Non Christians want to know if the gospel we proclaim is true and meaningful. People are seeking an anchor for their lives—something that will not move, decay or change. They are looking for something worthy of their trust. One skeptic and critic chides the Church:
The world expects of Christians that they will raise their voices so loudly and clearly…that not even the simplest man can have the slightest doubt about what they are saying. Further, the world expects of Christians that they will eschew all fuzzy abstractions and plant themselves squarely in front of the bloody face of history. We stand in need of folk who have determined to speak directly and unmistakably and, come what may, to stand by what they have said (Albert Camus).
The world wants to know if we take the gospel seriously. They want to know if the gospel is able to provide the meaning they long for.
Our confidence in the gospel will build confidence in those who follow our lead. Paul adds, Also, as a result of my chains, most of the brethren have confidence in the Lord, so that they have far more courage to speak the gospel without fear (1:14, author’s translation). Christians are to know that the cause of Christ is worth pursuing and proclaiming—whatever the adversity (cf. Romans 8:31 39). Such conviction will dissolve the doubts of those who question the gospel’s power.
Who follows in our footsteps? Friends, workmates, spouses, children, Christian brothers and sisters. Each of us is in a singular place to influence someone else’s life. What kind of influence will it be? We can demonstrate a life anchored on the Solid Rock, Christ Jesus. Or we can give in to the whims of hardship. When the gospel is our central concern, we will be focused. We will have meaning in life and we will show others how to have meaningful lives.
Another excerpt from my book,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life
, a lay commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Enjoy a taste with a free downloadable chapter, “
Putting Jesus Back into Our Potential (Phil 2:1-11).”
“The real paradox of our time,” someone has remarked, “is not poverty in plenty, but unhappiness in the pursuit of pleasure.” Today there are more distractions from boredom than at any other time in history. Yet Malcolm Muggeridge comments:
We have everything that we want materially, and it ought to make us happy, but for some reason it doesn’t. It should be the case that…where all these material things are most available, where the pursuit of happiness is most ardently undertaken should also be the place where human beings are most happy. . . In fact, it’s not so. Something has gone wrong. It hasn’t worked.
Why hasn’t it worked? Why are masses of people, especially youth and young adults, so bored, aimless and even apathetic about life? Our culture—our media, our educators, our politicians, our technological advancements—cannot give the human heart ultimate purpose and meaning. Every person longs for a reason, a purpose for living. We tend, however, to draw our meaning from things and people that are earthly, transitory, susceptible to change and decay. What is lacking? Lacking is a purpose that raises us above the disenchantment and decay of our culture.
The Oscar winning classic, Chariots of Fire, illustrates the search for meaning through the lives of two runners destined for Olympic gold medals, Harold Abrams and Eric Liddell. Abrams dreamed of being the fastest runner in the world. Liddell, a missionary’s kid from China, dreamed of following in his parents’ footsteps. He was caught up in preaching and preparing for his missionary service in China.
Harold Abrams wins his race. He has accomplished all he ever wanted to do. Instead of satisfaction, however, he finds his life empty, bankrupt. Meanwhile, Liddell is confronted by his sister. She is concerned that the running will distract him from his call to China.
“I know that God has made me for China,” Liddell assures his sister. “But He has also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”
What is the difference between these two men? Abrams had nothing but his win for pleasure. Once he won, he was without a goal. Eric Liddell had his run. But once it was finished, he had China. After China, he had heaven. (Liddell died a missionary martyr in China.) Eric Liddell knew why he was created, and that was his pleasure. He was created for a purpose—the glory and service of God.
Excerpt from my book,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life, a lay commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Enjoy a taste with a free downloadable chapter, “
Putting Jesus Back into Our Potential (Phil 2:1-11).”
A guess essay is posted below by my daughter Amanda…
Treasure by Amanda Anderson
The vast land of the Southwest was like nothing I have ever seen before. Rolling fields of tall grass whipped around by the strong winds that flowed over the land. Bubbling streams and raging rivers scarred paths in the earth. Thick patches of towering pine trees brushed their long evergreen limbs to the floor. Red powder dust rose and swirled in the dry air and then settled back to the ground.
There was too much for one set of eyes to absorb. There was simply too much land. Later, I would come to realize that there was too little land. But for now, the presence of the dancing grass, hiccupping waters, ancient trees, and sun-baked pillars of stone were more than enough to satisfy my need for true natural beauty.
I came from a world of business, of scheming, deception, and fraud. My father was a New York Congress man, and I, merely his daughter, Catharine. My days were spent in school, the best my father’s money could place me in. I was surrounded by steel and bricks, marble and gold. For once it was pleasant not to be trapped by the walls of the city. It was a freedom unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
The land of the Southwest was uncharted, unclaimed, it appeared wild and free like the countless animals and native Indians that called this place home. This land was a mystery. However, that idea was beginning to change.
With every track of steel laid down, a piece of the magic this land held faded. Yet, every acre of land surrounding the tracks began to rise in price. Every tree torn down, every buffalo shot by restless workmen, every delicate wild flower that was crushed seemed to tarnish the mystery of the land. This place was now called the “Wild West.” The word “Wild” seemed less and less appropriate with every chug of the locomotive. It was becoming just the “West.”
Part of me felt heartbroken at the thought of loosing this treasure. Yet, it wasn’t my treasure to lose.
