Renew / Rebuild / Restore Message from May 2009

While I’m “busy” making my semi-annual blog entries (brace yourselves!), I thought I’d upload a message from earlier this year that I’d written out--a rare occurrence. It’s a framework for approaching personal transformation (inner-healing, in essence) rooted in the Genesis narrative. Or, you might just say it’s a commentary on some of Leanne Payne’s writings. One could do a whole lot worse, I suppose. :-)

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Sunday, May 3, 2009 ~ Isaiah 45:2-3, Genesis 3, John 15:4ff

Introduction:

One morning in early 1996 I was sitting in the common room of a rental house where I lived at the time (Harare), doing whatever it was that constituted my attempts at meaningful devotions – which probably meant drinking tea, staring somewhat foggily at a bible, and just trying to wake up. One of my housemates walked into the room and said she felt the Lord had given her a scripture for me while she was praying that morning, and she just wanted to share it with me: Isaiah 45:2-3.

I may have laughed: there are many sections of scripture that have been deeply meaningful to me over the past twenty years, and yet, without question, if there is one single book through which the Lord has most communicated his hope, love and will to me, it has been the book of Isaiah, and particularly chapters 40 and beyond. (And, of course, then the Lord plants me in a church whose founding passage is from Isaiah 56. J) So, I probably laughed when my roommate said, “I think the Lord gave me a scripture for you, and it’s from Isaiah.”

Isaiah 45:2-3 reads:

² I will go before you
       and will level the mountains;
       I will break down gates of bronze
       and cut through bars of iron.

³ I will give you the treasures of darkness,
       riches stored in secret places,
       so that you may know that I am the LORD,
       the God of Israel, who summons you by name.

Those lines are part of a commanding sweep of verses in which the prophet starts to make plain how the Lord will rescue and restore the nation of Israel from their captivity to Babylon – through raising up a leader of the Persians, King Cyrus, who will rescue Israel from the Babylonian captors and send them back to rebuild and restore their own land in Palestine. Yahweh asserts that, as the Creator of all things, He can raise up for His purposes even people who don’t know Him, like Cyrus. Listen to the marvelous flow of this passage, picking up from the end of chapter 44, where the Lord speaks first to Israel, and then to Cyrus:

²⁴ "This is what the LORD says—
       your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb:
       I am the LORD,
       who has made all things,
       who alone stretched out the heavens,
       who spread out the earth by myself,

²⁵ who foils the signs of false prophets
       and makes fools of diviners,
       who overthrows the learning of the wise
       and turns it into nonsense,

²⁶ who carries out the words of his servants
       and fulfills the predictions of his messengers,
       who says of Jerusalem, 'It shall be inhabited,'
       of the towns of Judah, 'They shall be built,'
       and of their ruins, 'I will restore them,' …

²⁸ who says of Cyrus, 'He is my shepherd
       and will accomplish all that I please;
       he [Cyrus] will say of Jerusalem, "Let it be rebuilt,"
       and of the temple, "Let its foundations be laid." ' [Then to chapter 45]

¹ "This is what the LORD says to his anointed,
       to Cyrus, whose right hand I take hold of
       to subdue nations before him
       and to strip kings of their armor,
       to open doors before him
       so that gates will not be shut:

² I will go before you
       and will level the mountains;
       I will break down gates of bronze
       and cut through bars of iron.

³ I will give you the treasures of darkness,
       riches stored in secret places,
       so that you may know that I am the LORD,
       the God of Israel, who summons you by name.

At the time I wasn’t sure quite what to make of the passage – I heard it primarily in a personal sense, that the Lord would go before me to break through obstacles in my own life and reveal or release the treasures of his Kingdom – something like that. My experiences in the past five to ten years, though, have caused the passage to take on further significance. The key phrase, to me, is these mysterious “treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places,” that the Lord promises to bring out from wherever they’ve been hidden away, barricaded behind the “gates of bronze and … bars of iron.” At a first (and literal) glance, it sounds like a tale of chests of gold and rooms filled with precious jewels, hidden in the subterranean bowels of some mountain kingdom, guarded by booby-traps, wraiths and dragons. Sounds far-fetched … or perhaps not?

What if the treasures – as has seemed more and more evident to me in recent years – are people (or even parts of people), and the riches are those things bestowed upon them, or carried within them, as those who are made in the royal image and likeness of the King of Creation; treasures and riches that have been taken captive by the exploits of the prince of darkness and his minions, whose mission – as we noted last week – is “to steal, kill and destroy”; and what if the mission of “God’s anointed,” as Isaiah 45 refers to Cyrus, is to bring out those treasures and riches, or – as is written nearby in Isaiah 49 verse 9 regarding the “servant of the Lord” – his mission is “to say to the captives, ‘Come out,’ and to those in darkness, ‘Be free!’”

And, taking that a step further, what if those treasures are not only the more obvious and glorious gifts and talents and riches that God has given his children … what if some of the most precious treasures are in fact those places in people’s lives, those parts, those stories that we might otherwise have viewed as being of little or no value or consequence, or worse – that we might have viewed as shameful, as disqualifying, or even as grounds for dis-inheritance: meaning, places or parts or stories in people’s lives that we would think of as having no part among God’s people or God’s story. What if those are the special treasures and riches that God wants to bring out of darkness and give a unique place of honor in His Kingdom?

Two Sundays from now – the same Sunday as the U-District Street Fair weekend – we’ll be having our Commission 102 celebration. Each spring and fall since April 2007, when our house of worship here hit the century mark, we’ve been having a semi-annual celebration – called the “Commission” series – in which we give an update on our building renewal efforts – the Centennial Project – and connect that with our wider mission and ministry in this district and city. At the Commission 101 celebration last fall, we announced an arts show for which we were inviting original submissions around the theme, “Renew, Rebuild, Restore,” based on – you guessed it – a couple of scriptures in the latter chapters of Isaiah. From Isaiah 58, verse 12:

“Your people,” the prophet wrote, “will rebuild the ancient ruins / And will raise up the age-old foundations; You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, / Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”

And from Isaiah 61:4:

“They” – that is, those the Lord has rescued – “will rebuild the ancient ruins / And restore the places long devastated; They will renew the ruined cities / That have been devasated for generations.”

The Commission 101 announcement last fall asked people to submit art on two specific themes under the “Renew / Restore / Rebuild” heading – how they would express either the rebuilding of a life, or the renewal of a city. This morning – and next Sunday – I want to talk about that first theme, the rebuilding or renewing of a life, through the language of what is often called “inner healing,” and then on the Commission 102 Sunday we’ll shift over to the renewal of the world around us – which is in keeping with the flow of those scriptures from Isaiah: in Isaiah 61, for example, the Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon the Lord’s anointed one, to set the captives free and bring the full rescue and restoration of God to God’s people … and it is those people, in turn, who do the things described in those verses above – the work of rebuilding, restoring, renewing. And that’s why I began with the verses from Isaiah 45: because inner healing (or, one might say, the transformation of the inner person) is, to me, a core part of the process by which the treasures and riches of God (that is, you and what is in you) are liberated for the glorious purposes of God.

I want to look at this personal healing/transformation in three primary ways, each with its own primary scripture; today we’ll probably only make it through the first part, and then pick up the other two on the 10th:

• First, I want to attempt to answer the question of who we are as humans, as it relates to our wounding and healing, and I’ll try to do so through the story of Genesis 1-3, particularly chapter 3, and Paul’s related terminology of the “old” and “new,” or (as some have used), the “false” and “true,” self. As much as our interior life can seem like a profoundly – and sometimes frustratingly – elusive mystery, I do believe there are some basic aspects of how we are made that we can understand, and that can help significantly in finding healing in the midst of our brokenness.
• Second, I want to apply that understanding to give a simple but helpful model for how we get so messed up in the first place, along with how inner healing takes place – how we get “un-messed.” I’ll use a beautiful passage from Isaiah 51 (surprise, surprise) to help clarify and illustrate this dynamic.
• And third, I want to reference briefly the whole understanding of ourselves not only as a single entity (i.e., I am one person), but as a person made up of many internal ‘parts,’ and how those parts participate in our brokenness and our healing. I’ll use 1 Cor. 12 as a starting place for that discussion.

Please note, especially if this subject is one in which you’ve spent a lot of time, that I’m quite aware that this is a topic on which individual authors alone have written multiple volumes, to say nothing of the whole body of understanding in this field; and so, in the course of attempting to make a few central things clear, I will omit many other things almost entirely … so please grant the space for this to be as limited as it, of necessity, will need to be.

So – shall we plunge in?

Back to the Garden – One Way of Understanding of Who We Are and How We Function

Last week I read Genesis 1 in its entirety – a marvelous summation of God’s goodness and intent manifest in creation. We read there of humanity as image-bearers of God, and if you look at what God does in that chapter and into chapter 2, you can glimpse many aspects of what it means to bear God’s image and likeness: creative sons and daughters of God who, as God’s regal representatives on earth, express God’s good rule and reign over the rest of creation (though not over one another, it’s worth noting) … beings whose speech, actions and very presence show forth and express the nature and glory of God.

Now in the picture that emerges from chapters 1 and 2, and in some ways is highlighted by what happens in chapter 3, it seems (to me) that we are created to live in an un-self-conscious union with God and – in a related sort of way – in an un-self-conscious openness to one another. In the language of Genesis 2:25, “The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.” Man [which is what “Adam” means] and woman [which is what “Eve” means] were created to live in an unashamed, open and pure connection or communion with God, with one another and with the rest of creation. If I can re-read a marvelous section of writing that I shared some months ago, I think it helps give us a rich picture of what it is to live in, and from, this un-fallen, un-self-conscious, un-separated self … without vision, as the proverb says, we perish, and sections of writing like this help to give us a life-giving vision of … well, life:

“Adam, unfallen, had no identity problem. He was a creature in communion with the Life-Giver. As a single flower opens broadfaced to receive its life from the sun, so Adam lifted his face and received joy, power, his very being, from God. …

“The unfallen Adam and Eve could hear God—and they could listen to Him. They had union and communion with the Life-Giver. They were, in other words, God-conscious and not self-conscious. They had eyes that could see clearly because their motives were single [pure]. They had one face that could look up at the sound of the voice of God. Their spirits were alive; they therefore had authority over all nature, including their own souls and bodies. Their souls (psychological faculties), under the control of a [human] spirit that was indwelt by God, yielded what could be called a holy intellect, [a] richly producing imaginative faculty, a healthy and wholesome and richly informing intuitive faculty, and a will without blemish. Their sensory, emotional and feeling faculties were in harmonious accord with the Spirit of God and with all nature. Their minds contained no [bad] memories, conscious or unconscious, to remind them of their need for forgiveness or a need to forgive others. They had no horror of themselves such as we call, in the jargon of today, a ‘bad self-image.’ Their thoughts and ideas were not based on, or cluttered by, false ideologies or misplaced loyalties. They had no repressed desires, no memories of maltreatment, and no experiences of rejection by others.

“They had received only love. Their relationships with God, with each other, and with the animal kingdom around them were relationships of love. They were channels of love to all creation. There is no doubt they blessed all they touched. Experiencing always the Real Presence of God, love flowed out from them; they were Sons [and Daughters] of God who did not know separation from God.” [Leanne Payne, Real Presence, 57, 60-61]

If that sounds a bit fanciful to any of you, let me, for a moment, jump way ahead in the story to one of Jesus’ most central instructions to his pupils about living life as God intended, from John 15. Jesus said these things, of course, knowing that the way to this life he was describing would soon be opened through the cross, the resurrection and ascension, and the coming of the Spirit to indwell whosoever would receive Him. I believe that what Jesus is speaking of here when he talks of “abiding” in Him is that same un-self-conscious union with God and with others based in being indwelt by the loving presence of God – the point being that the picture I just shared of Adam and Eve’s “pre-fall” life in the Garden is, in a very real way, also God’s present and future intention for us: that we can live “in Christ” in such a way, through the Spirit of God indwelling us, that we are restored to this unbroken, unashamed union with God, able to love and unafraid of being loved. Let me paraphrase part of John 15, starting with verse 4, to give a sense of this:

(Jesus, speaking to his disciples…)

“Make your life in me, and I will live in you. It’s silly to think a branch could bear fruit if disconnected from the tree or vine – it has to be connected, drawing the flow of life from its source. It’s the same with you – the only way you can truly express the life you’ve been given is if you’re connected into me, drawing your life from me. I am that source of life, that vine or tree trunk, and you are the branches that draw your life from being connected into me. If you live in and from me, with my life living in you, your life will bring forth everything I intended it to. But cut off from me, separate and independent, you can’t bring forth anything. Anyone trying to live like that eventually dries up like a branch cut off from a vine or tree, and you can’t do much with branches like that. But if you live in me and let my life-giving words live and grow and flourish within you, then anything’s possible – just ask and you’ll receive. My Father always intended it this way, from the very beginning – that by living in me this way, your life would produce all kinds of good things, and this would make plain just how good and wonderful my Father truly is.

I always live in my Father’s love, and I love you in the same way the Father loves me – so another way of saying all of this is that if you live in my love, letting it clothe you and fill you and be your sufficiency, just as I live in my Father’s love and let it fill me and know it to be completely sufficient for my life, then all of this will work just the way my Father intended from the beginning. You were created not only to live in my love, but to express it around you – to love others in the same way that you’ve experienced me loving you. That’s the simplest summary of my will for you, and the simplest way to live or dwell in my love. Just as a branch allows the life flowing into it from the vine or trunk to flow out of it in leaf and fruit, so you maintain that flow of my love and life into you by loving the way I’ve loved you. As you live this way you’ll find yourself filled with my joy in the most all-encompassing sort of way, and you’ll find that your relationship to me is not at all the way you would’ve thought – not the way a taskmaster relates to servants or slaves; no, you’ll find that we’re just very, very good friends. This all has been my intention with you from the beginning – it’s why I chose you in the first place and let you in on this, the way a good friend does – you’re going to bear much fruit. Just stay in my love, and love.”

