Who are my brothers and sisters?

Some time ago, LaGard Smith wrote a book on Christian relationships that proposed “levels” of relationship.  I never read the book in its entirety but saw enough of it to know that, at the time, I was not in sympathy with its import.  A quick skim of the reviews online reminds me that it was a “reaction” book, written in part to refute what Smith saw as a bad direction in Church of Christ circles.  Max Lucado was a target.

The main issue I recall having had was that Smith proposed five levels of Christian relationship.  (Smith’s term of choice was “fellowship.”)  The desire to codify and draw circles rather than to accept others’ non-central viewpoints seemed, at the time, to be overzealous and over-exclusionary.  I still don’t care for the circle-drawing exercise.  For better or worse, though, I seem to find myself dealing with such levels in my all-too-real life.  Here is my quasi-engagement with Smith’s levels, moving from the most restrictive to the most open:

1. I have no “congregational fellowship” at all now.
2. A rather small cadre of “conscience fellowship” siblings exists, and I don’t lean into them enough.
3. The group of “In Christ” people I know is large, and I should lean into it more, too, but it’s elusive, given geography and life concerns.
4. The “Faith Fellowship” level probably implies basic belief in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and a few other “core” doctrines.  This could be an area for growth, but I think I have a latent fear that if I think about this too much, even this level of Christian relationship will fade or become troublesome, practically speaking.  I’m OK for now with participating in some musical things at a couple of local churches, and enjoying generic faith statements, without too much pressure on them or me.
5. “Universal fellowship” with all humans as creations of God is significant and can come into play in such situations as helping the poor in general, or protecting an abused child, regardless of faith.

I imagine that Smith’s book appealed more to the middle-of-the-roaders, and I saw myself as a progressive Christian during the era in which the book was written.  Those to the right of Smith took grave exception to the very idea of having “in Christ” fellowship with those who were “in error” on other things.  To ponder that phrase now sends me into sharply critical mode, embarrassed by the self-righteousness of some of the people of my general heritage.  Fortunately, I’ve never been in a congregation that espoused that kind of thinking, although people’s visiting relatives and couple of outliers were sometimes culpable.

Some fourteen years ago, I recalled and wrote about an event in my life from twenty years before that time.  If you’ll read the two longer paragraphs at that blog link, it will both illustrate and connect to the last portion of the present post.

The synoptic gospels record that, at least once, Jesus spoke about family relationships, emphasizing spiritual connection instead.

Then Jesus’ mother and his brothers came. Standing outside, they sent word to him, to summon him.  A crowd was sitting around him and they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers are outside looking for you.”  He answered them and said, “Who are my mother and my brothers?”  And looking at those who were sitting around him in a circle, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers!  For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

The NET Bible version includes this paragraph heading just above that passage:

Jesus’ True Family

Such headings can be intrusions into the text, but I like that one and don’t find it misleading.  In some way, and to some degree, the Lord surely was emphasizing spiritual, mission- and partnership-based relationship.

I’m glad for closer relationships with my sisters over the last couple of years in particular, but I continue to be sad, or mildly hurt, or aghast (depending) at some of the extended “family” relationships in my life.  In the past, I had been offended and left hanging out to dry by some, but most of that faded or was corrected in some measure.  Yet there was more to come.  And now, when I think of those I truly love as family, I quickly think of those with whom I have a historical, trusting, tested, “in Christ” relationship, but not necessarily a “blood” one.

Essentially, water is thicker than blood.  Those “in Christ” with whom I share rich Christian relationship and experience really turn out to be the closest extended family members.  They are, in the most important sense, “family.”  And that struck me again just recently as I heartily wished a dear friend “happy birthday” (not being much of a birthday-observing person myself), while ignoring the birthday of a blood relative that was one day later.

So who are my closest family members?  I won’t call them all by name here, but many of them are related to me only spiritually, and that is an eminently close relationship.  Others have been just as close in the past.  And I want more of this kind of relationship, no matter how it’s designated or where I find it.  And I think that I too “have the Spirit of God” (a shamelessly irresponsible, textual cherry-picking!) on this matter.

Did somebody mention church monikers and orientations?

No, actually, I don’t think anyone mentioned these things in my hearing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them.  Churches will probably always be catching my eye, if not capturing my heart.  It’s hard to get through a day without a thought—perhaps wistful or, likely, more negative—of one or more churches.  Here, I will not be not using the word “church” very biblically; I’m dealing rather in the sphere of denominating and denominations.

Earlier this month, while on a stress-reducing walk, I saw five or six adults standing outside a church building, probably just having finished a committee meeting.  As I approached on the other side of the street, two people walked away toward their cars and made it a point to greet me.  A few steps later, one who still stood close to the building also greeted me.  I did not really know any of these people.  I could not help but think that they were being friendly because they were, at that moment, connected to a church building.  They wanted to be good church people and look neighborly on behalf of the church.  If I had passed the same group outside a restaurant a few blocks away, when the same people were not functioning as arms of a recognized church, perhaps they wouldn’t have felt it incumbent on them to say “hello” to a stranger.  Is this line of thinking cynical of me?  Maybe, but it’s realistic.  I’ve lived too long and have seen and experienced too much.  (If found in a similar situation, I myself would have acted similarly in the past.)