Deterred, I turned my gaze away from the window, away from the beauty of the setting sun slipping past the Earth’s horizon. I closed my eyes and listened to the familiar groans, squeaks, thuds, and whistles of the train progressing forward. Daylight tomorrow marked the fifth day of my westward journey; the journey that would forever change my life; the journey that would permanently alter the course of America.
* * *
For as long as I’ve lived, this land has been called my home. The endless spins of lush grass where I ran free with the horses. The rivers with living water that provided for my existence. The hidden pathways through the forest that were marked by endless invisible footsteps. The red mouthed canyon where dust churned in my wake as I chased eagles, hoping that one day I, too, would fly.
To me this Earth was sacred, it was my mother. She cared for me, and I respected her wisdom. The possibilities that churned from this land were as new as every heartbeat. There were so many things to learn, so many things to discover, and so many things that are to remain a mystery. This land hummed life, beauty, and adventure.
But most importantly, this land was part of who I am; it was who my people were, and would always be. Yet, as of lately, this land seemed to be slipping out of our hands and into those of the white man. They are foolish if they ever think they can tear us away from this land. We have roots here that span out as far and deep as the ancient oak trees of the forest.
Surely if they remove us, we are to wither away. We won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.
I’ll fight like a warrior, be strong like a stallion, and wise like the eagle. This land is a treasure, one that should never be lost.
I could not help but think of how much I would miss this land when the high wooden posts of the white man’s fort surrounded me. If my plan were to succeed I would be enclosed behind those walls, a prisoner to the White Man. I was but another savage face, one that would be utilized if broken, or discarded like stale meat. I wasn’t ready to be discarded, though I very well could be if I was not careful.
One would say pestering the white man was one of my pastimes; dangerous indeed. But, I was always disturbing things that were better left alone. Some call me the Reckless One, but my name is Kwahu, meaning Eagle. I knew I would never fly. But, one day I would come very close. I guess my mother saw more hope for her son’s future than I saw for myself at the moment.
There was still hope, though, burning inside me and the hearts of my fellow Apache. We were a people not easily broken. It would take years for the white man to realize that. This land was our home, the Earth’s greatest gift.
This is an essay written for Amanda’s LitMag, and is part of a hopeful novel someday on the impact of the western advance of the railroad on both the “white man” and the indian. Amanda is 16 and a junior in high school.
Woody Allen once quipped, “It’s not that I am afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Often Christians can take a similar attitude toward spiritual growth. “It’s not that I am afraid of spiritual growth,” they say. “I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
H.G. Wells once called Buddhism the “best religion.” But he admitted it could only flourish in a warm climate. Wells was not poking fun at Buddhism. He was commenting on Westerners’ preference for comfort. Our modern version of Christianity is also unfavorably disposed toward discomfort. But any theme that gets as much space in the Scripture as suffering does should have our careful, reverent attention.
Suffering is no more avoidable than breathing. But let’s face it. Today we view life through the lenses of comfort, personal rights, and material affluence. Our culture is collapsing under the weight of a thousand rights and needs. Meanwhile, that same weight has become a millstone around the neck of Christian spirituality, church-life, and discipleship.
Our churches are filled with disappointed, disillusioned Christians. Many float from church to church, from one self help book to another, from one get healed quick guru to another. They search for the “power” that will release their pain and unleash their happiness. The problem is not the gospel or the power of God’s Word. The problem is our preference for comfort. (Well, at least it is my problem!)
It seems that Christians, today, are more apt to shrink spiritually than to grow. In his book, New Rules, Daniel Yankelovich observes:
You are not the sum total of your desires. You do not consist of an aggregate of needs, and your inner growth is not a matter of fulfilling all your potentials. By concentrating day and night on your feelings, potentials, needs, wants and desires, and by learning to assert them more freely, you do not become a freer, more spontaneous, more creative self; you become a narrower, more self centered, more isolated one. You do not grow, you shrink.
Much of our problem rests in our inability to reconcile our culture’s call to comfort with the biblical texts calling us to suffer. And that’s the scandal of contemporary Christian life.
We have a generation of Christians who cannot say with Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “Praise God for this prison.” They cannot identify with Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s conviction, “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.” They cannot understand the depths of A.W. Tozer’s comment, “It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until He has hurt him deeply.” The Bible, I fear, is much closer to Solzhenitsyn, Bonhoeffer and Tozer than we like to think.
We have a Christianity and a church-life that is designed to help the believer to be comfortable with himself or herself, and to help their faith to fit nicely in our democracy. There is a temptation to accommodate ourselves with the status quo, to identify with our democracy. Don’t get me wrong, I love our form of government. I am only (beginning) to question whether my conflicts (my perchant for avoiding suffering), my uneasiness with how my faith works in our democracy is a result of wanting to feel more comfortable in western, American modernity. I fear we dislike feeling alienated from our surrounding culture, so we choose a faith that reflects more our contemporary, democratic values rather than following the Way of the suffering Messiah, the way of the cross.
© Chip M. Anderson
Words’nTone
Adapted from my book, Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life, a lay-commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. For more information on the Book and a free-downloadable chapter, click here.
For those clicking or googling into this Words’nTone post, you might want to read part 1 of 2 first. From part 1 of 2…
POTUS just doesn’t get it. But perhaps, he and other pro-abortion advocates don’t really care about getting it. They have their position. It is a women’s right. And that’s that. But…
But yet, despite the illusion of civility in calling for mutual interest in “our common ground,” slaves and unborn human beings are still affected in detrimental ways, one dehumanizing and one termination. I cannot imagine POTUS would use the same common-ground tactic on the issue of slavery. (I wonder if he’ll use it on the gay-marriage issue?) Of course there is a time and place for working on common-ground, but used as weasel words, which are both ambiguous and a clear mis-direction, in the debate on the issue of abortion is simply to appeal to the crowd and begs the ultimate question: Is an abortion a deliberate act in terminating the life of an unborn human being?
