Don't some experiences leave you with the thought, "Now that's Gospel." You can't explain it, but there is just something about it that is counter to the world that is given us on a daily basis. Like the story of the autistic boy who never got to play a single minute in a basketball game until the last game of the season. He made six three pointers in a row. Gospel!
Join me on a journey as we seek out Gospel Sightings in our world.
Danny
Friday, November 03, 2006
Play Money is Priceless
Keith Van Horn, formally of the Dallas Mavericks, has decided to take a year off and spend time with his wife and kids. This would not be a news story if Van Horn were not at the prime of his career. As a mid-level player Van Horn could easily be raking in 5 mil a year. Not to mention his Nike endorsement deal.
From ESPN.com: Van Horn is just barely 31 (his birthday was Oct. 23). He's a 6-10 forward who can shoot, run and pass. He can start or come off the bench and give you 20-30 minutes. He can help you win games. Yet he walked away from the game he loves -- and the millions it could have added to his bank account -- for the family he loves even more.
The way of the Gospel is the way of giving up privilege for the sake of others. In a culture where self is at the center of the universe, this is strange. We may rationalize Van Horn's decision by saying, "Well, he already has millions. It isn't that difficult of a decision." The fact is, the same could be said about many of us. How often do we sacrifice those people that are most valuable to us, because we want to have just a little bit more?
Regardless of the level, to give up power, privilege, influence, status, money and time for the sake of others is...Gospel.
Feeling Owned
Today I had lunch at Jane Long Elementary school. Jane Long is right across the street from the church where I preach, Minter Lane Church of Christ. We have over a dozen neighborhood kids who come to our Bible class program and attend Jane Long. As I walked around and greeted the kids, I was overwhelemd at the response. First, there was the smile and excitement that I noticed them. After this came the statements that will ring in my ears for many months. As they looked at their friends and introduced me, they said, "He's my preacher," and "He preaches at my church." The comments have weighed on me like a heavy hand today. These kids own me and this church. This is "their" church, I am "their" preacher. The overwhelming majority of these kids do not attend with their parents. Yet, it is "their" church. This is the mission of God: The formation of an all-inclusive welcoming community who are raising up a generation of Christians who will break the cycle of violence and poverty in their own communities through the power of the Gospel of Christ. I think I have found my new Thursday lunch tradition.
Lessons Learned
Rainy days are good for reflection. I've been preaching for ten years now. Here are four things I've learned so far:
(1) I have learned that the loftiest goal of a church should not be about its own success, but about the spiritual formation of individuals and families into the image of Christ. We can grow bigger and stronger and have fancier buildings and have energetic high tech worship services and offer programs for everything under the sun and still not form people into the image of Christ.
(2) I have learned that God doesn’t merely want my efforts and my works and my commitments to do better, rather, God wants me, the person. He wants me to bring myself in all its brokenness, woundedness and sinfulness and surrender my life to his grace and his transforming power. I’ve focused more on trying to will my way toward God through my actions, when God wants me to release my will and allow him to create in me a new creation.
(3) I have learned that a healthy Christian and a healthy minister are marked more by vulnerability and humility than by talents, skills, and control. I’ve assumed that a good minister is someone who can be everything and do everything while showing little weakness. The example of Christ is that though he was in very nature God took the risk and emptied himself and made himself vulnerable to creation. The greatest among you will be the least among you.
(4) I’ve learned that the church is human. I don’t believe there is this perfect invisible church somewhere that we are trying to live up to. The beauty of our relationship with God is that he knew that in participating with us it would often get messy. The church is what it is, that is the community of fragile, often broken earthen vessels. Yet, God remains faithful to us. He continues with us so that it will be made known that the power is not our own, rather it is the power of God.
(1) I have learned that the loftiest goal of a church should not be about its own success, but about the spiritual formation of individuals and families into the image of Christ. We can grow bigger and stronger and have fancier buildings and have energetic high tech worship services and offer programs for everything under the sun and still not form people into the image of Christ.
(2) I have learned that God doesn’t merely want my efforts and my works and my commitments to do better, rather, God wants me, the person. He wants me to bring myself in all its brokenness, woundedness and sinfulness and surrender my life to his grace and his transforming power. I’ve focused more on trying to will my way toward God through my actions, when God wants me to release my will and allow him to create in me a new creation.
(3) I have learned that a healthy Christian and a healthy minister are marked more by vulnerability and humility than by talents, skills, and control. I’ve assumed that a good minister is someone who can be everything and do everything while showing little weakness. The example of Christ is that though he was in very nature God took the risk and emptied himself and made himself vulnerable to creation. The greatest among you will be the least among you.
