let’s set Paul’s conversion at 34.  (The earliest it could have been would be 33, the same year of the crucifixion.)
• Gal. 1:18 has Paul’s return to Jerusalem 3 years after the Damascus call.  (The Damascus-Arabia-Damascus phase would then be a total of 3 years.)  The earliest possible date for Paul re-entering Jerusalem is 36, but let’s say it was 37 (arithmetic:  34+3=37).
• Gal. 2:1 has another return to Jerusalem 14 years “after.”
• Scholars differ on whether the 14 incorporates the prior 3 or not.  See * below.
• Details of Paul’s flight from Damascus (2 Cor. 11:32-33) follow:
  • The escape immediately precedes Paul’s first return to Jerusalem, which in turn was at least three years after his conversion.
  • The king was the Nabatean ruler Aretas IV, who died in A.D. 40.
  • The earliest plausible date for the first return to Jerusalem is 37, and the latest possible date is 40 (the year of Aretas’s death).

Again, then:  Paul’s conversion and call would have been between 34 and 37, in order to have the first return to Jerusalem between 37 and 40.

* Now, looking back to the third bullet above . . . if Paul’s second return to Jerusalem were 14 years after his first return, the arithmetic becomes 34+3+14, which adds up to the year 51, which is a year later than Acts has Paul arriving in Corinth.  Impossible.  (Backstep for a minute.  We could consider that Paul could have been converted as early as 33, the same year of Jesus’ crucifixion, and not 34.  The math here would then be 33+3+14=50 for the year of the 2nd return to Jerusalem and the arrival in Corinith.  But, the likelihood that the two arrivals occurred in the same year seems unlikely or even impossible.)  Whether Paul was converted in 33 or 34, the preferable option for dating his second return to Jerusalem is 14 years after the crucifixion, leaving the math at 34+14=48.  The possible time window between Jerusalem and Corinth would therefore have been approximately two years.  In other words, this timetable works; Paul would have arrived at Corinth approximately 2 years a) after visiting Jerusalem the second time, and b) after a mission to Cyprus and southern Galatia.

Aside:  if Paul were converted as late as the year 35, the first return to Jerusalem could have been in 38, and then the second return in 49 (14 years after 35).  It is conceivable, but less likely, that Paul would come to Jerusalem in 49, and make it to Corinth by the next year.

The net effect of Barnett’s reasoning is a sort of chronological “crushing backward”:   the most plausible time frame suggests that key events of Paul’s life occurred a) earlier than is sometimes thought, and b) closer to one another.

Barnett asserts, “On the hypothesis that the crucifixion occurred in 33 we conclude that Saul the Pharisee was converted about a year later, in 34, and that he fled from Damascus to Jerusalem in 38 (Gal. 1:18)” (PB … or, possibly in 37  -bc).  The import of this hypothesis is that Paul was then quite an early convert, having come to faith in Jesus about a year after His ascension.

Barnett again:  “The ramifications are considerable.  Paul the early convert is chronologically the first (extant) Christian theological writer, and his christology is as advanced and developed as any. . . .”  “… The christology he articulates was formulated within that brief span between the crucifixion of Jesus and the conversion of Paul.” (cf. Gal. 1:11-12,17)  (PB, p. 26).  In other words, Jesus’ identity as Messiah was already being set forth by 34, the likely year of Paul’s conversion.  Paul then continued said expounding in his missionary preaching, documented to have begun by 37, after the first return to Jerusalem.  (Of course, any preaching in Damascus [see Gal. 1:17 and Acts 9:22] and Arabia would also have been presenting Jesus as Christ, but we have no canonical documents that offer any further details of Paul’s 3 earliest years.)

An approximate, resultant timeline is as follows:

1. 29:  ministries of John the Immerser and Jesus of Nazareth begin
2. 33:  Jesus crucified
3. 34:  Saul converted
4. 34-37:  Saul-Paul’s Damascus-Arabia-Damascus phase
5. 37-38:  Saul-Paul escapes from Damascus and returns to Jerusalem [37-48:  various churches established]
6. 48:  Saul returns to Jerusalem
7. 48-49:  letter to Galatians
8. 48-49:  visit to Thessalonika
9. 49-50:  1st letter to Thessalonians
10. 50-51:  visit to Corinth

The evidence points solidly to a firm christology established very soon after Jesus’ death.  Incidentally, scholars differ on which was written first — the letter to Galatia or the first one to Thessalonika, but Barnett tends to think Galatians was written ca. 48-49, just prior to Paul’s visit to Thessalonika in ca. 49.  Whether 1 Thessalonians or Galatians was penned first, it is difficult for any rational mind to deny that

• in the years immediately following his historically attested life, Jesus was proclaimed as Messiah/Christ
• within five years of Jesus’ crucifixion, the people of the nearer of the two Antiochs labeled the disciples as a movement

Christian faith is attested historically and undergirded solidly.

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¹ In these confused days, for sake of clarity, “John the Baptist” is best rendered “John the Immerser.”

Let us often be reminded that “baptize” did not originally suggest anything other than dipping/submerging/immersing.  Pretty much every language scholar agrees that that is what the word “baptizo” means.  What they differ on is whether humans in later centuries have the right to alter the “mode” to include pouring or sprinkling.  I assert that the antecedent word dictates the mode — leaving no safety for adjustments based on convenience.  Further, even if the word “baptizo” had a range of meanings that included sprinkling, the symbolism of identifying with Jesus’ burial and resurrection is far too strong to accede to a method other than immersion.

Voices: yeah … no (993)

The problems with the clergy-laity system are a) centuries old and b) pandemic.  Most of my disputes with this system run pretty deep and are long-lived,¹ but this particular rant is rather shallow.

Having recently visited a church I’d been a member of years ago, in which one preacher had filled the pulpit for about 50 years, I suppose it was inevitable that, soon after, I saw two articles about other, way-too-long-term preachers.  (These things seem to come in multiples.)  First, the man I once knew.  Then, another octogenarian, celebrating 50 years with the same church.  And then a feature article about a guy who was with one church more than a quarter-century and with another church in the same city for 10 years.

This man is surely a wonderful man, with a good heart and a love for God.

But he is quoted as having said … and, you know, everything has the potential for being quoted out of context … but, get this:

Church growth must begin with the preacher.

Yeah . . . NO.

Oh, my goodness. . . .