I find a built-in falseness in such encounters, and I don’t find a lot of genuine meaning in anything that smacks of institutional church.  (This is no slight to the individuals, really.)  Despite that, and despite all the personal angst associated with churches, I keep thinking about them:

What type is this or that one? 
What leanings does it manifest?  Is it like the last one?
What are its leaders like? 
Does anyone seriously study scriptures there?
What dissidents might be within? 
Could I possibly find a home there?

And quite often, I think about church names.  Recent denomination-thoughts formed themselves into categories.  For starters, there are names that have to do with practices or perceived function, and also perhaps with the theology of their founders.

• Methodist
• Presbyterian
• Episcopal
• Congregational

Those denominational labels obviously connote far more than (1) method, (2-3) “presbyters” and bishops, or (4) organization.  Moreover, the connotations change over time.  A Methodist church in rural New York State today, for example, will not conjure up the same thoughts as a Methodist church in late 19C England.  The denominations’ respective practices obviously involve doctrine, to one extent or another, but the monikers of that group seem to emphasize pragmatics.

Nominally speaking, Baptist and Anabaptist names might be said to exist in the middle ground between function and doctrine.  On the other hand, some of the names below seem to be oriented to doctrine over practice or function:

• Lutheran
• Reformed
• Adventist[1]
• Wesleyan

At first blush, Mennonite churches would seem to be in the same category as “Lutheran,” in that they take their name from a person who espoused a set of doctrines.  However, in my experience these days, Lutherans are more attached to the person of Luther and to what he taught than the Mennonites are to Menno Simons.  Wesleyan churches seem more doctrine-oriented than Methodist churches, although they were both “founded” by John Wesley.

Some denominations give the spotlight to deity over function—in name, at least.

• Christian Church
• Church of God
• Church of Christ
• Church of God in Christ
• Disciples of Christ
• Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (on the surface, one of the best names there is, although the description is both verbose and deceptive)
• Community of Christ
• Assembly of God

Then there are the location-based splinter groups, such as these:

• Greek and Russian Orthodox
• African Inland Mission
• . . . and Wisconsin Lutherans or Missouri Synod Lutherans, plus any number of additional, splinters, further denominated by geography

Non-franchise churches are a mixed bag.  Some names seem pretty good (“God’s People on the White River” or “Faith Bible Fellowship”), while some (“Celebration Church” or “Family Life Church”) exhibit trite marketing, in my opinion.  And again, the focus here is more on the naming, not so much on the background theology, the pragmatics, or the people inside.  Of course there will be genuine disciples of Jesus in Roman Catholic churches, “methodists” (method-oriented people) in Reformed churches, “catholics” in Lutheran churches, and “baptists” in Churches of Christ.

“Community of Christ,” “Baptist,” “Congregational,” or other monikers can be meaningful, but each is also a potential barrier or a misnomer.  Despite the shortcomings of the Restoration Movement—and any movement will have them, and many are the people who will point them out—I’m still drawn to its ideal of being “Christians only.”

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[1] Goodness, what a mess in this branch. I just learned how many twigs there are. After the Millerite “disappointment” of 1844, it’s no surprise that there were a lot of splinter groups. They are not all Seventh-Day subscribers. The family tree even includes the Branch Davidians.  These do not seem very doctrinally unified, but they appear to hold in common idea of an imminent second coming (“advent”).

Paradigms: sputterings on seminaries and song selection

The Harding Graduate School of Theology is moving from Memphis to Searcy.  I noted two unsurprising facts in an article in the 9/23 Christian Chronicle.

1. There is a shortage of ministers that Harding president Mike Williams has called “epidemic.”
2. There is a decline in seminary enrollments, including that of Lipscomb’s recently closed Austin program, and probably others outside the CofC.

While I applaud Williams for making a tough decision¹ as an institutional leader, I ask a deeper question:  if ministers are in short supply and people are not enrolling in training programs, shouldn’t the whole model be changed?  Why must churches be on a locked-in path, sometimes even desperate, to look for a minister when they should be looking more intently to engage themselves?

Speaking of models that deserve new attention, the “praise team” model, in my experience, no longer meets decades-old expectations for revitalizing corporate worship.  Moreover—and this is not only the fault of praise teams—the very idea of corporate singing continues to decline.  The music and worship literacy of leadership is pathetic in many locations, and overly high-church-liturgical in many others.  For those a cappella Churches of Christ that maintain good congregational singing efforts and that use relatively capable song leaders, the selection of songs is both art and science (just like programming for a wind band or orchestra).  People need training, perhaps even being apprenticed to an experienced, effective leader.  The selection of songs is of course only one aspect, but it’s an important one if the congregational paradigm is to be upheld

Below are links to two posts from 14 years ago about a city-wide “unity” time of singing.  They describe both positive and negative aspects of song selection and execution.  Today, on this “Lord’s Day,” my assemblies of believers are not the traditional variety, but I wanted to take these moments to ponder the past.