(4) I’ve learned that the church is human. I don’t believe there is this perfect invisible church somewhere that we are trying to live up to. The beauty of our relationship with God is that he knew that in participating with us it would often get messy. The church is what it is, that is the community of fragile, often broken earthen vessels. Yet, God remains faithful to us. He continues with us so that it will be made known that the power is not our own, rather it is the power of God.
You can never go back...
A friend recently wrote about the impending birth of his first child. "I am beginning to realize that it (my life) will never be the same again."
It got me to thinking about the concept of liminality. "Liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning "a threshold")-a period during which one is "betwixt and between", neither one status nor the other; a period during which one's new social status is confirmed. The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. One's sense of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition, during which your normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed, opening the way to something new (from Wikipedia)."
Our oldest is now nine. Heidi and I were reflecting the other night that our time with him in our home is half-way up. We feel good about where we are, but can't believe we are already here. There are so many more things I we want to teach him and instill in him. Actually, there is so much more I want to become for his sake. I want him to look at me and see what it means to be a follower of Christ. Heidi and I have no regrets. We made this commitment when we started having kids: Live in such a way that when you get to the next chapter, you will not regret the story you have written.
The same is true for churches. Is faithfulness to the mission of God always a chapter away? It is rare to regret doing something you know is right. O, but how often do we regret not doing it because we were too busy with other things? At some level we are always in a state of liminality. Transitioning from one stage of life to another. This is very hopeful because it says there is still time. The page is turning. Once the page is turned, however, you can never go back. That is what liminality teaches us, you can never go back.
So, live today. Do good today. Kiss your kids on the lips while they still think it’s funny. Heal a fractured friendship. Write an overdue letter. Play, play, play. Instead of waiving to your neighbor, walk over and talk to him. Say no to that job that pays more but has you home less. Accept that invitation to teach in the children’s program. Bring a meal to that new family. Volunteer to watch the baby of the new parents. Invite your friend to church. Live today, live today, live today. For we all know, you can never go back.
It got me to thinking about the concept of liminality. "Liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning "a threshold")-a period during which one is "betwixt and between", neither one status nor the other; a period during which one's new social status is confirmed. The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. One's sense of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition, during which your normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed, opening the way to something new (from Wikipedia)."
Our oldest is now nine. Heidi and I were reflecting the other night that our time with him in our home is half-way up. We feel good about where we are, but can't believe we are already here. There are so many more things I we want to teach him and instill in him. Actually, there is so much more I want to become for his sake. I want him to look at me and see what it means to be a follower of Christ. Heidi and I have no regrets. We made this commitment when we started having kids: Live in such a way that when you get to the next chapter, you will not regret the story you have written.
The same is true for churches. Is faithfulness to the mission of God always a chapter away? It is rare to regret doing something you know is right. O, but how often do we regret not doing it because we were too busy with other things? At some level we are always in a state of liminality. Transitioning from one stage of life to another. This is very hopeful because it says there is still time. The page is turning. Once the page is turned, however, you can never go back. That is what liminality teaches us, you can never go back.
So, live today. Do good today. Kiss your kids on the lips while they still think it’s funny. Heal a fractured friendship. Write an overdue letter. Play, play, play. Instead of waiving to your neighbor, walk over and talk to him. Say no to that job that pays more but has you home less. Accept that invitation to teach in the children’s program. Bring a meal to that new family. Volunteer to watch the baby of the new parents. Invite your friend to church. Live today, live today, live today. For we all know, you can never go back.
What is God's intent for the world?
What is God’s intent for the world?
It is washing feet, receiving the sinners and the outcasts, bringing to the center and to the front of the line those on the margins. It’s bringing light to those in the darkness of sin and self-centeredness; standing in their way, getting bumped around a little until they can see the way. It’s giving up all of self, spending yourself for others. It’s touching the untouchable, risking self, power, influence, positions, status, in order to rebuke the powers of oppression. It is giving up privilege for the sake of others. It’s looking up two rows and seeing a young neighborhood girl sitting next to a former elder’s wife. It’s getting up early on Saturday to help a member move. It’s our neighborhood walkers giving up Sunday afternoons to bring the hope of the Gospel to our neighbors. It’s the story of all you who bring neighborhood kids to church. It’s singing that song with a smile and a joyful heart, the song you don’t like but you know someone else does. It’s all our teachers who prepare lessons. It’s those who deliver meals for Meals On Wheels. It’s cooking for our Easter dinner so we can have a blessed time getting to know our neighbors. It’s those who invite a stranger to lunch. It’s that time you forgave your brother or sister and went across the isle and gave them a hug. It’s that time you supported the elders even though you didn’t agree with their decision. It’s the elders and other ministry leaders sitting in meeting after meeting to work out our common life and ministry together. It’s that time you encouraged the preacher even though the sermon was terrible. It’s when you stayed to help clean up after the meal on Wednesday night. It’s staying late to prepare that special song for worship. It’s when you wrote that card. When you gave generously, financially and with time to the church. It’s when you held the family who had just lost a child and said nothing but “I’m sorry.” It’s when you gave that cup of cold water in Jesus name. It’s giving up privilege for the sake of others when the world is seeking its own pleasure, comfort, and security. That is God’s intent for the world.