First off, the term “church growth” is loaded, and I don’t accept its chock-full package as entirely worthy of discussion.  Sure, the growing of churches is likely a good thing — at least potentially so, for some churches grow merely in an opposite reaction to the decline of other churches, which fact makes the growth rather moot.  Numerical growth in terms of overall congregational “membership,” then, may be good but also may be neutral.  Spiritual growth is not quantifiable.  In my experience, “church growth ‘experts’ ” focus almost exclusively on quantifiable data.

Even if one accepts (or ignores as loaded) the term “church growth,” the notion that “growth much begin with the preacher” is ludicrous on at least two levels.

1. First, the presence of a preacher is required by no biblical text that I know of, and this fact negates the “must.”
2. Moreover, I would assert that if either spiritual or numerical growth is preacher-driven, it is growth that is not going to last. 

Preachers, of course you should keep growing and not become stagnant.  (This self-evident truth may get at the speaker’s intent more than the ripped-from-context quote.)  My rant here is in no way intended to ignore the human tendency to become stale.  I have had good models in staying current in one’s discipline, including my grad advisor Ken Singleton, who, for instance, annually updates his repertoire list with new, good music, refusing to do anything but grow.  Preachers should do similar things, studying new books and documents and Greek and methods, etc.  But really, preachers, don’t be deceived into thinking that you should function as the center of things.

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P.S. to the Christian Chronicle:  I chose not to read this article in depth.  It’s a matter of time and priorities for me.  But let’s think about the big, bold quotation at the top of the page for a moment.  Couldn’t you have chosen a better seven-word quote to pull out for highlighting?  Surely there were better, more on-target things that he said!  :-)

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¹ Grandmother Kathryn Ritchie (1909-1988) taught me that “long-lived” was originally pronounced with a long “i,” as in “dive.”  I have trouble saying it that way now, because everyone thinks it’s wrong.  Often, taking the less popular way ends up being right, right?

Expected answers (992)

As I begin this essay, I’m watching a master at work.

At the performance, two days later

He is a musically gifted conductor with a long-developed, international reputation, and an artist I’ve had the honor of working with in more than one symposium.  He, like all the rest of us mortals, has a pedagogical crutch/quirk or three.  The one I’m thinking of hasn’t hampered him much, but I still notice it:  he has the habit of asking a very specific type of closed-end question.  He just queried, for instance, “Trombones, at D, I need a little bit of what?”  The “what” is a blank he’s ostensibly asking for help with, but there is only one right answer, and everyone in the room knows it.  As I said, this little teaching crutch works fine for this master conductor, but it’s a minor irritant for folks like me who dislike feeling like a blind sheep,¹ so I resist it.

I’m more bothered, though, by expected-answer word formulas (incantations?) that play a part in so many churches — of a) the mainline protestant, b) the more evangelically oriented, and c) the Roman Catholic varieties.  If a responsive reading or some such is specified thoughtfully and theologically soundly, it’s not so bad (although rarely truly inspiring for me).  What I react more negatively to is these:

1. “The Word of the Lord” ==> “Thanks be to God”
2. “God is good” ==> “all the time” // “All the time” ==> “God is good”

Taking those in reverse order:  I definitely do affirm that God is good all the time; I just don’t care to parrot that truth with a covey of other parrots.

And, regarding the first incantation, I might or might not believe that what was just read in church constituted “the word of the Lord” more than “the word of us.”  If I perceive it to be more employed as our word than as the Lord’s, I’m hard-pressed to recite “Thanks be to God” with the same enthusiasm.  Why my negative cast here?  Because the “thanks be to God” utterance, at worst, could be tantamount to shading the light around God’s throne by highlighting some human misappropriation.  In other words, I want to be sure that it’s truly God’s voice speaking, as opposed to some stilted, misapplied, or irrelevant phrase masquerading as God’s word.

So, whose word was it?  I suppose there’s no solid answer, because communication can be complex, especially when there are many people in a room.  Determining whose word it has just been may involve

• consideration of the reason(s) the particular passage was selected (be careful not to be too suspicious … and also be careful not to be too gullible!)
• awareness of the passage’s literary and/or historical context
• assessment of the relative scriptural literacy and spiritual maturity of the group

(Generally, the more literate and mature the perspective, the more a passage may legitimately be separated from its context without misunderstanding.  The more developed the group, the greater the possibility that the passage might be well applied even when not heard in its context.)

Even if scripture — of which I hold a very high view — is used well, I retract from the call for expected answers.  I simply don’t prefer them.  They don’t thrill my soul.  They don’t ignite my passion or inspire me to worship more richly or to live more devotedly.  Those of you who are more trusting by nature, and more captivated more by large-group dynamics may naturally feel otherwise, but I offer these critical, introverted thoughts to help round out your thinking.

And now, with thanks for their existence and acknowledgement that their imperfections are minor, back to music and masters that do thrill my soul. . . .

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¹ Feeling like a blind, helpless sheep — as though I have no initiative or insight in myself —  is to be desired and avowed when Jesus is the Shepherd.  Since I repudiate the notion of apostolic/papal succession (!), though, having a “pastor” ask this kind of thing of me is far less appealing.

Voices: sure, elders can meet, but … (991)

Editor, Christian Chronicle
Oklahoma City, OK 73136-1100

To the Editor:

I appreciate the intent of the article in the July issue entitled “Principles for Conducting Elders’ Meetings.”  Many good thoughts were expressed — the need for proper, kind-spirited conduct among brothers (particularly elders) and encouragement to focus on spiritual shepherding rather than wasting time on trivialities, to name two. It was well said, too, that an elder is not a tyrant, nor an arbitrary dictator.

I do question, however, the basic assumption of the article:  though communication about certain matters is often needed and appropriate, the human invention called the “elders’ meeting” has often been misused — it is a servant-become-master.

Are there not shepherds who can and will lead and guide by powerful, kind, consistent, godly example rather than through a means (the meeting) by which they actually function more as behind-closed-doors directors?  Must the local Elders make decisions in order to carry out their God-intended roles?  Should they?

There was no “exclusion of the eldership” clause in Jesus’ directive not to lord it over each other. In other words, elders have no privilege (or curse!) of being masters over other brothers and sisters simply because of their function. (Note the absence of the term “position.”) I find pitifully little implication that in the first century there was any collective functioning of elders. Yet we have created the word “eldership” and have assumed that operation should be corporate rather than individual. Just some food for thought…

Sincerely and for Him,

Brian Casey

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The above letter was written nearly 25 years ago. I would say the same thing today.  