The 70s, 80s, and 90s

Follow-up: unity singing event

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¹ Some college friends and others I know are deeply troubled, even wounded, by the decision to close/move the HUGSR.  I empathize with them.  I do not know the specifics in terms of dollars & cents, enrollments, projections, facilities costs, faculty salaries and overload, etc., but I must trust that it was a decision that had to be made.

Of mainliners and marchers

Or . . . Of Presbyterianism and Pageantry

This is not a great blogpost.  If you choose just one not to read this week, or this month, this one might be it.  I’m not using reverse psychology.  I really don’t like it all that much.  It’s long-winded, annoyed, and annoying.  On the other hand, in a couple days, you might look for an unprecedented outpouring of four “Tuesday Topics” posts, published several hours apart, concluding with a “prayer for the world.”

Introduction
A certain unspeakable person said, with a haughty indifference, “I haven’t been to church in more than ten years.”  But I heard a far more humble, possibly “searching” person say it completely differently:  “I haven’t been to church in about three years.”  What did the former person do about it?  Nothing but continue to tear things down and be a jerk.  The latter person, however, made it a point over a period of weeks, to express openness and interest.  And then she took the step of attending with us.  I don’t know whether it will ultimately make a difference in her life or not, but at least she sounded humble at that point.  I wish she’d chosen a different first-time-back place, for more than one reason, but perhaps it will be helpful and bridge-building to have crossed a Presbyterian threshold first.

Transition
Speaking of bridges:  I don’t imagine many CofC folks these days know this, and I hardly interact with any of them, but there are distinct, significant bridges from Presbyterianism to the Stone-Campbell Restoration Movement.  The Campbells were from Scottish Presbyterian roots, and Barton Stone was also an affiliated Presbyterian for a time.  Cane Ridge was a Presbyterian meeting house.  Then there was one of the famed documents of the RM:  “The Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery.  So the Presbyterian connections with the Stone-Campbell Restoration movement are important.  (And this paragraph is also sort of a bridge in this blogpost.)

Exposition
What do you think of candles?  I used to think they were girly things.  I kind of liked them, but I wouldn’t have bought one, because my wife handled that (while I did the ironing).  These days, I light candles frequently at home, but I remain averse to their ceremonial use in liturgy.

Not all Presbyterians are alike—as with Methodists or Catholics or CofCers, there is variety—but the Presbyterian church where I count two as friends, and where I enjoy seeing several more congenial acquaintances, uses candle-lighting ceremonially every Sunday.  This practice establishes a formal pageantry each Sunday that detracts (for me) from the content and meaning of both vertical and horizontal relationships.  I doubt I will ever be able to shake this feeling.  It’s not just candles.  It’s all the pageantry and formality.  All this goes back a long way.

The first time I remember feeling such a strong aversion to ornate buildings was in a Presbyterian building in Buffalo.  Our college’s traveling Christmas extravaganza was not particularly long on pageantry, but many reveled in that building, whereas I recoiled from it.  Stained glass suggests the glorification of a structure, in service of denominational and liturgical history.  I might love beautiful colors, but I’m not interested in serving sectarianism or lusting after liturgy.  I would not want to discourage the creation of visual beauty, and part of this aversion to stained glass and other visuals in an ornate church hall is “just me.”

In the current Presbyterian building, there are stained-glass windows, massive organ pipes, robes and stoles, and a chancel.  I have no idea where that word came from, but I think a “chancel choir” comprises the first-stringers, whereas the sacristy singers, if such a group existed, would be more like the congregants who only sing in the shower.  There is a “baptismal font” (which I’ve never even seen employed for a faux-baptism), and this group recently held a bazaar (which of course brings on jokes about the bizarre-ness of churches at times).  So much periphery.

The Presbyterian building has beautiful, nicely maintained wood.  Not just the pews, but also the ceiling and the walls.  It’s impressive to the eye, but it causes me to sigh that so much effort goes into the building.  It’s something they are proud of, and therein lies the problem.  If this were the headquarters of a rich, secular corporation, I could understand it differently.  But this is a building where a few of the people of God purport to meet, and there is simply too much stuff to maintain.  It’s a matter of taste, but also of the wallet.

The pastor, a woman who is one of the aforementioned congenial acquaintances, was recently appointed to a position in the larger organization.  As a friend to this group, I played in an ensemble for the ceremony.  I should have known what was coming, and I wasn’t terribly surprised, but I was still bummed by the proceedings.  And proceedings they were!  Goodness!  The very idea of Robert’s Rules of Order in the context of a church gathering gives me heartburn.  Motions and amendments can work for some organizations, but (a) those organizations tend not to be the ones I’m invested in, and (b) no church group should be an institution in that sense!