The argument—actually simply a persuasive speech—moves the listeners to follow this logic:
We have differences of opinion on whether
the unborn is a human being.
But we have common ground on the issue.
Therefore, we should work together on
that common ground.
This argument is wrong on so many levels. The insertion of “common ground” into the argument is a non-sequitur, which is a fallacy of irrelevance or unrelated terms. The two ideas—the killing an unborn human being and the plea for common ground--are not linked together; they are unrelated terms. In other words, the appeal for working together on our common ground does not follow the argument, and thus, leaves the audience (if they were thinking—and they should have been as teachers and soon to be graduates of Notre Dame) still begging the ultimate question: Is abortion the taking of a human life?
Really, that is what is at issue. Is abortion murder of an innocent human being? It is the epitome of audacity to think that an appeal to working on “common ground” suffices those who believe (in their hearts, through their faith, and in real hard data) that the unborn is a human being. There is, for this argument and with this issue, no common ground to work on if that be the case.
For the first part of this
Habit of the Mind...
1 of 2
It did not matter to me whether pro-choice advocate and POTUS spoke at Notre Dame. I would have jumped at the chance to speak to an institution that opposes my position on one of the key dividing issues of the day—abortion. If NOW asked me to speak at one of their gatherings, of course I’d speak on the issue of abortion and whether we’re killing an innocent human being inside the womb of a pregnant woman. If one of the many gay-rights groups asked me to speak at a convention or conference, of course I would talk about the issue of gay marriage. President Obama speaking at Notre Dame’s 2009 commencement—not an issue for me. That’s the decision for the College President, its Board of Trustees, its contributing alumni and supporters, and future applicants to decide.
What I take issue with is his words—his doublespeak, weasel words, puffery to make his appeal for civility on the issue of abortion between two-opposing philosophies: Pro-abortion and Pro-life. It is his audacity for common ground and its place in the public debate on the issue of taking the life of someone who is clearly a human being in the womb of a pregnant woman. With the President’s call for concentrating on the so-called “common ground” which both sides have, Obama utilizes in one swift oracle of neutrality what appears to be a more civil and more appealing approach to the issue that divides many of us personally and politically a debate tactic that is pure puffery, a set of weasel words that distract from the issue at hand, but yet look appealing to the audience. It is the President’s audacity of common ground that begs the question regarding the issue of abortion.
Can you imagine? We have sharp differences of opinion. You believe blacks are human and slavery is an evil. I believe they are less than human or at least do not have the same rights as European Whites and provide a service that supports our economic well-being as a nation. Imagine I have been asked to speak at Oberlin College, in the 1800’s a college committed to ending slavery. My position on slavery is well known, but I have been asked to speak nonetheless, because we have other issues in common and I am someone of public prestige. Now imagine in my address I said, “We have stark differences of opinion on the issue of slavery, but we should be more civil in our public debate. We both want people to be treated more nicely and have better living conditions. We want to see less slavery. So let’s work on the common ground that we both hold—we can work toward slave-owners treating their slaves more nicely and providing better living conditions. We can work toward less shipping of slaves from foreign countries. But let us not let our words divide us. Let’s work together for our common goals.”
Nice words. Pleasant approach. Seemingly civil. But yet, it still leaves the issue of the nature of slavery untouched, not debated, and unresolved. And, oh yea…human beings are still being treated as less than human beings and human beings are still being enslaved. To argue “common ground” is no argument at all. It leaves what is opposed in place. Such a tactic allows those who are pro-slavery—really, we are talking about abortion here—to not muster up the argument and thought for sustaining such a practice. It allows the position to go unchallenged. Slavery stays in place. The policy that allows some human beings to be treated as less than human goes unchecked and remains the law of the land. In this case, the common ground rhetoric allows the President to sidestep the argument and sound honorable at the same time. But babies are still allowed to be killed for the convenience of adults. That’s the problem with President Obama’s 2009 Notre Dame Commencement speech—his audacity of common ground.
POTUS just doesn’t get it. But perhaps, he and other pro-abortion advocates don’t really care about getting it. They have their position. It is a women’s right. And that’s that. But...see 2 of 2...
A wise man once observed, For those who do not believe in God, joy is peripheral and suffering is fundamental; but for the believer, suffering is peripheral and joy is fundamental.
One cannot escape the dueling experiences of suffering and joy any more than one can escape the necessity of breathing. We regularly are prompted, through our own personal experience, to raise the question of pain and suffering. Reconciling the existence of pain and suffering with our insatiable desire for joy and comfort is a burdensome task. We even become more perplexed when we see someone in the midst of suffering and there is joy, confidence, even radiance, all despite the affliction. It is mystery and, at times, confusing.
Annie Johnson Flint, a woman who lived most of her life in pain, has left such a testimony. As a child, she was orphaned. Later, embarrassing incontinence left her body frail. She was weakened by cancer, and eventually, deformed by rheumatoid arthritis. She was incapacitated for so long that she needed multiple pillows positioned around her body just to cushion the raw, bedridden sores. And yet, the title of her autobiography was The Making of the Beautiful.
