We do not lack for sermons and books on the topic of discipleship. Some Christians speak about discipleship as if it is something to be into—like being into politics or running or weight loss. But such a view of discipleship betrays some faulty assumptions.
First, we tend to formulate the call to discipleship as an option for Christians to consider. And second, there is a tendency (especially in today’s consumer oriented churches) to make discipleship attractive. The fact is, there is nothing attractive about discipleship. It calls for an undivided loyalty to the gospel. It calls people to place themselves at the disposal of the Church and its work. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it best: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”
Both Timothy and Epaphroditus exemplify what J.B. Phillips remarked about the early Church:
Perhaps because of their very simplicity, perhaps because of the readiness to believe, to obey, to give, to suffer and if need be to die, the Spirit of God found what He must always be seeking—a fellowship of men and women so united in faith and love that He can work in them and through them with the minimum of… hindrance.
What Paul implies in his descriptions of these two men indicates what the true Christian life is. The deeper Christian life is a call to discipleship, a call to authentic Christian living. Whereas sanctification is the process (and progress) of becoming more like Christ, discipleship is the discipline, the lifestyle of the one who is becoming more like Christ. As we make our way through 2:19 30, we will discover the marks of the true disciple of Jesus Christ.
Paul certainly is informing his friends back in Philippi about his situation. But in doing so he uses special words to describe Timothy and Epaphroditus. He wants the Philippians to know these two men are models of the Christ hymn Paul earlier cited (2:6 11). The narrative implies instruction. We should resolve to give the Church and the gospel priority (2:1 4, 12 18).
An excerpt from my lay-commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life. This book can be ordered in any Christian book store (ISBN: 1-594672-49-0) or through sites like
Amazon.
Church leaders cannot escape the narrative fact that the Beelzebul episode, the conflict thread (2:1–3:6), and the Sower parable (4:1–12) seem specifically directed at them. For church leaders a posture of shame reminds them of the illusive nature of status, the dangerous allure of power, and the recurring failure of faulty structures to guard the gospel and the church from the destructive influences and seductive cultural patterns that oppose God’s reign over all spheres of humankind. It should not surprise us that the shaming of the Beelzebul episode connects church leaders to the church’s responsibility (and neglect) for the economically vulnerable. Caring, protecting, and advocating for the poor gives away power and public association with those living with the effects of poverty risks lowering one’s church community status. However, maintaining power and its enabling structures so that one’s social standing and status remain in place (even among, and more particularly, the Christian community) at the expense of the weakest and most vulnerable among us is synonymous with blasphemy against the Holy Spirit—breaking covenant, risking outside status and, thus, the condition of being eternally never forgiven.
The biography of Jesus vs. Jewish leaders is linked to the biography of the disciples, who like the ones beside Jesus (i.e., his associates and extended family, 3:21; cf. 6:1-6) and like Jesus’ earthly family (3:31–32), are at risk of being outside (6:51–53; 8:16–21; 8:34–38; cf. 9:33–34; 11:31; 16:14), if they, too, are not doers of God’s will (3:33–35). This is particularly relevant to church leaders, as they stand before the Mark 3 Outsider-Insider sandwich, for the Beelzebul episode ought to shame them in those areas that are too closely identified with that which opposes God’s rule and kingdom (cf. Mark 1:15; 3:25). Mark’s Beelzebul episode functions similar to OT penitential prayers, allowing the reader/listener to enter a life narrative that reflects an appropriate shame for allowing those destructive forces and influences to distract from obedience to God’s word and work in the world. And like OT penitential prayers, a disposition of shame humbles the reader/listener before their “disobedience to the Mosaic ideals” that often reflects “mistreatment of the poor and the weak,” and gives them a way home that maps a spiritual disposition for restoring a fractured obedience to God.
Interestingly after confessing that Jesus is the Messiah, Peter is soon rebuked as a surrogate of Satan’s interests: “Get behind Me, Satan; for you are not setting your mind on God’s interests, but man’s” (Mark 8:33). Significant to the reader/listener is the immediate juxtaposition of the Peter-Satan rebuke and Jesus’ admonishment that true followers must deny themselves (the opposite of power, an emptying of power) and take up their cross (v. 34). Church leaders who intentionally incorporate social action in a church’s evangelistic activities fulfill the obedience implications of the Beelzebul episode and, thus, raise Jesus’ honor rating in the public sphere. Without such a public disposition, church leaders are further warned that “whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” (Mark 8:38).
