After a Long Hiatus . . .

Has it almost five months since I last blogged? Time really does fly. Between then and now so much has transpired. . . .

I wonder why I took this hiatus. I think there is a mixture of reasons. As you might know, I'm not particularly fond of blogging. It seems to encourage verbal diarrhea, though I don't deny there are some very good blogs out there worth reading. Perhaps I stopped because I unconsciously became tired of people asking, "Hey, why are you writing about me," when, in fact, I wasn't. (But I suppose our problems are similar enough that one might draw such a conclusion. Or maybe it's that lingering guilt Franz Kafka portrayed so well in Der Process.) It may also have been because life got really busy with the expansion of both my family and my family, that is, my church, and the self-imposition of various writing projects. Then, of course, there's the most likely culprit--laziness.

My wife often says at the end of a long day, "Shoot! There were so many things I wanted to share with you but now I've forgotten all of them." I feel the same way with blogging. There are always things I want to comment on, but by the time I can relax with a glass of Avalon to write amnesia kicks. Which is how I feel right now. But you gotta start somewhere. . . .

So, like a rascal, I'm just going to blog about a recent publication entitled Living Intentionally before God. Confession: I never listen to my sermons or read my own books and articles. I'm sure many of you can identify. I just can't stand my voice, whether the medium is paper or mp3. But I did read the blurb on the book of the book exactly because it wasn't written by me . . . and it got me thinking about a bunch of things. The blurb reads:

"There is perhaps no Christian virtue more undervalued than intentionality. Although we know God calls us to be set apart as followers of Jesus Christ, that is, to march to a different drummer, we find ourselves not at all very different from the world around us. Living Intentionally before God is a summons to redeem the quality of being intentional—of being purposeful—in all areas of our lives as we seek to live before the Audience of One."

A friend of mine who doesn't share my faith once made this very penetrating comment. Paraphrasing somewhat: "Let's suppose this whole Jesus thing is true, that God became man, walked the earth, died to atone for sin, rose again from the dead, and promised his followers to return again someday. Let's just suppose for a moment this is true. Why, then, aren't Christians living in a qualitatively distinct manner? Why aren't you trying to 'convert' me even if I'm telling you that's a bigoted thing to do? Why are they so caught up with the things that would occupy the mind of a man without such convictions? Why aren't they living like people who need not worry about this life because they have all of eternity?"

Sometimes unbelievers can have more insight into the faith--at least its ramifications--than believers. But maybe this friend is an anomaly. She does have two degrees from MIT.

In any case, this is the challenge of my brief devotional on 1 Thessalonians--to live intentionally in view of the gospel. I used to think this was particularly difficult in a place like Northern Virginia, but that isn't true. We can't help but breathe in the cultural air around us. So if you're in finance and your colleagues are spending their bonuses on a weekend car, then that's what you do. If you're in suburbia, you feel pressure to follow the pattern of upgrading from a condo to a townhouse to a single family home to a McMansion. Maybe what's so difficult about being intentional is that you have to first be intentional about being intentional. A hopeless cause save for God's intervention. 

Maybe an illustration of what intentionality entails might be helpful. Sometimes I get asked this sort of question: "Hey, Pastor--what do you think of my buying a luxury car?" I confess that I'm completely confounded by such inquiries when down payments have already been made. Maybe people hope that "if a pastor says it's OK, then it must be OK." In any case, my answer is rarely direct. I'll say something along these lines: "This past Friday I saw a documentary with some friends entitled 'Inside North Korea.' There were so many memorable moments from the documentary, but perhaps most compelling was the comment by one ex-concentration-camp guard who said, 'Sometimes the little children would fight over the kernels they found in the feces of cows.' Can you even imagine this? More to the point: Jesus said, 'Remember the poor.' Tim Keller's poignant application of this for those of us who have more: 'The more wealthy you become, the greater the distance should be between how you could live and how you actually live.' So--returning to your question--maybe you should be more thoughtful and intentional about your purchases. Not that you can't enjoy anything under the sun if you're a follower of Christ. But the general principle of Scripture seems to be to live modestly for the sake of generosity towards those who have less."