One of her best-known poems reads:
He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase;
To added affliction, He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials His multiplied peace.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed e’re the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving has only begun.
His love has no limit, His grace has no measure,
His power has no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus He giveth,
and giveth, and giveth again.
For the most part, I will admit that suffering and pain will always remain somewhat unexplainable, but some will find the mysterious ability to raise above afflictions no matter how slight or severe. No wonder the unbeliever is left in awe and bewilderment at such lives like Annie Vincent Flint, Joni Eareckson Tada, or men like Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.
Again, for the unbeliever, the peripheral issues of life occupy their attention, and the fundamental ones often go ignored. However, for the Christian, the fundamental questions of life are answered (life, death, God, salvation, heaven, who am I, etc.) and it is acceptable, livable, to have the peripheral ones often left unanswered. This is why the unbeliever has problems with pain and suffering in this world. In fact, a hurting or suffering person will often turn a deaf ear toward any answers of “why” until they begin to recognize that God, the cross, faith, and salvation must become part of the answer. Like the Psalmist, we must all cry, “Whom have I in heaven but Thee? And besides Thee, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Ps. 73).
© Chip M. Anderson (September 2008, rev )
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind
Every time I ask an atheist, whether personally or through a blog, group board, or website, where did the known, physical universe come from—how did it begin? I usually receive no answer, or the comment, “We’ve been through this before.” But when I say, “Can you explain it again,” no answer is given. There is no doubt that there is an element of “faith” for the atheist regarding the origin (or dare say, non-origin) of the universe, and additionally, there is the lack of scientific explanation for the origin of the universe. I repeat, who has determined that we live in a closed universe where the only way to “prove” things such as the existence of God, origins of the universe, angels, heaven, and hell must be scientific and not logical? What’s wrong with reason as a method for determining the soundness of one’s conclusion concerning the original of creation?
The very “logic” used by atheists isn’t scientific (ironically), and seems to betray their insistence that there are no eternal, immaterial, non-changing things in this universe. (Really how do they know that?) For the laws of logic are indeed immaterial, eternal, and non-changing. Furthermore, what was before time began? What was there before there was space? It is hard for atheist to imagine what it was like before time and before space, for such imagining is indeed an almost impossible (and I might add, implausible) scientific pursuit that actually is a faith statement about one’s worldview—not a scientific answer.
If the atheist stipulates, that explaining what was before time and space cannot be imagined, “chance” then becomes, as Steve Turner once penned, “the Father of all flesh.” Chance brought this meaningless existence, rhymeless physical universe into being. Steve Turner writes, so playfully, but poignantly, in his poem called “Chance”:
If chance be the Father of all flesh,
disaster is his rainbow in the sky,
and when you hear
State of Emergency!
Sniper Kills Ten!
Troops on Rampage!
Whites go Looting!
Bomb Blasts School!
It is but the sound of man worshiping his maker.
The difficultly in imagining the creation of our physical and known universe where there is no material becoming material, along with no time and no space at one point becoming time and space leads to an even more devastating imagination of a universe without an eternal, all-powerful, holy, immutable Being. Steve Turner reminds us what is left to imagine within an atheistic worldview and the plague of living with an atheistic faith in no-thing, just chance.
© Chip M. Anderson (October 2008)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind,
“Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will have welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7).
Claire Gaudiani, in her book
The Greater Good 
, presents an argument that it is philanthropy that actually drives the American economy. Unlike any other country in the world, Americans, overall, are more generous with their resources, and as a result, have helped to create a way of life that is fuller and more prosperous for the majority of its citizens than any society on the planet. She points out that “Among others, economists Lester Thurow and Robert Barro and management consultant Peter Drucker concur that investments in human capital make the greatest impact on long-term productivity of the society” (33). In fact, she posits that it is American philanthropy that has the potential for “saving capitalism.”
Now, it is not my interest to “save capitalism,” nor to save the American way of life—even though I benefit from it and very much appreciate it. But, it is my within my interests to figure out ways that our Gospel can penetrate the lives of people. One thing that has always bothered me is why evangelical churches are not willing to invest in the community or communities that surround them (just because it’s a good thing to do). In my brief review of
Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith
, I observed that “God instructed Jeremiah, ‘Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will have welfare’ (29:7). Seems a simply enough principle. Imagine creating an approach to church life, church growth, and evangelism based on seeking the welfare of the city—the city (or neighborhood) that your church represents? Imagine.
I understand that we live in a corrupt world, as John the Apostle tells us, that is passing away. This statement was not to lead the church away from caring about the society around them, but to remind the church its existence is not dependent on the world (because the church will not pass away). Nonetheless, the church is yet still called to be “salt and light” to this dying world, to our own fading culture. My, now almost a decade long, vocation in the human service world, where everything I do seeks to invest and develop human capital from among at-risk and vulnerable populations, is driving me toward—what I think is—a more biblical view of the Kingdom of God and the life of the church.
After reading my short review for
Sidewalks in the Kingdom my good friend Pastor Eric Marx shared a story that has impacted his own church ministry:
James Bender in his book How to Talk Well
relates the story of a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon. One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it.
This reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors. “How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?” the reporter asked.
“Why sir,” said the farmer, “didn’t you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn.”
He is very much aware of the connectedness of life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor’s corn also improves.
So it is in other dimensions. Those who choose to be at peace must help their neighbors to be at peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. And those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.