This final essay is the conclusion of my ETS paper and chapter 5 of my forthcoming book on Evangelism and Social Action. For the Mark 3 paper thread . . .
click here.
“In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened” (Luke 2:8-9)
Sometimes English translations mask the bluntness of the original. Our contemporary Bible versions seem to attempt to tame it. But, not here. Almost every version—even the paraphrases—leaves this text as it should be—blunt. These shepherds were frightened, afraid, and as the Greek indicates, “They feared a great fear.” I don’t imagine a bunch of skinny, youngsters, mulling around the hillsides, quaint staffs in hand, warming their hands over an open fire. These were shepherds, men ready to fight off wolves, lions, and bears. The text doesn’t say they were startled, or caught by surprise, or even wow-ed. They saw the Angel of the Lord, and the response: these men “feared a great fear.” As this translation says, “Terribly frightened.”
I don’t know about you, but I would have been afraid to say the least, and I am hardly a burly shepherd. Problem is, we know the Christmas story all too well. Our version is tame, cute, winsome, merry. I call our version the Hallmark Card story of Christmas. It was going to take a lot to alleviate these shepherds’ state of being afraid. The Angel knew: They needed a sign. Something big. Something bigger than simple fear itself.
“This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
You have to be kidding!
There is a puzzle to the real Christmas story, a riddle, even some perplexity. The contrast is staggering. The burly Shepherds are to be relieved of their initial fear of the appearance of the Angel of the Lord by a baby lying in a trough in some barn, a cattle shed, out back of an Inn Bethlehem. Now that’s amazing. That’s how the original Christmas story is introduced. No tinsel or cute cherubs. No warm living room with presents under a decorated tree. No wonderful Christmas concert or pageant. We’ve come a long way in presenting the Christmas story, in taming it and relieving it of its mystery (its puzzle and irony, its realness). That’s not a good thing.
“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.
“When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, ‘Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger. When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child. And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds (Luke 2:10-18).
Along with being way too familiar with the Christmas story, we are also way too use to the Christmas story as we celebrate it—our own seasonal habits.
We are now accustomed to juxtaposing the revealed story with the commercialism, tinsel, and lights of a holiday season made for our economy rather than our souls.
Although America can still boast of a vast population of believers, society as a whole would prefer that we keep our “religion” and Jesus out of the public life—out of school boards, out of government, out of the bedroom, etc. But not out of the major retail season of the year. Even when they attempted to take the word “Christmas” out of the stores, they attempt to keep the “spirit,” the Christmas-grin from the invisible Christmas-Cheshire cat.
They want just enough belief to treasure the concepts and images of a virgin birth, angelic choirs, and that baby in swaddling clothes in a manger to make sure people are inspired to buy, buy, buy.
In an article entitled, “The History of Christmas,” G. K. Chesterton describes how it is that modern man has exchanged the wonder of the Christmas story for commercialism:
“Moving step by step, in the majestic march of Progress, we have first vulgarised Christmas and then denounced it as vulgar. Christmas has become too commercial; so many of these thinkers would destroy the Christmas that has been spoiled and preserve the commercialism that has spoiled it.”
We are in danger of exchanging the wonder and worship of the Luke 2 story for commercialism. We need a Christmas story, un-tamed, not commercialized, a story that frightens us—and a story where the only thing that alleviates our fear is a baby, the Lord of Heaven and earth, come in a smelly, common cattle shed out back.
It seems there has always been good cause to repost a Christmas essay I wrote a number of years ago. In light of the Newtown, CT, Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy on Friday, there is cause to repost . . .
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 Joseph. 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.
Life’s lessons often come from the most unusual source. For me, one such lesson came during a driver education session. I was sixteen. And it was not a good session.
It was spring, 1974. On a winding New Hampshire road, traffic was backed up behind me for at least a mile. Apparently, I was driving too slowly. Eventually the instructor found a safe place for me to pull over. The car immediately behind us pulled over as well. Not a good sign.
The driver didn’t even look at me. With noticeable frustration and anger he directed his comments to my instructor. “If the guy can’t drive, get him off the road!”
The irate motorist returned to his car and the line of traffic continued to file by. I was mortified. My emotions must have registered on my face.
“Relax,” the instructor said to me; “we’ll get back to driving in a moment.” Right then I wasn’t sure I wanted to drive--ever.