If there are any elders reading this:  on the way to your elders’ meeting tomorrow or Tuesday night or whenever, please consider how you might encourage all the elders at your church to put more eggs in their individual shepherding “baskets,” perhaps meeting as a corporate executive board less often and freeing up more time to become more personally involved in lives.

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P.S.  I’m not much of a holiday guy.  Although Easter is particularly well attested and important (much more so than Christmas) to most Christians, and although I generally have some extra feelings and passions at this time of year, I don’t necessarily think Easter Sunday deserves much more attention than any other Sunday.  Still, for those who have read this post with disappointment, wanting something more directly about Jesus, I offer this link to a worthwhile post I’ve read:  The Right Charge.

Not just “before a fall”

Often on this blog, I pick and poke at specific segments of Christendom — sometimes meandering on side roads, or through suburbia’s labyrinths, and only occasionally venturing into the “urban areas” of Christianity.  This particular post, however, rides a double-decker bus, merges onto an eight-lane superhighway, and screeches into a mega-city:  Here, in referring my readers to the “simple church” blog of Roger Thoman, my aim is to propagate his indictment of a whole bunch of us who dwell in the same vicinity.  The linked essay-ette below is short.  Go ahead — click on it:

Religious Pride

(Thoman also offers a free, pretty short book via his blog.)

In the event that you, like me, don’t take time to read even the short posts that comes your way, allow me to extract a quote from the blog linked above:

“Subtle religious pride is so deeply ingrained in most of us that it’s difficult to wash out.”

Hear, hear.  This word — one of uncomfortably intense judgment — takes as its antidote a humble profession of submissive discipleship, ably worded by A.W. Tozer, and aptly quoted by Thoman:

“Make me ambitious to please Thee even if as a result I must sink into obscurity and my name be forgotten as a dream.”

No matter the particular path we travel, it is inevitable that we will intersect with someone (me? you?) who thinks too much of himself . . . someone who habitually approaches issues and situations pridefully.  Pride doesn’t only “goeth” before a fall; it goeth, period.  (Now, if you read my next post, or a particular one I’m working on for next week, in which relatively minor aspects of the status quo are challenged, please know that I don’t think I have all the answers.  I do like to challenge time-tested, but not necessarily biblically based, traditions.)

Lord, foster poverty of spirit in us as we work in Your kingdom—the greatest reason for boasting ever.

Voices: sufferin’ suffrage

Most Christians, impressed with the gravity of human sacrifice in war, conclude that since people have died for democracy, they must exercise the right to vote.  This logic, quite simply, is not logical.  First:  voting for the next executor or lawmaker-in-district has a tenuous relationship with the prospect of improving “our” chances in the next war.  Moreover, the right to vote is completely a secular notion — one that may safely and thoughtfully, if unpopularly, be passed over by those whose hope is in God’s next world.  I do not advocate apathy about this world, but I do place voting in the category of democratic rights, not that of Christian responsibilities.

Having laid that foundation, let’s think with a denominational historian for a few moments about voting, women, and the home.  This “voice from the past” is not likely to fall on hordes of receptive ears.

One cause of deterioration?

“When Tennessee faced the precedent-setting vote on the Susan B. Anthony Amendment in 1920, J.C. McQuiddy led the opposition to the extension of women’s voting rights,” notes Robert Hooper in A Distinct People:  A History of the Churches of Christ in the 20th Century.  Hooper then quotes McQuiddy:

“God pity the child (sic), when they have a motherless home, when they have a mother who is in politics, campaigning over the states and neglecting the purifying, refining, and ennobling influences which she should be exercising in her home!”

“I do not believe that the good women of Tennessee want the ballot; but even if they did, the question which man must determine is not affected by what women WANT, but what they ought to have.”

- JC McQuiddy, Gospel Advocate, 1919 p. 1073 and 1920, p. 715, quoted in Robert Hooper, op. cit.

Could the seemingly backward-thinking conservative McQuiddy have been right?  I hope that those who know me well and/or have read much of my blog would not suspect that I am devaluing women here, but I do want to counter that possible inference:  I am in no way advocating condescending chauvinism in the political sphere.  I am in no way attempting to reserve the “right” to vote for men.  The voting enterprise is not my concern here.

I am, however, suggesting that women’s traditional roles in the home are more important than voting, and that the effects of any (women’s or men’s) work in the home has more ultimate purpose than any political activity.  Societally speaking, it would seem that the deterioration of morals is related, in part, to a lack of solid families.  While this degradation has many causes, and while absent fathers are even more to blame, upholding “traditional” women’s roles is probably not a bad idea, either.

MWM: Adolphe’s discovery

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

Some discoveries are more significant than others.  Three years ago, I wrote about a more important one — Jim Woodroof’s, actually — that philosophically and practically places the gospels at the center of Christian understanding and practice.  But other discoveries merit a bit of attention now and then, too.

Again and again this simply poetic truth comes to my consciousness, from author/musician Bruce Adolphe:

A good tempo is a discovery.

Adolphe writes rather inclusively of music and life, But I suppose he is read and quoted more by musicians than by philosophers or sociologists.  For my part, in re-appropriating the above quotation, I would like merely to suggest that music in Christian gatherings should be considered in the light of tempo.  There is no one perfect tempo for a song; tempi for each scenario and venue should be discovered individually.  As an example, let me take the relatively contemporary song “10,000 Reasons” by Jonas Myrin and Matt Redman.  

The metronome markings below, semi-paradoxically offered as predetermined, acceptable ranges, are by no means to be taken as absolutes.

1. on original Redman recording:  70-74 bpm
2. in an average, medium sized contemporary church with worship band:  74-78 bpm
3. in small group in a home:  76-84 bpm
4. in an a cappella congregation:  76-96 bpm

Brief explanations of the above:

1. The original “is what it is” (In this case, I’d say it’s a bit on the slow side, but it works fine for Redman, with all the originally planned sonic trappings.)  Unless all the tracks are recorded in the studio with a click track, you can expect some human tempo variation; here, there is just a small range.
2. Given relatively slow originally performed tempos — i.e., slower than average walking pace, for sake of discussion — I would  typically recommend a slight tempo increase for non-professionals.  If any big-name “artists” ever read this, don’t get all high and mighty and say your specific tempo should absolutely be used.  Remember, “a good tempo is a discovery.”
3. In a living room or family room with a small group of less practiced singers, the pacing will generally be better, for these types of songs, if it’s yet a bit faster than in a #2-type group.  (In a larger hall, the tones have time and space to dissipate, but in a small room, music that’s too slow can seem dry, if not dead.)
4. When the slower, contemporary songs originally had a good number of rests and/or sustained tone in the vocal line, as a rule, the tempo should be boosted fairly substantially, in order to avoid too much discomfort with the waiting.