“It is from this healing Presence, this gracious flow of life and power, that Adam and Eve fell.” [Payne, 60].

So let’s talk then, for a moment, about the fall. It’s clear, in how the story is written, that “shame” is one of its central motifs – it’s the summary of Adam and Eve’s relationship prior to the fall (that is, feeling no shame – chapter 2, verse 25), and it is the indirectly-stated, but obvious, summary of what Adam and Eve experienced after the fall (chapter 3) – first verse 7, “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves”; and then verses 9-10, concluding with Adam’s statement, "I heard you [God] in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."

I believe shame (or its absence) is highlighted, in particular, as the truest way of describing the contrast in human experience before the “fall” (the experience of having no self-conscious awareness of standing independent of, or separate from, God, and therefore no question of adequacy or inadequacy), versus after the “fall” (the painful awareness, having chosen to put themselves outside of the will of God, of now knowing themselves as somehow starkly separate from God [“then their eyes were opened”], from which flowed a sense of being incomplete or inadequate [“and they realized they were naked”] and the accompanying urge to cover and hide [“so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves” … and “hid”]).

At the risk of oversimplifying, I believe that all fear (“I was afraid … so I hid”) and all pride (“they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves”) – that is, all of our efforts to avoid being seen as we truly are (fear), and all our efforts to project an impression of ourselves as something other than what we truly are (pride)—which probably summarizes or encompasses nearly all (if not all) human sin—, is all an effort to address this single painful underlying problem of shame: “their eyes were opened, and they realized they were naked.” Humanity’s choice to “go it alone without God,” it seems, produces an immediate and unavoidable awareness of something being quite wrong, along with a strong need to do something about it. The problem, of course, is that all human efforts to “do something about it” (of which religion can be one very aggressive and, at times, pernicious, example) are, in fact, just a continuation of the problem.

Now, let’s think about this in terms of the “old” and “new,” or “false” and “true,” self. The old, or false, self, would be that part of us that lives from that “outside of union with God, trying to find ways to fix that problem” sort of perspective, using all sorts of variations on fear and pride in an effort to avoid “being seen” – that is, to avoid the whole shame problem. Maybe the best way of saying it would be that the false self is that within us which is motivated by fear, pride and shame, that lives from a sense that who we truly are, or what is inside us, is NOT OK, and then almost automatically seeks to establish or secure what the soul needs (meaning, identity, security, peace, joy, righteousness, etc.) outside of, or apart from, union with God in Christ.

Recall from Genesis 3 that, when Adam told the Lord that he was hiding because he’d realized he was naked, the Lord’s initial response was to ask, simply, “Who told you that you were naked?” In other words, Adam was proceeding from the understanding – because he had chosen to take the route of being outside of God’s will, and thus to be independent of God’s sufficiency for him – that his ‘nakedness’ was a terrible thing. It was only terrible, in one sense, because he was now conscious of it … what had changed was Adam’s perception of, and awareness of, himself.

[Which is not to minimize the significance or effects of the fall … quoting, again …

“In his disobedience and resulting Fall, Adam’s relationship to God was broken. Once he and Eve, as creatures, ceased to direct every aspect of their lives to the Creator, they lost wholeness and became sick in spirit (the essential self), in soul (mind, will and emotions), in body, and in all their exterior relationships. Indeed, they no longer knew God, themselves, or others: [and, quoting C. S. Lewis … ]

“From the moment a creature becomes aware of God as God and itself as self, the terrible alternative of choosing God or self for the centre is opened to it. This sin is committed daily by young children and ignorant peasants as well as by sophisticated persons, by solitaries no less that by those who live in society: it is the fall in every individual life, and in each day of each individual life, [it is] the basic sin behind all particular sins: at this very moment you and I are either committing it, or about to commit it, or repenting it.” (Payne, 57 & 59)]

What Adam and Eve needed at that point, rather than solutions like hiding or sewing leaves together, was to be clothed with God again. Which points, then, to the role of faith or belief in our salvation – that is, trusting another to do what we can never do for ourselves: it’s why Paul calls the gospel “a righteousness from God that is by faith,” hearkening back to another wonderful line from Isaiah, this time in chapter 61, where the prophet says that the Lord has “clothed me with garments of salvation / and arrayed me a robe of his righteousness,” with the kind beauty and splendor one sees in a bride’s or a bridegroom’s outfits. The old-self way of living says, “I’ll try to find something to clothe myself with”; to “put on the new self” is to let God be the one who again clothes us, so that we need not be ashamed.

In some ways, I find that it’s helpful not to think of old/new self language not so much as real “selves” but as ways of being, ways of living and responding to life. One of the earliest Christian writings outside of the New Testament writings themselves, the Didache (which means, simply, the “Teaching”),from about 100AD, begins with these words: “There is a way that leads to life, and there is a way that leads to death.” The “old self,” or life lived from the “old” or “false” self, is “the way that leads to death.” So, when Paul writes about putting off (like an old garment), or putting to death, the old self, he is saying to be done with all such ways of living and relating as are rooted in that “I’ll go it alone without God” way of trying to address life’s problems apart from union in and with God. And then when he says to put on, instead, the “new self,” he’s not saying, “Now work really hard in your own strength to make sure you do all these things so you’ll be acceptable to God.” He’s saying, rather, a Pauline form of what Jesus is saying in John 15: make your dwelling in Christ, clothed in his love and filled with his presence, in such a way that these wonderful qualities of Christ are the natural outflow and outcome of your intimacy with God.

And so that brings us to the centrality of healing at the heart of human transformation through the gospel. Reading one final section:

“Christ commanded his followers to heal because He knew that all men, in their exterior and relationships and within themselves, are broken and separated. In order for man to regain wholeness in every aspect of life, the relationships between himself and God, himself and other men, himself and nature, and himself and his innermost being, must be healed. And this healing must include the will, the unconscious mind or the deep heart, the emotions, and the intuitive and imaginative faculties. The key to the healing of all these relationships has to do with incarnational reality—with being filled with God’s Spirit and with seeking to dwell in His Presence. It has to do with man’s choosing union and communion with God rather than his own separateness which is, in effect, the “practice of the presence” of the old Adamic fallen self. To be filled with the Spirit is to choose the heaven of the integrated and emancipated self rather than the hell of the disintegrated self in separation. It is to choose the same love that has bound together the Father and Son throughout all eternity. It is to enter the Great Dance of healthy relationship with the self, others, God, and His creation. …

“Christ has commanded His disciples to be healers of the spirits, souls, and bodies of men, for we all have cut ourselves off from the very source of life. … Christ came to free man from the bondage of the false self, and He found that, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor” (Isa. 61:1). Even as Christ collaborated with the Spirit of the Lord to free man from the hell of self-will and pride, so His disciples are commanded to do the same. We proclaim liberty to the captives, freedom to the prisoners. We call forth, in the name of Christ, the real person. This is what being a disciple is; this is what “carrying the cross” is all about. And, it is always God’s Presence that heals, that calls the higher self into being. Apart from Him we have no higher self. We are many-selved, many-faced [referring to C. S. Lewis’ Till We Have Faces].

“We must therefore open every door of our being to this Presence, to God. It is then that we are healed in spirit, in intellect and will, and in our intuitive, imaginative, and sensory faculties. And it is then that we as healers, as channels of God’s Love and Presence, literally carry Christ into the lives of others. Christ’s aim is to fill the whole life of the believer. That is what conversion is—the ongoing process of being filled with Christ. The Holy Spirit, truly present and operative in the human spirit [of those who have received Christ and the Spirit], is capable of resurrecting every faculty of man.” [Payne, 57-60, excerpts]

[To Communion]

We began this morning with a call to worship from the beginning of Psalm 5, noting Peterson’s wonderful re-translation – “Every morning I lay the [broken] pieces of my life on your altar, and wait for the fire to descend.” I was thinking about the metaphor of the ‘broken pieces’ that shows up in the feeding stories of the gospels – how, after the feeing of the 5,000, the disciples gathered twelve basketfuls of broken pieces, and after the feeding of the 4,000, seven basketfuls. What’s interesting is how Jesus wanted the broken pieces to be gathered: John’s account of the feeding of the 5,000 includes the explicit instruction by Jesus—not mentioned in the other gospels—to the disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.”

“Let nothing be wasted” – Jesus wants none of the broken pieces to be wasted, wants them all gathered to be … available for his purposes? Our tendency is to think of the ‘broken pieces’ as those useless, even disqualifying, parts; and yet Jesus says, “Gather all the broken pieces … let none of them be wasted.”

[In breaking bread … “my body, broken for you” … and we thought our brokenness was disqualifying, when, in fact: it’s the only way that life comes.]

Phil 4:4-9 … or not.

Ok, this has a bit of the feeling of Paul’s, “This is foolishness, but you put me up to it.” Per Mark S’s request, here’s the “Phil 4:4-9 inverted” from last Sunday’s message, set against the genuine article:

Phil 4:4-9, (slightly edited) NIV ~

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers & sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

As I noted: “If this scripture isn’t helpful, you could always try the reverse”:

Be disheartened and discouraged in yourselves always. I will say it again: be completely depressed! Let your impatient, angry frustration be evident to everyone you meet. The Lord is very, very far away. Fret, worry and even panic about absolutely everything that happens in your life, and don’t even think about praying to God, much less asking Him for what you actually need – no, in every situation, through teeth-clenched determination and furious self-reliance, with deep bitterness and resentment because you believe you’re so left-alone, vent everything on everyone around you and then, having driven everyone else away, work it out yourself. And the demonically-driven harassment of your own soul will leave your heart and mind in perpetual, tormented distraction.

Finally, brothers & sisters, whatever is false and based in lies, whatever is dishonorable, whatever is wrong in yourself, others or the world, whatever is unholy and devilish, whatever is hideous, whatever is despicable – if anything is corrupt or detestable – let your life together be centered around those things. And whatever you’ve learned or received or heard from me or seen in me – by all means avoid doing those things; rather, let mutual suspicion and mistrust rule the day: in fact, if I’ve made any mistakes or caused anyone offense or have wronged anyone at all – shine a spotlight on those things, rehearse them over and over in your minds and conversation, and then try to emulate those behaviors yourselves. If you do all that, then I can almost guarantee you’ll find it nearly impossible to experience the God of peace as being in or among you at all [and your savage disunity will be a chilling example to the churches everywhere].

Not that I’m recommending that, of course…

Asia Trip Update Part 1 - Overview

Once again, I'm struck by how useful jet lag is for being able to work during those otherwise unfruitful wee hours of the night. I've also always liked the way that crossing the international dateline going eastbound allows one to live the same day twice: Monday, March 9th was a great day in Japan, and equally good here in Seattle. We certainly weren't expecting to arrive home to snow, though!

In any event, I thought I'd use these early hours to write a few trip updates. I'd hoped to provide these while en-route, but wasn't in much of a frame of mind to use our few free moments on the trip to write blog updates. It also didn't help that I left my laptop power cord in Seattle, so my computer was useless after the first day in Korea. I kept Gail updated almost daily through hotel or host-family computers, but that was about it.

About these updates: since writing (or speaking) short is not my forte, I'll break these up for the sake of readability. They'll be ordered by location and chronology: (1) Overview; (2) Mokpo, South Korea; (3) Seoul, South Korea; (4) Yokohama, Japan; (5) Tokorozawa, Japan; and (6) some concluding reflections on the trip. Since this blog is publicly viewable, I''ll try not to get too personal, either about myself or about others who will be mentioned here. If you're on Facebook, you might look up (Pastor) Jimmy John Morris (Yakima Vineyard) for a somewhat more personal (and humorous) slice.

Overview: this trip was a part of the ongoing development of the Japan/Korea/NW-USA Vineyards missions partnership, of which Gail and I became the US-side leaders last summer. (For more on Vineyard missions in general, visit the Vineyard missions website at: http://www.vineyardmissions.org/.) I went with Jimmy John Morris (Yakima VCF pastor and NW-region worship overseer) and one member of his church, Glory Zink, who is exploring whether to relocate to Japan to teach English and help the Yokohama church plant. We spent about 10 days on the ground in Korea and Japan, plus travel time. The trip began with intensive worship-focused seminars in Mokpo and Seoul Korea (3 days each), after which we visited more informally with the Yokohama- and Tokyo-area pastors in Japan. The trip concluded with the NW pastors celebrating with the Tokorozawa (Japan) Vineyard at a Sunday service marking the re-opening of their renovated worship space. The trip was tiring and challenging, yet punctuated by some wonderful Kingdom moments, and ultimately successful with respect to its primary goals:

a) to continue to develop relationship with the local Vineyard pastors;

b) to understand better the conditions and needs within the local churches and how the NW partner churches can be of support;

c) to do specific training and ministry with the churches while on-site;

d) to give an opportunity to assess whether the third team member, Glory, might be a suitable candidate for relocating to Japan to help one of the church plants.

 

Next - Update part 2 - Mokpo, South Korea

Asia Trip Update Part 2- Mokpo, South Korea

Mokpo isn't the end of the world, in South Korean terms, but it's not far from a place that locals describe in just that way. To get there we flew from Seattle to Seoul, connecting through Japan (Narita). We landed in Seoul (Incheon) a bit after 9pm on Friday, Feb. 27th, having been in transit about 15 hours already, and were met by the Seoul and Mokpo Vineyard pastors along with the couple who served as translators the entire time, MIcah and Kyeoung. We bundled into a van driven by the Mokpo pastor, and proceeded to drive overnight down to Mokpo, arriving a bit after 4am, and finally getting to bed around 5am. We were put up in a relatively western-style hotel near the water, on a cold and windy stretch of shoreline. I was able to sleep a whopping two hours, after which it was time to stretch and explore. Jimmy John and I went for a walk along the boardwalk to the SE, which took us around the corner to an area of fish shops where they processed, sold and distributed seafood -- what must be one of Mokpo's significant industries. (Insert Bono quote #1 - "See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out" - Beautiful Day.) One thing we quickly realized - much to our chagrin - was how cold it was, and how poorly we'd packed for cold weather.