Again, the lesson here is not a hard one: If we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn. I can almost hear our Lord say, “Go and do likewise.”
© Chip M. Anderson (May 2004)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind,
Eric Marx is the senior pastor of the
Evangelical Covenant Church in International Falls, MN. I highly recommend this church and commend to you the ministry of this most humble and fantastic man of God.
Through my seminary years I worked part time to help support my family. My job consisted of the two things I despise more than anything on earth: cleaning and vacuuming. I was a janitor. Already I was a wreck emotionally. The combination of being “a nobody” at school and a janitor for a daycare center made things worse. I felt I was not fulfilling my potential.
One day while cleaning a toilet I got angry at God. Slamming the sponge down into the toilet bowl, I said, “I am a preacher, a teacher. And here I am cleaning toilets!” I protested not getting the church position. I complained about not preaching. My insecurities matched my “unfulfilled potential.” I knew I was dealing with pride, but I thought my complaint was justified because I did have gifts, you know!
In the midst of my tantrum, God brought to my mind a sermon illustration I had heard back at college chapel. The preacher recalled the story of a rather well to do graduate student who finished top of his class with a doctorate. He felt called to the ministry, and a rather prestigious Philadelphia congregation invited him to be their pastor. But the young man felt called to work with William Booth in England. So he left America to apply for a ministry with the Salvation Army.
At the interview, Mr. Booth told the young man there was no place for him. His education and wealthy-status would hinder him from taking orders from street preachers, some of them former drunks and prostitutes. But the young man was persistent, and Mr. Booth gave him a try. He sent him to a dark, dingy cellar to clean and shine the muddy boots of the street preachers.
After a while, it occurred to the young man that indeed he might be wasting his talents and gifts. “You call yourself a servant of God,” the devil seemed to be saying, “but look at you. You’re squandering all you have to offer.” The man thought of the Philadelphia pulpit he had turned down. But as those thoughts danced in his head, another Voice whispered, “It’s all right. I washed their feet too.”
There at my daycare janitorial job, I realized the issue was pride and my false sense of fulfillment. It was my ego that had been offended, not my potential.
The United States has 360 million “most important persons in the whole world.” Logic would suggest someone’s potential is going to be sacrificed. The mind of Christ (Philippians 2:5-11) turns this idea right side up. We must consider that the pursuit of our potential might actually be a disadvantage for others and a hindrance to the gospel. It is not self fulfillment, but self submission that God desires.
But you say, “If I give myself to sacrificial obedience, I could be put in a position where I was taken advantage of. I could be used and, even worse, abused.” That possibility exists. And it happens far too often. The solution is not to reject the biblical text and shrink from sacrificial service to others. The solution is to exercise the mind of Christ. Each of us has limited time, energy and resources. We should be selective. The Christ hymn of Philippians 2 supplies the appropriate elements for the decision making process.
© Chip M. Anderson (March 2008)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind,
An adapted excerpt from my lay commentary on Philippians,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life. This brief excerpt comes from the chapter, “
Putting Jesus Back into Our Potential” (free
pdf downloadable chapter).
Although most will admit a spiritual thirst exists, many are either ignorant of why it exists or where such a thirst can be filled. I find that most simply refuse to acknowledge that God has something to do with their spiritual thirst. More information may contribute little, however, to making sense of modern man’s spiritual thirst. At times, simply hearing a story will often do more to reach the mind than an elegant argument.
The scene comes from The Silver Chair
by C. S. Lewis. Jill, one of the children, meets Aslan, the Lion, for the first time. In the story, the Lion is the symbol for Jesus Christ. Let’s listen in:
When Jill stopped, she found she was dreadfully thirsty… [T]here was perfect silence except for one small persistent sound. She listened carefully and felt almost sure it was the sound of running water.
Jill…looked around her very carefully. There was no sign of the Lion; but there were so many trees about that it might easily be quite close without her seeing it … But her thirst was very bad now, and she plucked up her courage to… look for that running water.
…she came to an open glade and saw the stream, bright as glass… [A]lthough the sight of the water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood still as if she had been turned into a stone, with her mouth wide open. And she had a very good reason: just this side of the stream lay the Lion…
“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the Lion.
“May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”
“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.
Most admit spiritual thirst exists, and today, many are indicating a need to fulfill this thirst. However, many are left “dying for thirst” because they are afraid of dealing with God Himself. Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” As Aslan points out to the child, “There is no other stream.”
© Chip M. Anderson (February 2008)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind
Originally written for a RZIM Slice of Infinity radio broadcast
It’s my mother’s birthday today, and if he were still alive, it would be Elvis’ birthday, too. (And don’t forget Todd’s, too!). It is already eight years into the new century and Elvis seems to be showing up again and again (as an imposter, or maybe the real deal—who knows). Thus far, Elvis Presley remains the most certified artist in the history of recorded music: 80 gold, 43 platinum, and 19 multiplatinum records. Lester Bangs said of the king of Rock and Roll: “Not Sinatra, not [Mick] Jagger, not the Beatles, nobody you can come up with ever elicited such hysteria among so many.”
Elvis’ calendar birthday is January 8th. However, amid a hot and muggy Memphis night, on August 16, 1977, one of the last century’s most influential cultural icons suffered a humiliating death. Struggling everyday with substance abuse and pumped up on more drugs than a Pharmacy, insomnia plagued him. The king picked up a book and tells his girlfriend he was going to the bathroom. Hours later, the girl friend awakes to discover Elvis had not returned to bed. Concerned, she makes her way to the bathroom only to find the king, unconscious on the floor, the book left open.