It’s not important that our sensitivities to tempo grow a) because of musical accuracy or even because of aesthetics.  It’s not b) because this or that tempo is right or wrong.  It’s c) because pacing matters in the human experience of so many things — including, but not limited to, automobile travel, conversation, reading, life in general, and music in church gatherings.  Sometimes, giving thought to discovering the right tempo for your group, in your setting, may just enhance worship.

Speaking of worship, I’ve shared the song “10,000 Reasons” with friends on several occasions recently, and it is clear to me that it touches many hearts.  In fact, it is currently #1 on CCLI’s most requested list.  I’ll close with a few of the lyrics.

Verse 2:

You’re rich in love, and You’re slow to anger.
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind.
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing – 
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find.

Excerpt from chorus:

Sing like never before, O my soul
I’ll worship Your holy name

Words and Music by Jonas Myrin and Matt Redman

© 2011 Thankyou Music (Admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing).

Speed, sound, and light bulbs

“A light bulb went on for me.” 

- Amy

Amy is a saxophone player at an Arkansas high school where I guest-conducted  recently.  (A fulfilling experience — thanks to RHR, Jr. and his great band!)  Amy had not yet thought about the mathematical relationships among tempo markings in wind band music.  Her “light bulb moment” — in this case, related to the speed of sound — made me feel somewhat more effective in teaching and leading than I would have otherwise, but it did even more for her, I think.

When was the last time a light went on for you in Bible study, in prayer, in worship, in thought?

To no real (good) effect

Consider these human enterprises:

• Intentionally fouling an opposing basketball player when your team is down 10 pts in the last minute of the game
• Arguing w/the ump after an “out” or “strike” call
• Sprinkling an infant in a religious ceremony

I don’t recommend spending time in any of the above activities, because not a one of them will have any real results for the people directly involved.

Real (4): covering, style, and content

As though I hadn’t done this enough already, I’m gonna commence to “preach” again — to a crowd that is probably not reading, making what I’m about to say pointless. . . .  

This first admonition is to all the vocalists in “worship teams” (why the ever-present sports reference?) and “praise bands”:  if you’re really in touch, all “realed up” and sensitized to your contemporaneity and communications, you won’t cover your face with a microphone.  To me, covering your face with as much of the mic as possible is analogous to wearing a hood over your head when a) it’s not cold and b) you’re not outside.  Obscuring your face with the mic makes you look like you’re hiding something.  Yeah, it’s a style thing, and style is always related to taste.  I get that, and I’ll be outvoted on this by all but the stodgiest of my friends (my age or younger).  I still think covering some of your communicators up, when you’re supposed to be communicating, makes little sense.

P.S.  I searched pages of Google’s “pop singer” images and never did find an example of what I’m talking about. (But I think you, my readers, will know.)  Apparently, singers and Google both know to choose better images — those that display the entire face.  On a whim, I searched “rap artists” and found these.

Back to music style now. . . .

A few months back, a younger acquaintance recently commented on the so-called “worship wars” and mentioned a time frame of the last decade.  Given his age, his perspective is limited to about a half-dozen years of actual experience, and he wisely expanded that by a few years to be inclusive of history he has not experienced.  My timetable’s length is more than double his when I speak of style changes in worship and assemblies.¹   I have experienced about twenty years of what he thinks of as ongoing for only ten; moreover, I’m aware that style changes were afoot before I personally became involved and attentive.  Style is always with us.  (Ever heard that John Calvin [I think it was] outlawed “those Geneva Jigs” that others might have called “spiritual songs” — because they weren’t in his favored style and didn’t have strictly biblical texts?)

I have little comparatively little concern over contemporaneity in music.  Although I don’t go out of my way to be archaic, whether an expression is hip or in any way current is far less important than whether its content is relevant to people.  Real people — those who live real lives and are more concerned with real situations than a surface-level “keep it real” might indicate — will be drawn to meaningful, genuine content.²  I recently came upon some unfamiliar hymn words that struck me as very meaningful, although a couple centuries out of date in terms of the surface-level style.  What do I do with that discovery?  Well, not a lot, really, but I surely wish more people would be more interested in such good content than in mere style.

What do I mean by good content?  Well, just like style, content is sometimes in the eye of the beholder.  Check out the words below from Bob Kauflin, a contemporary song writer, describing an album he and his group had produced.  Here, Kauflin draws attention to content over style:

Many of the lyrics on this CD were written long ago by men and women who loved God deeply and wanted to give the church tools for knowing and worshiping Him. So they wrote hymns. We want to benefit from and emulate their example.

Hymns focus on rich lyrical content, giving us a feast for the mind which leads to a feast for the heart. The music and melodies may change to communicate more effectively with each generation, but the biblical truths they proclaim remain constant and must not be lost.

The word “hymn,” often associated with supposedly moldy songs of past centuries (in other words, labeling age and neither style nor content), is better used to describe

• musical style
• lyrical content, and/or
• form

… as opposed to merely commenting on how old the song is.  These days, quite a few “contemporary hymn writers” such as Kauflin and the Gettys and Stuart Townend, are standing up to advocate good, “hymnlike” depth and quality, and I applaud them.  They are writing what have been called “modern hymns for the church.”

I trust that the closure of this mini-series with some lyrics that are rich in content will highlight some truly worthy thoughts.  The excerpts below come from several centuries, including the last couple of decades.  These communicate real truths and relevant, God-honoring worship and edification for any generation.  At times, style-consciousness may lead to updating a few words and some of the music.  But, as Kauflin says, “The biblical truths they proclaim remain constant. . . .”

