One Lord, One Faith, One Post, Many Opinions

Wow. I had no idea that a discussion about the possibility of salvation for someone who's responded positively to general revelation but not yet received special revelation would create such a stir! Here are some brief observations, not about the question, but about our collective responses:

1. I don't think the question is hypothetical and therefore irrelevant. Indeed, there are no doubt people on this planet who've said yes to the creator God, and yet haven't known about Jesus. God goes to great lengths in the book of Hebrews to explain that, even in the Old Testament times, there were those who worshiped Christ without knowing it (see Hebrews 7), certainly without knowing His name. If there indeed is, "no other name in heaven whereby we might be saved" (Acts 2), then either one must know THE NAME Jesus, with a capital "J", or people who respond to the revelation of deity granted them are, in accordance with their faith, granted the gift of righteousness, just as Abraham was granted righteousness, not by the old covenant of keeping the law, but by the new of grace (see Romans 4). This is a real issue.

2. The notion that people use this as a smokescreen is, while certainly true in some cases, itself a smokescreen. We appeal to CS Lewis "Moral Argument" for the existence of God on the one hand, and then on the other, when our moral sensibilities are assaulted because we can't subscribe to a god who would cause billions to burn in hell for eternity because of some missionaries disobedience to their calls, we told to shut up and not question god. We can't have it both ways friends. If we're going to claim, as we rightly should according to Romans 2, that the law of God is written in the hearts of every person, and thus we have a sense of right and wrong, we shouldn't suddenly become quickly dismissive of our notions of morality because they don't fit with what might possibly our wrong theology. Might God be trying to tell us something by the fact that so many people are offended at the thought of God holding others accountable for a message they've never heard. After all, parents who punish their children for not guessing the parents will and doing it before they ask aren't exactly held up as models are they?

3. Is there really a fear going on here that, if we suggest that people might be saved who've never heard of Christ, all mission work and preaching would cease? That seems silly to me, kind of like saying, "if people can get by on McDonald's, better not to tell them about the far more nourishing and sustaining food available..." Love demands that we declare Christ, and serve in His name...doing justice, loving mercy, loving our neighbors, and more.

4. Opinions seem to range from a wooden and mechantistic 'protectionist' mentality, to an open ended sense of "mystery" and since we can't know, we shouldn't bother talking about it. The ends of the spectrum seem, to me, unduly flavored by modernity and post-modernity respectively. "protectionism" means my grid has been created, and I've got the answers already so the rest of my days will be about defending. The "mystery" people will see answers as so unattainable that time would be better spent listening to the latest indy band. Neither viewpoint helps us become salt and light in the world. I'm pleaing here for us to become people who hold our convictions, and live by our convictions, but who hold them with an open hand, always open to the possibility that, just perhaps, we don't yet understand everything. I know I don't.

Thanks for the discussion so far... perhaps these observations can keep it going. I'm in Los Angeles teacching this week - pray for me.

One Lord, One Faith, One Post, Many Opinions

Wow. I had no idea that a discussion about the possibility of salvation for someone who's responded positively to general revelation but not yet received special revelation would create such a stir! Here are some brief observations, not about the question, but about our collective responses:

1. I don't think the question is hypothetical and therefore irrelevant. Indeed, there are no doubt people on this planet who've said yes to the creator God, and yet haven't known about Jesus. God goes to great lengths in the book of Hebrews to explain that, even in the Old Testament times, there were those who worshiped Christ without knowing it (see Hebrews 7), certainly without knowing His name. If there indeed is, "no other name in heaven whereby we might be saved" (Acts 2), then either one must know THE NAME Jesus, with a capital "J", or people who respond to the revelation of deity granted them are, in accordance with their faith, granted the gift of righteousness, just as Abraham was granted righteousness, not by the old covenant of keeping the law, but by the new of grace (see Romans 4). This is a real issue.