The misunderstanding that can sometimes arise from such comments is that they're patronizing, "judgmental," legalistic, and the like. That's a pat answer that completely misses the basic ethical challenge of the gospel. In view of Christ's first and second coming, how now shall we live? The helpful umbrella term seems to be "intentionally" or "purposefully."

"Don't Be Judgmental"

A young mother recently asked me a question on parenting. She had observed another child yelling at her daughter and wanted to explain to her daughter that what this child was doing was wrong but she hesitated because she didn't want her daughter to become "judgmental." She asked my thoughts on the situation and what I would have done. We then went into discussing the broader issue of being judgmental and some related issues and points.

Today when many people--not excluding professing Christians--use the term "judgmental," I think what they're getting at is a judgmental spirit, a religious attitude of superiority coming from the one pronouncing judgment against the "sinner." Their concern is warranted as the gospel is emphatic that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God; therefore, none should suppose even for a moment that he is superior to another.

Still, just because we shouldn't be judgmental doesn't mean that we should therefore be undiscerning. If you're having sex outside of marriage, that's wrong. If you're stealing money from God by not tithing, that's wrong. If you're lazy at work, that's wrong. If you're abusive to your spouse, whether verbally, physically, or emotionally, that's wrong. While the Bible doesn't condone pride, neither does it condone an indifference or blindness to right-and-wrong. God is not only loving, but also just. He calls things for what they are and has given us his revealed Word so that we might have some clue as to how He will judge us. So whether we're parents or simply plain Christian, we shouldn't hesitate for recognizing sin as sin and expressing such "judgment."

We all have our tendencies. Those who err on dismissing people because they appear to be judgmental might benefit from considering what is actually being said/observed. To dismiss people because "they're so judgmental" is a much too easy escape and more often than not is a defense mechanism that allows us to live in denial. If someone is calling you out because you're greedy, obnoxious, and selfish, it'll probably serve you best to set aside your personal offense and consider what they're actually saying. On the other hand, those who claim they're simply speaking truth in love need to keep in mind that our default mode is to be religious, that is, to not only observe sin but also to build up our own justification--how good we feel about ourselves--on the basis of other people's failures. Thus her selfishness makes you feel more noble about how selfless you are; her materialistic greed makes you feel even more kind and generous; her elitism enables you to bask in your own humility. This camp should bear in mind Jonathan Edwards' resolution that every observation of sin in others ought to provide an occasion for examining how this sin is present and pervasive in one's own life.

The only remedy against either tendency is the gospel, more concretely a gospel-centered church that rehearses the gospel on a regular basis. The gospel highlights God's commitment to justice, a commitment so powerful that He would pour out his full wrath on His only beloved son. For this reason, parents should teach their children right from wrong--explicitly; and all believers should seek out churches that do not shy from calling out sin for what it is. Still, the gospel highlights God's mercy, that His favor comes to those who do not merit such kindness, that His justification is based on Jesus' perfect life versus their own. This truth, when fully embraced, has a way of humbling the soul and enabling one to recognize sin without adopting a haughty spirit. And so, as important as it is to inculcate moral values, it's just as important to instill a gospel-dynamic and gospel-worldview that keeps all pride in check.

The Clarity and Simplicity of God's Will

God's will, as I've mentioned in my other blogs, seems to be of great interest to many Christians, specifically trying to figure out what it is. What's often assumed behind the search for God's will, whether it pertains to work, a relationship, an important decision, is that's it's remarkably unclear and can only be discerned after much fasting and praying. Not at all to put down fasting and praying--both are spiritual disciplines we need to recover. But their goodness is irrelevant to the question of God's will. A careful study of Scripture--perhaps even a superfluous study--reveals that God reveals his will very clearly.

Lately, a relatively unremarkable text I've been thinking through is 1 Timothy 5:3-16. The passage is about the care of widows among the believers in Ephesus. Saint Paul seems to go out of his way to distinguish between "real" widows and not-real widows. Appears somewhat heartless on the surface, but I think it's his way of saying that we need to be thoughtful about how we do "mercy." In any case, after identifying who is a "real" widow by way of contrast in 5:5-6, he unabashedly declares, "Look, if you're a Christian and you have faithful widows in your church and more importantly widows in your family and you're not caring for them, then you've shown you're not at all a Christian. In fact, you're worse than an unbeliever (5:8, PLT).