So many have speculated on how this man of great talent and drive could end up this way. But that night, whatever drug invested condition he was in, the king of rock and roll left this earth while reading The Scientific Search for the Face of Jesus.
Let’s move from the aroma of death in this Memphis bathroom to another palace of another king. This one in London, England. In this room we hear King George VI’s Christmas Eve address to the British Commonwealth. The closing of his address would be etched into the memories of England’s leadership as the close of World War II was upon them and difficult days lay ahead:
“I said to the man at the Gate of the Year, ‘Give me a light that I may walk safely into the unknown.’ He said to me, ‘Go out into the darkness, and put your hand in the hand of God, and it shall be to you better than the light, and safer than the known’.”
As he spoke his, listeners were unaware that the king was dying of cancer. Although, provoking the nation to a higher calling, they were his own, for his own life, for a place of reference in a place of suffering and uncertainty.
The King’s words remind me of Isaiah the prophet’s own words in 50:10:
“Who is among you that fears the LORD, that obeys the voice of His servant, that walks in darkness and has no light? Let him trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.”
Whether it is a real earthly King or a lonely drug saturated soul masquerading as king, the only legitimate hope that makes sense is the hope that comes from God, the hope for life and beyond death.
With sting of death staring them in the face, both the King of England and the king of Rock and Roll needed to hear the Apostle Paul’s words: “For 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.”
The king of pop culture, in his last seconds on earth, was reading about the search for the face of Jesus Christ. A little known fact, but one very insightful to the heart’s longing. With a culture of a thousand distractions for boredom (none of which ultimately work) and seemingly multiple reasons for disbelief, it will be the face of Christ that haunts us of a reality we all need.
© Chip M. Anderson (January 2008)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind
We underestimate our unbelieving neighbors and friends. We dismiss the possibility that, in their own way, they might actually be seriously seeking answers—ultimate answers about life, faith, and death. Often, it is our particular version of Christianity that is rejected or held in suspicion.
Christian sociologist Os Guinness writes that to the believer Christianity “was once life’s central mystery, its worship life’s most awesome experience, its faith life’s broadest canopy of meaning...” But, today, he laments, no matter how passionate or committed an individual believer may be, Christianity often amounts to little more than a private preference, a spare time hobby.
This modern version of Christianity is significant when we consider how non-believers view Christianity. For serious seekers, such spare-time faith is not a solution to their deepest needs. Christianity must be more than a cozy warm blanket, something more ultimate to raise one up above one’s needs.
Amid the glad tidings often associated with the Christmas story is an oft-missed dose of “reality” etched into biblical scene. Along with shouts of exultation from shepherds, homage from wise men, angels praising God, there is another voice:
“a voice heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children…refusing to be consoled, because [her children] were no more” (Matt 2:18).
These are strange words coming in the midst of this joyous occasion. Yet, they are a reminder that lament and despair grip the human experience.
The first time we meet Rachel is that delightful moment when she thought she would be marrying the love of her life, the OT patriarch Jacob. But the story turns quickly to despair: Her father tricks Jacob into marrying Leah, her older sister, first. Then to make matters worse, Leah has eight sons as Rachel remained childless and we hear her weigh the depths of her barrenness. God eventually takes Rachel’s reproach away by giving her a son, Joseph, Israel’s future deliverer. But, while giving birth to her second son she hears news that Joseph, her first-born, had been murdered. Then we learn that “Rachel began to give birth and had great difficulty” and reflecting on her anguish, she names her new son “trouble” (Benjamin) and dies and is buried by the roadside on the way to Bethlehem. The roots, as well as the original Christmas story, is surrounded by the swing between gladness and suffering, between hope and despair. The realities of life.
The original Christmas narrative—the one that is inspired and finds a place in Scriptures—forces the reader back to the Rachel story, compelling us to include lament in the Christmas story. Certainly the Gospel writer wants us to know that God has sent his Son to be the deliverer of all mankind, the ultimate Jospeh. Yet, Rachel and her cry seep into the first Christmas story. We need to know that despite joyous strains elsewhere, some refuse to be comforted except by God’s own intervention.
The Gospel story is pictured in Rachel’s cry, that is, of God’s Son ending up on a cross, rejected, and dying the cruelest of deaths. The reality of life, its pain and often unfairness, demand that one must turn to the God of Golgotha, who alone can provide the relief, the comfort, not simply mere sentimentalism or a “spare-time” religious experiences. No other hope other than God’s work in Christ can penetrate our deepest hurts or pierce our loneliest moments, or lift us above our needs. Amid the tinsel and cheerfully wrapped presents, let us remember Christ’s birth wasn’t to increase retail, but to bring good news that would meet the deepest needs of the human experience. Our unbelieving, skeptical friends and neighbors deserve no less. And in this, they might find the real Christianity, and the hope they long for.
Tricky thing this balance, living in the world but not being of it. I am not so sure we’ve been good at this. Sometimes living too much in, or not enough in and too much of. Books fill our Christian libraries and book stores on the subject, especially on how modernity and post-modernity (so-called) have affected the church. You know, we are either too much in modernity/post-modernity or too much of modernity/post-modernity to be an effective church. And now another type of critique has crept in to reprimand the church regarding its attachment to modernity and capitalism. I very much agree that we are unaware of our attachment, but there is a spin to it I find most offensive and, frankly, unbiblical.