The so-called “worship service” has become an institution of its own in 99% of established churches.  I have written relatively extensively about that misleading term and will not belabor it here except to say that it is an unhelpful concatenation at best.  Moreover, the idea of mixing Robert’s motions with preludes, objections with prayer, delegate consensus with worship of the Almighty . . . oh, the impulse to recoil.  It’s visceral as well as intellectual.

But this is not really about Presybterians and Presybterianism, although in my experience this particular denomination tends to take special pride in the old-style-class look and feel of its edifices.  This is really about most mainline churches.  I like comfort and cleanliness probably more than than the next guy, but when so much attention is given to looks of the place, it seems too important.  When there is pageantry at church on a regular basis, I think of Jesus’ “pharisee and the publican” story.

I also think of the pageantry of marching bands.  Like my parents before me, I have loved good marching shows.  I have had tears brought to my eyes by the grandeur of the general effect of a top-flight DCI display.  The pageantry of a fine marching band can be simply beautiful!  But it can also take over everything in its path.  Like a boa constrictor around the neck of a band program, marching can choke the instrumental music program of a high school, the lives of scores of people, and budgets, too.

In its place, marching band is a wonder, and lots of people love it.  In its place, the marching machine fills participants and spectators alike with a sense of grand pageantry and impressive music.  In its place, visual beauty is a gift of God.  Pageantry and physical setting can also serve a role in Christian assemblies.  My personal preference is that it not be very often (like maybe once a year, say, at Passover time or for some other meaningful purpose).  Mainline churches tend to move far more often in the realm of liturgical pageantry, and that puts me off more than low-church liturgy.

Coda
For my part, both music programs and churches should leave the pageantry aside for a while.  End the marching season before the football playoffs could even take you away.  Marching down the center aisle to light candles during a prelude?  Nah.  I’ll be far more attracted if the churches are characterized less by bling, and more by genuineness and organic conversation and adoration of God and open study of scriptural texts.

Upside-down programs

Safety

This morning, while hiking on a wide, relatively flat trail along the river, I wondered allowed to myself. . . .

Are the people who wear bicycle helmets on a trail like this while cruising at 8-10 mph the same ones who continue to wear masks in stores?  (Both helmets and masks have tended to overheat me, keeping me from the best breathing.  The occasional caterpillar, spider, and blades of grass were the “hazards” on this trail, but I understand that helmets are indicated for other types of riding.)

And this wondering reminds me of Liza, a student from long ago.  Her mother kept her from going on a field trip because— and I quote—”You never know what might happen on one of those buses.”  I wouldn’t be surprised if Liza is still wearing a mask because she was raised by an over-protective mother.

Over-protectiveness and overzealous protection may just give the illusion of safety.  And I think, not so oddly, that there might just be a connection with religion and theology here.  If all the exhortations are about staying safe, there might not be much Christian living going on.

I like my hikes free of constraint.¹

I like my forays into the grocery store free of masks and plexiglass.

And I like and my Christian life unconstrained by people who think it’s all about watching your step, or else.

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¹ The idea of wearing a mask while hiking outdoors is, and always has been, ludicrous.  I witnessed this very thing in Colorado a couple years ago.

Serving and service in “services”

When talking with people about the congregational gathering or a home group or the assembly in general, I don’t use the word “service.”  I believe that word¹ conceals important things while revealing inappropriate emphases.  So, I’ve used three forms of this word in my title advisedly.

Today, for perhaps the third time in a Restoration church, I witnessed women in a relatively traditional assembly participating in a kind of serving that is not normal, or even permitted, in 99% of sister churches.  While I find this activity to be a non-issue, I wonder about the development of thinking and practice in the observed location and others.

Two or three decades ago, I’d already come to the conclusion that the passing of communion trays by women is a non-issue, no matter what one thinks about women in leadership roles.  It’s a matter of serving, and women serve in all sorts of other ways, such as potlucks and children’s classroom supplies.  Women make the traditional church go ‘round.  Why would we think serving communion trays to men and women is any different from serving in the kitchen at a “fellowship meal”?

The answer, of course, is that we have made communion official with liturgified practice and structured thinking.  For a person to get up and serve has become, over the years, a matter of official function rather than “mere” serving.  We may say that men “serve” communion, but we really think of what they do as official “leadership.”  And in churches that retain a traditional, “complementarian” view of male and female roles, women don’t stand up and do anything, really.  In some churches, they don’t even make comments in Bible classes.

Now, when a woman passes communion trays in a congregational worship assembly, is the group thinking more in terms of serving, or that the women are performing an official task that’s been historically reserved for men?

If the former, I wonder about women’s libbers.  Do they consider that this is actually a step backward for women?  In other words, are women who pass communion trays now relegated even more to roles of service?  (Of course, serving is a good thing, not a bad one, but if your mindset is that women have been squelched, it might not feel good to serve.)

If the latter, i.e., if we are thinking women are participating in an official, liturgical role, I would argue that the congregation that allows women to serve has not progressed in its overall thought and practice.

We need to be progressing out of officialness, not diving more deeply into it.

