Appointment Watching

It's a busy season. Although Holy Week has passed and clergy breathe a collective sigh of relief, Finals season approaches and Seminary students cringe. I'm currently in the home stretch, and I'm cringing. The end is in sight, but until it gets here my blogging time is limited, although my ideas become endless. Here are my current thoughts.

I've always been an appointment watcher. Growing up in a parsonage I would always cringe when I came home to hear my father talking to the District Superintendent in the Spring. Nine times out of ten, they were just chatting, but it always made me nervous. Growing up in a parsonage made me an appointment watcher. It was always fun to see who was going where...Where my friends were moving to, who was coming to the churches where we had been, feeling sorry for all the other pastor's kids who had to move. I've been an appointment watcher.

As I started to attend Annual Conference, my appointment watching changed. I learned who were the movers and shakers in the Conference. I learned about the appointments that were coveted above all else. I learned why the reading of the appointments is such a big deal. I'm still an appointment watcher. About every two weeks I log onto the Conference website to see who's going where, although my watching isn't as innocent as it was when I was a kid. Now I read and think things like "Good for them! That's a great appointment!" or "Wow...I hope the Bishop sees something in them that I don't!" or "That's the appointment that I want when I leave seminary" or even "I know them. There is no way that they deserve that appointment!". See, many times I think that we watch appointments out of jealously. We think that someone hasn't necessarily earned their new appointment. We wonder how a left-leaning liberal such as so and so could end up with a church like that. We wonder if someone from that no good, Evangelical seminary can make it in the city. We wonder why we didn't get that appointment, and why we're still living in East Podunk. We see people playing the system, playing the politics and we're upset at their seeming conceit.

Appointment watching can be dangerous. It breeds contempt among clergy and clergy families and makes us jealous or leery of others. As I read through Philippians last week, I realized that Paul dealt with Appointment season. As he writes the Philippians in 1:17 he speaks of those who preach the Gospel from envy and strife, saying that they proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, but then Paul makes a stunning statement "What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is preached in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice." (Philippians 1:18, NRSV). It doesn't matter to Paul who goes where while he's stuck in prison. It doesn't matter to Paul that he may not like a certain person. It doesn't matter to Paul why Christ is preached or even how Christ is preached. It only matters to Paul that Christ is preached and that God, through the work of the Holy Spirit, speaks into the hearts of hearers.

Where do we go from here? As I've been reading the new appointments I try to remember...Place, prestige, and power don't matter. The Gospel does. May Christ be preached in all appointments, both new and old.

Waiting Silence

At the Maundy Thursday service we put big signs on the doors instructing people to enter in silence. About 6:30, people started to arrive and they followed the instructions of the signs. As people filled the sanctuary, the silence was thick and almost oppressive. In our church, people like to talk. We like to gab and listen to what others have to say, but last night, nothing was said until the service started. Throughout the whole process, I was scurrying around like a church mouse...making sure that all my readers were in place, that Mike knew the deal for Communion, that my musicians were ready, but I, too, operated as quietly as possible, never speaking above a whisper. At 6:50, when I was sure that everyone and everything was ready, I walked to the front of the church and sat down. And waited. And waited. And waited. After what I thought had been an eternity and it must be time to start, I looked at the clock. It was only 6:53. Sitting in that silence was the longest ten minutes that I can remember.

As the service concluded, I asked people to leave in silence, and quietly people left the church. Although the service reminded us that we are people of Easter, our Scripture readings left Christ in the tomb. Although we were reminded of the coming promise, spoken by Jesus, that death would not hold Him in its' grasp, we left Christ in the desolation of the tomb. We left in silence, and now we wait. We wait throughout a day that was filled with devastation for the disciples. We wait throughout a day that was filled with horror and fear for those who knew Him best. We wait throughout a day that reminds us that Christ died. For us. Might we feel the devastation and horror and fear of true followers even as we wait. Darkness descended upon the Earth as The Light was crucified. It's uncomfortable to wait, even when we know the ending. The silence of the tomb is deafening. And now we wait in silence.

Black Friday

Black Friday by Sonya Berg

Darkness closes in at Noon.

"It is finished!"

The veil is torn in two.

On the cross hangs the Son of God.

On His shoulders are the sins of all time.

Surely this man was the Son of God.

-MGJ

Response to Pacifism

Recently a friend contacted me and asked me to expound on my views of Christ and war-hence, why do I believe in Just War? When is war justified? This is my response.