2. The notion that people use this as a smokescreen is, while certainly true in some cases, itself a smokescreen. We appeal to CS Lewis "Moral Argument" for the existence of God on the one hand, and then on the other, when our moral sensibilities are assaulted because we can't subscribe to a god who would cause billions to burn in hell for eternity because of some missionaries disobedience to their calls, we told to shut up and not question god. We can't have it both ways friends. If we're going to claim, as we rightly should according to Romans 2, that the law of God is written in the hearts of every person, and thus we have a sense of right and wrong, we shouldn't suddenly become quickly dismissive of our notions of morality because they don't fit with what might possibly our wrong theology. Might God be trying to tell us something by the fact that so many people are offended at the thought of God holding others accountable for a message they've never heard. After all, parents who punish their children for not guessing the parents will and doing it before they ask aren't exactly held up as models are they?

3. Is there really a fear going on here that, if we suggest that people might be saved who've never heard of Christ, all mission work and preaching would cease? That seems silly to me, kind of like saying, "if people can get by on McDonald's, better not to tell them about the far more nourishing and sustaining food available..." Love demands that we declare Christ, and serve in His name...doing justice, loving mercy, loving our neighbors, and more.

4. Opinions seem to range from a wooden and mechantistic 'protectionist' mentality, to an open ended sense of "mystery" and since we can't know, we shouldn't bother talking about it. The ends of the spectrum seem, to me, unduly flavored by modernity and post-modernity respectively. "protectionism" means my grid has been created, and I've got the answers already so the rest of my days will be about defending. The "mystery" people will see answers as so unattainable that time would be better spent listening to the latest indy band. Neither viewpoint helps us become salt and light in the world. I'm pleaing here for us to become people who hold our convictions, and live by our convictions, but who hold them with an open hand, always open to the possibility that, just perhaps, we don't yet understand everything. I know I don't.

Thanks for the discussion so far... perhaps these observations can keep it going. I'm in Los Angeles teacching this week - pray for me.

This Jesus thing... what's in a name?

So, you're a yak herder in Nepal and one afternoon you fall asleep on the mountainside. Whilst sleeping, you have a dream and in your dream a messenger tells you that he's going to show you that worship is much simpler than you thought. You're excited to hear this, and he promises to show up in a vision every day for a little while. He does, and each time he unfurls a scroll with the names of many different Hindu gods. Each day though, he scratches a name or two off the list as he says, "you don't need to bother with this one." He keeps doing this until there's only one name left on the scroll. It's at the bottom of the list, a god of which you know nothing, named Jesus. The messenger tells you that this is the only God you need to worry about, the God above all gods and, as well, the God who became a man, died, and then beat death by exiting the tomb arisen. The messenger tells you that two men will come to your family and tell you more about this Jesus.

You go home and tell your family and they think you've drifted into insanity, so they send you to a cave so that you won't embarrass them. But during your cave stay, two backpackers show up and share Christ with your family. As soon as they start talking about Jesus, your father comes and gets you out of the cave, and the family sits together listening to stories about the God man late into the night, culminating in you and the whole family turning to Christ in faith. (true story)

What I'm wondering is whether this yak herder and his family would have been saved if the guys hadn't made it to their house. Well, OK, if pressed, that's not really what I'm wondering at all. What I'm wondering is whether people need to say the name "Jesus" to be saved.

After all, Abraham was saved by believing the revelation granted him, and God credited it to him as righteousness. He never said the name Jesus, unless you count saying Jehovah (LORD) as saying the name Jesus because, after all, the two are actually one. But if that's the case, then people don't need to have heard of Jesus to be saved; they simply need to respond to the revelation God has shown them.

"Yes" you might say, "but that's why we need to send missionaries, because not all have heard." Did you know that Paul walked down this very road of reasoning and came to the conclusion that, indeed, all HAVE heard. How? The testimony of creation of course, as explained here, and here. In the Romans 1 passage, Paul is quite clear that people are under the judgment of God for rejection revelation, even though they've never heard the name of Christ, because the reality of God's character is 'clearly revealed' through the created order. One might ask then, if this revelation is enough to condemn people, is it also enough to save people? In other words, can someone be saved by simply looking at the created order and calling out, worship, and expressing thanks to the one who made it, though they've never heard about Christ?

Agree or disagree?