Serving is appropriate for anyone.  Passing trays is far more of a serving role than an official role, unless we make it official.  (Someone has said that the women’s issue is relate to how close women get to a microphone.)  Let all serve.  Let more people serve than lead!  And whatever happens in the service assembly, let no one denigrate serving.

– B. Casey, 8/6/23

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¹ It should not be thought of as a “service.”  It is a gathering of believers.  Serving occurs, but not everything is service, and it should not be thought of as serving God’s needs.  Leadership occurs, but not everything that goes on is leadership.  “Service” implies formal liturgy and ritual, a la the temple.  The word might be more aptly applied to the proceedings of some funerals.

A tale of three siblings and their parents

Preface:  This tale is not like the last sibling tale a few months ago.  (Not in the slightest.  If you know, you know, but don’t ask.)  This little tale is more of a curiosity, not a lament, so don’t worry.

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♩  ♩  ♩  ♩

Two nice parents had a farm.  

E-I-E-I-O.   And they raised three kids.

♩  ♩  ♩  ♩

The family attended an Independent Christian Church when their daughters and son were young.  But things are different now.

• Presently, the parents attend a mainline church in the “Reformed” tradition.
• The oldest daughter goes to a modern, nondenominational, Bible-emphasizing “Reformed” church.
• Another daughter continues in the church of her youth.
• And the son is in a somewhat conservative version of a liberal denomination.

I can’t call to mind any other families I know whose Christian roots have been retained but who have become more diverse in terms of affiliation, so I find this scenario intriguing.  Now for a slightly more detailed version of the story.

This hardworking farm family went to church every Sunday.  One side of the family had some Lutheran background, and I’m not sure about the other, but the father taught the kids’ Bible class in a Christian Church.  Mind you, this was not just any Christian church; it’s one from the Conservative Christian Church denomination.  It’s a basic, Bible-believing, small-town church in one sense, but it hails from the tradition of the American Restoration Movement, which is predominantly Arminian but traces some of its roots from the Scottish Presbyterians.  This rural congregation happens to be one of the few seemingly lively Restoration churches in the larger region.  There are about ten Churches of Christ, none of which I consider terribly viable, within 50 miles.  Disciples of Christ congregations (which might smell more like Christian Churches in some cases) are a bit more common but even less impressive.

Back to the story.  When the offspring left home, they largely retained Christian belief and practice.  While they are all still involved and more or less connected, each of the four family units has a different face on its Christianity and church involvement.

• Two are “Reformed,” and two are not.
• Two are in theologically, socially liberal churches, and two are not (not the same two as above).
• One or two are involved in optional midweek groups.

I wonder about any perceived connections (or disconnects) between the church of the kids’ youth and their current churches.  I also wonder about the extent of awareness of theological distinctions.  (Two of the individuals are generally well-read, and perhaps not the other two.)  While the differences are significant, I’m not sure they come into play.  Depending on a person’s interests, depth, or level of involvement, such points might not become significant.

In the late 90s, I read (and later digested and celebrated!) an essay about a noted theologian’s exodus from Reformed theology.  A little later, I began to discern the depth of the differences between generally Reformed and generally not Christian philosophies.  The differences are real, really significant, and really difficult to overestimate.  As long as one doesn’t allow created theologies to take the focus off of God and the scriptures, I suppose it’s OK.  Still, I find affiliation-divergence almost as curious—although certainly not as dangerous—as divergence into atheism and the occult.

Postscript:  This story is not about my sisters and me.  First off, I’m the oldest, not one of the girls.  Second, my baby sister might be a privileged brat (and she recently shared a video to prove both that fact and her good nature!), but her theology isn’t so different from mine.  🙂

Kentucky again

In 1801, the Cane Ridge Revival took place.  Barton Stone was a primary leader, along with other then-Presbyterian ministers and some from other denominations.  The happenings and outgrowths of Cane Ridge must have been quite remarkable, and Stone became one of the chief influencers in the American Restoration Movement.

Less than three years later, the “Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery” was drafted and signed by six men, including Stone.  That brief, courageous document has drawn me for as long as I’ve known about it.  Five years after that, some 300 miles northeast, Thomas Campbell penned his “Declaration and Address” (of the Christian Association of Washington, PA).  Thomas’s wife and children, including his son Alexander, would soon join them, having emigrated from Scotland; Alexander would become even more influential than Thomas.

The two movements—one from Kentucky, the other from the environs of southwestern Pennsylvania—joined up in 1832.  Although the “restoration” ideals of the movement would arguably take priority over the unity ideals, and although cognitive aspects would seem to eclipse God’s work in and of the heart, Cane Ridge remains.  It could fairly be said that the real launching pad for the Christian Church, the Church of Christ, and the Disciples of Christ (and more) is located in Cane Ridge, Kentucky.