Lord of all being, throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Center and soul of ev’ry sphere, yet to each loving heart how near!
Lord of all life, below, above, Whose light is truth, Whose warmth is love,
Before Thy ever-blazing throne we ask no luster of our own.
- O.W. Holmes, 19C

By faith we see the hand of God in the light of creation’s grand design,
In the lives of those who prove His faithfulness, who walk by faith and not by sight.
We will stand as children of the promise;
We will fix our eyes on Him, our soul’s reward,
Till the race is finished and the work is done,
We’ll walk by faith and not by sight.
- Keith Getty, Kristyn Getty, Stuart Townend, 21C

O Thou fount of blessing, purify my spirit, trusting only in Thy merit.
Like the holy angels who behold Thy glory, may I ceaselessly adore Thee, 
And in all, great and small, seek to do most nearly what Thou lovest dearly.
- G. Tersteegen, 18C

O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my god and King, the triumphs of His grace!
- Charles Wesley, 18C

In beholding the glorious Son,
My eyes see the Magnificent One,
And His splendor, as bright as the Sun,
Reveals me:  I am undone.
- Brian Casey, 20C

Jesus, Thy name I love
All other names above.
Jesus, my Lord.
O Thou art all to me.
Nothing to please I see —
Nothing apart from Thee —
Jesus, my Lord.
-  James G. Deck, 19C

How deep the Father’s love for us! 
How vast beyond all measure – 
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
- S. Townend, 20C

Father and Friend, Thy light, Thy love beaming through all Thy works we see.
Thy glory gilds the heavens above, and all the earth is full of Thee.
Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel, while Thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enwrapt in clouds invisible, reignest the Lord of life and light.
Thy children shall not faint nor fear, sustained by this delightful thought:
Since Thou, their God, art everywhere, they cannot be where Thou art not.
J. Bowring, 19C

From life’s first cry till final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
- K. Getty and S. Townend, 21C

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¹ Worship is primarily a verb and should be conceived of differently from “the assembly” (gathering or meeting) of Christians.  Neither is “worship” synonymous with what is so often called “the service.”  Worship and service are certainly not the same thing, and the historically attested, yet conceptually illegitimate use of the term “service” doesn’t even enter the picture here.  A few prior writings in this topical area reside here, here and here.

² Transparently, I would add that I don’t always feel the same way when dealing with Bible translations as I do when in the musical arena.  I don’t have much patience with outmoded, oblique, obscure wordings when we’re trying to study scriptures, but I think there’s a bit more value to the aesthetic and artistic quality of song lyrics.  Artful wordings tend to be heavier on aesthetic beauty than on trendiness.

Real (3): relevance and participation in singing

Relevance in church gatherings is sometimes overrated — at least, relevance as commonly understood.

Various aspects of church and church gatherings could be discussed in terms of whether or not they manifest relevance.  Since I am a professional musician and a longtime (read:  since I was 10 or 12) careful observer of church music habits, successes, and pitfalls, I’m opting for music as the specific subject area here, in this next-in-series post on being “real” and relevant.  (Please read the last two posts for background thinking.)

Is it possible that style in music is too important when people are trying to be relevant?  I mean, when churches that want to be “real” and “seeker-sensitive” get their heads together to decide what music is going to sound like in their gatherings, don’t they think about style before anything else?  On the surface, this seems a good line of thinking — I mean, skinny jeans and contemporary decor def give u good style points (as does my texter spelling there), don’t they, and that goes a long way toward hooking a seeker.¹  I don’t discount that style is important.  I just think it’s not the only thing.  In considering church music within the context of being “real” and “seeker-sensitive,” it is important to distinguish between style and content.

But first:  a matter of the harp.  (By that I mean something I harp on every now & then!  See here and here for more logistical considerations and background.  These prior posts are both about the same length; one is more “brass tacks,” and the other is more “from the heart.”  Or, just stay with me here!)  The next section constitutes a rather substantive “aside” that I hope will not be ignored.

Whether the songs are familiar, somewhat familiar, or unfamiliar, more people can sing if there is music notation.  When there is no notation available, you’d better provide a lot of background texture of some sort.  Otherwise, unfamiliar music is especially uncomfortable and/or leaves out the uninitiated (seekers or otherwise).  Now, make no mistake:  at The Journey in Newark, Delaware, there was a lot of background texture!  In fact, the last time we were there, we were treated to a kind of head-banging performance version of “Carol of the Bells,” with three rockers front-and-center before things got really going.  :-)  For those with sensitive ears like me, earplugs are in order, but it’s “real’ to assume that most seekers out there already have hearing damage from their earbuds and subwoofers, and they’ll probably connect with over-loud music.

There will probably always be something in me that feels deflated when I’m sitting in yet another church gathering in which someone has taken the lazy path by just projecting the words.  Words-only (or simply singing from memory) can work for a few songs that are “favorites,” and I do think it’s OK to “leave out” a visitor in some activities, since the church gathering is for the church, not the unknown and often indescribable visitor.

But, if words-only is all a church ever does, it’s ill-advised, careless, and really, downright inexcusable.  We ought to realize that we are a more advanced society than ever, and there is simply no reason — technologically, societally, or sub-culturally — to assume we are all dumber than people were in the 1700s and 1800s and 1900s.  They all had notated music, and we would do better if we did, too.  It is not “musically elitist” to display music along with words.  As a rule, projecting the music allows more people to sing more confidently, whether they realize it or not.  The technological tools we have available (CCLI‘s SongSelect and The Paperless Hymnal, for example) make this quite easy, and not really much more time-consuming than displaying lyrics only on PowerPoint slides.  I am not, therefore, advocating that all churches need hymnals.  (Hymnals still have their place, and some of you middle-aged folks might be surprised at the broad range of stylistic preferences of hordes of twenty-somethings, but that’s beside the current point.)  I am saying that contemporary, seeker-sensitive churches have just as much reason to display (at least) the melody lines on their screens as the more traditional churches have either to project four-part harmony or to continue to provide hymnals in the pew racks.  Pretty much EVERY literate person benefits (some, only subliminally) from seeing the musical notations.

One undeniable trend in all singing churches is this:  the more we distance ourselves from notation, the less people in the seats will sing.  Personally, 1) I am flat-out mentally unable to sing a song I don’t know unless music notation is available; and 2) I can contribute vocally pretty well on a song I don’t know if I have the sheet music, hymnal, or projected notation available.

Another undeniable trend in a cappella churches:  the more years that transpire without music notation as the norm, the closer the congregation edges toward musical extinction.  You can do church without music at all, but I’ve not met the church that intends that, and no one seems to realize that they’re hurtling down this path to oblivion unless they change courses.  You see, if there are no instruments to carry things, notation is even more essential, for without it, there is nothing but a bad, rhythmically scattered rendition of a poorly remembered melody from the last time people heard the song on the radio, by some — which was it?  the 3rd or 4th? — group that covered the song.  Confusion quickly results.