First of all, I do not believe the issue of pacifism to be crucial to one's salvation. Some people don't agree (hence the guy who spoke last year at Messiah and said that you can't be a son or daughter of God unless you are a pacifist), but I can find no Scriptural basis for this argument. I think that salvation comes through an understanding of the atoning work of Christ on the cross and I believe that we are called to live in light of that grace, striving to develop a deeper relationship and understanding of God in light of the cross. I rank a stance on pacifism in the same area as a stance on predestination or dispensationalism or eternal security. It's important to think about, it has important social and life implications, but it doesn't impact salvation or the work of God's prevenient grace in our lives. I'm not sure that's what you're asking, but that's where I'm at with that aspect of things.

I believe in peace. I pray for peace. I long for peace. I believe that Christ has come to bring peace. I believe that Christ preached a gospel of peace, and I believe that non-violence should work. In fact, with a brother and a brother-in-law both in the military, I pray for peace selfishly, as I don't want those two men that I love to see conflict. But, I still believe that just war is ok. I think that the main reason that I do believe that just war is alright is that I don't believe that the Kingdom of God has arrived in its' fullness. I believe that the Kingdom of God is here and not yet. I believe that the world still is under the tyranical hold of Satan, the prince of the power of the air. So, while I believe that peace is what is to be sought after and conflict should be resolved rather than escalated and oppression should never be a part of human existence, I don't believe that this is the reality that we live in.

I think that the next logical question, then, is "Does this mean that I believe that Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit and the direction of God the Father, is unable to break in and change things?" The answer to that question is an absolute NO! I believe that God has the power to put an end to the reign of Satan, I believe that Christ will return triumphantly, I believe that Christ through the Holy Spirit is about the business of reconciling all things in Heaven and on earth unto Himself, but I believe that for some reason, which I do not understand, God has given control of the world for the time being to the evil one. So, because this is the case, peace cannot fully reign on earth because the devil is not about peace, but about conflict, war, and violence.

So, what's the role of the Christian in this difficult situation? I believe that the Christian is called to work for the furthering of the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. That means that should be about peace, mercy, justice, redemption, discipleship, etc, etc. What happens, though, when those two things collide? What happens, when an evil dictator is destroying an entire group of people and won't be stopped by negotiation? What happens when the freedom of people group (which is something that I believe strongly in as an Arminian) is taken away? What happens when peace and justice conflict? I think that there are times when war is justified if it is brought about to bring down someone who is endangering the lives of many others and will not be stopped by any other means. I believe that war is the last option that should be pursued, but because we live in a world controlled by the Evil One, sometimes it's the only thing that we can do to bring about justice and an end to oppression, both physical and spiritual. So, I believe that WWII was a just war. There's a part of me that believes that the current Iraqi conflict is probably justified to an extent. (I wish that our leaders had more of an exit strategy, but I believe that bringing down the regime of Saddam Hussein was legit). It's hard to tell, though, about wars that are fresher in our memory (current conflict) because some of our decision must be made through the lens of history. So, here's how it boils down for me...I believe that the political side of war is justified if it is the only option left, if it is not approached lightly and with a plan, and if it is approached to put an end to oppression and bring justice to people that do not have the opportunity to speak for themselves. Does war every advance the Gospel of Christ? Not necessarily, but at the same time, I beileve that God is sovereign and able to work in many situations (i.e. the Afghani man who was able to accept Christ and proclaim his faith in Christ openly because Afghanistan is a free country because of the conflict that ensued there).

At this point, it's hard for me to say how I see God/Christ relating to war. Obviously, throughout the Old Testament God declares war. In the NT, atonement came only through violence done towards one who was undeserving. So what do we do with that? Part of who I am as a Methodist is one who loves that which is practical and that which is rooted in reality. This said, I think that our reality on earth is one that lives in the midst of conflict. Some Christians (like my brothers) are called to be a part of that, others (like yourself) are called to remind us that the Kingdom is coming and there is a better way and to keep us accountable to stay away from gratuitous violence. It's a delicate balance in discerning the way that we are called to be involved in the world around us. Micah tells me that if Christians weren't involved in the military, then we'd be leaving it to those who have no conscience and who have no desire for peace, but rather only violence. It's a difficult place...I relate it to being United Methodist...if I left, I'd be leaving my church to those who don't believe in the divinity of Christ, so I stay and try to make sure that I can have an impact on that body.