In other words, God's will for our lives is to be thoughtful about who is really in need and to meet those needs, especially if such persons belong to our own household. Seems clear enough. Crystal clear. Another instance of the clarity and simplicity of God's will.

It's very well possible that I'm simply not spiritual enough to appreciate many of the nuances involved in discerning God's will. I am, after all, totally depraved. That I take seriously enough never to take offense to the accusation, "You're not getting what's really being asked." And in asserting the clarity of God's will, I'm not at all suggesting that I'm very good at actually doing it. That's an entirely different matter. But, as I've stated elsewhere in blogs and messages, it's important for us to appreciate the clarity with which God speaks to us because it helps us to begin to see the real problem under the apparent problem, that the problem with respect to God's will is related much less to cognition and revelation (i.e., knowing) but very simply to doing. If we're dreadfully honest with ourselves about the fact that in more situations than not we really don't want to do God's will--much in the way my son has made it abundantly clear over these past few weeks that he could care less about what daddy and mommy want, then our prayers naturally evolve from, "Lord, what is your will for my life," to, "I don't want to do this--but not my will but yours be done."

It's Not You, It's Me

This line by George Costanza still makes me laugh. They don't make sitcoms like they used to.

What's less humorous is that most people believe exactly the opposite: "It's really you, not me."

A decade has passed since my first seminary class. During those early days of studying theology I never suspected that one of the most pervasive issues I would face as a pastor was broken marriages. Even now I hesitate to use an example of what this sort of brokenness looks like because a couple might them I'm exposing them when in reality countless couples face the same issues of poor communication, a lackluster sex life, mutual disappointment, and a deep sense of hopelessness.

Many couples would greatly benefit from marriage counseling (although by itself its usefulness is very limited), but there seems to be a strong social stigma attached to receiving formal counseling, so strong that couples would prefer to endure a terrible marriage than receive help. But perhaps the greater hindrance to pursuing marriage counseling is the belief that "it's really you, not me." Over the years--I'm not exaggerating--I've repeatedly heard this scenario where one spouse broaches the possibility of getting counseling only to be angrily dismissed by the other with the words, "You get counseling."

Conflicts in marriage are rarely a 50-50 deal, that is, one may be more at fault than the other. But never are conflicts entirely the fault of one person because we usually respond to sin with sin. Perhaps your husband has failed to love you the way Christ has loved the church, but have you responded with patience or petulance? Perhaps your wife has failed to show you proper respect and gratitude, but have you responded with forbearance or frustration? While it may be the case that "it's more you than me," it's never entirely "all you, not me"; thus, both spouses can always benefit from marriage counseling.

One of the fundamental tenets of the gospel is that Jesus came not for the righteous and healthy, but for the weak and imperfect. The gospel invitation is not that we need to get our act together in order to be acceptable to God but to come as confused and broken people in need of a Savior. And the Bible regularly challenges Christians to explore ways in which we still don't believe that we're far worse than we ever thought and yet far more loved than we ever imagined. Believing we are beloved sinners has the power to free us from inflated views of the self and to pursue the help we need to experience redemption and joy in marriage.

Being Self-aware & Self-critical (in a good way)

Continuing my reflections on Keller's new book, Center Church. . . .

One of the many strengths of Keller's book is that is appears to be somewhat of a critique of Keller's own tradition or denomination-affiliation. I highlight appears because I'm simply offering my assessment of what Keller is doing in his book. Although he addresses the many different tendencies of various believers, he seems acutely "self-aware" of the tendencies in his own denomination and speaks more pointedly and extensively to it.

An example of this comes from his section on "Gospel Rediscovery" where he summarizes Martyn Lloyd-Jones' analysis of several ways the gospel of grace can be lost among churches. Keller adopts an inverse relationship between what generally happens in more orthodox-doctrinal churches and the length with which he discusses the danger.