The instructor gave me time to settle down. Finally he asked, “You know what your problem is?”
Yeah, I thought to myself, I can’t drive!
“You are concerned about staying between the yellow center line and the white side line,” the instructor continued. “As a result, you drive too slowly and weave back and forth. You are concentrating on the road right in front of you. Try this: Look where you want to be going.”
Look where you want to be going. Good advice. It helped me through driver education and to be a reasonably safe driver ever since. It’s also good advice for contemporary North American Christians.
Our culture tends to make us overly concerned about the road immediately in front of us. Everything from TV sitcoms that solve problems in thirty minutes to fast food restaurants and instant cash machines put pressure on us. They force us to define ourselves by how we respond to and feel about the immediate—the temporal.
Where the Letter to the Philippians Is Going
Paul moves from a context oriented toward his relationship with the Philippian congregation (1:3 2:30) to a section that is deeply theological (3:1 11). We have seen the models of servanthood that occupied his attention: Christ (2:5 11), Timothy (2:19 24), Epaphroditus (2:25 30). He even refers to his own example (2:17 18). Now Paul returns to how his own life relates to the gospel, but with a theologically enriched vocabulary.
He has already discussed church disunity and joylessness at Philippi in relation to the church’s interaction with the world surrounding it (1:27 30). He has discussed as well the individual member’s relationship to the local body of Christ (2:1 4). Now he lifts these issues into the realm of the nature of the gospel itself. The congregation in Philippi must grapple with their lack of persevering joy in relation to the essentials of the faith: the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (3:10 11).
The pressures of life and the false teachings infiltrating the congregation stole the members’ joy and diminished their ability to persevere. Our own moment in time places certain pressures on our churches and on us. There is temptation to accommodate ourselves with the status quo, to identify with the hedonistic culture around us. We want to feel comfortable in modernity. We dislike feeling alienated from our surrounding culture, from our democracy. But if we succumb, we too will be robbed of our persevering joy—and the power of true Christian identity.
We must place our confidence not in the world or the things of the world (1 John 2:15 17; Romans 12:1 2) but in the essentials of our faith: the cross and the resurrection. Only in doing so can we restore our identity. Only in doing so will the Church be able to persevere amid the tensions of life.
An excerpt from my lay-commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life. This book can be ordered in any Christian book store (ISBN: 1-594672-49-0), or through book distributors like
Amazon,
CDB, or Christian distributors like
Deeper Shopping Christian Books & Bibles.
When I became a Christian in 1978, I was rather naïve. I knew my salvation depended solely on the work of Jesus Christ. The Bible was clear enough on that point. But I also supposed the same Bible that instructed me how to be saved would instruct me how to live “saved.” It does and it doesn’t. (I’ll explain that in a moment.) That is where I was naïve.
As a newborn Christian, I was immediately placed under the spiritual care of the two men who led me to the Lord: Mike Cronk and Jack Anderson. In my naïveté, I assumed this was how all new Christians were taught. Such a submissive, teacher¬–pupil relationship with those more experienced and mature in the faith was standard procedure. It struck me as both biblical and reasonable. If growing in the faith is the process of learning submission to Christ’s authority, then the issue of my autonomy must be resolved by learning such submission.
Later I discovered that new Christians rarely were put in such a discipleship environment. Yet both Jesus in the Gospels and the apostles who wrote the New Testament letters clearly advocate such a relationship. I, a new Christian, was to be accountable to another, more mature Christian. Why, then, wasn’t the church providing disciplers for its new converts?
Many years later, as a Bible college professor, I constantly heard students decrying the lack of discipleship between professors and students. I could agree with the students that little resembling true discipleship was going on in that academic setting. But I also realized the students were using the term discipleship outside its biblical implications. They more or less understood the term as a relationship with someone who’d teach them about the Bible. He or she would pray with them, encourage them to pray, help them memorize Bible verses and offer Christian advice.
During a student retreat this subject (and complaint) was discussed at length. Finally I asked the students, “When you say you want to be discipled, do you realize that such a teacher–disciple relationship means that you are to submit to the authority of the one discipling you?”
The room suddenly fell silent. But the students had gained a more biblical perspective of what is involved in discipleship.