What are the implications for our daily lives?

I welcome your thoughts!

ET: Why is the church so alien?

I’m worried about the church in America. A short cruise through the blogosphere reveals that there’s a gigantic tent, under which all kinds of divergent and opposing views are carrying the name of Christ. We’re fundamentalist, evangelical, eco-friendly, anti-environmentalist, emergent, post-modern, modern, rational, anti-emergent, post-emergent, liberal, ecumenical, separatist, and…I could go on, but perhaps you get the picture. Under this big tent there’s a war going on. Like barkers at a carnival, we’re all trying hard to get people to come to our booths, and many are finding the most effective strategy to be pointing out the deficiencies and dangers of the wares hawked by the other barkers. We do this by labeling them.

For a minute, can we all step outside of our booths, and even outside the tent, to ponder how this appears to those passing by? It looks like this: George Barna has recently explained North Americans are overwhelmingly pro-Jesus, but much less keen on the church. Mike Regan wrote a book about a decade ago entitled the death of the church, where he effectively showed the trajectory lines of Christianity in North America are driving us to oblivion. So effective has our barking been that a popular bumper sticker in Seattle, where I live, says “Jesus, deliver me…from your followers.” “Which Jesus?” is a question I’m asked sometimes, because to the uninitiated, these internal wars look absurd, and tacitly confirm the deepest suspicions of post-modernity; that truth is unknowable. After all, if we were arguing about aerodynamics, this conversation would have ended within months. Instead, we’re still arguing about Jesus 2000 years after His life on earth. What does that tell you about certitude?

I’m intending to write a book about this subject, so please don’t steal my ET title. But books take a long a time, and the conversation needs to happen now, so I thought I’d sketch a few important points here, in hopes of getting a conversation started about why the church is so divided, and what we can do differently to move us towards the unity of which Jesus spoke in John 17. Here are some foundational observations:

1. The Gospel is malleable.
I don’t mean that we can discard basic things like the resurrection, the historicity of Jesus, or the essence of salvation being found in Christ alone. Rather, I mean that we can wear plain clothes or robes, dance or sit still, shout or be quiet, meet in huts or cathedrals, use movie clips or, like the Amish, avoid technology. Is God really offended by candles, or lack of candles? This, I think, is what Jesus spoke of when He talked about keeping our wineskins flexible.

2. The crux question is, “How malleable?”
Candles? Different music? Dancing in the sanctuary? For many under the tent, these things aren’t a problem. How about ending slavery? That seems like an easy one too right? Well, if it’s 1750 and you live in Virginia, even though you’re a Bible believing ‘fundamentalist’, you’ll dig your heels in and say that this isn’t on the table for discussion, you’ll use the “plain literal teachings of the Bible” to prove your point. There are, in every generation, things that are not on the table for discussion, depending on where your booth is in the tent. Over there, at the left end of the tent, the exclusivity of Jesus as the only means of salvation is a thought that we won’t even discuss because it reeks of fundamentalism and intolderance. The fundamentalists, on the right end of the tent (geographically, not necessarily epistemologically) are unwilling to entertain even the possibility that when Paul spoke of homosexuality in Romans 1, he was speaking of prevailing homosexual practices of his day, which were non-monogamous trysts purely for gratification. Such an interpretation would leave open the possibility of covenant gay relationships, and their response to this possibility is roughly the same as how liberals respond to the possibility that Jesus is the only way, or slave owners, when presented with possibility that God might not look favorably, in these times, upon you owning people. (*I’ll bet some of you are wondering right now if I’m in favor of gay unions, and you’re deciding whether to continue reading or not. You're missing the point - please keep reading) There are always grenades being tossed at other booths, under the tent, in Jesus name. It sort of sickens me. There are lots of issues to discuss (Is divorce OK? When do we take up arms and when do we not? Is the consumerism of our culture an idol which we’ve indiscrimnantly bought into? Is caring for new life, so that the uninsured working poor can take their children to the doctor, as important as protecting life in the womb? And yes, significantly, is Jesus the only way? What does it mean to be saved?) All of us have convictions on these matters (I hope). But what are we to do with them?