The first possible danger Keller notes (citing Lloyd-Jones) is: "A church might simply become heterodox--losing its grip on the orthodox tenets of theology that under-gird the gospel, such as the triune nature of God, the deity of Christ, the wrath of God, and so on." Just a single sentence from Keller on this pitfall, suggesting he is aware that most confessional churches probably won't run into this problem.

The second danger, which is characteristic of not so few evangelical churches, is: "It may turn its back on the very belief in justification by faith alone and the need for conversion and so move toward a view that being a Christian is simply a matter of church membership or of living a life based on Christ's example. This cuts the nerve of gospel renewal and revival." I think Keller, while fully believing church membership and discipleship are good and necessary things for believers, is addressing more evangelical churches that run the danger of confusing the actual gospel with these good things. As an aside, Keller is exhibiting a helpful pastoral assessment of one of the weaknesses of the New Perspective, given its emphasis on Kingdom-membership versus individual salvation.

But what's fascinating is that he then devotes an entire paragraph to the third danger, perhaps reflecting his own observations from having taught at a confessional seminary and having worked closely among churches where doctrine is promoted with a Lutheran-passion (bold mine): "But it is possible to subscribe to every orthodox doctrine and nevertheless fail to communicate the gospel to people's hearts in a way that brings about repentance, joy, and spiritual growth. One way this happens is through dead orthodoxy, in which such pride grows in our doctrinal correctness that sound teaching and right church practice become a kind of works-righteousness. Carefulness in doctrine and life is, of course, critical, but when it is accompanied in a church by self-righteousness, mockery, disdain of everyone else, and a contentious, combative attitude, it shows that, while the doctrine of justification may be believed, a strong spirit of legalism reigns nonetheless. The doctrine has failed to touch hearts."

Again, this is simply my assessment of what Keller is seeking to do--he is seeking to be "self-aware" and "self-critical" of his denominational tendencies (perhaps even his own church's tendencies). This may, I fully admit, simply be my own eisegesis of Keller. Whatever is the case, I very much appreciate what he appears to be doing and believe that every individual and church would benefit from considering which of the three he/she/they are most likely to fall prey to.

Respecting Others in Ministry

Currently reading Tim Keller's most recent work Center Church: Doing Balanced, Gospel-Centered Ministry in Your City. Of course countless pastors and serious laymen are curious to discover Keller's "secret to success" with his well-known ministry, Redeemer.

The book is written with the clarity and wit we would expect from Keller. In his blog he provides a summary of one of the major reasons for writing the book:

"I believe there is a common misunderstanding of the relationship between doctrine and ministry. Let me illustrate. A puzzling but common sight today is that many churches share the same doctrinal foundations, yet go about ministry in radically different ways. For example, consider two Presbyterian churches that both subscribe wholeheartedly to the Westminster Confession of Faith and catechisms. The first church uses contemporary music and very little discernible liturgy, employs lay ministers to lead meetings and ministries as well as pastors, and deploys the latest marketing and media strategies. The second church operates in almost the opposite way, using classical music, traditional liturgy, and emphasis on the ordained clergy. They also vigorously criticize the methods of the other church as a betrayal of the Reformed faith, and perhaps even of the gospel itself."

This book addresses at least two types of people. One type is the individual who claims to adhere to a theological tradition and yet has thought little--if at all--of how his theology informs his practice. The other type of individual is the one who supposes that adherence to a set of theological axioms must lead to only one form/expression for ministry. Both need to be more thoughtful in general. More importantly, as Keller asserts, both need to reflect on how their assessments of culture, which is oftentimes done unconsciously, has resulted in a particular form of ministry. This, according, to Keller, is why two people can very well have the same theological stance and yet radically different approaches to ministry. 