Such critique always brings up the issue of living “in” but not “of” the world—and measuring how much of one and not the other. A twin to this discussion is how the church lives and fairs within democracy (or a republic, whichever you prefer to call us) and within a capitalist economy. And with this, there seems to be a new call for Christians to live in capitalism, but not be of it. Sounds reasonable, but this, too, seems a difficult equilibrium to find—and there is a very subtle spin that leaves the critic enjoying the benefits of modernity and capitalism, while calling the church to forsake such attachment. This, too, a curious spin.
I am glad for the critiques, which to me seem most reasonable in that much of the evangelical church and many evangelical Christians function too well in modernity/postmodernity and within our American capitalism. “We’re very comfortable, thank you.” Certainly there is reason to be concerned that the America evangelical church, which prides itself on being Bible-centered and the guardians of biblical orthodoxy and truth, is also held captive to forces that make a cleavage between themselves and the very biblical worldview they seek to advocate and protect.
Herein, I am not concerned—there are a plethora of prophetic and dissonant voices calling the church, especially the evangelical church, back to biblical norms, lifestyles, and mission. This is a good part of the critique. If only we pay attention. But what does concern me is that there are those who call for such reform—with chastising, rebuke, condemnation of the church and of the Christian for giving away their true biblical call and mission for the American, capitalistic, consumeric, modern life and experience—but these same voices do so while benefiting from what they condemn themselves. There seems to be new dissonant voices, but its coming from the suburbs, the Malls, the well-salaried households, the PhDs, and recognized lecture-circuit, as well as, the A- & B-list of academics, published authors, and upward mobile Christian leaders. The dissonant voices—those who are offering the critique—seem to, first benefit from the very culture they seek to show harmful, but in their call to reform the church, they deny that others should benefit from the same. The American system is used even to make a profit from being a dissonant voice (e.g., in book sales and lecture circuit), and modernity is utilized as a means to get their voice heard—all the while looking like prophets, but really are only often just being spoilers.
I felt the same way when, years ago now, I heard a well-known church leader and respected mega-church pastor admit to spending too much time and energy and going after the prize of bigness and popularity at the expense of his wife and children—all after he had obtained the status, power, money, and privilege of such a position. He had for years been chastising the church for not doing what it takes, for not repeating what he was accomplishing. For years he had marketed his concepts of church, evangelism, and Christianity that, for him, had developed into a nice empire and mega-church with a high respectable status—and did I mention wealth! After he had it all and his family was in ruins, wife ready to leave him, he repents (which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong). But his repentance was shallow—only now that he has the status and wealth from his “prideful, arrogant, non-family friendly entrepreneurial lifestyle as a leading Christian in mega-church modeling,” now he’ll make room for his family. Others cannot have what he has, because it does take the sacrifice of family—he now warns. He now knows that (now). But while he enjoys a new status—a humble, repentant, mega-church pastor, who is benefiting from worldly success (in the church!)—now he tells the younger, emerging want-to-be visionary, entrepreneurial pastors and leaders, “don’t sacrifice your family for such riches, power, and status.” But, wait, your church should still be big and productive and exciting and wealthy and … (This commentary is based on a real testimony I heard on Christian radio in the mid-1990’s.)
The American version of Jesus’ caveat to be in the world, but not of the world has been given away for a new twist—to be frank. While living in the world of democracy, individualism, capitalism, and up-ward mobility, do not benefit from this world, but—and here comes the spiritual God-talk—choose God and His values instead. This is an appealing plan—and an interesting twist on elitism: Receiving the blessings, the status, and privileges—i.e., the benefits—of living in the world, but telling others to share in those same blessings, status, and privileges is worldly, unbiblical, sinful.
It is like telling the poor, “Don’t become rich, because then you will be greedy, and so, it is better you remain poor, jobless, and separated from the benefits of upward mobility that I enjoy and now have.” And…this is where I lost it (for this is what was actually said and implied in a recent critique of American church life that I read). Maybe not in so many words, but the recent author, who has written on giving away our Christian biblical values for individualism, capitalism, and modernity, has indeed redefined Jesus’ admonishment to “live in capitalism” but “not to be of capitalism.” In his chapter on giving away justice, he seems to advocate keeping the poor poor, because it is better to be poor than it is to reap the benefits of modernity and capitalism for that is greedy and contrary to God’s values. Of course he admonishes the church to be the dispenser of biblical justice—which is a good thing—and to model biblical justice among itself—which, too, is a good thing—but, there is a clear call to refrain from having anything to do with social justice outside the church—because it’s the world out there and its filled with modernity and capitalism. This is what started me thinking that we have a new elite among us, pitching a semi-monastic gospel that shuns advocating for righteousness and justice “in the world” because we’re only doing so on modernity’s terms that perpetuates the capitalistic and individualistic mindset.
Although I agree that the church—the local church—should model God’s righteousness and justice, I wholeheartedly disagree that we should abandon the public square simply because it shares the values of modernity and promotes a capitalistic economic environment. Unless churches are willing to take over the whole social service network—the private and the public—and provide the means and methods to fulfill the biblical call to take care of the poor, provide a means to support basic needs, and protect their interests (i.e., rights, privileges, and dignity), there will be a need to advocate for the poor within the public square—and that means within capitalism and within modernity.