Jesus’ mandate, “Go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19), can be seen in relationships throughout the New Testament. The first is Jesus and His disciples, of course. But there was also Barnabas, the discipler of Paul. And Paul, in turn, who discipled Timothy. Paul, founder of the Philippian church, has already indicated Timothy’s selflessness. Timothy was one of the few who put the interests of the Church above all else. He did so because he was concerned about the interests of Jesus Christ. Now we are told the secret behind so selfless an attitude. Paul’s partner in the service of the gospel learned this attitude through his relationship to Paul: “You know that Timothy has proved himself, because as a son with his father he has served with me in the work of the gospel” (Philippians 2:22).
An excerpt from my lay-commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life. This book can be ordered in any Christian book store (ISBN: 1-594672-49-0), or order through book distributors like
Amazon.
This plague of privacy has had a devastating impact on the Church and its mission. North American Christians have embraced our culture’s fascination for privacy, at the same time ignoring its consequences. Because we treasure our “private cities,” we are governed not by the will of God or the Scriptures but by personal fulfillment. And we view life from a very narrow perspective. Our Christianity becomes trivial and private because we relegate it to the private sphere of our lives.
Guinness, in his book The Gravedigger File, laments that Christianity to the believer
“was once life’s central mystery, its worship life’s most awesome experience, its faith life’s broadest canopy of meaning as well as its deepest guarantee of belonging. Yet today, where religion still survives in the modern world, no matter how passionate or “committed” the individual believer may be, it amounts to little more than a private preference, a spare time hobby, a leisure pursuit.”
This worship of privacy has had devastating consequences for the Church’s participation in the missionary task. I have worked with many mission leaders. Almost every one of them have voiced a grave concern about the future of missions as they look upon contemporary missionary candidates. They know there is an all time high attrition rate among first term missionaries. The reason given most, “Young people go into missions in order to find personal fulfillment.”
Christians have been so captivated by our culture’s love affair with privacy that the gospel and world missions have paid a heavy price. When our own “personal fulfillment” is the center of Church life, the gospel of fulfillment replaces the gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul’s letter to the Philippian church puts a torch to the Christian’s “right to privacy” and ignites the Spirit’s passion among us to be participants in the work of the gospel.
An excerpt from my lay-commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Philippians,
Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life. This book can be ordered in any Christian book store (ISBN: 1-594672-49-0), or order through book distributors like
Amazon.
“Chairman of the Board” shone in gold letters above the heavy oak door. Entering the luxurious office, my mother timidly approached the gentleman behind the imposing desk. They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes before he asked, “Now, what can I do for you?”
With a thump of the heart, she replied, “We have a small prayer group that meets once a week during lunch … and … well, we just wanted you to know that we are praying that Jesus will help you make good decisions in your business.”
The man leaned back in his high-backed leather chair. Finally he spoke. “I am a Christian,” he said, “but it’s been hard to live it in the business world and I’ve backslidden. I need to be seeking Christ’s direction. Thank you for praying.”
The daily lives of average Christians do influence and remind others of the importance of God’s perspectives on life. But too often we forget that truth and put our hopes for moral change into the electoral process—in electing a conservative government that will legislate the right kind of morality into law. One Christian leader recently declared, “We must elect Christians into government because the only way we will have righteousness in the land is through righteous legislation.”
After the recent elections in America, I announced to my “Critical Thinking” students that “we cannot expect government to win a majority over the issues that concern us most unless we, the people in the pew, learn to win our neighbors over to our point of view.” In fact I was calling for more than winning souls. Charles Malik, former president of the United Nations and a Christian, once said, “The problem is not only to win souls, but to save minds.” Legislation cannot change the hearts and minds of individuals about things like abortion, education or morality. Our hope lies in the Church being the Church, living Christianity in both the private and public spheres, and in individual believers who daily take the fresh wind of the Holy Spirit into their homes and marketplaces to allow God to use them there as instruments of change.
Christians certainly can make a difference in government. William Wilberforce is a shining example of that truth. He brought his Christian thinking into Britain’s’ House of Commons and through years of prayer, sound argument, and divine intervention, brought an end to the slave trade in England. But, while it is true that believers need to take leadership and be involved in the legislative process, we are naive and unwise if we pin our hopes on the false gods of politics.
The conservative victories of the ‘80s that were to have remedied the damage done in the decadent ‘60s and selfish ‘70s now seem to be gone with the wind. The landmark Roe vs. Wade decision of 1973 would at any moment, the headlines announced, be overturned by “the conservative majority” in the highest court in the land. Our hopes were high, but it never happened. Just when we thought the “moral majority” was winning, it seems we are facing the battle of our lives.