3. We should hold our convictions with humility.
That doesn’t meant that we hold them with less conviction, or that we become rudderless, or paralyzed in some state of epistemological nihilism. Rather it means that we have the humility to acknowledge that God’s truth is something we’re (hopefully) moving towards, and so we’re both holding our ground, and open to further revelation that will bring us closer to the heart of Christ. This is what the church was doing continually in Acts, and they changed their positions on several things (including Gentiles, dropping the circumcision requirement, changing their view on dietary restrictions, dropping the meat sacrificed to idols thing). These conclusions weren’t arrived at quickly or universally. I know this is tricky, know that some things are foundational. That’s why Paul was merciless towards the Galatians and the circumcision thing. But that’s just the point. The Galatians were changing the rules about what was required to know Jesus. They were changing the essence. To put this in perspective: don’t mess with the apostle’s creed please, for therein is the essence of a faith that has stood the test of time. But beyond the creed, there’s a big playing field. Can’t we have some good conversations together on what it means to faithfully follow Christ?

4. E.T.: Recognize the value across the isle.
The Emergent church is giving us some wonderful gifts as it recovers the priority of unconditionally loving and serving our world, and allows people room to breathe and grow in Christ through exploration, rather than insisting on a wooden dogma as a precondition for salvation. They’re more interested in living the faith than defending it. I find this refreshing and a much needed course correction.

At the same time, I’m terribly concerned that the Traditional church’s values of the centrality of Christ, the necessity of preaching and teaching, and the confidence that our truths are solid, are evaporating in the heat of an emergent critique of the older generation. The loss that comes from disengaging from that which has gone before us is immeasurable, and we’re already seeing it, as cynicism and disengagement from commitment become characteristics of numerous emergent communities. Ironically, they’re in danger of becoming another form of the very consumerist communities from which they’ve removed themselves to start something new.

The reality, of course, is that we need each other, for Jesus is revealed not only His word, but in His body, and when the body is fractured, each little piece is cut off from much that is life giving.

5. Let’s recognize our commonalities.
E. and T. (Emergent and Traditional) are both filled with broken people looking for meaning and intimacy. Both are carrying burdens. Both want, not only refreshment, but a better world. And to both, Jesus offers the same call: “come unto me”. Perhaps we can learn to see the value in the very one’s we’ve been throwing grenades at; not because we agree with them, and not because we don’t care enough about our beliefs to be concerned. Rather, we see value because we realize that God is no doubt bigger than any of us know, and that perhaps, just maybe, people with whom I don’t agree can see reveal to me a facet of God’s character that I’ve not yet considered. If this becomes our collective mindset, maybe the bombs going off under the tent will die down, and maybe those passing by will start to see something worth considering.

Of course, how could I not welcome your thoughts! What needs to change in order for us to work together to make Christ visible to the world?

The River Runs… Deeper with Age

I’m at the writing cabin this week for extended study and, of course, some writing. But one can only do so much of either, especially when the weather is so remarkable, as it happens to be this middle of July. So tonight at about 7:30 I moved the kitchen and the office outside, grilling a steak to go with wild greens salad, rice, and merlot. I ate to a movie I’ve not seen in some time: A River Runs Through It.

My children are older now, and I’ve a suspicion that this entry won’t be very meaningful to those whose children are still in diapers, still less to those looking for a mate. But I need to say that this movie, like a fine merlot, grows better with age. My “children” are now 24, 23,18. One is working on a farm in Europe this summer. One is taking an intensive course in Italian and working two jobs. The youngest is preparing to put on a play in August with her 18 year old peers, complete with business plan, marketing, and royalty payouts, along with all the rest that goes into making theater in the real world. Children? The word drops to the floor as irrelevant. Yes, they’re my family, my offspring, my namesake, and their activities for the summer, playing with mountains and words, bespeak their relationship to both my wife and I. But children? It’s no longer the right word. And so, “River”, which tells a story about growing up, hits me tonight in all the right places.