I’ll be counted among those to agree that we trade away our biblical values and woldview for a lesser way of ordering the world, that is the one experienced through the lens of modernity and capitalism, including our consumeric and American experience. My beef is not with this critique—which needs to be heeded by the church and church leadership—but with the con, the spin where we reproach others for living out a Christian- and church-life that resembles modernity and the American economic experience, all the while benefiting from it. I, myself, might be neutral to this critique (for it would not concern me), except for how it then applies to the poor and marginalized “out there” in the public square.
As the Israelites were able to leverage the Egyptian culture in their departure from Egypt and as Daniel and his fellow wise-young-men leveraged the Babylonian culture of their day (the later here a wonderful witness of what it means to be in and not of), we, too, should learn to leverage modernity/post-modernity and our capitalistic, democratic social structures on behalf of the kingdom—and the poor. And this shouldn’t be too difficult, for those critiquing modernity seem to be leveraging postmodernity in ways that enhance the declaration and experience of the Gospel. And, this is especially true of the Church’s advocacy of and for the poor.
Utilizing a term my pastor has used, we should re-purpose the benefits of (what’s left of) modernity (as well as the emerging postmodernity that now surrounds the church) and our particular economic milieu (i.e., the potential for upward mobility) on behalf of the needy and poor. They, too, should benefit from the spoils of our culture as do the very ones who are criticizing the church for participating in the culture. The Church in America (that is, every local church in America) is a messy experiment that should have as its goals, the glorifying of God, discovering God’s way in the world (in our locale), and helping all spheres (i.e., private and public, church and non-churched) to come to understand His authority and reign.
Living in the world, means simply that this is our environment—the negatives, the positives, the benefits, the harm. And not being of is simply that our categories for understanding truth, values, morality, righteousness, success, failure, the world itself, even ourselves are to be found in God and His Word, not in or through the elemental understandings of the world (i.e., modernity, capitalism, the U.S. Constitution, etc.). We live in democracy and within a capitalist economic system—reaping the benefits and the harm—but we measure and value ourselves, the world, others, and life by another world—an unseen world, yet revealed in God through Christ and His Word. Certainly, the church needs to be prophetic; but it most certainly ought not to lower itself to be spoilers, especially denying the good benefits of modernity and our American experience to those less fortunate.
© Chip M. Anderson (October 2007)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind
Our ways of doing church are not neutral and have an affect on our responsibilities toward the poor. Church leaders should, at least, question who benefits and who does not benefit from current church structures and bureaucracies (i.e., our way of doing church). The building-centered and business models that most modern church-systems emulate can result in provincial and parochial habits that have a negative impact on our patterns of discipleship. Perhaps, it is not the construction of buildings and religious, hierarchical bureaucracies per se, but the allocation of human capital and financial resources to maintain such a system and promote the status of its own authorities and stakeholders that can distract (to put it blandly) from the church’s responsibility toward the poor. Church (that is, religious) systems and structures need to promote its responsibilities of discipleship, and in particular, those related to the poor.
The cost of doing church business and the maintaining of church bureaucracies are not neutral to the church’s role as advocates of the poor. This includes the allocation of human and social capital available in a church for use in the public (where the poor live, work, go to school, and are neighbors). The resources and capacity of the local church need to be evaluated in light of, not our cultural expressions of church life (e.g., buildings, worship services, exercising so-called spiritual gifts that support church bureaucratic structures and function, and technology), but in terms of the kingdom of God, which absolutely should include addressing the causes of poverty and advocating for the poor.
Andrew Davey, in his book Urban Christianity and Global Order: Theological Resources for an Urban Future
, exhorts that a church concerned about “its own sustainability must have strategies other than the growth paradigm” (p. 112 ). As a church seeks “strategies” to promote its growth, assessment should be made of its impact on the local community, especially how such growth—including the means of growth—would affect the poor. Contemporary Church growth models are not only multimillion-dollar business ventures with huge marketing campaigns, they, as well, have celebrities and elites of their own, all which promote expectations for a local church that can (and do) divert resources away from its responsibilities regarding the poor, and may also contribute to the causes of poverty as well (e.g., burdening those in poverty to pay for the growth, the appearance of a “spiritual-minded” or “faith” budget, or even religious-fraud). A church’s sustainability does point toward a future, but it also has consequences for the community, with special consideration for its vulnerable populations.
Listeners to the story of Jesus are not only urban (and rural) congregations that have a natural association with vulnerable populations. There should be suburban church communities who are listeners of the Gospel story as well. Suburban churches are not exempt from being such gospel-listeners just because they are removed from urban poverty. In fact suburban Christianity’s departure and distance from poverty might actually be one of the causes of poverty. Suburban churches should consider that they are participating in the same socio-economic system that has removed social capital, human resources, and financial resources from the social network, housing, and system of workforce development available to the poor in urban centers.
The story of the Gospels does not solely contrast the conduct of the religious who support the very structures that create barriers to assisting the poor, but also unveils how religious appearance can mask duplicity and systems that actually cause and/or perpetuate the causes of poverty. Jesus had condemned a religious system that had lost its redemptive reason for existence, one that had developed values and a structure that had actually contributed to the condition of the poor. Local congregations and their leadership ought to question whether its current value system, church bureaucracy, and structure contribute to the causes of poverty or whether it promotes advocacy for the poor.
© Chip M. Anderson (October 2007)
Words’nTone, Habits of the Mind,
Adapted from my paper, “
Widows in our Temple Courts (Mk 12:38-44): The Public Advocacy Role of the Local Congregation as Christian Discipleship,” presented at the 2006 annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in Washington D.C.