Now, in 2023, less than 50 miles to the southwest, on the other side of Lexington, we hear of another “revival”–this one, at Asbury University.  Reportedly, nearly 50,000 people have been involved in some sense.  That’s probably 4-5x the number at Cane Ridge, but it’s hard to imagine that Asbury has been more significant.  Regardless, I’d be more likely to head to Asbury than to New Orleans on this Fat Tuesday, but I’m reluctant about such things as revivals . . . yet I want to allow for God to act.  Is there possibly something about Kentucky and its history that makes it ripe for such revivals?  Nah, couldn’t be.  Or could it?

– B. Casey, 2/21/23

For more on the American Restoration Movement, please consider the pieces linked below.  The first blogpost refers to the Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery, which I still wish would be intentionally applied to every denomination.

Unity and restoration

Models for unity

Shallow ecumenism

The world upside down (2 of 2)

A religion movement that began in Florida in the 1970s aimed to turn the world upside down.  It was successful at what was termed “evangelism,” and numbers grew in the churches associated with this Crossroads (Gainesville, Florida) Movement . . . which came to be called the Boston Movement, and, later, the ICoC—the International Churches of Christ.  At some point, Los Angeles became the effective HQ, and “World Sector Leaders” were designated for various global churches in the network.

During the Boston period, one of the most influential, long-term leaders, Steve Johnson, who had been a theater major in college, wrote a musical theater show called Upside Down, staged in NYC in 1987.  I can find only scant internet references today.¹  This dramatization was about the early Christians turning the world upside down in the 1st century.  I was initially interested, yet I couldn’t escape negative feelings about the Boston Movement’s (yep, B.M.) excesses and misdirections.  I simply wasn’t interested in their view of turning things upside down, I don’t think I ever watched the show on tape, although I had somehow come into possession of a copy.

However, I remain very interested in how God turned the world upside down in the coming of Jesus Christ.  And Paul was a key player in this historical movement—a world-changing movement that has waxed and waned, but lasted, to this day.  Here is a telling passage about some of the intense activity of Paul, excerpted from Acts:

1 Now when they had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. 2 And Paul went in, as was his custom, and for three weeks he argued with them from the scriptures, 3 explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ.” 4 And some of them were persuaded, and joined Paul and Silas; as did a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women. 5 But the Jews were jealous, and taking some wicked fellows of the rabble, they gathered a crowd, set the city in an uproar, and attacked the house of Jason, seeking to bring them out to the people. 6 And when they could not find them, they dragged Jason and some of the brethren before the city authorities, crying, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also, 7 and Jason has received them; and they are all acting against the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus.” 8 And the people and the city authorities were disturbed when they heard this. 9 And when they had taken security from Jason and the rest, they let them go.
10 The brethren immediately sent Paul and Silas away by night to Beroea; and when they arrived they went into the Jewish synagogue. 11 Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica, for they received the word with all eagerness, examining the scriptures daily to see if these things were so.  Acts 17:1-11 – RSV

The International Church of Christ (née Crossroads) movement began in the 1970s and petered out in the 1990s and early 2000s, later regaining some momentum.  It is a branch of a 200-year-old American Restoration Movement from which I trace my spiritual lineage.  While I find both of those movements significant—one, more than the other—they both pale in comparison to the messianic movement of first-century Jews and gentiles (non-Jews).  The Jesus Movement² has turned the world upside down forever, and that is infinitely more significant than the free speech issues dealt with in the previous post, or any other geopolitical issues that have arisen or will arise.

There are other, perhaps better translations of τὴν οἰκουμένην ἀναστατώσαντες / ten oikoumenēn anastatōsantes in Acts 17:6, but “turned the (inhabited) world upside down” isn’t half bad!  Historians might observe that the (known) world had been turned upside down, in other senses, with the great flood, with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, with the Egyptian enslavement, and with the Babylonian captivity.  In an effort to make holistic sense of the apparent progression of redemptive history, one could attempt to connect Israel’s prophecies to the Maccabean time, to Jesus, to Greece and Rome.  Some attempts might be on track, but what is clear is that our globe’s story was indeed altered as Jesus began to teach and heal, and to disciple others.  The movement that began with Jesus of Nazareth didn’t really begin with Jesus; it had been God’s story all along.  But as that one man willingly went to His death and then was raised, everything was changed, and the most important movement ever was begun.²

One might also expend theological effort to connect the phrase “at the right time, Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6) to a historical moment in the Roman empire, seeing that moment in time as the culmination.  I’m not much of a determinist, i.e., I believe in human free will, so I’m not inclined to think that God set a moment in history, a precise number of days or years after X or Y happened in Babylon or Jerusalem or Rome.  On the other hand, I do think it was the right general time in human history for God to come to earth in a new way, and I think that did indeed happen . . . and that happening was world-altering.  It turned the world upside down, if you will, and the Synoptics’ account of the temple’s curtain being torn is but one indication that things were changing radically and forever, according to God’s movement.