The movie is a coming of age story of a minster’s family; a minster, no less, who loves the outdoors and finds restorative moments in creation. As I sat here tonight watching, as the stars came out, as the brothers grew older, so much rang true; so much pierced my soul. I was reminded once again, for example, that….

Moms absorb pain. Only now, through the grace of compiled years, am I able to see with clarity the ways of my wife. They are ways of sacrifice, of self-denial, of living extensively in the shadows so that others, both her children and her husband, can find the spotlight that she believes, with them, to be their destiny. The mom in “River” is surely of this ilk, and so is the woman I married. The blessing of it though; well, that is something that appears slowly, like the dawn, except much more slowly than the dawn, for the ways of sacrifice have been dawning slowly on my darkened mind for 29 years now. “River” reminds me, though, that I’m seeing things more clearly, learning the ways of maternal instincts and learning to celebrate and honor them as the precious gifts that they are.

We’re all broken. “River” portrays a pastor’s family beautifully. Of course, no family is ‘typical’ and you’d be mistaken to draw parallels between the characters of the movie and my own children. We’ve no alcoholics or gambling addicts among us. Still, there’s poignancy in the portrayal of each character’s humanity. Each one is glorious. Each one is broken, as we all are to varying degrees. Each one interplays with the others in life giving and life depriving ways. The ones who need the most help seek it the least, which is probably why they need it in the first place This too, of course, is the way it is for all of us in every family. I see the conflict avoidance. I see the deep love. I see the longings for greater intimacy. I see the anxiety over one another’s well being. It’s all there, and more, in the movie, in all of our lives, all of our families. Perhaps the gift of time allows us to identify more fully with each and every piece, both glory and loss.

Faith, creation, family. This, perhaps, has been my own little secondary trinity. I love my relationship with God, who has been a good shepherd for me through a great deal of untimely loss and personal crisis. I cherish creation, even as at this very moment, I write in the forest as the sky fills with stars and the smell of wood smoke from a neighbor’s fire fills my lungs. Soon meteors will fall from the sky in an other worldly light show, and I’ll be there. My life would be so much the poorer if I missed it instead. And of course, the third leg of the trinity is family. In my case, the family has been present for the faith and creation explorations, taking us at various times to the highest peaks in Colorado and the deepest doubts of God’s existence. We’ve enjoyed the shores of the Pacific together, and wept at the remembrance altar of 9-11 at the Seattle Center. We’ve spoken of post modernity and avalanches, Romans and the Roman Wall on Mt. Baker. My God it’s been good. “River” reminds me of all this and I need to stop the movie more than once and give thanks for my secondary trinity and the privilege I’ve had to enjoy it.

Loss. Maybe you’ve not seen it yet, so I’ll give nothing away. Suffice it to say that the theme of loss runs right through the family as much as joy does, as much as the river itself does. “Do I look older?” the mother asks when her son returns from six years away. Of course she looks older. Of course we age. Of course we die. But we’re never prepared for it, not fully, not truly; and especially not when it comes early.

Romance. First contact. Attraction. Falling in love. These are such good gifts, and rich are those who have walked this road and are able to look back on it as a glorious, life giving path.

“A River Runs Through It” should be seen again and again, especially when your children are older, your nest emptying. After you’ve ridden the rapids of raising a family, those same rapids look richer, deeper, when you seem them in the movie.

PS - If you'd like to read about the Mt. Baker climb my oldest daughter and I did last year, it's the feature outdoor article in this week's "Foothills Gazette". The PDF will get the pictures too.

Important Leadership Lessons

One of the great privileges of Seattle summers, for those of us who get to enjoy them, are the mornings. This morning, up at 5:30 AM, I brewed some coffee and went outside to sit with my trees, my Bible, and the Seattle Times. With the bacon on the BBQ, the morning is a sensual feast of smells (bacon, redwood, coffee, dry air), sights (sunrise painting the trees and the neighborhood) and sounds (lost count of how many different bird calls there were, not to mentions squirrels).