Compassionate Christianity

Philippians 1:7-8 It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart; for whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God's grace with me. 8 God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

What exactly is the “affection of Christ Jesus”? As we enter into Holy Week and turn our faces toward the cross, I find it hard to imagine the affection or compassion of Christ Jesus. This is not a simple phrase to swallow. This is not a phrase that is easily comprehended. In the light of the cross, this is not a simple phrase that can just flow off the tongue. As we will soon see and experience in our times of worship, the affection of Christ was costly and painful. It was deep and intense. It was life-giving to those who received it. It was not easy. I’m beginning to realize that to long for someone with the compassion of Christ is not simply missing someone-it’s being willing to give yourself for the sake of others. It’s a willingness to nail our desires, our wants, our very selves to a cross if it means that others will experience the life-giving richness of Christ Jesus. To long for someone, to have compassion for someone in the same way as Christ is a high order and a high call that is given to all of us. Dare we live it out and watch the Gospel of Christ shake the world.

Here’s the really tough thing. I can think about living with the compassion of Christ toward Beth. I can attempt to show Beth self-giving, life-giving, sacrificial love. I can comprehend attempting to show this love toward my family. On good days, I can think about demonstrating this love toward my close friends. But it’s difficult for me to think about this in connection to others outside of my circle. It’s really hard to think about this in connection to those people for whom I have a distaste. It’s even more difficult to think about this concern and compassion for those with whom I flat out disagree. In my spare time, I read a variety of Methodist-related blogs. I read the views and takes on the church by a wide variety of people, and sometimes I attempt to enter into the conversations that are started. Often, though, the conversations are not centered in self-giving love. They attempt to push their own opinions, taking a ground of moral superiority, attempting to make someone else who doesn’t agree with us look foolish. This is not conversation. This is arrogant conversation that does nothing but tear down the church and sharpen the lines that exist. These conversations don’t show the affection and compassion of Christ to our brothers and sisters. I’m not advocating for a ‘you believe what you want and I’ll believe what I want’ point of view. I’m advocating for compassion, for a willingness to hear others with whom we do not agree. I’m advocating for us to allow Christ to be present in our conversations. I’m advocating for a lifestyle that reflects to all with whom we come in contact the love of Christ, even if it means sacrificing what we think to be our rights or our correct opinions. I’m advocating that we show the world outside of the church that we inside of the church can long for each other with the affection of Christ. That would be truly, absolutely earthshaking.

All in the family

Last night’s UM Discipline and Polity class had all the makings of being possibly the boringest class ever as we attempted to discuss General Administration, talking about the 13 General Agencies. Thankfully, the class took a turn for the better as someone brought up the idea of withholding apportionments. The question focused around the idea of withholding General Church apportionments to attempt to take a stand against some of the things happening at agencies that many local churches cannot support. Our prof recalled a time when he was a young, rebellious pastor and wanted his congregation to withhold monies for the same reason. He remembered how the senior pastor of the church he was serving pulled him aside and said “I love the church. Sometimes I have a lovers quarrel with the church, but I still love the church. If we withhold apportionments, we are no longer part of the family. If we want to see change come, we’ve got to be at the table, part of the family, working out of a position of strength, rather than eliminating our chance to be a part of conversations because we refuse to pay. We need to be part of the family.” As I heard this story, I was unsure of my response. Is it ever appropriate to withhold money? Is it ever OK? The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve got to say maybe, but we’ve got to know what we’re getting ourselves into. Withholding apportionments does nothing except anger and alienate people, leaving us voiceless, and I still believe that my voice can be worth more than my money. Thus, I believe that withholding apportionments must be done only as an absolute last resort. It can only be done if we’re saying “We’re no longer part of this family.” If that’s the case, than withholding apportionments is not making a moral or value statement. Instead it’s saying “I’m no longer a part of this,” and it’s effectively removing our voice and influence from the conversation. Pay your apportionments, write your tithe checks, be part of the conversation. Remain part of the family, and work from the inside for change, rather than setting yourself apart and bringing up feelings of anger and resentment that rarely, if ever, produces any type of change.

The Corruption of the Uncorrupted Cross

In the back of our church, somewhat out of the way in a place that no one can see, hangs a shabby wooden cross with a crown of thorns hanging across the cross bow. The cross is rough hewn and fairly ugly, and this morning was really the first morning that I noticed it. It struck me, especially when compared to the dark-finished, beautiful wooden cross that is located in the front, that our view of the cross is missing something crucial. We want the cross to be beautiful, to be easy to embrace and hold on to. A rough hewn, splintering cross is something that we’d rather hide in the back of the church where we don’t have to see it very often. Yet, I’m beginning to understand that our theology of the cross must not be blemished by the unblemished cross. We are called to take up the cross of Christ as we move throughout life, and the cross we want to hold on to is not one of suffering of self-giving. I think that we need to re-embrace the cross as it is, not as we’d like to see it. The cross must not simply hang in the front of the church as a symbol of beauty-it must become a reminder of the suffering that we’re called to embrace, and the self-giving love that we’re supposed to show to the world around us.