Here's a small map that you can use to explore the area (the push-pin is the location of our hotel):

If you zoom out on the map, the "end of the world" location is to the southeast. That's the direction our hosts took us for lunch a bit later that morning, driving us first to an outdoor sculpture park on a hill overlooking Mokpo, then out of town to the SE past shipbuilding plants (Korea is the world's largest shipbuilder), acres of land reclaimed from the sea (a huge undertaking for Korea), and lovely small-scale ginseng and cabbage farms (kimchee, anyone?). We took in a traditional lunch, made more interesting by the varieties of food available, and more painful given that we sat traditional-style around low tables: Karl's legs don't do lotus-style, so dining that way is awkward at best. Here's an 'aerial view' of one of our two lunch tables, followed by a picture of our hosts:

If you look closely you can see the seafood emphasis in the variety of dishes, including the plate of octopus arms (lower L, large plate). Pictured around the table, from L to R, are: Jimmy John, Glory, a longtime member of the Mokpo Vineyard (whose name escapes me at the moment), Mrs. Pastor Kim (Jeong Myeong Ok), Kang Kyeoung Don (translator), "Micah" Park (translator - didn't get his Korean name), and Pastor Kim (Kim Gyeong Seok).

The lunchtime discussion included learning a bit more about Pastor Kim's perspective on becoming pastor of the Mokpo Vineyard. His older brother (see the Seoul update) planted the church and then adopted it into the Vineyard well over ten years ago; his brother then relocated to Seoul four years ago to plant a Vineyard there, and the congregation in Mokpo 'called' the younger brother to pastor the Mokpo church. (Younger) Pastor Kim has struggled, quite understandably, to be confident in his role as a pastor -- he had no formal training or prior experience at pastoring, and had worked in a technical field prior to being called to pastor. It was encouraging to hear our host for that meal, the elder seated at the end of the table (in photo, above), sharing about how certain she had been that the younger Pastor Kim was the right person for the church, and how fervently she had prayed that he would become the pastor when his brother moved to Seoul.

Pastor Kim shared, over lunch, a bit more about his personal experience pastoring a Vineyard church -- what has become to us, now, a familiar discussion on every trip to Korea. The Vineyard was introduced to South Korea primarily through the ministry of Bob Fulton about 15 years ago, around the time that the Toronto renewal was in full swing. Through a combination of events and circumstances, the Vineyard came to be viewed by the rest of the Church in Korea as a cult, a dangerous sect to be avoided. This was partly due to some cross-cultural insensitivity on the part of Vineyard teams coming to minister in Korea (in short: don't put your hand on someone's head when praying for them if you don't understand the significance of that action in the local culture!), partly due to some unfortunate mistranslation of Vineyard-related documents -- later corrected, but after the damage was done -- and partly due to public condemnation of the Vineyard movement by such noteworthy figures as Paul Yonggi Cho himself.

And, truth be told, the other element that seems to emerge in conversations around this topic is the degree to which local pastors feel threatened by the Vineyard movement. The church in Korea tends to be, as we are frequently told, pretty strongly hierarchical and pastor-centric, and the Vineyard values of equipping all the saints for the work of ministry through the empowering and guiding presence (and gifts) of the Holy Spirit seems to present a threat to the centralization of power in the pastor. If, as Jason Upton points out, those who are "born of the Spirit" are known by their likeness to the wind (cf. John 3), that can doubtless seem a bit hard to control. And, I'm sure the (Vineyard) movement hasn't been helped by the many examples we've had over the past 15 or so years of those who have failed to understand, and to demonstrate, that being "led by the Spirit" is in fact the most "under-control" way of living available to humans - "the Spirit gives us power, love and self-discipline" (2 Tim 1:7). But whatever fear the Vineyard movement has aroused in Korea is a bit ironic as well, given that, as we're also frequently told, Vineyard worship music is ubiquitous in, and well-loved by, churches across Korea: worship leaders like David Ruis and Andy Park, for example, have had a profound impact on the worship hymnody (if not worshiping life) of many churches there.

But the consequence for Pastor Kim, as he shared with us over lunch, has been that he's almost completely ostracized by the other church leaders, and churches, in Mokpo. That's quite a burden for someone already struggling with whether he "has the goods" to pastor at all. And yet he, like his older brother (in Seoul) remains an ardent, devoted advocate of the Vineyard movement, and the reason they give is quite simple: they found life in the Lord through the teachings and ministry of the Vineyard; and, having found that, they're not backing down, and they're not changing the subject. The elder Pastor Kim even went to the point of saying (later in the week) that, when he looks back on the (Christian) religion in which he was raised and became a pastor, it seems now to him as a form of idolatry, so much did it hinder him from actually finding life in the Lord. But for us, to hear the brothers Kim share about their perspectives is both humbling and surprising, given how much they gladly suffer for the sake of a movement (and, more importantly, what they found through that movement) that in the US already seems passe.

After lunch we drove a bit further towards the end of the world, arriving finally at a national-treasure sort of site -- a mountain (buddhist) temple area criss-crossed by hiking trails and various shrines. It's a weird thing, coming all that way from Seattle to do a seminar on worship, only to be taken to a local temple as a part of being welcomed as guests. Not that there was any confusion on the part of our hosts -- I think they just saw it as a part of showing us around their area. We enjoyed the snacks from vendors along the paths, including roasted corn and sweet potatoes, and a strong dark drink made from boiling a certain root. Our tour of the main temple area was brief and cold, a biting wind whipping around us; I was glad to get back in the van to warm up, and slept almost all the way back to our hotel.

That evening we had the first of five open sessions at the Mokpo Vineyard. Jimmy John had been to Mokpo during our 2008 Korea/Japan trip; I had stayed in Seoul the last two trips, so I was grateful for the opportunity to visit the Mokpo church first-hand. Jimmy John spoke the first night from Psalm 115:3-8, keying in on verse 8 - "those who worship [idols] will be come like them" - and highlighting the converse: that those who worship the living God will become like God, fully alive. He facilitated an open ministry time afterwards; I think I hung around the back trying to connect with people. Here are some pictures of the Mokpo sanctuary and building (sign and exterior), along with a (rather silly?) conference banner:

We had afternoon and evening sessions the next day (Saturday 2/28), and I spoke at both: in the afternoon, on the range of expression, and expressiveness, seen in biblical pictures of worship and of God; and in the evening, on "Face to Face: Seeing God and Being Seen by God" - a message that kind of clarified for me somewhere over the Bering Sea while flying from Seattle, and one that I want to continue to develop.

Prior to those sessions: a couple pictures from our lunch on Saturday:

(Saturday lunch in Mokpo, at a fabulous bulgogi restaurant. On the L is a woman ministry leader from a neighboring church who hosted our lunch [paid for it], along with Mrs. and Pastor Kim. On the R is the Mokpo worship leader, Chun Doo, sitting next to Glory. The owner of the restaurant was most kind -- upon seeing me sitting with considerable discomfort on the floor, he grabbed a stack of floor pillows and put them under me, so that I sat up off the floor a bit. He was also an impressive teacher of how to prepare and assemble bulgogi properly: clearly an artist who loved his craft.)

Following the Saturday afternoon session we were taken to a local outdoor market which featured all sorts of seafood and seaweed products, along with various snacks, fruits, dried goods, and personal effects (clothing, purses, scarves, etc.). I bought a scarf, which helped tremendously in dealing with the cold and wind, though, sadly, I left it at the last restaurant where we ate in Seoul. The funniest bit from our trip to the market was when Glory asked one vendor if she could touch the (live) baby octopi that were displayed in shallow plastic tubs. Glory bent down and cautiously stroked one little fellow. The vendor clearly didn't think that was any way to experience an octopus, so with a harrumph of disgust she quickly leaned down, grabbed one unsuspecting cephalopod, and slapped it into Glory's hand. I felt bad for the octopus, but it was an hilarious interaction that took us all by surprise.

(dried goods at Mokpo market)

Sunday morning, Jimmy John spoke on the Father's Heart at the morning service; we were taken out to a relatively high-end restaurant right after the service, and came back for an afternoon training workshop with the Mokpo worship team. The originating hope for this trip was for precisely that purpose - to help the worship team learn new songs and better worship team dynamics. Jimmy John had noticed, on is 2008 trip, that the team was using a Vineyard songbook of translated US Vineyard songs that didn't appear to have been updated since 1996. We were a bit disappointed that, upon arrival, we were informed that we would only have one afternoon session with the worship team, when we had previous agreed (by email) that we would have about four sessions with the worship team followed by 3-4 sessions with the church as a whole (part of a larger frustration that I'll address later). But, we made the best of what time we had, and those couple of hours ended being the highlight of our time in Mokpo. We were not only trying to teach some new songs (Jimmy John had made the best of his contacts through Vineyard Music along with a Korean-speaking worship leader in Yakima, and had come prepared with sheet music, Korean translations and CD's), but to teach them to play by ear -- they were used to working only from staff notation. They were experienced enough, though, that they picked things up quickly, and there was one great moment when they started running with a new song we'd just introduced, and I looked at Jimmy John and pumped my fist as if to say, "THEY GOT IT!!!" We also found out that they had a lot more in the way of Vineyard (and other) music resources than we'd been aware of - quite a lot more, in fact - and so our main work was more in encouraging them how to use the resources they already had available, and helping them lead more effectively. It would've been neat to see what we could've done given another 3-4 sessions with the worship team, but we were still pleased with our time together during those couple of hours. Here are some pictures of the worship team, all young folks:

 

Before the evening sessions they piled a handful of the kids into the van with us (we probably had 15 in an 8-passenger van at that point) and took us to a cheap-eats restaurant near the local university: 3,000 Won (~ $3.00 US) for an all-you-could eat (or, not) buffet of mostly-cold seafood (tiny crabs and shrimp), seaweed, rice, greens and variations of kimchee. To make it more appealing, you put the food from the big bins onto a prison-style tin plate. I know it was an inexpensive way that we could go out with all the young people, and I was grateful for that; all the same, I didn't eat a lot at that restaurant - just a bit of rice and a few greens - and I'm glad: Glory became violently ill that night and remained ill for the next 36 or so hours, in what was probably a case of food poisoning.

But, before all that set in, we came back to the Mokpo Vineyard for one last Sunday evening session. We'd been told that our time in Mokpo would end with an evening of worship, and Jimmy John and I joined the worship team for that set - Jimmy John on bass, which he doesn't play particularly well, and I on an upright piano stuck on the corner of the stage, which simply wasn't going to be in tune with any of the other instruments: it sounded pretty rough, in other words. All the same, at one point during a particular song, I had the odd sense of a 'presence' standing just off my right shoulder, like I sometimes do during worship, and thought, "Oh, the Lord's here!"

We were a bit suprised to hear that they only had 4 or 5 songs picked out for an evening of worship; and sure, enough, when we were done playing about 20 minutes into the service, the pastor came up and said (through the translator) that he wasn't sure which one of us was going to speak that night, but it was our turn to speak. That was the first we'd heard that one of us was speaking that evening, but the whole thing felt strangely familiar to many similar experiences visiting churches in Africa ("we'd like to introduce our special guest from America, who will come and share the Word with us" -- first thing I'd heard of it!), so I volunteered to "wing it." I talked about Ephesians 4 - the role of pastors (and such) being to equip the saints for ministry. I fear that some of my frustrations with the trip thus far (and with the previous trips to Korea) were starting to show -- the feeling that we were just being brought in as outside "experts" to speak to and pray for people in conference-type settings (i.e., we were the ones doing the "ministry" in a relatively non-relational manner), whereas our goals were to develop relationship and help build up the body through more intentional training and equipping (the members doing the ministry). But, as one of the translators pointed out later, it's not that the members were/are adverse to what I was saying; it's just that it presented a big-enough shift from the model they'd previously been given, that we needed to be patient (imagine that!).

Leaving that Mokpo Vineyard that evening - the end of our time with the church there - I found myself frustrated by the conference model we were being brought into, and in that respect discouraged by the trip thus far. However, I was also heartbroken in a different way altogether, which was due to how much I'd enjoyed the young people at the Mokpo Vineyard, especially with the time we'd had together that afternoon (the worship team workshop), over dinner, and after the evening session. They were so sweet, so sincere, so desirous of following Jesus, and at the same time so appropriately playful and fun, as kids in the 12-25 age range should be. I felt wistful and heavy-hearted as we drove away from the church building that evening, wishing - as I often do on trips like this - that I could just bring a handful of the young people home with me, or at least not have to be torn away from them so soon. Here are some pictures of the kids ... I think you'll see what I mean. (Oh - they were showing us how their cell phones do two-way video calls now ... as usual on these trips, we see technology that's at least a year or two ahead of the US market, sometimes more.)