The previous post dealt chiefly with one overarching concern:  a decreasing freedom to speak and write in western society.  Far more intelligent and observant people than I have been decrying this societal downturn.  Arenas affected by censorship and other sorts of big-brother bullying include

• gender dysphoria and related trends (see here for some references to the upside-down medical rhetoric)
• Covid rhetoric and debates and public health policy
• racism/anti-racism/critical race theory
• oppression in churches and other institutions

In some cases, falsehood has been considered true while truth has been considered false.  In other cases, long-held values and long-upheld ethical practice have been replaced by opposing ideals, so that, for instance, a pure-hearted “color-blindness” is seen as racist,³ or a scientific standard is ignored in favor of socialized, politicized pseudo-science.  Those things are upside down, but they are not the end.

Power structures and politics can be quite oppressive, but all these things are trivial, compared to the more lasting, more significant kind of upending that began to occur about two thousand years ago in the person and activities of Messiah Jesus.

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¹ I was digging there.  The musical appears to be almost unheard of 25 years later.  A little more searching turns up a couple of references on sites directly related to Johnson.  A full video is now available for streaming at  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQW3bNuU-y4

² Readers interested in the beginnings of the Jesus movement may be enriched by some of this material by and about the late, respected scholar Larry Hurtado, who devoted much of his life and work to Christian origins.

• https://larryhurtado.wordpress.com/2019/11/06/chronology-matters/ (published about a month prior to Hurtado’s death)
• Category:  Posts tagged ‘Jesus-devotion”
• Review of book  Destroyer of the gods (sic)
• Words of tribute from Bart Ehrman, well-known skeptic/agnostic scholar

³ “Once considered a progressive attitude, color-blindness is now seen as backwards—a cheap surrender in the face of racism, at best; or a cover for deeply held racist beliefs, at worst.

“But color-blindness is neither racist nor backwards.  Properly understood, it is the belief that we should strive to treat people without regard to race in our personal lives and in our public policy.”  – Coleman Hughes, The Free Press, 12/20/22

Legalism and “compliance”

Compliance.

Legalism.

Both of these words engender negative reactions, if not outright rebellion, in my head.

I’m put off by the shallow, shadow-chasing enterprise that I find “compliance” to be in the financial world.   I imagine it’s very similar in the insurance and healthcare worlds.  Essentially, if we approach every question on the basis of compliance with rules, we end up with a watered-down nothingness that helps no one.  On the other hand, I do understand that if an institution is found to be systemically non-compliant, serious ramifications may result.

“Legalism” and “legalistic” entered my vocabulary sometime in my late teens or early twenties, as I became aware that the particular denomination in which I was raised is broadly accused of legalistic approaches.  My particular congregation was considerably left of center in most respects, but the effects of fear-based legalism sometimes surfaced.  Even today, having moved beyond that a great deal of the denominational “stuff,” I am regularly reminded of said stuff second-hand.

If we approach every God-question on the basis of what the law says, we might just end up treading water.  On the other hand, if one starts with central questions such as who God is and what God wants, or even what makes sense and what gets to the heart of the matter . . . well, then we might be moving along with the intent and not flailing about or swimming upstream.

Some seem to have the cockles of their hearts warmed by complying with rules and discovering new regulations with which to comply or align.  They might even love finding fault with those who don’t fall into line with supposedly “scriptural” positions.  Orthodoxy, though, is highly overrated.  Compliant and legalistic mindsets extend to the other side of the ideological spectrum, too.  If one doesn’t kowtow to the current notion of “wokeness,” for instance, s/he is seen as noncompliant by a different set of forces with power.

It’s a fearful existence, this rule-based “compliance.”

If we took the microphones away

1. If we took the microphones and the electronic effects away from half the vocal “artists” in the world, we would hear something far less impressive.  (This assertion begs questions around artistry.)
2. If we took the microphones away from those with the gift of gab who are in leadership positions, they might talk less, and the rest of us would waste less time.  I regularly observe a lack of audio-consciousness on the part of those who would probably do better if they were only made aware.  Conference calls with poor microphone placement and paper shuffling and people muttering….  Processes are sometimes hindered, and the experience can be frustrating.  I digress.
3. If we took the microphones away from half the men who pray aloud and read scripture publicly in many churches, we would hear little to nothing, although many of us have probably heard such machismatic mumbo-jumbo as “Hey, I don’t need a microphone.  Heh-heh.”

• https://blcasey.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/mumblo-jumblo/
• https://blcasey.wordpress.com/2009/08/18/microphones/

Did you notice that I referred to “men” who pray aloud and read scripture publicly?  What about women?  If we took the microphones away from church venues altogether, much of the “official” sense would fade from the minds of those who have concerns about women’s roles “in church.”  I myself care about such things, but not necessarily with the same level of concern, or for the same reasons, as many of my historically closest siblings.  Today, I’m wanting to pay attention to only a side aspect of this age-old struggle:  the physical setting.  I would put it this way:  The more informal the setting, i.e., the less official and pulpit-like (with microphone), the less present the women’s-role issues.  Of course, the size of the venue can be an issue; if it’s a large hall or other acoustical factors are present, amplification is necessary.