For me, this the best classroom, the best office. I sit and read. In the past 24 hours, I've enjoyed reading two great articles on leadership. The first is found here, and is about Nelson Mandela's "Lessons of Leadership". At 90, and instrumental in changing the course of a nation, when this man speaks, I listen. He has some very good things to say, including priceless insight on consensus building (leading from 'the back' and 'the front'), diplomacy, and courage.

The 2nd article is found here, in this morning's Seattle Times, and is about the changing face of public schools. One paragraph is worth the price of subscription: "When businesses fail...it's usually because they're highly proficient at - but have great difficulty abandoning - the processes they've excelled in. So rivals develop radically new products, often inferior at first, but reaching previously unserved customers and improving over time, disrupting and eventually taking over the field."

There's a lot to ponder in that paragraph. I wonder what I do well, what our church does well, that we need to do differently because of the changing forces of both our broader culture, and the culture of our growing church? For example, we might shepherd well in a church of 200, but if we try to apply the same tactics in a church of 2000, we'll fail. We need to learn to adjust, and this is, of course, dangerous, because with every adjustment we're also in danger of losing our essence, our core, our identity. That's why we need to be in the word and in prayer even more than we need to be in the Times and Time magazine. But both are needed if we're to bridge the gap between eternal truth and present culture.

Both of these articles are great reads for leaders, and I'd encourage anyone who is in a role of influencing others or steering a unti (family, small group, committee, church, organization) to take some time and ponder what good leaders have to say, seeking to find ways of applying their stuff to your own situation. Lots of us know our craft (teaching, engineering, writing, producing, creating, cleaning, repairing, etc.) but leadership is the other critical piece of the puzzle. If we don't have that, we're missing a mission critical component.

Getting Our Ducks Lined Up

I’m sitting here on the shores of a river in Maryland. It’s 7AM and all is quiet as I’m reading my Bible. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a flock of Canadian geese walking along the road that runs parallel to the riverbank, some distance away from where I’m sitting. Soon I hear their voices and I put down my book and simply watch. There they are, walking along with one out front, 3 abreast, sometimes 4, stretching out for about 50 yards worth of geese. The scene fascinates me because, like sheep, everyone appears to be following the lead goose. I ponder what would happen if some goose tried to take a different path? Would that one be cut off from the flock? Would they even be allowed to leave? Perhaps none of the geese would care, trusting that the stray goose, in its authenticity and individualism would surely arrive at the same place as the rest of the geese.

I don’t need to guess, for the very thing I’m pondering happens right before my eyes. “Autonomous Goose” (AG), about midway down in the line of geese, slowly begins to veer to the left, off the appointed path. He (she?) gets a few feet, “out of line” and then suddenly three geese step out of the march and block the way for AG, herding it back into its appointed spot. There are cackles and feathers, but the whole incident happened so quickly, that had you been reading a book you would have missed it entirely.

I pondered this for a few minutes while I finished my weak coffee. Is this an illustration of the negatively labeled “herd mentality” or of the positively nuanced word, “community”? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I’m not going to study geese for the answer, so forgive my speculations, but theologically, I would need to believe that this is a good thing, that God’s design for geese is that they depend on each other as a community, looking to one another for direction and support. So strong is this instinct built into them that when there’s a deviant among them (like auto goose this morning) they’re also wired to confront it and put an end the independent behavior. Somehow geese without formation, without order, without interdependency is unacceptable.

So what about us? North Americans are the offspring of rugged individualists who carved out new lives precisely because they had the courage to leave the herd. Thus do we value individualism. Our theology, too, has been shaped by this spirit, so that our encounter with Christ is cast in highly individualistic terms (personal savior, personal walk with God). In such a worldview, church can be seen as a sort of filling station where we get some goods to help us continue on our individual journeys, goods that we’ll choose to take or leave as we see fit.

What do you think of this? Many are prepared to vilify it completely, but I’m not in that camp. “Autonomous Goose” has shown up many times on the pages of church history with names like Martin Luther, St. Francis, William Wilberforce, Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela. Without them we’d be entrenched in colonialism, racism, slavery, and other various forms of oppression that misrepresent the heart of Christ. If we were a herd, and marching to a different drummer were always the wrong thing to do, it would be because we believed that the leader of the pack was always taking us in the right direction. This simply isn’t the case, because every leader is himself, or herself, an individual with feet of clay, in need of the community to hold them accountable.