 

 

Glory's rather sudden illness made our departure for Seoul the next day a bit more adventurous: we began the drive by taking her to a local clinic, where they diagnosed her with "cultural-adjustment stress," gave her a vitamin shot in her rump and a prescription for a who-knows-what set of pills to take over the next couple days (all of which seemed to help), and sent us on our way. We didn't make it far out of Mokpo before more of Glory's first few days in Korea came back up and out of her; so, we took our time on the drive, stopping frequently to rest, stretch and do other things (including taking a few swings at a batting cage located next to one rest stop!), and the trek back to Seoul ended up taking over 8 hours. Even though I was stiff and sort from being cramped in the van that long, once we hit Seoul's sprawl and traffic, I experienced a strange sense of joy at just being there, along with the wonder I sometimes experience when I  step back and look at my life and marvel at the strange and unexpected paths it has taken. We got to the hotel in Seoul (same place I've stayed now on the past 3 trips) in just enough time to get a brief rest before heading over to the church for a delicious kalbi beef dinner (the women of the Seoul Vineyard can flat-out cook!!!) and the first of another five sessions with the church in Seoul (see update #3).

More on "Testing, Temptation & Practicing the Presence"

You can find a PDF form of today's message here (note that one parenthetical reference is slightly off - the reference to the "anatomy of temptation" should be James 1, not James 3 -- though the discussion of why we quarrel and fight, in James 3, fits well within this overall topic).

One thing that I neglected to discuss this morning is the whole matter of perseverance and its integral place in the NT discussions of testing, temptation, and the related sufferings that we endure. Two of the most evident examples, the first from James 1:2-12 (selected verses), and the second from Romans 5:1-5 (and see also 2 Peter 1):

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. ... Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

I was even intrigued to note, in looking at the otherwise familiar passage in 1 Corinthians 10:13, that we tend to hear the verse quoted only in part: "No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out..." But the verse continues, "...so that you can stand up under it." Why would someone need to continue to stand up under something that they'd already found a way out of? What if, instead, Paul is suggesting that we can trust that the Lord will give us a way out (eventually), and so in the meantime we can persevere in the trial or test? Kind of like the verse from Deuteronomy 8 that I called attention to this morning: the purpose of God's tests was "so that in the end it might go well with you" (8:16). In the meantime, though, it may feel much more like 'enduring' (Heb 12:7) or 'bearing up under it.'

As to the resource for 'practicing the presence' -- a brief PDF set of notes about the Ignatian Prayer of Examen is linked here. This resource was provided through a seminar with Vineyard Missions USA.

Story of Glory, Weight of Glory

It’s almost embarrassing to set a recent sermon (one of mine, yes) against one that, as one person commented, should be catalogued alongside the writings of the Church Fathers (and Mothers). But if it’s true that one of the central stories of scripture is that of the glory of God (not so much what but where – and how), C. S. Lewis’ 1942 sermon, The Weight of Glory, gives something of the why: why glory is such a central way of describing our (possible) future with God, and how that possibility manifests in – and informs – our lives in the present.

In many ways what Lewis best describes is how the weight of glory is a burden of longing, a burden of desire, from which we will never be fully free this side of eternity. It reminds me of a talk I heard Dan Allender give late last year, which haunts me still. He spoke – at a seminar on “Sexual Wholeness and the Church” – on the relationship between addiction, idolatry and beauty: how we long and ache for a beauty that remains, for us mortals – despite all our efforts – always slightly (or even entirely) elusive. It’s a beauty we are made for, and which will one day make us, when we “see Him face to face.” But this side of death, it remains for us as elusive as the feeling one has watching a glorious (but fading) sunrise or sunset, or listening to a piece of music that somehow, between music and lyrics, seems to sum up our existence, or deeply enjoying one’s (or another’s) children. The feeling itself is something we can’t grasp, and were we to try to hold on to the thing that we associate with the feeling, we would find ourselves trying to squeeze life out of something that, in and of itself, can never fully (or even partly) produce in us the life that we associate with that feeling. And hence addiction: the hunger born of desperation to lay hold of that beauty for which we were created, and which yet (this side of eternity) will ever be elusive: for, as St. Paul said, “flesh and blood [that is, our mortal frame] cannot inherit the Kingdom of God.” And so we cherish and prize (yes, and worship) that thing which we associate with the feeling, but find ourselves frustrated by the ever-deepening awareness that – like grasping sand, or grasping oil – the harder we close our grip, the more the feeling eludes us: and so the spiral into rage and despair, as we try more and more of the same thing in order to get the same feeling, but find that the feeling-behind-the-thing we most want (beauty, life) is not found in the thing itself.

Allender noted just in passing, and I think rightly, that many of our forms of (church) worship are – or at least can be – expressions of addiction and idolatry. It’s perhaps understandable that we might come to worship hoping (whether we acknowledge it or not) for some kind of ultimate satisfaction. Strange as it may seem to say, that hope – particularly if turned into a demand or expectation – is bound to disappoint. We can’t squeeze ultimate satisfaction out of one more song, one more experience with God in worship or in prayer, one more moment of even profound breakthrough. And more at the point, we cannot control God, we cannot control the gifts of God, and we cannot (or rather, should not attempt to) control the children of God either: all means by which we receive what we truly do need. And so we rage – the rage of little children who find that they cannot have (in the moment) what they want – against God, against others, and against ourselves (where we usually end up placing the blame for our disappointment, at the end of the day). Which points to why Allender set one core aspect of worship, which he might have called “the heart of worship” (had not Redman already coined the phrase), against addiction-as-idolatry: namely, gratitude. In gratitude we receive beauty (in all its forms) as a gift, rather than as something to be grasped after. Gratitude, at its heart, is a form of confession: a confession that what we have, what we experience, and what we feel when we experience beauty – that is, when we behold glory – are all gifts that are freely given, given by Another who loves to give good gifts; and as gifts, are not wages or rewards that we have somehow merited or deserved. Gratitude is a confession that the heart of existence is Another’s grace towards us: boundless, overflowing grace.

Thus Lewis’ profound discussion at the end of his sermon about becoming: whether we are becoming objects of glory that “you would be strongly tempted to worship” or objects of horror such as are now seen “only in a nightmare.” One might summarize the difference as the difference between those who are learning to receive – that is, to give thanks for – the grace that is available to all, and those who are increasingly filled with wrath at their inability to command and control that which they need. It is an interesting way to think about the Pauline refrain that, “it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (NRSV). And, as Lewis notes, also an important way to learn to think about one another and how (or whether) we are helping one another toward either of those destinations.

I’ve attached a PDF version of Lewis’ sermon, which I found on the web. There are a few errors in the copy: “stocked” should be “shocked” (p. 5), and there should be a comma between “beauty” and “grace” (“beauty, grace and power,” p. 8). And there may be at least one more that I missed on a second read-through.

I commend this as something to read and re-read in a devotional fashion. The thread running through the first few pages about our desires and longings – and how they point us to (our future with) God – gets a bit heady with the schoolboy/poetry analogy, but is worth taking the time to understand. The allusion to “those Christians” who attend to the promise of being “with God” in almost exclusively romantic terms (“hymeneal or erotic imagery”) is a good description of the Song-of-Songs focus of places like of IHOP in Kansas City, a devotion Lewis both affirms and balances. But at least for me – and I believe this is the heart of Lewis’ sermon – the most powerful section, starting at the end of page five, looks at “the idea of glory” from the standpoint of “fame” – though, in this case, “fame with God.” Twice in our service this past Sunday people noted that “if we actually get what scripture is saying about us,” we would be completely changed. Lewis puts it this way (in part):

“And that [the experience of satisfaction at having pleased ‘those I rightly loved and rightly feared’] is enough to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him whom she was created to please. There will be no room for vanity then. She will be free from the miserable illusion that it is her doing. With no taint of what we call self-approval she will most innocently rejoice in the thing that God has made her to be, and the moment which heals her old inferiority complex for ever will also drown her pride deeper than Prospero’s book. Perfect humility dispenses with modesty. If God is satisfied with the work, the work may be satisfied with itself. … The promise of glory is the promise, almost incredible and only possible by the work of Christ, that some of us, that any of us who really chooses, shall actually survive the examination [before God], shall find approval, shall please God. To please God…to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness…to be loved by God, not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work or a father in a son—it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But so it is.”

So it is, indeed. Such is the ‘story of glory,’ that golden thread woven through the tapestry of scripture, weaving together the God of glory, the glory of God, and those who receive (and so become) God’s glory.

[Here is the link to Lewis' sermon. Hopefully, we will get the corresponding Vineyard sermon(s) online shortly...]

Inauguration Day, 2009

Meditation on Hope(less-ness)

My first post on this blog, not so many moons ago, was a meditation on hope as expressed in the "awaken-the-dawn" language of one of David's psalms. It began, "I need hope to live."

I've come, in recent years, to view hope as perhaps *the* most powerful force in the universe, if one could call hope a 'force.' Hope gives meaning and purpose to life; hope might be described as the wings on which faith takes flight. Hope fuels the courage to live, just as the opposite condition - what some have called 'the sin of despair' - drains the energy from life and leaves only the desire to "depart and [be] no more" (Psalm 39:13 - one of the few psalms that ends in asking God to 'go away', in essence).

I recently started Jurgen Moltmann's Theology of Hope. Of the various points that have stood out to me, this one stands above the others:

"...[W]here there is no longer any possibility of anything new happening, there hope also comes to an end and loses all prospect of the realizing of what it hopes for. Only when the world itself is 'full of all kinds of possibilities' can hope become effective in love. ... [H]ope has the chance of a meaningful existence only when reality itself is in a state of historic flux and when historic reality has room for open possibilities ahead. Christian hope is meaningful only when the world can be changed by him in whom this hope hopes, and is thus open to that for which this hope hopes; when it is full of all kinds of possibilities (possible for God) and open to the resurrection from the dead." (p. 92)

In other words, hope - almost by definition - can only be present where there is real possibility of change: where things can (in fact) get better.

This makes sense of my frequent struggles with hopelessness: it is often difficult for me to believe that things can be different, and in that place I wither. It's not so much, though, the despair of whether "things" can be different - I see people's lives change, in ways both dramatic and subtle, quite often. I have the privilege of being able to see the Kingdom of God revealed in others' lives , particularly through deep inner-healing and deliverance, in ways that are at once beautiful and stunning. I see and hear testimonies of transformation on a regular basis - even yesterday in our service a visitor was healed of a long-standing painful physical condition (I'm trying to get the details).

No, it's not so much that as it is the question of whether *my* life can be different. I'm thrilled to see all of those other things, to be sure. But I realize that my heart is looking for something else. "What a man desires is unfailing love" (Prov. 19:22a), and yet it often seems like the experiential knowledge of that is elusive - to put it mildly. Eternal life apart from truly knowing love is - to be completely honest - an utterly horrifying thought. I don't think I'm alone in having had the thought that, if 'eternal life' is anything like the extension of this experience of life out into eternity, then annihilation (were it possible) would be a far more merciful option.

And what I suppose might be an 'empowering' thought, but in some ways is just all the more discouraging, is the recognition that the problem - as far as I can tell - is purely on my end. Sure, our experiences in this life cause us to doubt and wonder whether God is witholding his 'unfailing love' (hence, many of the psalms); yet I think I know God well enough to know that there's nothing happening on 'His end' that would really prevent me from knowing His love. Yes, I'm familiar with the "Good Will Hunting" breakthrough scene in which the counselor says, repeatedly, "It's not your fault, it's not your fault"; yet at some point what we're left facing is ourselves, pure and simple: the beliefs and attitudes and expectations we've adopted that, in truth, no one else is currently holding over us. Hence the great section in Isaiah where the prophet challenges the residual fear present in the Israelites (51:12-13):

"I, even I, am he who comforts you.
Who are you that you fear mortal men,
the sons of men, who are but grass,
that you forget the LORD your Maker,
who stretched out the heavens
and laid the foundations of the earth,
that you live in constant terror every day
because of the wrath of the oppressor,
who is bent on destruction?
For where is the wrath of the oppressor?"

The only place the 'oppressor' still resided was in the hearts and minds of the Israelites. It's kind of like one time, a number of years ago, when I was praying at length with someone after a Sunday service while she knelt in evident distress on the steps of the stage. Eventually she looked up at me and, with a wry smile on her tear- and snot-coated face, said, "Isn't it a pisser when you realize that all along you've been the one responsible for all of your problems?" (And she's someone who had every right to hold others responsible...)

But, of course, realizing it and being able to do something about it are not the same thing, though the first seems a necesarry precursor of the second. How do you get there? How do you do this? ("Surely they will quote you this proverb: 'Physician, heal thyself!'") How do you open up your heart to love when the heart not only has 'reasons of its own' (that reason knows not, yes), but seems also to have 'seasons of its own'? "But now, Lord, what do I look for?" (Back to Psalm 39 again!)

Quitting, as tempting as it seems, doesn't seem like a good option. It offers the prospect of change, yes (the central aspect of hope noted above), but - as I've often concluded - changing the externals without changing the internals seems a false hope. (Unless, of course, there's some aspect of the externals that simply isn't a good 'fit' with the person, and that always needs to be considered.) "Do you love me?", Jesus asked Peter - "then feed my sheep." Continue, then, what you're doing as your 'reasonable act of worship,' trusting that He will work it out. In Peter's own language, rather than John's: "So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good" (1 peter 4:19). But one really is, ultimately, cast back on the words and perspective of the psalmist - "But now, Lord, what do I hope for? / My hope is in you. Save me from all my transgressions; / do not make me the scorn of fools" (39:7-8).