Within the context of analyzing for the relevant/”real,” we have to admit that it’s a little weird for anybody but Girl Scouts and churches to sing together in a group.  (“Kum Ba Yah” is a great song, really, but it has often been the butt of jokes, showing that group singing is counter-cultural.)  It is no more relevant to the world out there to sing with lyrics-only than it is to sing with projected music notation or hymnals.  Group singing is pretty much out of style, and we simply have to major in offering relevant content within the songs we do sing in church.

With all that said, I would acknowledge that the “heartfelt energy level” of the singing at The Journey was a bit higher than at many other contemporary churches with a lot of instrumental texture.  (It was probably a bit higher than in most a cappella churches, too.)  They have something corporately energized going at The Journey.  But more often, in my experience, loud instruments inspire

• hero worship (as with groupies and rock idols)
• mumbling and half-hearted singing (as in most congregations)
• silence (with some, no matter where you go)
• the insertion of earplugs (as with me)

Loud instruments, then, would tend to discourage participation with any real personal dynamic.  But not always.  For instance, a relatively young, derivative organization in Searcy, Arkansas called Sons of Thunder recently almost single-handedly restored my faith in the ability of a “praise band” to inspire the congregation to pour our their hearts.  I surmise that assembly energy has more to do with the group’s health as a whole than with the particulars of the music.

Next:  The last post in this series comes in two days and deals with covering up the eyes, style, and content.

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¹ Don’t for a moment think that that “hooking” is reelly my line as a fisher of men.  But we must admit that hooking people is the way that some church salespeople think.  Sit there in your church row(boat) singing “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” and think about it for a moment, and you’ll reelize that something smells fishy, which makes you stop singing bass.  You’ll get that sinker feeling.  Then, just cast off and move on.  But don’t listen too closely for pitch; it’s very difficult to tuna fish.)

Real (2) — doctrine and practice

I’ve been aware of so-called seeker-sensitive churches¹ for perhaps 20 years.  I’ve always thought that was a worthy goal, but have come to accept that being seeker-sensitive is elusive and even over-rated.  Every church I’ve ever visited has been “churchy” — inherently not “real” and not seeker-sensitive, and therefore not attractive to most outsiders.  To some extent, being “attractive” equates to being “real.”  (No one really likes fake.  No one is deeply drawn to facades and veneers.)

I remember my very good friend Greg, when “pastoring” (or perhaps attempting to pastor, in my non-pastor-driven-paradigm church), trying to probe some of the congregation’s practices.  I took it that he wanted us to examine some of our particular veneers.  Impersonating a non-existent visitor, he challenged, ”Why do they sing like that?!” (perhaps especially targeting those who had never been in another denomination’s²  gatherings).  We needed to realize how odd we were in the singing arena — not necessarily to change things there, but at least to realize who we were and what outsiders’ impressions could be.

There are many aspects of a congregation’s identity and praxis that deserve some introspection, too, and maybe some scrutiny.  Not every specific should be tenaciously guarded.

Believing the above, although I have been lonely at many points, I have continued to probe my religious heritage.  I believe the inheritance of the Stone-Campbell movement — and actually, it can no longer be classed a “movement” — is worthy of love and respect, although it has veered off some of the better courses it originally set for itself.  (If you didn’t at least scan footnote #2 when its number came up above, would you please do so now?)

It strikes me now, in considering and writing about “real,” that an intersection of the doctrine and practice of 1) “The Journey” and that of 2) a run-of-the-mill Church of Christ congregation might be instructive, if not intriguing.  So, here, I’ll paste in The Journey’s web statements and offer commentary from a CofC perspective.  The CofC, as some of you know, doesn’t have a standard “faith statement” or creed — although “vision” and “mission” statements, plus some thinly veiled creeds, have been cropping up in bulletins and on websites for years.  Truth be told, there’s a tacit set of doctrines that could be seen as a baseline “creed.”  We just don’t generally hold them forth as such.³

Onward to The Journey’s “faith statement.”  I’m no theologian and not even much of a church historian, but I have enough experience in the CofC to formulate a few responses to some of this.  The original statements will be in bold; my comments will be in italics.

1.  The Journey believes that God is infinitely creative, so we express our faith in infinitely creative ways.  We’re Spirit-led without being weird and mission-minded without diluting the message of Jesus.  We’re not scared of culture or seduced by it. Our approach to church isn’t traditional, but our commitment to Jesus shapes everything we believe, say, and do.

The CofC would say most of that these days, but the nicely qualified “Spirit-led” wouldn’t have been a CofC phrase until the 70s or even 80s.  Many congregations today would still shy from such a statement, irrationally fearing that attributing leadership to deity would be tantamount to denying scripture’s instructional place.  ”Hogwash,” you say?  Yep.

Not diluting the message of Jesus would resonate with most of “us” in the CofC, and congrats to The Journey for claiming, and doing (based on my limited experience), just that.  

The CofC is typically much more “scared of culture” than The Journey, and has tended not to be seduced by it.  In other words, The Journey aims to hold these two in appropriate tension, whereas the CofC has traveled the more counter-cultural path more often.  Now, to be counter-cultural can be evidence of either a scaredy-cat or a courageous man, and I’ve seen both.  Inasmuch as I’m on target here about the relationship of acknowledging and using culture (acculturating?) on the one hand, and seduction by culture on the other, The Journey is clearly more balanced.  I would also hazard that it is more relevant than most CofC groups, although perhaps not without a culture-related pitfall here & there.

Further on the “traditional” concept:  I find a sense in most CofC congregational leaders that “traditional” is not all that bad.  Some think they’re not very traditional (most of these are, anyway, no matter what they think), but whatever … most of them go through their church stuff sitting and standing comfortably within RM tradition — and in some ways within mainline Christian tradition, as well.  ”Traditional” almost always, at some point, collides with “relevant.”

2.  We believe God has given us a book (the Bible) that is true and can be trusted. It was written by men but inspired by God – and every part of it points to Jesus.  Everything that’s described below may be helpful, but when the dust settles, the Bible is our statement of faith.

This statement would meet no disagreement in the CofC.  I myself would pick at minor points:  1) the Bible is better described as a library of various books/documents, not as a single book; and 2) I might have opted for “written by men who were specially inspired by God.

Pickiness aside, the idea that the Bible is the ultimate guide for faith and practice, seen here in updated, more understandable wording, certainly constitutes common ground for these two groups.  And oh, how I wish more churches would get serious about this principle.