The winds of change are blowing, often with gale force, and the Church finds herself in a radically different environment than existed 200—or even 40—years ago. Our North American culture is no longer permeated with a Judeo-Christian worldview, and we are facing critical new challenges. But Christianity was born, not in a sympathetic, but pluralistic society, and through the efforts of ordinary Christians living their faith daily surrounded by pagan thinkers, an empire was eventually won for God.
We may do the same. Shortly after becoming a believer, Jack Eckerd, president and owner of Eckerd Drug Stores, happened to notice Penthouse and Playboy magazines staring at him from the racks in one of his stores. He removed the magazines, throwing away three million dollars in possible earnings, and convinced fellow drugstore owners to rid their shelves of the same pornography. Layman, even in the world of business, can make a difference, helping to change the moral climate without lobbying for a single law to be passed.
Change, paradoxically, seems to be the one thing that is here to stay, and many evangelical Christians are expressing serious concern about what lies ahead. In writing about the early Church, historian Will Durant said, “Christ met Caesar in the arena—and Christ won.” He is still with us today. But we must realize that the body of Christ will weather the storm if it is empowered—not by government and its laws, but—by living examples of righteousness, compassion, and Christ’s love in a changing world.
Originally published in
Servant Magazine, March 1993. Felt that it was a good time to reprint it on my blog in light of various electoral debates happening in the church and media. The content seemed rather relevant even for 19 years after its first appearance. The original essay was not only my first published work, it made it into print shortly after my daughter, Amanda, was born. Other essays and posts on my
Words’nTone Facebook page.
Obfuscating the word “nothing” to mean “something” is a red herring in the debate about creation and the existence of God
Popular anti-Intelligent Design volumes have hit bookstores near you, written by some of the brightest minds in the world, taking on the tedious topic of nothing. Imagine, whole books written about nothing. One might think this worthy of a Seinfeld episode. The best known are Stephen Hawking’s The Grand Design (2010) and, more recently, A Universe from Nothing (2012) by Lawrence Krause. These great minds believe that by redefining nothing to mean something, atheistic science can forever put to rest the notion of a deity behind the something we call the material universe. For the full essay...
Another similar essay, ”Two assumptions, one an unlikely guess about our universe”
FYI—Just haven’t been doing a lot of writing these days…scribbling notes and doing some research for sure. For those new or interested I have a number of items on examiner.com that might be of interest….book reviews, essays, commentary—Chip’s musings and streams of consciousness. Enjoy for now…
Some will be familiar with the church ad depicting a black and white portrait of a thorn crowned Christ with the caption: “He died to take away you sins. Not your mind.” Charles Malik, former president of the United Nations and a Christian, once remarked, “The problem is not only to win souls, but to save minds.” Os Guinness, Christian apologist and writer, tells about a game he played with his young son, called, “Spot the Lie.” Every time his son was able to spot a lie or deception on T.V., Os would give his son 25 cents.
Today, and more now than ever, the Christian is called to be a clear thinker, trained, and discipled to “spot the lies” and deceptions of modern thinking.
Our North American culture was once permeated—in its lifestyle, worldview, its thinking—by a Judeo-Christian worldview. However, society’s worldview has radically shifted to what Carl Henry called a “new paganism.” The American Church finds herself in a radically different environment than she did 200 years ago—than even twenty years ago! Indeed, the cultural context surrounding the Church now provides the Christian—and as well, mostly unknowingly, all Americans—with critical new challenges. Christians must come to grips with the forces of modernity (and pos-modernity) that are shaping society, and then to think Christianly within their everyday life routines in order to impact society with a biblical world- and -life view.
Modern culture is quickly becoming freed from Christian influence. We live in a day where “love” and “justice” are ideals, often detached from truth, especially objective truth. Herbert Schlossberg, in his book Idols for Destruction, points out that “People fail to appreciate the worth of society’s Christian underpinnings because they are unconscious recipients of its blessings.” And as a result, there is a conscious, even a covert effort to weaken Christian beliefs by assigning Christianity, simply, to the realm of opinion. The Church finds herself surrounded by many voices and choices; we live in a pluralistic society, which Os Guinness calls the “smorgasbord factor.” Multiple choices diminishes the value of each possible choice.
Although there are benefits to living in a tolerant, pluralistic society, it also brings a curse. Because of the plurality of “opinions,” truth is relegated to mere opinion—one among many. In The Closing of the American Mind, Alan Bloom offered his assessment of contemporary university education:
“There is one thing a professor can be absolutely certain: almost every student entering the University believes ... that truth is relative.”