All of which points us back towards the difficulty of holding hope: hope is, yes, based in the possibility of change, but it is likewise, therefore, based in the contradiction between what "is" and what "could" (or, "will") be. Hope is inherently about tension, about contradiction, about believing in the 'possible' while living in the 'impossible': hope is a sonofabitch. Moltmann, again:

"Present and future, experience [i.e., our current 'reality'] and hope, stand in contradiction to each other in Christian eschatology, with the result that man is not brought into harmony and agreement with the given situation [i.e., we can't accept the status quo], but is drawn into the conflict between hope and experience. 'For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it' (Rom 8:24-25, substituting NASB). Everywhere in the New Testament the Christian hope is directed towards what is not yet visible; it is consequently a 'hoping against hope' and thereby brands the visible realm of present experience as god-forsaken, transient reality that is to be left behind [Moltmann later balances that statement]. The contradiction to the existing reality of himself and his world in which man is placed by hope is the very contradiction out of which this hope itself is born -- it is the contradiction between the resurrection and the cross. Christian hope is resurrection hope, and it proves its truth in the contradiction of the future prospects thereby offered and guaranteed for righteousness as opposed to sin, life as opposed to death, glory as opposed to suffering, peace as opposed to dissension. Calvin perceived very plainly the discrepancy involved in the resurrection hope: 'To us is given the promise of eternal life -- but to us, the dead. A blessed resurrection is proclaimed to us -- meantime we are surrounded by decay. We are called righteous --- and yet sin lives in us. We hear of ineffable blessedness -- but meantime we are here oppressed by infinite misery. We are promised abundance of all good things -- yet we are rich only in hunger and thirst. What would become of us if if we did not take our stand on hope, and if our heart did not hasten beyond this world through the midst of the darkness upon the path illumined by the word and Spirit of God!' ([from Calvin's commentary] on Heb. 11:1). It is in this contradiction that hope must prove its power." (pp. 18-19)

No wonder living in that tension can drive one to anger (cf. Psalm 39:1-3; 37:8) as well as despair. Various translations of Romans 8:24-25 (quoted above) use either "patiently" or "with perseverance" to describe how we hold onto hope: "If we hope for what we do not have, we wait for it patiently/with perseverance." Nothing about that sounds particularly easy. We wait (relatively) well for Christmas when we are young - eager in the hope that is before us. But, "hope deferred makes the heart sick," and the primary hope for which we wait (the resurrection) seems to be offered mostly, or only, on a long-term deferrment plan. I suppose that's why the saints of old saw it essential that we "encourage one another daily - as long as it is still called today" (Heb. 3:13, also 10:25 and 1 Thess 5:11). I need some - how about you?

The Gulag Archipelago

One of the underrated benefits of jet lag is it's much easier to get up in the wee hours of the morning and enjoy more of my favorite time of day. The birds are just starting to sing (5:30am), still full of thanks and praise, even though spring temperatures are slow in coming.

I recently finished slogging through Alexsandr I. Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956: An Experiment in Literary Investigation (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), and have been wanting to posit a few quotes and comments. I borrowed the book from my brother, who found it for $1.58 on a used book table. That alone is something that's hard to wrap my head around - $1.58 for a chronicle of one of the greatest - most costly - mass sufferings inflicted on one people (or, rather, many connected peoples) in one place during one time in history.

The Gulag was (is?), of course, the network of prisons and labor camps and all the accompanying machinery of repression that emerged in the Soviet Union early on in the Bolshevik Revolution and reached full flower under Stalin's rule (see the entry below on Chaim Potok's The Gates of November -- another chronicle of life in the Soviet Union under Bolshevism and Stalinism). Solzhenitsyn uses the geographical term 'archipelago' - a connected chain of islands - as the primary metaphor for describing the operation of the Gulag system. The Gulag, at its peak(s), had somewhere in the range of 12-15 million people in its custody spread out across the entire Soviet Union in a hidden-in-plain-view network; but given how many were either executed or condemned to a slower death in the transit process and labor camps, the numbers directly affected in its 40- or 50-plus years in operation (to say nothing of those only slightly-more removed: families and social networks disrupted, and all those occupied in running the system) are staggering - certainly in the 20 million range, maybe higher. It is one of the most brutal examples of institutionalized oppression in human history, from a century that claimed far more casualties from totalitarian domination than all the rest of human history combined (chiefly, Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot and Mao; for more on this, see, in particular, historian Paul Johnson's Modern Times: a History of the World from the [19]20's to the 80's).

While reading through The Gulag, I often found myself thinking, "This is something I don't want to forget." I also wondered where reflecting on something like this fits in relation to exhortations that we fix our minds on "whatever is true, whatever noble, whatever is right, is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable" - "anything excellent or praiseworthy" (Phil. 4:8).  Two thoughts on why this is something I don't want to forget, and believe is worthy of attention:

First, "whatever is true": what Solzhenitsyn was doing, to the best of his ability, was telling the truth. He was telling the truth about a system that was nothing if not based on the extensive propagation of lies, along with all the accompanying weapons of oppression. He was using his abilities (as a writer) and experience (as a survivor of the Gulag) to attempt to alert the larger world - and perhaps even his own people, if they could indeed respond - to something that the world (or at least the world's governments) had perhaps willingly turned a blind eye to, whether out of helplessness, ignorance or worse. Telling the truth, while not in itself sufficient, is an absolutely essential and necessary step towards transformation. The prophets of old, and modern-day prophets alike, are nothing if not truth-tellers, usually paying dearly for being willing to speak what is true. And we call them prophets (or, "seers") because before one can speak the truth, one must see the truth - that is, see what is true, see (in modern lingo) "what's really goin' on." A person, family or society that loses the capacity (or willingness) to tell the truth is condemned to live in falsehood ... and if it's the knowledge and application of (i.e., walking in) the truth that sets us free (cf. John 8:31-32), then to remain in lies is to remain in slavery.

Solzhenitsyn's truth-telling is vitally important for at least three reasons, and probably many more. First, he names something evil for what it is - truly evil. M. Scott Peck writes, in People of the Lie, "I can think of nothing that would fill Satan with greater glee or better signify the ultimate success of its [sic] conquest of the human race than an attitude on the part of humans that it is impossible to identify evil." Solzhenitsyn, noting the desire in his own society to avoid public discussion (and thus prosecution) of what had been perpetrated, reflects at one point:

"It is unthinkable in the twentieth century to fail to distinguish between what constitutes an abominable atrocity that must be prosecuted and what constitutes the 'past' which 'ought not to be stirred up.'

We have to condemn publicly the very idea that some people have the right to repress others. In keeping silent about evil, in burying it so deep within us that no sign of it appears on the surface, we are implanting it, and it will rise up a thousand fold in the future. When we neither punish nor reproach evildoers, we are not simply protecting their trivial old age, we are thereby ripping the foundations of justice from beneath new generations. It is for this reason, and not because of the 'weakness of indoctrinational work,' that they are growing up 'indifferent.' Young people are acquiring the conviction that foul deeds are never punished on earth, that they always bring prosperity.

It is going to be uncomfortable, horrible, to live in such a country!"

Second, Solzhenitsyn's work is a reminder of what we are capable of in the way of both personal and institutionalized evil. I'm not saying that redemption or transformation comes by way of constantly being reminded of what one has done (whether as a person or as a people) - it doesn't. That is a part of a much larger discussion about evil, justice, the cross and forgiveness, which I hardly have space to broach here. Rather, I'm suggesting that there's something appropriately sobering in the sphere of human activity for us to be aware of our capacities (and not only for evil, but for good). Utopian hopes and the triumphalism (hubris) that can affect both society (secular or religious) and the church need always to be checked against the corrupting influences of power acting on unregenerate human nature, along with the accompanying truth that only by the path of the 'new creation' in Christ (which includes the death of the old nature through the cross of Christ) will true transformation of this earth take place. The Bolshevik Revolution was one of many attempts littering human history by which humans sought to bring about some or another form of transformed society quite apart from God's means of his Kingdom coming to earth. All such efforts (including 'Christian' ones) leave a gruesome trail of wreckage which would have sunk us sure, apart from God's ever-active capacities to work His purposes even amidst the worst tragedies.

Third, on a much more personal level, Solzhenitsyn's work is one of the relatively few memorials - and certainly one of the first major ones - erected to those who suffered and died in the Gulag. If one of the things God does is collect our tears, then Solzhenitsyn's work is one of the ways the stories of those tens of millions - represented by the relative few that Solzhenitsyn was able to describe in detail - are told and honored, and their suffering cherished.

Second: in the midst of telling the stories of the Gulag, Solzhenitsyn explores how we live, as humans, in the face of suffering. One cannot venture far into Christianity without coming face-to-face with the reality of suffering, the sufferings of Christ, and the expectation of sharing in (his) suffering. At this point I will simply let Solzhenitsyn's words speak for themselves, as he gives a few precious insights gained not only about how we can endure suffering, but the changed perspective that suffering gives as to what is truly important in life. As the reader will note, themes central to the gospel, and to Christ's own sufferings, abound in these reflections (and Solzhenitsyn is quite honest about his atheism ... and how it began to change through his process in the Gulag!):

From the chapter, “The Interrogation,” which describes (in at points rather graphic detail) the brutal interrogation process that the newly-arrested went through in order that the prosecutors could obtain 'confessions' (always forced, always false) of guilt ... from which sentencing followed:

“So what is the answer? How can you stand your ground when you are weak and sensitive to pain, when people you love are still alive, when you are unprepared?

What do you need to make you stronger than the interrogator and the whole trap?

From the moment you go to prison you must put your cozy past firmly behind you. At the very threshold, you must say to yourself: ‘My life is over, a little early to be sure, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I shall never return to freedom. I am condemned to die—now or a little later. But later on, in truth, it will be even harder, and so the sooner the better. I have no longer any property whatsoever. For me those I love have died, and for them I have died. From today on, my body is useless and alien to me. Only my spirit and my conscience remain precious and important to me.’

Confronted by such a prisoner, the interrogation will tremble.

Only the man who has renounced everything can win that victory.

But how can one turn one’s body to stone?

Well, they managed to turn some individuals from the Berdyayev circle into puppets for a trial, but they didn’t succeed with Berdyayev….But Berdyayev did not humiliate himself. He did not beg or plead. He set forth firmly those religious and moral principles which had led him to refuse to accept the political authority established in Russia. And not only did they come to the conclusion that he would be useless for a trial, but they liberated him.

A human being has a point of view!

N. Stolyarova recalls an old woman who was her neighbor on the Butyrki bunks in 1937. They kept on interrogating her every night. Two years earlier, a former Metropolitan of the Orthodox Church, who had escaped from exile, had spent a night at her home on his way through Moscow. ‘But he wasn’t the former Metropolitan, he was the Metropolitan! Truly, I was worthy of receiving him.’ ‘All right then. To whom did he go when he left Moscow?’ ‘I know, but I won’t tell you!’ (The Metropolitan had escaped to Finland via the underground railroad of believers.) At first the interrogators took turns, and then they went after her in groups. They shook their fists in the little old woman’s face, and she replied, ‘There is nothing you can do with me even if you cut me into pieces. After all, you are afraid of your bosses, and you are afraid of each other, and you are even afraid of killing me.’ (They would lose contact with the underground railroad.) ‘But I am not afraid of anything. I would be glad to be judged by God right this minute.’” (130-131).

This next quote is not so immediately about suffering, but about the corrupting influence of power, especially for those without a reference point of a 'higher authority': from the chapter, “The Bluecaps," which describes those principally in authority within the interrogation and sentencing part of the system:

“Power is a poison well known for thousands of years. If only no one were ever to acquire material power over others! But to the human being who has faith in some force that holds dominion over all of us, and who is therefore conscious of his own limitations, power is not necessarily fatal. For those, however, who are unaware of any higher sphere, it is a deadly poison. For them there is no antidote.”

From the chapter, “That Spring,” which narrated Solzhenitsyn's interlude within the Gulag system prior to being shipped off for the first of three different labor camps:

“There is a simple truth which one can learn only through suffering: in war not victories are blessed but defeats. Governments need victories and the people need defeats. Victory gives rise to the desire for more victories. But after a defeat it is freedom that men desire—and usually attain. A people needs defeat just as an individual needs suffering and misfortune: they compel the deepening of the inner life and generate a spiritual upsurge.” (272)

 

And, along the lines of that 'deepening of the inner life," this particularly profound reflection that Solzhenitsyn writes from an experience of being transported, at one point, by means of normal conveyance (on regular trains rather than the converted cattle-cars which the prisoners were normally jammed into), his only companions two plain-clothed guards. His reflection comes while he is waiting, flanked by these guards, at a train platform, watching civilian life from which he had been removed for a number of years, and aware of the incongruous feeling of being 'free' among 'free' people, yet knowing that he couldn't engage with them at all or re-enter their 'free' society. From the chapter, “From Island to Island” ["island" here refers, in the Archipelago metaphor, to the labor camps]:

“…And it was from one to another of these islands, from the first to the second, and from the second to the third, that I was transported on a special-convoy basis: two jailers and I.

If the souls of those who have died sometimes hover among us, see us, easily read in us our trivial concerns, and we fail to see them or guess at their incorporeal presence, then that is what a special-convoy trip is like.

You are submerged in the mass of freedom, and you push and shove with the others in the station waiting room. You absent-mindedly examine announcements posted there, even though they can hardly have any relevance for you. You sit on the ancient passenger benches, and you hear strange and insignificant conversations: about some husband who beats up his wife or has left her; and some mother-in-law who, for some reason, does not get along with her daughter-in-law; how neighbors in communal apartments make personal use of the electric outlets in the corridor and don’t wipe their feet; and how someone is in someone else’s way at the office; and how someone has been offered a good job but can’t make up his mind to move—how can he move bag and baggage, is it that easy? You listen to all this, and the goose pimples of rejection run up and down your spine; to you the true measure of things in the Universe is so clear! The measure of all weakness and all passions! And these sinners aren’t fated to perceive it. The only one there who is alive, truly alive, is incorporeal you, and all these others are simply mistaken in thinking themselves alive.

And an unbridgeable chasm divides you! You cannot cry out to them, nor weep over them, nor shake them by the shoulder: after all, you are a disembodied spirit, you are a ghost, and they are material bodies.