In the eyes of cynical seekers, belief in the truth of the scriptures might smack of blindness, i.e., not being rational or real.  This is where “real” must take a back seat to relevance, though, and The Journey does a good job of not retracting.  To believe in the truth of the scriptures is to believe you have something authentic and relevant to offer people.

3.  We believe in God.  He created everything, including you and me.  He is all-powerful, all-knowing, everywhere-present and worthy to be loved with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind.

Again, no disagreement here.  (Well, OK, grammatically speaking, I take exception to the notion that we all have one collective heart, soul, mind, and strength; I would have put that in the singular or left out the “our” altogether.)

4.  We believe God is revealed fully in Jesus, who was born of a virgin, lived a sinless life, died on a cross for our sins, and was supernaturally raised from the dead.  This planet hasn’t seen the last of him.

Standard stuff, adhered to by most evangelical (not necessarily mainliners; some of those are out of the closet with their theological liberalness these days) Christians.  ”Supernaturally” is a good word that gets at the heart of the matter, neither clouding it with the word “miraculous” nor skirting it by not mentioning the resurrection at all.  I particularly like the second sentence and think Paul and Jesus would smile at it, too.  This is at once an engaging, “hip” expression and a biblically true one.  Way to go, Journey.

5.  We believe the Holy Spirit is God in his power and presence, drawing people to him, saving us, and empowering us with gifts to work for him and fruit in our attitudes and relationships that testify to him.

I’m very impressed by this statement.  I infer, first, a wise, spiritual openness to the miraculous working of God.  Second, I perceive a stopping short of requiring that one must accept that God works now just as he did when initially confirming the deity of Jesus (in, say, the years 33-63 or so).

I find nothing in this statement that most thinking CofCers would disagree with.  To argue that the Holy Spirit is a definable “third” of the “Godhead” — which The Journey does not do here — is always scripturally a bit tenuous, but to affirm that the Holy Spirit is God at work is requisite to biblically based faith and practice.  

6.  We believe all human beings are spiritually lost, wandering around trying to make sense of this life and consistently messing it up.  Only through Jesus can we be found, and this is very much what God wants.  If we submit to Jesus’ leadership as Lord, we will be saved; if we continue on our own path, we will end up separated from God forever.  This is something God does not want.  That’s why Jesus came, and it’s also why…

First sentence:  check.  Second:  check.  Third (“If we submit …”):  big check.  Hold that thought, and skip the rest of this paragraph if you’re not interested in the Stone-Campbell Movement or the Church of Christ.  The phrase “if we continue on our own path” could be found in many conservative, dyed-in-the-wool CofC sermons, as the preachers attempt to paint a simplistic picture.  In other words, they want pew-sitters to believe that it’s all very easy:  1) if they continue on their own paths, left to their own devices (read:  the devices of other religious groups or their own misunderstandings of religion or the Bible), they are hell-bound.  And 2) on the other hand, if seekers will simply accept the RIGHT path (read:  the one that lines up with my opinions and interpretations), everything will be fine.  Let alone that the bulk of the given CofC preacher’s interpretations might be biblically sound; this sometimes amounts to little more than arrogant posturing.

Much better to do as The Journey has done, calling attention to Jesus’ leadership.  Leadership is a word I haven’t often seen in connection with “lordship,” and I find it both helpful and relevant, although it would be a trifle light if not accompanied by the theological underpinnings of what it means to have a Lord.

Style points there, by the way, with the ellipsis that leads the reader to #7!

7.  We believe in the church. It’s a community where people can find Jesus and follow him fully. The church isn’t perfect, but Jesus its leader is. God doesn’t want us doing this spiritual life in isolation; that’s why he created the whole church thing in the first place – and he’s still totally committed to it. The church is incredibly important because we have a much better chance of succeeding in our spiritual journey when we’re surrounded by other people who are moving forward in theirs.

The CofC would go with this, mostly.  Although on paper it would agree, it might not have thought to emphasize the imperfection of the human church.  Often, the CofC has been found (and can still be found) calling attention to its rightness, its supposed doctrinal purity.  Again letting alone that there are many right things in the CofC, and, I happen to think, more than in most other religious groups, it is downright repulsive to brag.  The CofC should get over its insistence that it is “right” and merely keep trying to restore, to reform, to draw ever closer to God’s revealed will.

The Journey gets an A for #7 (and really, for the entire series of statements).  It’s attractive to acknowledge that the church is imperfect and to call folks to community.  It’s also compelling to portray God as “committed” to church in this age.

In my next post, I’ll share some thoughts about the reality of music in The Journey church and in other, would-be seeker-friendly churches….

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¹ I’m leaving the ill-begotten “seeker-targeted” and “seeker-oriented” labels alone.  ”Seeker-sensitive,” however, is either neutral or good.

² Still … STILL, there are many in the Church of Christ (or Churches of Christ, or churches of  Christ — take your pick — they are used interchangeably) who stubbornly refuse to believe it is, in point of fact, a denomination.  I don’t expect ever to sacrifice the scripture-based ideal in my heart — that there be no sectarian denominations.  The Lord’s church transcends this humanly conceived, and humanly perpetuated, group.  I happen to believe that many — perhaps most — who call themselves members of the Church of Christ are also part of the Lord’s universal church.  But, c’mon, guys, reality is that the Church of Christ, even without an earthly HQ, is a Yellow-Pages-identifiable sub-group.  It has many other hallmarks of a denomination.  Its denominational language and the obvious loyalties of some of its adherents betray its status.

³ It is not my purpose here to advocate for creeds.  Far from it.  I think creeds run the risk of superimposing man’s mob-mentality word on top of God’s.

Keepin’ it real

I s’pose the notion of keepin’ it real is important to most of us.  And it’s more valid than this phrase’s association with less-than-desirable elements of society suggests.  In other words, just because hoods and hoodlums in hoodies use the phrase doesn’t mean the idea is bad.  To be “real” is to be relevant, honest, and genuine, right?

For nearly as long as I’ve been aware of so-called seeker-sensitive churches,¹ I’ve thought the descriptor represented a worthy goal, but apparently not a readily attainable one.  I mean, every church I’ve ever visited (a good number — score and scores, if not hundreds) has been “churchy” in one way or another.  Being “churchy” seems inherently not “real” and not seeker-sensitive, right?