On the other hand, our lust for autonomy and individualism has created the ultimate in consumer spirituality, whereby most of us are literally accountable to no one except ourselves. We should, at the very least, have enough sense to realize that this mindset is rarely seen in cultures anywhere on the globe, at anytime in history. Our prosperity and mobility, along with the incredible securities provided by democracy, have allowed each of us the chance to leave our families and move, ‘out west’, or ‘back east’, or wherever else it is that we believe we’ll have the best chance. Further, our mobility isn’t limited to leaving geography and family; we abandon faith communities too on a regular basis because ‘we’re not being fed’, or because ‘the worship is killing me’, or because ‘there aren’t enough programs for my kids’, or because…don’t worry, we’ll think of something.

And of course, when we veer off the road, there are no geese there to steer us back. I’m not just talking about when we leave our churches (though it applies there). I’m also talking about when we leave our faith practices, expressing our sexual autonomy, or financial autonomy, or whatever else it is that we express. If anyone even knows us well enough to know about our departure, chances are good that our friends will, in one way or the other, smile and wish us well, as we find our path.

This doesn’t happen in African, Nepalese, or Guatemalan churches. In most places, community is a high priority, and we’re thus held accountable for staying on the path. As long as the path is a good one, this is actually a very good thing. The hyper-individualism of North America has created a culture whereby most of us, at best, have ambivalent feelings about ‘the tribe.’ We’ve seen the cults (some of us have experienced them); we’ve been through the ‘shepherding’ movements, wherein one needed permission from the elders to ask someone out on a date or by a car. Individual judgment was never to be trusted.

Of course, it’s these abuses that have contributed to our fear of accountability. That fear is fuel, thrown on the already raging fires of American individualism, and now the deal is closed. We’ll live this on our own, thank you very much. Oh yes, we’ll listen, and even participate – a small group here, a sermon there, a concert at the coffee shop, a mission trip with the Prebytarians. But when the day is done, we’re nothing more than spiritual consumers, shopping in the mall of American faith for the stuff we need to make it on our own.

There’s little danger, in this model, of us being blind followers, let alone geese. But there’s little danger too, in us being the body of Christ. And that, my friends, is a tragedy.

How can we balance our need for individual responsibility with our call to community and accountability in a way that makes Christ more visible?

Going All the Way

I’m intrigued in II Kings 9 and 10 by the zeal with which Jehu went after Baal worship, destroying every last vestige of it. He went a long way towards restoring righteousness in Israel. But, we’re told, “Jehu was not careful to walk in the law of the Lord…with all his heart; he did not depart from the sins of Jeroboam.” Here’s a king who went after the sin of Baal worship with unmatched zeal and intensity, but who continued to erect golden calves, and allowing their worship.

God’s response to this mixture was, predictably, blessing and cursing. He was blessed with God’s promise that his sons would be heir to the throne for four generations. He was cursed because, “in those days God began to cut off portions from Israel…” Blessing for obedience – cursing for disobedience; this was life for Jehu. This is life for us.

Jehu’s failure resulted from a lowering of the bar. Yes, he followed the Lord, but not all the way. Yes, he dealt with idolatry; but not with all the way. The tragedy to which many of us succumb is our tendency to take some sin seriously, while turning a blind eye to other sin. Sometimes our eyes become so blind that we don’t even see the other sin, and only retrospectively are we able to look back and see it, asking of ourselves, “how could I have been so blind?” It happens both individually and collectively.