And how can you bring it home to them? By an inspiration? By a vision? A dream? Brothers! People! Why has life been given to you? In the deep, deaf stillness of midnight, the doors of the death cells are being swung open—and great-souled people are being dragged out and shot. On all the railroads of the country this very minute, right now, people who have just been fed salt herring are licking their dry lips with bitter tongues [refers to a torturous way that prisoners in transit were fed - salt-dried herring to eat without sufficient drinking water]. They dream of the happiness of stretching out one’s legs and of the relief one feels after going to the toilet [both great hardships while in the cattle-car transit, which sometimes could last weeks, even months]. In Orotukan [a Siberian labor camp location] the earth thaws only in summer and only to the depth of three feet—and only then can they bury the bones of those who died during the winter. And you have the right to arrange your own life under the blue sky and the hot sun, to get a drink of water, to stretch, to travel wherever you like without a convoy. So what’s this about unwiped feet? And what’s this about a mother-in-law? What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I’ll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusory—property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life—don’t be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn after happiness; it is, after all, all the same: the bitter doesn’t last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing. It is enough if you don’t freeze in the cold and if thirst and hunger don’t claw at your insides. If your back isn’t broken, if your feet can walk, if both arms can bend, if both eyes see, if both ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart—and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it might be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted in their memory!

But the convoy guards stroke the black handles of the pistols in their pockets. And we sit there, three in a row, sober fellows, quiet friends.” (590-592, emphasis added)

T. S. Eliot Gems - a long overdue (Good Friday)update

Many moons ago, when starting this blog, I thought I'd include periodic bits from my favorite poet, T. S. Eliot. While that has not happened, this occasion seems to call for one such post:

The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer's art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

    Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam's curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

    The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

    The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.

    The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

(Four Quartets, "East Coker," IV)

A Good Friday to you all. - Karl

UnFinBin (Unfinished Business) - "Service"

From the sixth Sunday of Lent (Palm Sunday) - "service"

Primary scripture – Luke 22:1-30 (the "last supper")

Other scriptures referenced: Luke 9:46-48 (the disciples' first discussion of 'greatness' in Luke); Matthew 18:1-4 (a slightly different treatment of a similar question); John 13:1-17 (John's closest parallel to the 'last supper'); and Luke 9:18-36 (review of the starting-point of the Lenten series, connecting the transfiguration mention of Jesus' "exodus" with the Exodus 12 initiation of the Passover meal and Jesus' celebration of the Passover with his disciples in the primary text [Luke 22]).

Musings...

My primary sense of 'unfinished business' from the message related to the discussion of 'apostles and prophets' as a test case in the matter of 'greatness' in the Kingdom of God. What I may have failed to clarify was that I have no objection at all to the thought that there are contemporary apostles and prophets. There are a handful of people I've had the opportunity to meet who are widely recognized as operating in these roles - Bill Johnson, Heidi (and Rolland) Baker, and Graham Cooke stand out as obvious examples; and there are of course many others., many of whom are (I'm sure) quite unknown to the Western world.

My use of 'apostles and prophets' in this context has to do, rather, with the way a certain seeking-after-titles seems to accompany movements that exalt a certain gift or role. If, say, 'apostle' is the role that is most esteemed in certain contexts, there then appear all sorts of folks taking on the title of 'apostle' - and I have to wonder on what criteria those titles are based. "The gift makes room for itself," a fellow once told me, and by that token, apostolic or prophetic leadership (as with pastoral or evangelistic leadership) should be abundantly evident to all based on the fruit of the person's ministry. The title should only follow, really, as a natural consequence of how the church experiences the ministry of the person - instead of a person adopting the title in order to convince others (or self!) that s/he has an effective ministry. Hence the reading of the LarkNews article about the run-of-the-mill itinerant preacher whose ministry blossomed after dubbing himself an apostle. I didn't really like introducing the slightly-mocking tone of the article into the preaching setting, but it does illustrate the point well - if only satirically.

The key question here is not, of course, about this or that title or office or view of leadership roles in the church: it is about having a Kingdom heart. The apostle/prophet test case is just one of innumerable current examples that can help highlight what Jesus was getting at in responding to the disciples' repeated discussions about "greatness" in the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever criteria the disciples might have been using for greatness, Jesus turned the question back to one of motive. When Jesus' responses to his disciples along these lines are combined with his discussion of "unseen [acts of] righteousness" in the Sermon on the Mount, he seems to be indicating something like: a Kingdom heart really doesn't even take account of matters of 'greatness,' any more than little children display self-concern with 'greatness' - a Kingdom heart is simply content with faithful, responsive obedience, whether seen or unseen, and doesn't make much of one's self except as it serves the King as a part of faithful discipleship. Jesus might very well have said - in relation to the examples I was giving - "If what you are seeking is significant titles and significant ministries so that you will be noticed by, and impress, many, then that is indeed what you will have: that will be your reward. Of course, don't count on a heavenly reward, but since that wasn't what you were seeking anyway, that shouldn't be of concern."

None of which, as I've noted, discounts the reality of those gifts/roles having a valuable - even crucial - place in the body of Christ. But it's sometimes worthwhile to consider what those gifts really look like and what it costs to walk in them:

John Wimber, in my estimation, provides a legitimate case study for contemporary apostleship. Here's a fellow who led thousands to Christ (personally), pioneered and oversaw a church-planting movement that grew to well over 1,000 churches before his death, and from that role attended to matters of faith and practice for the movement - 'guarding the deposit of the faith entrusted to him.' He was recognized as the spiritual 'father' of the movement, primarily by virtue of genuine 'fathering' relationships with the generation of leaders and members who made up the developing Vineyard movement. And he certainly displayed the other "things that mark an apostle - signs, wonders and miracles," as Paul puts it (2 Cor 12:12). That kind of movement-defining, faith-keeping, church-planting, miracle-working, spiritual-fathering witness certainly seems to square with a biblical picture of apostleship. The other two things that stand out to me for the NT apostles were that they had "been with Jesus" in a way that allowed them to be legitimate witnesses of his resurrection (Acts 1:22), and that they bore witness to their apostleship through suffering (Gal 6:17; 1 Cor 4:9; 2 Cor. 6 & 11-12) . I don't know enough about John to know if he 'saw' the risen Christ (e.g., the way Paul 'saw' the Lord, obviously in a fashion that he knew was different from the original Eleven/Twelve, but still in a way that factored into his understanding of being an apostle - 1 Cor. 15:8), but his relationship with the Lord was, well, remarkable. As to suffering, John seemed to experience more of that from the wider church than from the world, though there was certainly a lot of both, especially while speaking for the movement during mid-90's Toronto renewal. His wife, Carol, spoke to this during his funeral, and noted how deeply he had felt these things.

John is intriguing in relation to the matter of motive, though: my understanding is that, while some tried to convince him that he should take up the title of 'apostle,' he preferred to say, "I'm just a fat man trying to get to heaven." Leaving aside the matter of whether we're trying to 'get to heaven' or waiting for God's Kingdom to come 'on the earth,' one of the things that truly impressed me in my limited encounters with John was his genuinely self-effacing humility: he really didn't seem concerned with his self at all, except that he be faithful in obeying the Lord. And that seemed to me to be a central - perhaps the central - aspect to his spiritual authority ... in the way, perhaps, that the Torah linked Moses' "face-to-face" relationship with the Lord to his humility - being "the most humble man on the face of the earth." And that sort of humility provides a striking counterpoint to what, sadly, seems a degree of arrogance (or ambition) on display in various efforts to be known as an apostle or prophet. Graham Cooke, similarly, is quite refreshing in his candid descriptions of the cost of 25 years in formation as a prophet worthy of the title ... and how 'stupid' it is for people to assume they can waltz into that kind of ministry without being truly refined and tested.

But Paul's own highly-autobiographical discussion of apostleship - particularly in 1 and 2 Corinthians - is probably the best available lens we have for looking at questions of motive and heart in relation to being an apostle. He is obviously hurt by the way the Corinthian church snubs him in favor of the 'super-apostles,' and engages in the admittedly foolish business of comparing himself to them. He goes through all the criteria I mention above - being the Corinthians' true spiritual 'father,' pouring out his life for their welfare in service of the gospel (and for free!), demonstrating his apostleship in signs and wonders and miracles, experiencing profound heavenly revelation, suffering greatly in his service of the gospel (both on their behalf, and generally), etc. And, by contrast, he notes that the other apostles mostly just sounded impressive (or, that was one of the things the Corinthians preferred about them) and used their 'authority' to "lord it over" the believers (cf. the Luke 22 passage, above) - "In fact, you even put up with anyone who enslaves you or exploits you or takes advantage of you or pushes himself forward or slaps you in the face. To my shame I admit that we were too weak for that!" (2 Cor. 11:20-21).

And what I tend to view as Paul's greatest revelation - beyond his understanding of the gospel itself - comes in the context of this clearly-painful plea to the Corinthian church: Paul shares the message God gave to him regarding (God's) power being made perfect in (Paul's) weakness. This provides such an intriguing tie-back to the questions of greatness in the Kingdom of Heaven: that worldly views of leadership, or of greatness, tend to flee from weakness. Paul, on the basis of that revelation, realized that he needs to embrace, even delight in, his weaknesses: "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor 12: 9b-10). Want to become great in the Kingdom? Become the least (true humility, one might say). Want to become strong in the Kingdom? Become weak (not understood as a weakness of character, of course, but a willingness to let God be strong in one's limitations rather than trying to hide/mask/conceal them). Or, as we've been talking about in the entire Lenten series (because Jesus keeps talking about it!) - want to find your life? Well, then, the way is through losing it for His sake. Service, understood in these ways (humility, weakness, pouring oneself out for others), is an essential dynamic of the Kingdom - one might even say, the *only* dynamic of the Kingdom (cf. Phil. 2:1-11).

So, that's a long-winded way of following up on some 'unfinished business' related to leadership and service in the church, and in the Kingdom. Among the many places one could turn for further reading: Ezekiel 34's contrast of arrogant and good shepherds (rulers in Israel) serves as a great meditation on God's way of leading others - and is certainly a part of Jesus' own understanding of his role as the "good Shepherd" (cf. John 10) - along with Psalm 23. See also Peter's brief summary on the heart of true elders/overseers in 1 Pet. 5:1-4.

Good Friday, 2008

On the 40 Hours of Prayer (Mar 14-16)

On July 3 of last year, I had the following dream:

In the dream I was speaking at the (current) Vineyard and realized, in a revelatory “a-ha” sort of way, that we actually had an entire other sanctuary adjoining the first, one that was newer, nicer, etc., than the current one (it was also in some ways more ‘traditional’ in feel, though newer; very rectangular in shape, wide but not deep). We had, for some reason (downsizing?), stopped meeting in the newer one, and it was just sitting there empty. So I told the congregation that we were, as of the next Sunday, going to start meeting in the newer sanctuary, which made everyone quite happy – though I was also thinking to myself that maybe this was a bit hasty, and it should be processed more deliberately, given that it was a significant change to undertake. In fact, during that worship service we all migrated over to the new sanctuary, and I was trying to start the sermon (we’d migrated at what must’ve been, in essence, the mid-service break), but it was hard to do so – the sunlight was so bright and at such an angle such that I couldn’t read the scripture, and I couldn’t quite figure out where to stand based on where people were sitting, and the people – only a small-ish number had made the move over – were rather scattered and disorganized and not paying attention: they were talking to and praying for each other, talking about other things, not all focused on the same thing or in the same direction (empowered, on one level, and ‘doing the stuff,’ but on another level all kind of scattered).

While Nicki and I were praying this morning (praying about, among other things, the upcoming 40 Hrs of Prayer this weekend), the dream came back to mind, and with it the detail that the people who’d made up the initial ‘transition team’ were pretty much our current JHOP crew. I’ve been wanting to frame a bit more clearly my understanding of the vision for this prayer time (rather late, I'll admit), and I think the dream gives some language for doing so:

We are, as a church, in a transition: a transition to new senior leadership, the development and clarification of new vision, and all the related ordering of the life of the church that flows from leadership and vision. Central to that vision, as you’re all quite aware, is the calling to Life – which means (as a number of you have been noticing in your own lives!) the willingness to leave what is old in order to enter into and embrace what is new.

As I’ve talked with the JHOP crew about their sense for this prayer focus, the main word or idea that has stood out is “threshold”: we are, in this transition process, on the threshold of (many) new things. But crossing a threshold requires a stepping out of one place and into another – and in many cases requires (to shift to a chemistry analogy) a certain “activation energy” to move from one ‘state’ of being to another. As Gail and I have frequented the JHOP meetings in recent months, what I’ve heard there has seemed like a ‘lead team’ that is praying that we would, as a church, cross over the threshold. And the JHOP leadership strongly believes that we need to pray through this 'crossing the threshold.'

Now in some ways, just like in the dream, the order of things for this weekend is not quite as it might ideally be: it would be nice if we were further along in the development and articulation of our vision, from which flows a sense of order and clarity about what to pray, what to do, each part knowing its role and function. That’s not very far off, but it’s also not quite where we are at present.