It’s more than a tad ironic that each of the churches I’ve visited has probably thought it was fairly, or even extremely, seeker-sensitive.  Churches’² opinions of themselves rarely resemble the public’s opinion of said churches — rendering the churches’ self-generated opinions fairly useless.  (Footnotes³ in a blogpost are also fairly useless, but sometimes they help to eradicate parenthetical expressions [except in this case].)

The real question for would-be seeker-sensitive groups to consider:  how would a church go about being attractive to those outsiders who might show up, actively seeking what a church has to offer?  Being attractive doesn’t equate to being real, but the two are related.  No one really likes fake.  No one is deeply drawn to facades and veneers.

Knowing this, a church in Delaware takes as its slogan “real church for real people.”  A church in rural New York tries to attract outsiders, as well.  One succeeds more than the other, in my estimation — if success is tied in any way to the name of the church, at least:

• In DE, the name “The Journey” (“Your Journey” in its URL) seems inherently honest to me.
• In NY, the name “Joy Community Church” strikes me as off-putting to real people with real lives.

It’s not that people don’t want joy.  It’s that real life doesn’t consist entirely in joy, and if I’m feeling seeky or needy or searching, I’m not going to be drawn to a group that erects a joy facade to hide behind.  Few people experience joy as a life-motif, I’m convinced.  So, leaving that NY group’s pretense aside (c’mon, stop humming “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart . . .”), let’s talk more about the first group.  It’s the one I’ve actually visited, and it does “real” pretty well, in my estimation. . . .

The DE church, which my old friend Bob had invited us to visit when in town, is called “The Journey.”  And what about this metaphor of the life-journey?  It’s a cliché, and I sometimes tire of the surface-level interest in the so-called “Christian walk” or “faith journey,” but “journey” really is an appropriate simile.  Undergirding this idea, we have a prominent figure of speech in the gospel of Mark:  following Jesus on the way.

I would here inject a reference to a couple of prior posts on Mark’s content:

• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/02/05/epic-2/
• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/05/29/mark-wrap-up-2/

These both mention the centrality of following, of walking.  Authentic discipleship may well be summarized as “following Jesus on the way.”  The individual believer’s discipleship is to be seen as eclipsing inherited membership & institutional establishmentarianism.  Not only is “walking Christianly through life’s journey” a realistic descriptor for the contemporary mind; it’s also a biblically apt metaphor.

Now, back to real response and analysis. . . .

All the while at The Journey, I’m sitting there considering my real-life journey, because of the name.  Then as I drift in and out of awareness of those around me, I’m thinking thoughts like, “I wonder what that guy’s journey has been like” and “Is that guy hearing the same way, and making the same applications for his journey as I am for mine?”  There’s something relevant about making church gatherings tie in to the real living of real lives, and speaking in terms of “the journey of life” is one way to tie in.

The Journey has until recently been renting its facilities.  I think that if a church is large enough to need a building, renting is the way to go.  It’s less wasteful.  The Journey’s facility has been an office-type space in an industrial park, which strikes me as “real.”  The group is preparing to inhabit its own facility (seen at left) for the first time this coming weekend.  Although I wish the group had spent its money on something else, I have to give it credit for a) using rented facilities for years and b) not going into more debt to build anything new or elaborate, but rather, purchasing a pre-existing, vacant facility.  If The Journey had continued renting, it might have been even better, but I wish it well and trust that it will do good things in its more visible, larger structure.

Also at The Journey church, there is a “lead” (not “senior”) pastor.  I don’t know that this label has anything to do with sensitivity to less-churchy seekers — out in the world of workplace hierarchies, we find ample use of both terms — but I like “lead” better.  At my age, I figure I’m allowed to have some simple preferences (and will leave it there, not complaining about the ubiquitous, non-biblical use of the word “pastor” right now.)  ”Lead” seems to speak of function within a group more than calling attention to age or position.  It communicates relevance and not stodgy hierarchianism.

Mark, the lead pastor, is not referred to with the paradoxically irreverent label “reverend,” a ghastly vestige of Latin/Roman origins.  Inviting ears to attune to his message rather than appearing to demand that respect be shown to a titled position, Mark connects his own real life and inward feelings to that of “average Joe.”  In my (admittedly spotty) experience, he does this convincingly and without facade, also connecting these human experiences to biblical narrative and imperatives.  In the lobby, I see Mark doing the preacher thing a bit — meeting and greeting, you know….  But I observe that while Mark is thinking about, and talking to, those who might be “seekers,” he is all the while naturally moving back and forth between dealing with them and with those who are already disciples.  Mark’s name, not incidentally, does not appear on the church’s “business cards” or on the sign in front of the building.  I had to look all the way into the podcast section of the website to remind myself of his last name.  Admirable!  It’s not about him; it’s about everyone’s lives and souls.

An official “greeter” starts things off in an upbeat vein as the assembly gets underway.  While this is mostly unnecessary for a temperament and get-down-to-business head like mine, I recognize that it helps most people to feel good, and the greeter serves this function well.  Other evidences of being “in touch” with real life include provision of protected children’s environments and pretty good coffee.  Coffee at church is also a cliché these days, but since you can’t avoid it, you might as well offer it (and tea, and maybe hot chocolate) in an attractive atmosphere.  Add to all these things the general sense that friends are talking all around the lobby, and the considerate, all-too-often-ignored “visitors excepted” clause when an offering is taken, and you have a pretty inviting, seeker-sensitive church gathering.

I’ll soon share 1) The Journey’s “Who We Are/What We Believe” statement, and 2) a bit about the reality of music in The Journey church and in other, would-be seeker-friendly churches….

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¹ Here, I’ll leave the ill-begotten “seeker-targeted” and “seeker-oriented” labels alone.  ”Seeker-sensitive” can certainly be a good thing, but church gatherings are for the church, after all, not for the seekers.  Orienting “church” to seekers is counter-rational by definition.  Other methods and events might well be considered for drawing in seekers.

² It’s been a long time since I harped on misplaced apostrophes.  See this post for some fun.  Just this morning, I read this “quote” of Acts 9:16 in an e-gram from a highly educated, respected editor/theologian:  “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My names’ sake.”  Now don’t go gettin’ all Christian-markety on me and say that God has many names.  He really only has one.  Anyway, I don’t think the other identifers/descriptors of God were in the picture there in Acts.  It should have read, “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My name’s’ sake.”

³ It’s also been too long since I used footnotes in a blogpost.  I once asked, in a physically posted print, whether anyone read my footnotes, and Randall responded, “I read your footnotes,” but he may be in a small crowd.  :-)