You want to know what we call all that? We call it…“church.” Church is God’s intent for the world; and the world is watching.
It is washing feet, receiving the sinners and the outcasts, bringing to the center and to the front of the line those on the margins. It’s bringing light to those in the darkness of sin and self-centeredness; standing in their way, getting bumped around a little until they can see the way. It’s giving up all of self, spending yourself for others. It’s touching the untouchable, risking self, power, influence, positions, status, in order to rebuke the powers of oppression. It is giving up privilege for the sake of others. It’s looking up two rows and seeing a young neighborhood girl sitting next to a former elder’s wife. It’s getting up early on Saturday to help a member move. It’s our neighborhood walkers giving up Sunday afternoons to bring the hope of the Gospel to our neighbors. It’s the story of all you who bring neighborhood kids to church. It’s singing that song with a smile and a joyful heart, the song you don’t like but you know someone else does. It’s all our teachers who prepare lessons. It’s those who deliver meals for Meals On Wheels. It’s cooking for our Easter dinner so we can have a blessed time getting to know our neighbors. It’s those who invite a stranger to lunch. It’s that time you forgave your brother or sister and went across the isle and gave them a hug. It’s that time you supported the elders even though you didn’t agree with their decision. It’s the elders and other ministry leaders sitting in meeting after meeting to work out our common life and ministry together. It’s that time you encouraged the preacher even though the sermon was terrible. It’s when you stayed to help clean up after the meal on Wednesday night. It’s staying late to prepare that special song for worship. It’s when you wrote that card. When you gave generously, financially and with time to the church. It’s when you held the family who had just lost a child and said nothing but “I’m sorry.” It’s when you gave that cup of cold water in Jesus name. It’s giving up privilege for the sake of others when the world is seeking its own pleasure, comfort, and security. That is God’s intent for the world.
You want to know what we call all that? We call it…“church.” Church is God’s intent for the world; and the world is watching.
Adapted from Fred Craddock.
It was a hot summer evening. I was sitting in the back of the church near an open window. The preacher was preaching on his favorite text, “Better be safe than sorry-Fools rush in.” When this guy came to the window and said, “Danny let’s go.” I said, “Where are you going.” He said, “We’re going to a place where there is treasure in a bunch of broken down clay jars.” I said, “You’re kidding.” He continued, “We’re going to a place where the outcasts, the poor and marginalized sit at the front of the table.” I said, “No way.” “Yes, we’re going where the servants are the greatest. Where there is abundant life if only you’re willing to give up life first.” I said “That’s risky.” He said, “Come on, we’re going where people give up privilege for the sake of others and receive in return eternal privileges.” “No, no, that’s too risky,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I don’t want to go.” When the preacher finished his talk, he came back and asked, “Danny, who was at the window?” I said, “I don’t know, I had never seen them before.” “Were they a large group?” I said, “No, no, there seemed to be a leader and about twelve others with him. They talked about life, but it was too risky, I didn't go.”
It was a hot summer evening. I was sitting in the back of the church near an open window. The preacher was preaching on his favorite text, “Better be safe than sorry-Fools rush in.” When this guy came to the window and said, “Danny let’s go.” I said, “Where are you going.” He said, “We’re going to a place where there is treasure in a bunch of broken down clay jars.” I said, “You’re kidding.” He continued, “We’re going to a place where the outcasts, the poor and marginalized sit at the front of the table.” I said, “No way.” “Yes, we’re going where the servants are the greatest. Where there is abundant life if only you’re willing to give up life first.” I said “That’s risky.” He said, “Come on, we’re going where people give up privilege for the sake of others and receive in return eternal privileges.” “No, no, that’s too risky,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I don’t want to go.” When the preacher finished his talk, he came back and asked, “Danny, who was at the window?” I said, “I don’t know, I had never seen them before.” “Were they a large group?” I said, “No, no, there seemed to be a leader and about twelve others with him. They talked about life, but it was too risky, I didn't go.”