Given all of that, here's my sense of the core things we need to be praying into as a church - and which will be posted as the primary focal points for the 40 Hrs of Prayer:

- Lord, you’ve called us to be a church that calls creation to Life in Christ. Continue to clarify for us the vision that You have for us a church. (And pray for me [Karl] specifically along these lines: the Lord has told me in various ways that I carry the vision: it needs, you might say, to come ‘up and out.') As you clarify our vision, Lord, order our affairs accordingly – guide and order, by your Spirit, both what we do and how we do it. (Rev. 21:1-5; Ezek. 47:1-12 & Rev. 22:1-5; Matthew 6:10)

- Lord, you’ve called us into Life: cultivate in us a hope and faith - and expectation - that you will bring us into the fullness of Life in Christ. Forge in us a willingness to say “Yes” to entering and embracing all that you have for us. Help us to “cross the threshold of hope,” with faith, scorning our fears and doubts. (John 10:10 & 11:25-26; Hebrews 11:1 & 12:1-3; 1 Peter 1:3-9)

- Lord, you’ve called us to become a church about which people say, “That’s the church that loves people” – understanding that it is in being truly and fully loved that people become fully alive. Fill us with “grace and truth” the way Jesus was “full of grace and truth”; teach us to “speak the truth in love” with one another in the way that You are always speaking the truth, in love, to us. (John 1:14; John 13:34-34; Eph. 4:14-16)

- Lord, you’ve given us gifts to share and people around us to share them with; yet we have a hard time right now finding enough people just to do what we’re already doing as a church: so raise up people to do the work of the Kingdom – raise up leaders to ‘equip the saints for the work of ministry,’ raise up saints to do the work, and bring in those whom you are calling to yourself. (Ephesians 4:7-13)

- And Lord, you’ve given us a place to meet and minister, along with resources with which to do the work of ministry; yet we have needs in these areas: we have a building loan coming due in June and we need you to provide for that; we need to be able to staff and fund the work of the ministry of the church, and need you to provide for that. Give us what we need in these areas, and create in and among us a community of sharing about which can be said, “There were no needy persons among them” (Acts 4:32-37).

So, please pray along these lines; pray these scriptures; and as Pastor Ed once entitled a sermon from Ephesians, just “Pray, pray, pray” (Eph. 6:18-20).

One final thought on “crossing the threshold of hope”: the final prayer from JHOP last night was based on an image of how overgrown fields are sometimes best-prepared for new growth by one simple fire that sweeps across the field, opens up room for new growth to come, returns needed nutrients to the soil, and even prepares for germination certain types of seeds that otherwise will not sprout. Pieter followed up with an email later that night that added an additional piece to that image:

Tonight at JHOP I mentioned that if you have a field full of all kinds of bushes, old tree stumps, garbage and weeds, and you want to clear the field, the best way to do it is to burn the whole thing down. To the ground. Then the new growth can come out and it will be full of life.

Driving home, God reminded me of something from my past. When I was a teenager [in South Africa] I helped fight a big veld (bush) fire. This fire was so big that you could see a line that stretched out for miles. We drove our bakkies (trucks) to the fire with large containers of water on them, which were used to wet the bags that the firefighters used to fight the fire. Driving toward the fire we could see a lot of buck [antelope] running toward us away from the fire. However, when we got close to the fire every now and then we would see a fox. I asked my uncle about it and he said that all the animals run away from the fire…in the same direction of the wind...except for the fox...who runs against the wind in the direction of the fire. The fox then looks for an opening in the fire and runs though it into the place that has already burned. And then he is safe.

I asked God why this was significant…and I think the interpretation is this: We ARE starting to surrender ourselves to God. We are allowing the consuming fire to burn all the things that shouldn't be there. But when we start feeling low and need comfort…we run away from the fire and find the familiar...the things that we have always used to find our happy place, whatever that may be. God is not our ‘happy place’ [i.e., has not yet become that]…our happy place belongs to things, people, feelings. So instead of running to the place that has been consumed...where the new growth is...where we find life…we run into the place of temporary life...but it's a place that He still wants to consume.

So this comes back once again to our image of the Father and our relationship with Him. If He is Abba, Daddy, and we [encounter] struggle[s]...we need to be able to run to Him and have Him comfort us. Sometimes I get this right, but when there is lots of smoke around me I usually turn and run the other way.

Pieter wrote, “We ARE starting to surrender ourselves to God” – or, in the language we used last Sunday, we are ‘learning to trust’ in Him. As all of you know, trusting doesn’t come automatically, at least to our old/wounded selves. It often feels like running straight into the thing we most fear. And yet, it’s in trusting in that way (losing our lives?) that we are, like the fox, saved and safe, in a place where we can finally stop running: we find our lives. Welcome to the Kingdom of God.

UnFinBin (Unfinished Business) - "Forgiveness"

I've been thinking for awhile about doing a weekly blog follow-up to the Sunday message time - a means of furthering the discussion, adding bits and pieces that couldn't be covered effectively during the morning, addressing things that were left unclear (or were even misstated), thoughts for further reading or exploration, etc. But I'd hope it could also be a space for further discussion among the community. Some of the best comments I hear related to the sermons come in discussion afterwards, when someone will say, "You know, I was thinking about a time when I ... and how well that illustrated what you were talking about," or will ask, "I tracked with what you were saying, but what about (such-and-such)?" And others have asked whether there could be some sort of "For further discussion" set of questions, scriptures and the like, whether for personal study or small group discussion.

Of course, for this to work, it will require that I actually put something in the UnFinBin each week, and that people read it - neither of which are guaranteed. But, as T. S. Eliot wrote (taken only slightly out of context), "For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." So, in the interests of trying...

Fifth Sunday in Lent - "Forgiveness"

Key Scriptures: Luke 17:1-10; 7:36-50; 11:4 (for comparison, see in particular Matthew 6:12-15 and 18:1-35)

Other Scriptures referenced: Jeremiah 31:31-34; Luke 3:3 and 24:45-47; 2 Peter 1:9.

Musings...

I was delighted the way C.P.'s sharing at the end illustrated the difference between what we might think of as 'forgiveness' (but with no real addressing of the hurt, and consequently no move toward restoration of relationship) and the willingness to do the hard work, per Jesus' teaching, of addressing what happened in a way that moves towards true forgiveness and thus re-opens the door for real relationship.

Another person commented afterwards how, from her own experience, the choice to forgive truly is a form of dying to oneself (per our overall Lenten theme!) - that, put in the language of B.N.'s summary points, forgiveness means (a) relinquishing the right to be the arbiter of justice/judgment for the other, and (b) relinquishing the right to continue to rehearse the offense and related pain. To refuse forgiveness, she noted, is to deny the cross and its sufficiency. (The cross, of course, can be viewed as the judgment and justice of God - see, e.g., Romans 3:25-26, in context.)

One listener approached me afterwards and asked the inevitable question (one I'd thought about, but had not delved into during the sermon for reasons of time and scope) - "What about when the other person is not repentant?" That is, if Jesus is teaching about how we pursue restored relationship through going to the one who sins against us and seeking to address the problem, what do we do if the person isn't wiling to hear and is not repentant?

The section in Matthew's gospel that most closely corresponds to the primary text from Luke 17 is Matthew 18 ... and that section in Matthew indicates a process for dealing with this kind of thing (within the church community). I'm not going to attempt, here, a nuanced exploration of the various elements of that passage (especially vv. 15-20), except to note that the primary concerns through that section seem to be (a) being careful, insofar as it is possible for us, to avoid "causing one of these little ones [who believe in me] to stumble"; (b) understanding the degree to which Jesus' Father in Heaven is concerned to keep in fellowship any of his "little ones" who stumble and stray; and (c) the utter importance -- rather, necessity -- of being willing to forgive.

The fellow I spoke with about this noted that Jesus seems to put more emphasis on forgiveness (i.e., what we can do from our side, whether or not the other person is conciliatory) than on reconciliation or restoration (which requires the other party to be 'willing to listen'.) - though of course restoration of fellowship is the desired outcome.

This gets, among other things, to the heart of the "soul hygiene" question: that is, do we want to carry around with us the offenses of the past, whether things we've done (an issue of receiving forgiveness) or things done to us (a matter of being willing to forgive)? Those things do have effects on us - emotionally, relationally, even physically. If "hope" is, as I've suggested at various points, the most empowering 'force' in the realm of human affairs (not that it's really a force, per se), then forgiveness might be the single most powerful 'tool' in the hands of healers and humans. It's intriguing to note how often healing (whether of body or soul or relationship) is coupled with forgiveness in the gospels - as in the section from Luke 7 today ("Woman, your sins are forgiven ... Go in peace; your faith has saved you."), or the healing of the paralytic.

Oh, and I talked with our resident dentist, D.K., after service about the analogy of good dental hygiene to good soul-hygiene (e.g., of having "forgive us our sins/debts/trespasses as we forgive those who sin against us" be even a daily part of following Jesus), and he conveyed that the analogy is even more fitting than I'd imagined: not only how poor dental hygiene can lead to encrustation and build-up in the relative short-run, but how some of the benefits of good daily hygiene (e.g., flossing) will only really show up over the long run - even 20 years or more. One hates to think of the long-term consequences of poor 'soul hygiene', but if you've ever had occasion to talk with a really bitter older person ... what a painful reminder of the centrality of forgiveness in our relationships with one another, with God and ourselves.

For further reading: one of our home groups a few years ago found it very helpful to read through, Choosing Forgiveness: Your Journey to Freedom, by Nancy Leigh DeMoss; I found the sections in Leanne Payne's Restoring the Christian Soul on receiving forgiveness and forgiving others to be tremendously valuable.

Theology, News & Notes - on evangelicalism

Ever wondered what an 'evangelical' is? Or wondered if you are one? And whether that's possible, if you don't live in the South? Or perhaps you've wondered how to avoid being one, based on various examples you've seen here and there?

The term "evangelical" is widely used, widely misrepresented, and perhaps even more widely misunderstood. I often hear it lumped together with "fundamentalism" and "Pentecostalism" as the great and terrible trinity of theologically-conservative Christianity - often by folks who don't see any difference between those terms.

The root of the word 'evangelical,' as anyone who's heard me speak for more than three minutes can attest, comes from the Greek euangellion - which means the good (eu) announcement (angellion), or "good news -- otherwise translated as "the gospel." When Jesus came proclaiming and demonstrating the Kingdom of God, he announced, "The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand - repent and believe the euangellion - the good news."

The Vineyard movement has been described, among other things, as a "hybrid of evangelical and charismatic" theology/faith, so if you're reading this because you're a part of a Vineyard church, and you're just now starting to have the creeping, terrifying thought that you might be an evangelical and not have even known it, here's a bit of a primer for you on evangelicalism (yes evangelicals do believe in reading, study and all that good stuff...so you'll need to do a bit of not-so-heavy lifting).

Fuller Seminary is, if I have my facts straight, currently the world's (or at least the West's) largest multi-denominational evangelical seminary. Fuller's latest issue of their quarterly Theology, News and Notes is devoted to "Evangelicalism 101(a)" - that is, a series of articles by Fuller professors discussing the core aspects of the evangelical faith. Given the significance of the evangelical movement worldwide (to say nothing of in US politics), and the much larger significance of the evangel (that is, the gospel), I'd encourage you to familiarize yourself a bit with some of the articles herein.

The link below will take you to the Theology, News & Notes home page, from which you can view the "Contents" link to see the selection of article titles.

Theology, News & Notes

Lent 2008 - "losing life, finding life"

Lent is the season within the annual rhythms of church life when we journey with Jesus of Nazareth to his cross and resurrection, considering discipleship in light of what he teaches and demonstrates about life in the Kingdom of God. The focus this year will be on the paradoxical way - emphasized repeatedly by Jesus - that in 'losing our life' we enter fully into Life.

Below are the week-by-week themes and scriptures for Lent 2008. Each Sunday we'll see a different visual reflection - by one of our artists - on a particular 'spiritual discipline' in which we lose or lay down our lives. You are invited to use the corresponding scriptures (below) as a part of your own Lenten reflections. All of the primary scriptures are drawn from Luke's gospel, and are linked here to Eugene Peterson’s The Message paraphrase. Simply reading through Luke's gospel (starting, say, in chapter 4) in something like The Message is a great way to get a sense of how Jesus' ministry and message revolve almost entirely around this singular great theme.

Week 1 – Sunday, 2/10

Arts theme – “obedience”

Primary scripture – Luke 9:18-27 (emphasis on the ‘follow me’ aspect)

Secondary scripture – Luke 9:43-62

Week 2 – Sunday, 2/17

Arts theme – “self-sacrifice / self-denial”

Primary scripture(s) – same as week 1 (emphasis on self-help / self-sacrifice)

Secondary scripture(s) – either Luke 18:18-30 or Luke 19:11-27

Week 3 – Sunday, 2/24

Arts theme – “generosity” (or, “love” – in the historical sense of “charity”)

Primary scripture(s) – Luke 6:17-49, esp. v. 24-42

Secondary scripture(s) – Luke 12:13-34, esp. v. 22-34

Week 4 – Sunday, 3/2

Arts theme – “prayer”

Primary scripture(s) – Luke 10:38-11:13

Secondary scripture(s) – Luke 18:1-8

Week 5 – Sunday, 3/9

Arts theme – “forgiveness”

Primary scripture(s) – Luke 17:1-19

Secondary scripture(s) – Luke 7:36-50 (note, in comparison, Matt. 18:21-35)

Week 6 – Sunday, 3/16 (“Palm Sunday”)

Arts theme – “service”

Primary scripture(s) – Luke 22:1-30

Secondary scripture(s) – Luke 14:7-14, Luke 12:35-48

Thursday, 3/20 – Maundy Thursday / Passover Supper, 6-8pm, Watershed

Friday, 3/21 – Good Friday Service (details TBA) – Luke 23:26-56

Easter Sunday – Celebration, 3/23

Primary Scripture – Luke 24

Homeless U-District youth share their stories - The Daily of the University of Washington

This article from the Jan. 7th UW Daily features two of our regulars, Zach and Chris. Enjoy! - Karl

Homeless U-District youth share their stories - The Daily of the University of Washington

Isaiah Series - Dates & Readings

Friends:

Some have asked me to give recommended readings from Isaiah as we're doing a brief walk through highlights from chapters 40-66. A few thoughts and suggestions:

While there's clearly a shift in tone and content that begins in chapter 40, there are many 'hints and glimpses' of what's to come in the first 39 chapters, and in fact some of the most profound expressions of hope - from personal to global to cosmic - come earlier in the book. Not just the promise of the One to come, but the promise of the defeat of death itself, and the transformation of relationships within (and with!) the new creation, feature in this section. While there's nothing like a read throught the whole book to get the full feel and scope of it, I'd suggest the following sections from chapters 1-39 if you want a trimmed-down set of possible readings from the first major 'chunk' of Isaiah (the links are on Biblegateway.com):

• Chapter 1 (a framing 'overview' of sorts for the book)
• Chapter 6 (sermon text for October 7th - Isaiah's calling and message)
• Chapter 9, especially v. 1-7 (familiar from Christmas, Handel's Messiah, etc.)
• Chapter 11 through Chapter 12 (wow....)
• Chapter 25, especially v. 1-9 (note the promise in verses 6-8, especially)
• Chapter 26, especially v. 1-19 (more of same)
• Chapter 27, especially v. 2-5 (this is the verse from which the Vineyard movement was named!)
• Chapter 32:1-8 (see also the restoration promised in v.15-18)
• Chapter 33:24 (how would this be as a 'word' over our church?)
• Chapter 35:1-10 (the Sept. 27th worship 'Commission 101' service was based on this passage...a sort of foreshadowing of the theme of hope that explodes in chapters 40+)

If you're reading a bible with section headings, take note of who's being addressed - there are any number of different nations, peoples and/or leaders addressed by Isaiah, so it helps to know whether the Lord is speaking to Israel/Judah, or Babylon, or Moab, or Egypt, etc. And note that, wherever there are strong statements of judgment and correction, there are almost always corresponding promises of restoration - often far beyond the scope of the preceding judgment.