Maybe I’m strong on economic justice but weak on sexual purity. Maybe it’s the reverse. But with Jesus, the issues are always both/and. Jesus is patient, and gracious, and merciful, but relentlessly committed to our transformation, if we’ll be allow him access to the recesses of our lives where we’ve held on to our pain, or wound, and as a result have developed destructive ways of coping. It’s these coping mechanisms that are at the root of our problem because our coping mechanisms are ways of getting on with things without drawing near to Christ. Perhaps at the core of it all, we don’t really trust Jesus, and have decided that coping on our own is better than waiting for Christ. And this path of partial obedience, selective trust, guarded discipleship, is the characteristic of Christ’s church at its weakest. I know it well, and this week in my devotions, am convicted of just how often I hold a little back in my life, “just in case God doesn’t come through…”

So we really need to go all the way – holding nothing back as a contingency. Learning to trust in God alone, and learning to let God’s reign bleed into the deepest recesses of our lives is what discipleship is all about. This week, as I’m teaching in Maryland, I’m teaching to myself – repenting all over the place as I realize areas of my heart where I’ve been holding back. My life can look good in public because, like Jehu, I’m passionate about righteousness in some areas. But it’s these other areas that are under the microscope right now, and the exposure is both painful and very very good.

America...

Dear America...

Congratulations on another birthday! I'm not a nation doctor, but if I were, I'd say that you've been blessed with lots of good DNA, and that this is why, even though you're in your 230's, you are still kicking. Stellar moments of Courage, Integrity, Idealism, Optimism, Innovation, Faith, Generosity...these are all significant parts of your story, and have contributed profoundly to your longevity. In a world where the map today is almost entirely unrecognizable when set against a map from even 30 years ago, that's something for which you can be both proud and grateful.

In spite of the rich heritage though, this is no time for resting on your past accomplishments because the signs of infirmity are starting to show, so much so, that they really can't be drowned out by fireworks and another verse of Stars and Stripes Forever. I hope you'll not think me unpatriotic for asking you to take a good long look in the mirror and, where you see signs of unhealth, take appropriate action. What kind of signs? I'm glad you asked, and since I am America too, I'll answer in the first person plural...

1. We've lost our commitment to the common good. The gaps between the rich and poor are increasing rapidly, with wealth being increasingly concentrated in the hands of few, while more and more constitute, 'the masses' who are lacking basic health insurance and lack of affordable housing. I'm not suggesting handouts here. Instead, I'm suggesting that you consider a restructuring that will allow any and all who are hard working Americans to enjoy access to the fundamental things that allow a safe and secure life, because as a pastor, I encounter many people working full-time or working the system, or working two jobs, or working two jobs and working the system, who still can't make it. This just isn't right and of course, is also the breeding ground for many of history's biggest upheavals and revolutions.

2. Our dependence on your institutions is excessive. Sure, you might think after my first observation that I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth, but it's surely true that the days when extended family lived close together, and neighbors were deeply involved in each others lives are gone for most Americans. As a result we're increasingly isolated, and this isolation has been the soil out from which deep pathologies have grown, pathologies which need relational, rather than clinical, governmental, or institutional answers. You can't create a program to facilitate relationship, but perhaps you'll understand that it has been our relentless pursuit of economic expansion that has created this disease breeding hyper-individualism. When is enough enough?

3. We need to face up to our age. We have infrastructure issues at home, including aging roads and schools, a loss of cutting edge investments in research and development, an energy policy that is terribly myopic, and a propensity to turn to military solutions rather quickly when faced with threats, as if we're the biggest kid on the block. But the fact is, other nations aren't too worried about us; neither are they threatened; neither do they feel that our self described 'superpower' status is accurate. Just look at our national debt, military recruitment challenges, trade deficit, and state of the dollar in the global market, to name but a few of our ailments.

So, America, I hope your next leader will be held accountable, not for giving speeches about a brighter tomorrow, nor for inciting patriotism by appealing to our so called strength, but by talking about sacrifice, moderation, the need for community, the dangers of fear, unbridled individualism, unfettered growth, and of the need for all of us to work together for the common good of Americans and the world. We need to face up to some mighty challenges America... and I'm excited to help. But the solutions we need won't come from the left or the right - rather, they'll come from somewhere yet unknown and unnamed, a place that will be born when we're willing, as a nation, to face the truths that need facing, without becoming despairing or cynical. That's called courage and vision, and its the prescription for what ails us. We can become healthy again, but not until we acknowledge our signs of illness.

Happy Birthday America -