Risky Business
The church is learning to take risks for the sake of the gospel. It understands itself as different from the world because of its participation in the life, death, and resurrection of its Lord. It is raising questions, often threatening ones, about the church's cultural captivity, and it is grappling with the ethical and structural implications of its missional vocation. (Treasure in Clay Jars)
Refusing to take risks through inaction really isn't neutral ground. Fence sitting is deciding to take certain risks of inaction. It’s like having one foot on the stove and one on a block of ice and saying, “On the average I’m comfortable.” We risk, because, if we don’t we will only experience what we’ve always experienced, or, we will lose the very thing we’re trying to preserve. Taking risks, putting something on the line, opens up for us the possibility of something new, something more faithful. The disciples followed Jesus not knowing from day to day where they would end up. Following Jesus is a risky journey that will lead us to the cross because it is through the cross that the new life of resurrection is possible. We take risks because God risks. He risked himself when he opened up the possibility of love. He risked himself as a vulnerable baby in a manger. He risks every day by allowing us to wear his name. Risk is necessary if there is going to be something new. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to ground and dies, it remains a single grain, but if it dies it produces much fruit.”
Refusing to take risks through inaction really isn't neutral ground. Fence sitting is deciding to take certain risks of inaction. It’s like having one foot on the stove and one on a block of ice and saying, “On the average I’m comfortable.” We risk, because, if we don’t we will only experience what we’ve always experienced, or, we will lose the very thing we’re trying to preserve. Taking risks, putting something on the line, opens up for us the possibility of something new, something more faithful. The disciples followed Jesus not knowing from day to day where they would end up. Following Jesus is a risky journey that will lead us to the cross because it is through the cross that the new life of resurrection is possible. We take risks because God risks. He risked himself when he opened up the possibility of love. He risked himself as a vulnerable baby in a manger. He risks every day by allowing us to wear his name. Risk is necessary if there is going to be something new. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to ground and dies, it remains a single grain, but if it dies it produces much fruit.”
Save Me, God...
Over the past year “Salvation” has become the dominant image in my spiritual formation. God’s ultimate salvation for me is not some legal transaction that happens in his mind, rather, it is transformation and union with him. What follows is a metaphorical prayer I wrote for the parts of my body to be “saved” by God. Imagine each part and its various spiritual natures.
Salvation belongs to you God. May I enter today deeper into your salvation. Save me Father, in Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Save my tongue that I may speak blessing to you and others; that I may praise you and cry to you; that I may announce the Good News of Jesus Christ. Save my eyes that I may look upon your holiness and not upon the profane; that I may see your vision for my life and others. Save my arms that I may embrace others and welcome them into my life; that I may hold them close and consider their interests. Save my feet that I may go to the margins where Christ is and serve others there; that I may walk where Jesus walked among sinners. Save my ears that I may hear you speak through your word, through others, in the quiet, in the darkness and the light. Save my hands that they may bring the loving, compassionate, touch of Jesus. Save my mind that I may think and know your truth and be set free. Save my heart that I may feel and experience your presence; that I may feel and experience the fragile human experience. Save my inward being that I may be poured out, emptied of all pride, power, and self significance. Save my soul that I may share in your divine nature.
Salvation belongs to you God. May I enter today deeper into your salvation. Save me Father, in Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Save my tongue that I may speak blessing to you and others; that I may praise you and cry to you; that I may announce the Good News of Jesus Christ. Save my eyes that I may look upon your holiness and not upon the profane; that I may see your vision for my life and others. Save my arms that I may embrace others and welcome them into my life; that I may hold them close and consider their interests. Save my feet that I may go to the margins where Christ is and serve others there; that I may walk where Jesus walked among sinners. Save my ears that I may hear you speak through your word, through others, in the quiet, in the darkness and the light. Save my hands that they may bring the loving, compassionate, touch of Jesus. Save my mind that I may think and know your truth and be set free. Save my heart that I may feel and experience your presence; that I may feel and experience the fragile human experience. Save my inward being that I may be poured out, emptied of all pride, power, and self significance. Save my soul that I may share in your divine nature.
Church Bickering
This has to be an illustration of what God sees when we bicker and fight with each other in the church. http://youtube.com/watch?v=4cSRpu7bI04
Earthen Vessels
I always cringe when I hear us use the antiquated term "earthen vessels" in relation to 2 Corinthians 4:7. Earthen vessels almost sounds valuable, like a piece of antique furniture. The fact is we are merely "clay pots." These clay pots can be found shattered and in ruins all over the Middle East. I always found it interesting that we often speak about the “invisible,” “perfect,” “universal,” “eternal” church. I guess we do this because we feel guilty for how broken we are and want to believe that somewhere beyond the blue there is this perfect church untainted by humanity. The fact is, the church is what it is. It has always been the link between the divine and the human. It has always been messy. At our best we are fragile, vulnerable, and an incomplete expression of God’s intent for the world. At our worst we lie shattered and in ruins. That is why this text is so stunning: “But we have this treasure in clay pots to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