Also, here is the prospective series of SunAM passages for this two-month 'tour'. It's a bit late, granted (one month in!), but will give an idea of the highlights we are ... highlighting. I've suggested accompanying/surrounding sections to read as we go along.

Oct. 7 - Isaiah 6 (Isaiah's Calling & Series Introduction)
Oct. 14 - Isaiah 40:1-2 (Comfort & Correction - What do we do w/God's discipline?)
Oct. 21 - Isaiah 40 [all, but esp. 1-5, 9-11, 27-31] (The Challenge of Hope)
Oct. 28 - Isaiah 42:1-9 (Hope through God's 'Servant' - see also 44:1-5; 49:1-7; 52:13-53:12; 61:1-7)

Nov. 4 - Isaiah 55 (Salvation: hope in, not just hope for - see also 54:1-17, 56:1-8)
Nov. 11 - Isaiah 58 (Salvation: Love, Justice, Sabbath, Promise)
Nov. 18 - Isaiah 60 (Hope & Confidence - walking in God's purposes for His people)
Nov. 25 - Isaiah 61 (Hope & Fulfillment, series conclusion; see also 65:17-25; 66:1-13)

There are far too many great passages in this section of Isaiah to cover in two months, so this is necessarily a very selective list. Hopefully, though, it's a good exposure to some of the main themes and images that run throughout Isaiah, and particularly to a message of profound hope that was given amidst times of pretty desperate darkness.

Christian hope is always centered in the cross and resurrection of Jesus, and as such, it's neither triumphalistic (and unable to reckon with hardship and setbacks) nor fatalistic (resigned to things working out whatever whichway). but strangely confident of resurrection power emerging in and through our present battles with darkness and (seeming) defeat.

In the words of Paul, one of the greatest hope-ers (so to speak...):

6For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.

7But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. 12So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

13It is written: "I believed; therefore I have spoken." With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, 14because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence. 15All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.

16Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor. 4)

- Karl

Updates on Pastoral Transition

Friends:

For those who missed Pastors Ed & Carolyn's announcement this past Sunday, please click here to read a PDF copy of the letter announcing Ed's resignation from the Seattle Vineyard. Ed and Carolyn planted the church in June of 1987 and have pastored faithfully for the past twenty years. As Ed has noted in various discussions, he is not retiring but resigning - that is, shifting from work marked primarily by pastoring a local church into a wider field of ministry expressed in writing, teaching and coaching. We speak for untold numbers who have met on the corner of 42nd & Brooklyn over the past two decades when we say, with obvious understatement, "Thank you, and well done." You have given us a good foundation and we will purpose to build well.

A few key dates mentioned in the course of Ed & Carolyn's announcement:

Congregational Meeting - we're planning a fall congregational meeting for current members on Saturday morning, November 3rd, from 9am-Noon in the Vineyard sanctuary. The meeting will include a time to visit over breakfast, an opportunity to raise and discuss questions related to the pastoral transition, and some discussion around the year ahead, including plans, direction, and building-related matters. Childcare will be provided for this gathering.

Installation Service - installation of Karl and Gail as the incoming Senior Pastoral couple will take place at the Sunday morning service on November 18th (normal service time, 10am-Noon). This will take place within a regular Sunday service - i.e., there will still be corporate worship, a message, children's programs, etc.

Thank You / Sending Celebration, Friday evening, December 7th, 7:00 - we'll be throwing a party at which we can express thanks and appreciation to Ed and Carolyn, and also send them, with our prayers and blessings, into their new field of ministry. Details and 'proper' invitations will follow, but please reserve this evening on your calendars! If you are able to help with the planning for this event, or have something special you would like to contribute, please contact the Vineyard office ASAP.

Many thanks,
Karl

Worship / How He Loves Us ...

One of the things I try to do is to listen for various ‘words’ and other signs that indicate what the Spirit is saying and doing in our midst. Sometimes, if a particular word catches my attention, I’ll carry it – sometimes for quite awhile – looking for confirmation and possible fulfillment.

Three years ago on the Seattle Vineyard’s 17th birthday (celebrated June 6th, I believe) we had a Sunday evening celebration with David Ruis leading worship and speaking. In between those two parts of the gathering, Pastor Ed stood up and said, “I believe the word of the Lord is here tonight…,” and encouraged people to share. The second or third word shared completely undid me, and has been one that I’ve literally carried around – both on CD and then a scrap of paper, when I finally transcribed it off the CD – since then. Here’s what the guest shared (brackets are points where I can’t make out the exact wording):


“I saw two words during worship, and the first one that came was ‘slow,’ and the second one that came was, ‘closed.’ And the Lord said there have been times and seasons where it has been slow, and the doors have all been closed. And [then] the fire of God came right up those steps and right through that door, and swirled around the building, and I think the Lord is saying that what [something-something] youth in the 60’s is happening again: that He’s opening a porthole to the Heavens here, and the legacy of this church is going to be the new legacy, the new fire, and people will be saved as they come out on the street and pass the corner here. And the offerings to the poor have risen up before him as a pleasant and sweet fragrance, and the work you have done with the poor and the hurting in ministering here in this church and through this church body out in the streets has come up like a sweet fragrance to the Lord, and worship has come up like a sweet fragrance to the Lord; and that as this comes up to Him there’s like a light of Heaven coming down on the worship stage: and I believe that the Lord is saying that there’s a new anointing coming to worship here; there’s a new anointing that’s going to keep the heavens open, that this porthole to the Heavens will be kept open day and night, that this would be a place of the new fire, and that His Presence would dwell here, and when people come in they will be saved, they will be healed, [something-something] sovereignly, because of what you’ve done, working with the poor and because of worship: this is your legacy.”

I guess I can’t, after eleven years at this church, think of a better way of summarizing the church’s ministry than ‘worship’ and ‘work … with the poor and the hurting,’ and I also know something of how hard and painful that work can be. That’s why the word so broke me, I believe – because of learning some sense of how desperately we need God to sovereignly empower what we do: and particularly to inhabit our worship and empower our ministry with the poor and hurting.

As I noted, I’ve carried that word with me, both physically and on the inside, for over three years now. I think I’m starting to see glimpses of its fulfillment, and it’s been much on my heart lately to somehow encourage that: to somehow – by naming it, pointing to it, giving examples, and encouraging what’s happening there – perhaps help fan that flame to life. Here are a few examples:


One member was telling me that just this past Sunday in worship she felt a very clear sense that if she lifted her hands in worship during a part of one particular song, opening herself to the Lord (“Unto you be all the glory…”) the Lord would come upon her powerfully – and she was quite honest about how risky this felt, this invitation to be wholly abandoned to God, but also quite clear that this was what the Lord was inviting.


Another member shared the following word with me last Sunday, jotted down during worship:

“During worship the core of what my spirit wanted/needed to sing was,

‘Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lamb;
Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord Almighty
Who created the whole earth.’

“There is something in my spirit that is jumping up and down, like a little kid waiting for Christmas morning to arrive. I think it’s the Holy Spirit who is VERY excited and in high anticipation for [the] messages and what God wants to do here and in this time.”

And an exhortation followed: “Be joyful and deliberate in your worship and focus, calling others to join with you in [this] specific focus and worship of God. God wants to break open some of the gifts He has given us, but has not allowed us to open yet. This is very exciting and risky/important!”


In relation to the matter of gifts being opened, and us opening up, an elder shared this impression recently, addressed to the Seattle Vineyard congregation:


“This is a season of freeing, healing and equipping. It’s a critical juncture in your life as a body because I [the Lord] have plans and gifts around the corner for you that you will only experience if and as you open yourselves to receive what I have for you in this season and as you’re faithful in it – saying ‘yes’ to me in the freeing, healing and equipping will take you around the corner. This season’s a delicious opportunity because as you open yourselves to me and what I am ready to do in and among you, my Spirit will be searingly (or keenly? I wasn’t sure what word to put to my sense of it) present and pleasant to you, even in the pain and tears. You will know yourselves loved. This season will be followed by a season of great releasing if you are faithful to the present season. Open yourselves to the elements of this season’s weather—throw yourselves into it.”


And, speaking of this season’s elements, another elder shared the following at a recent JoyHOP meeting and later emailed it to me:


“I had seen a word/vision 2 to 3 of Sundays ago, but I did not mention it, until JHOP the next day.

“[The word] is that we are in a Change, physically and spiritually:

· Physically -- A new season is coming, the leaves are changing color, daylight is getting shorter, the nights are getting cooler. Family life is getting back to normal, school has started. Home has started, the normal cycle has begun.
· Spiritually, I sense that we are in for a renewal. Getting back to 'normal' (whatever that means with God's direction) with much anticipation of what God is going to do.

“And my prayer/petition is: God do not pass us by. Do not let this generation not be part of what you are doing. We will stand up for You and what You want us to do!”


As an example of what happens as we pour ourselves out to the Lord – what He’s desiring to do in and through us at this time as we give ourselves wholly to Him: here’s a dream that another member shared with me a couple months ago:


“I was in a very large room, sitting in a chair facing a window. Throught the window I saw a Christian that I knew (in the dream) outside talking w/ a man. I knew there was spiritual darkness at work in that man & for a while I prayed in tongues while watching them. I stopped b/c it didn't seem to be making a difference.

“A little while later someone came into the room & let me know that while I had been praying in tongues, the darkness had been weakened in that situation, but when I stopped it was back full strength. I thought that I should go back to doing that, but instead I started focusing completely on God & began singing "hallelujah" over & over again. As I was singing, I moved about & poured every bit of my heart, thought & strength into that one word, knowing that God was worth all. It was like being in a timeless place while doing that. My voice was way better than my real voice. I was hearing beautiful music in the background that had middle eastern drumming. The focus was on praising God over & over.

“After awhile, I felt like I was 'done' & when I tried another 'hallelujah' I was back to my usual voice & the music was done. The cool thing was, that while I was praising God, the man was set free from the darkness.”


I’m fascinated, as I scroll back through this, how many themes overlap and interweave. If there’s one thing I would draw it back to, it is the promise and power, as one of the elders’ words put it, of this taking place: “You will know yourselves loved.” That changes everything, makes all the rest of it worthwhile. So, I want to encourage us, exhort us, as a church, to be devoting ourselves to Him and what He’s showing us, teaching us, opening up in us right now – and to be responding, as we are “Learning to Trust” (Pieter’s latest CD title), in ever-increasing abandon. I love the way that the initial word weaves together worship and working with the poor and hurting - which, as we'll see in looking at Isaiah 58 next month, are completely inseparable from a biblical standpoint. Our love for the Lord in worship, and the outworking of our love for one another, are of a single piece, and it seems that the Lord is desiring to pour himself into and upon and through us as we pour ourselves out to Him and one another.

I want to conclude this with a story, an example of abandon and love that has me rather 'wrecked' right now, just as it did Pieter when he first forwarded it to me. Many great worship songs just “come” to the writer, and while some just seemingly well up from within at no particular time, others come out of a profound experience or story. What follows is one of those ‘story’ songs. The links below are for a couple of YouTube versions of a song we’ve started singing recently (“How He Loves Us So”) and the story of the song’s origin.

The first link is John Mark McMillan narrating the origins of this song at The Call event in Nashville (earlier this year). It cuts off before the end of the song (sadly!), but Pieter found an audio version (here) that includes a very important ending to the song, some of the lyrics of which are a bit hard to make out, so I’ve typed them here:

“I thought about you the day Stephen died,
And you met me between my breaking;
I know that I know that I still love you, God,
Despite the agony…
‘Cause, people, they want to tell me you’re cruel,
...
But if Stephen could sing, he’d say it’s not true,
…
‘Cause He loves us, oh, how he loves us…”

(The third link is another YouTube, this time a complete version of the song done by the worship team from Bethel Redding at an youth event earlier this year.)

Overall, it’s not a ‘pretty’ song or story – in fact, it’s not even, in John Mark’s words, a worship song at all. But it seems that every time I listen to it or watch it, a further bit of hardness in my heart – hardness to receiving, feeling, expressing love – breaks. I hope you can experience something of the same ... 'Cause He loves us...