As an embedded educational philosophy and framework for producing “educated” Americans, such an attitude makes it very difficult for society to see the exclusive claims of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and as well, all biblically rooted observations about the world around us.
Christians have always struggled with the unending shift of changing culture. There are two extremes to avoid: On the one hand Christians must not become so relevant, so much like the culture, that they lose their power to confront the ungodly actions and attitudes of society; and on the other, Christians must refrain from remaining an irrelevant, mindless thinker.
The Christian must demonstrate a life and a mind, under the Lordship of Christ, which can give “a defence of the gospel, with meekness and gentleness” to a society that is shipwrecked on the falsehoods of secular thinking. The challenge of every mindful disciple of Jesus Christ is to learn to think Christianly in order to confront the ungodly actions and attitudes of our times. We must use our minds for the cause of Jesus Christ, to love God faithfully and to adequately love our neighbors. The Christian must develop the character that will live for truth, both in the private and the public spheres.
My daughter, Amanda, is going to be a great writer...she already is. Amanda is a senior, and along with her brother, Michael, will be graduating this June from Bridgeport central Magnet and Aqauculture School (Bridgeport, CT). Amanda has been applying to various scholarships in the area. The follow essay was written for the Fairfield Rotary Foundation (Fairfield, CT). She was awarded the “John E. Lebedevich Memorial Scholarship.” Proud father for sure. Thanks goes out to the Fairfield Rotary Foundation for this honor. I thought friends and family and my Words’nTone readers would like to read the essay.
Service above self, an intentional, lifelong mission
by Amanda H. Anderson
Putting people before oneself is very valuable, and has both social and personal importance. This importance is installed in us from the very early age: the golden rule, sharing your crayons, participating in random acts of kindness. These initial principles seem to become lost, however, as we age. Once learned, even with prideful acknowledgement, but as we get older, service above self must be intentional, purposeful choices that we make. The world around us is in desperate need of those willing to serve others. There are students that need tutors, poor who need helping hands to serve food, provide shelter, and find work; those willing to sacrifice their time to talk to widows, clean a park, care for fatherless children, or volunteer at a nursing home.
This past summer I was awarded the opportunity to serve on a Missions team that traveled to and lived at the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. My journey started when I had to raise my support, and then travel from New York to Houston, Texas to meet up with a team of three other people, where we journeyed in a van up to South Dakota. When we arrived at the house that would be our home for the week, I realized, apart from being surrounded by large, rolling, endless fields, this little town of Mission was just like the street-scenes I am used to in Bridgeport, CT. It had its sections of poverty, of poorly paved roads, of teen girls and guys hanging outside shoddy houses with hoods tossed over their heads. The small town had a boys and girls club, a new grocery store, a school, and even satellites on top of houses.
It was very much like my world, then again, nothing like it.
The two other girls on the team and I spent the afternoon of our arrival decorating clay pots to bring to the nursing home the next day. Placing a small potted plant in the hands of someone who never gets a visitor was uplifting, yet, I found myself moved by this one lady who just sat motionless on her bed as we delivered the pots. Creases of age adorned her face like stories and frail hands gripped the edges of her blanket. I remember breaking away from the group to return to her room to ask her name. “Running Bear,” she barely said. She didn’t talk much, but it was worth the visit for both of us.
I later met another Running Bear in a small town of one-hundred people, probably less. It was a mile stretch of road, littered with junk, houses with rotting wood, kids with clothes multiple sizes too large for their scrawny frames. Our mission team took over one room in their community center, utilizing it to hold a children’s Vacation Bible School. The first day: five children. The second: seven. By the third day we had about eleven children sitting in folding chairs around a table learning Bible stories, playing, and doing crafts.
There was one girl that spoke to me more than the others. It is funny, because the first time I met her, she wouldn’t speak at all. I offered to share my hymnal with her—who knew that would cause her to cling to my side for my remaining days on the reservation. As I type this I wonder if she has thought about me since I left. I know I have thought about her and the one word she taught me in Sioux, Nunca, which means “two.” I am concerned about the kind of world she will be growing up in. I hope I helped make her path just a little easier, a little brighter. I know she helped mine.