Thoughts of pulpits and microphones are surface-level thoughts, and people’s actual concerns are not necessarily so shallow.  Or are they?  If such physical items are removed from the scenario, and if a guy’s concerns then fade a little, I’d say he wasn’t sure what really mattered to him in the first place.  Did the bare fact that a woman spoke create the issue for him, or was it the setting in which she spoke?  Is it her voice when there are men present that disturbs, or is it the audible voice amid pulpits and microphones and pews?  Perhaps a conservative or narrow-minded person doesn’t need to ignore his conscience but to ponder why he feels the way he feels.  If the issues seem to fade when the surroundings are less official-looking, less institutional . . . then I’d suggest that the woman’s voice wasn’t the only concern in the first place.

A particularly traditionally minded person once spoke for many of his mindset while on a youth retreat.  He noted a few nontraditional elements in what we were doing in that setting and commented setting, we could “get away with” more where we were (in a big cabin in the woods).  The praise team didn’t bother him there, for instance.  See what I mean?

Not an elder, but older (and wiser?) (2)

[Find part 1 here.]

Given my background/scriptural understandings and some of my personal history, the reader won’t be too surprised that my suspicion of “church leadership” has not faded.  I think my church paradigm overall has been morphing and growing ever since.  It has reached a point of no return and very little likelihood of being influenced in a different direction.  I say this not to discourage dialogue but to acknowledge a reality.  I simply have no interest in what smacks of pandering to a clergy person or to a hierarchy or any other structure.  These organizational things trouble me too deeply.  Lest a CofC reader think I am talking only about other denominations, I will clarify that I think the problem is of the same hue (although typically not as deeply tinted) in CofC congregations as in, say, Methodist or Baptist ones.  It is notable that small, non-franchise “community church” groups are likely to be equally un-healthfully reliant on the “pastor.”

I do affirm that, when possible, people with training and/or experience should work in some areas.  I think here of the teaching of children, the counseling of youth and married people, and the exposition and exegesis of scripture.  Talents, training, and experience do have their places in the healthy, vibrant functioning of churches and other Christian groups, but titles and staff ministry positions can distract and can even be found to compromise the health of a body of people.  Although in just the right situation, I suppose I would myself consider taking a church salary for some kind of church role or roles, I really do not believe in that kind of church anymore.  That doesn’t mean I don’t find good people in institutional churches, and that doesn’t mean I don’t go to them regularly.  I do, and I do.  I simply cannot invest in them or dream about them as I once did.

Back to the present
So, now that I am old enough and experienced enough to be an elder or pastor or shepherd or bishop just about anywhere (no matter how the given group conceives of the label), I have to wonder about another aspect of being the church elder I once aspired to be:  wisdom.  (Please recall that I have recently been drawn to the “wisdom literature” in the Hebrew Bible.  See here and here.)  It is assumed that the old have gained some wisdom.  Not that I’m all that old, but I am a whole lot older than I was 20 years ago.  So, while I thought I had all the main things right in my head in my 20s or 30s, I later learned that that I didn’t.  And now, even if I wanted to be an elder in an institutional church, I wouldn’t think I was wise enough.  I’m surely a little wiser than I was when I was 20 or 30 or 40, but I would feel so inadequate if I were in a role that caused a church group to view me as inherently wise.  Here is another way to put that:  I think all pastoral pedestals ought to be destroyed and discarded—especially any that any unsuspecting person would try to put me on!

Enter another assumption I learned as a kid, based on a patternistic, proof-texty reading of two brief passages in Paul’s (so-called) pastoral letters:  maybe a special level of wisdom comes from having a plurality of children in the home.  A 33-year-old father with three kids (like my dad was) goes through all sorts of interpersonal situations, and by the time he’s in his 50s or 60s, he surely has learned a great deal about how to “shepherd” different personalities within a group.  I, on the other hand, have an only child, and I haven’t always manifest wisdom even in dealing with the one.

When I was having a heart-to-heart with my son a year or so ago, I told him that there are some benefits and some drawbacks to having an older (more presbytish!) dad.  On the downside, I am wounded (deeply so), and life’s experience brings as much incapacity as capability.  I am tired and generally less than patient with antics than a younger dad.  On the upside, there are experiences and insights I can share with him that could not be shared by a younger father of a nine-year-old.  I don’t think I’m a very good soul-shepherd, but I’m a passable physical-needs overseer for him.  I could teach him things that a 33-year-old father probably couldn’t.  (I’m rambling in a sea of inadequacy.)  I would hope I have additional wisdom, but I’m not so sure most of the time.

I feel pretty experienced in “the faith” (depending on how you define that), and I’m “apt to teach,” and I might manifest a couple other qualities mentioned in Paul’s lists, but I don’t feel wise enough to be an elder or a dad.  I will never be an elder in a traditional sense.  I am a dad, however, and I can only hope that I have more wisdom than I did before Jedd was born, and more likelihood of using it in difficult situations.  Good grief.  He just turned nine, and we have not even had difficult situations yet, really.  I am terrified of when he is 11 and 12 and 14.  God, give me wisdom.