Hence, Keller pastorally, charitably, and accurately notes (Center Church; bold and parenthetical explanation mine):

"It could be argued that an acquaintance with the category of theological vision (= theological convictions + cultural assessments) will help us understand many of the conflicts in local churches and denominations. Our doctrinal statements of faith and confessions do not tell us what in our culture can be affirmed and what can be challenged, nor do they speak directly to our relationship to tradition and the Christian past or reflect much on how human reason operates. Yet our ministries are shaped profoundly by our assumptions about these issues. When we see other people who say they believe our doctrine but are doing ministry in a way we greatly dislike, we tend to suspect they have fallen away from their doctrinal commitments. They may have, of course; yet it’s equally likely that they haven’t strayed but are working from a different theological vision. Unless we can make these assumptions more visible and conscious, we will misunderstand one another and find it difficult to respect one another."

To be clear, Keller's observation holds true only when the individuals in view are somewhat theologically versed; that is, differences and conflicts genuinely and perhaps even necessarily arise from profound differences in theological/doctrinal/biblical beliefs. Still, many of the differences and conflicts I've observed over the years--and have experienced personally--arise less from doctrinal differences and more from varying assessments of culture, the use and value of one's theological tradition, and the role of reason. And we shouldn't be surprised by this because people's assessments of these later three categories are bound somewhat to change because the "canon" from which we draw our conclusions is not as narrowly defined as it is for theology, which is the Bible. In this sense, arriving at theological convictions is--perhaps to the surprise of some--easier than arriving at definitive conclusions about culture, tradition, and reason. This reality should invite all in ministry--pastors and laymen alike--to be mutually patient and slow to draw conclusions and quick to try to understand one another, lest we "misunderstand one another and find it difficult to respect one another."

Of course, the power and inevitability of our own sin will make this far easier said than done. 

Theology is a bad thing. . .

or so many believe--and this is not a position held mainly by atheists but Christians. I'm sure you've heard or perhaps have even said that the only thing that really matters is loving Jesus.

I understand why people get turned off by theology. Rarely, I think, is it the fault of the subject itself. Even people who don't believe in God find the topic interesting. Most of the time, at least according to my limited experience, it's because Christians who are big proponents of theology are also--plainly speaking--jerks. I recall reading a blog several years ago by a Christian songwriter who basically ridiculed many of the more popular contemporary praise songs. He wasn't necessarily wrong in his desire for lyrics that are biblically faithful and theologically weighty. But the way he went about it left much to be desired and simply reinforced the view that theological study serves only to puff up minds.

On the other hand, just because your server may on occasion be unpleasant doesn't mean the food itself should be discarded. Besides, as Ian Murray notes in the preface to John Murray's Collected Writings, "the best Christian teaching will advance piety as well as learning, it will give theology 'shot through with the warmth of ardent devotion'" (though I'm told John Calvin himself was quite unpleasant). Theology, in fact, is a good thing; and when studied regularly and carefully brings tremendous clarity in one's outlook of life because it addresses the questions we all wrestle with: How do we know what we know? Why's the world so messed up--why am I so messed up? What hope of redemption do we have if any? Why does community really matter? And so forth.

It's easy to look back at life with regret--a habit that should generally be avoided. I have nothing but gratitude for all my years of growing up. But one thing: I wish I had learned theology--especially through the shorter catechisms--much earlier. I'm not sure if my life would have turned out radically different; but I distinctly recall feeling much more freedom and having more clarity in outlook post-seminary through the teaching and example of my professors at Westminster Theological Seminary.

Some say they prefer to be independent, to determine for themselves what is true and good. Sounds wonderful--but haven't you noticed how confused and lost most people are? Was it an accident that Rick Warren's book The Purpose-Driven Life was a bestseller? As much as we like to think we're independent thinkers--or can be--the reality is that such freedom usually results first in confusion and then in assimilation. Just look around: are people really thinking creatively and living independently?

Maybe this analogy helps. You have two students learning piano. The first insists on doing whatever she wants and doesn't want to learn the "rules" of music theory and practice incredibly boring scales. Meanwhile the other student is "brainwashed" by music theory and limited to exercising scales. In the short-run, the former seems to experience more freedom and creativity; but in the long run, the limited student discovers she's not limited to any style or genre while the former discovers she's limited to and by herself. In a similar way, people who learn theology and develop a robust biblical worldview can attest to experiencing incredible freedom and inspiration. Just ask John Owen, the great reformed theologian, who apparently brewed his own beer.