I parted the tiny town with a heavy heart, selfishly not thinking of the how the kids felt watching us drive away, never knowing with certainty if we were coming back. I placed in the small hand of Alicia—the girl who taught me the one Sioux word—my green sun necklace, hoping she would remember me every time she looked at it and know that someone out there was thinking about her, praying for her.
Sadly, I cannot return this summer to see that town, the Running Bears, and Alicia. But I can state with certainty that someday I will return. One day I will drive my own car through that town. I will see what has changed; maybe even stay there a little longer. They could use help building new porches, pick up the stray tires and metal scraps, feed the dogs and give them a good washing, retile the church floor, teach a Sunday school class, and buy some clothes that actually fit the children like Alicia.
Service should not be just a onetime thing. It isn’t something you do to make yourself feel better. You do it to benefit the other person, no matter the cost to yourself. Service above self is a lifelong mission, and a commitment I am more than willing to make.
Amanda will be attending Toccoa Falls College in Georgia this fall.
As He was going out of the temple, one of His disciples said to Him, “Teacher, behold what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” And Jesus said to him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another which will not be torn down.” As He was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew were questioning Him privately, “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign when all these things are going to be fulfilled?” And Jesus began to say to them, “See to it that no one misleads you. Many will come in My name, saying, ‘I am He!’ and will mislead many. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be frightened; those things must take place; but that is not yet the end” (Mark 13:1-7).
There are signs everywhere. The end is coming! No, literally there are signs. It is inescapable as one drives the highways and byways, there are billboards and posters everywhere, a real media blitz by Harold Camping of Family Radio. According to Camping, this Sunday is the last time truly born again Christians will celebrate Sunday morning worship on this earth. Camping claims, through Bible verse twisting and a warped sense of numerology, that the rapture of the Church— of true, born again Christians—will take place on May 21, 2011. This event will be earth-shattering and will put the world on notice that Judgment Day has arrived.
This is not the first time Camping has predicted the end. He tried in 1988, but that fizzled and he went back to the drawing board. ...full essay
As He was going out of the temple, one of His disciples said to Him, “Teacher, behold what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” And Jesus said to him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another which will not be torn down.” As He was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew were questioning Him privately, “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign when all these things are going to be fulfilled?” And Jesus began to say to them, “See to it that no one misleads you. Many will come in My name, saying, ‘I am He!’ and will mislead many. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be frightened; those things must take place; but that is not yet the end” (Mark 13:1-7).
There are signs everywhere. The end is coming! No, literally there are signs. It is inescapable as one drives the highways and byways, there are billboards and posters everywhere, a real media blitz by Harold Camping of Family Radio. According to Camping, this Sunday is the last time truly born again Christians will celebrate Sunday morning worship on this earth. Camping claims, through Bible verse twisting and a warped sense of numerology, that the rapture of the Church— of true, born again Christians—will take place on May 21, 2011. This event will be earth-shattering and will put the world on notice that Judgment Day has arrived.
This is not the first time Camping has predicted the end. He tried in 1988, but that fizzled and he went back to the drawing board. ...full essay
My colleagues at the
New England School of Theology have posted some fine reviews on Campings “Judgment Day” predictions....
read here
Now the Passover and Unleavened Bread were two days away; and the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to seize Him by stealth and kill Him; for they were saying, “Not during the festival, otherwise there might be a riot of the people.” While He was in Bethany at the home of Simon the leper, and reclining at the table, there came a woman with an alabaster vial of very costly perfume of pure nard; and she broke the vial and poured it over His head. But some were indignantly remarking to one another, “Why has this perfume been wasted? For this perfume might have been sold for over three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they were scolding her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me” (Mark 14:1-7).
“For the poor will never cease to be in the land; therefore I command you, saying, ‘You shall freely open your hand to your brother, to your needy and poor in your land’” (Deut 15:11).
These words are very familiar to most Christians, “you always have the poor with you.” It is how we hear these words (or ignore them, or even excuse them) that matters. Some read the words and hear:
- The poor will always exist—nothing you can do about it
- The poor will always exist—no matter what you do about it
- There will always be poor people [just a matter of fact, they exist]
But the text could equally mean that the poor will be among the people of God. As Jesus was present among the disciples, so shall the poor be ever present among the people of God, that is closely associated with them—perhaps even marked or defined by their presence among the community of believers. All one has to do on a Sunday morning is look around the sanctuary, who is there? This would help us, in part, to know if we are in compliance with Jesus’ words to His disciples. ...
full essay
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