Context
A member of the Quaker meeting I attend sent an e-mail today introducing a woman who is planning to join us for the first time on Saturday. We are a small meeting, so new people are very noticeable.
Commentary
"Go therefore an make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." These words are almost the last things Jesus says in the gospel according to Matthew (New Revised Standard Version) and are referred to as The Great Commission.
No passage in the Bible has more power to both inspire and terrify Christians. We know that Jesus has done great things for us and theoretically we want to share that good news with everyone, but the practice is often lacking. I've been sampling Jim Henderson's excellent book Evangelism Without Additives, and it has a lot to say about both our discomfiture and our ineffectualness.
Henderson talks a lot about methodology. I'd like to talk a little about goals. It seems to me that one of the sub-goals of our evangelism practices is convincing someone to come to our worship services. Why is that? I'm pretty sure we don't actually believe God only works within a given set of walls or timeframe, so why are we so concerned with bringing people into our building at a certain time instead of taking the love of God to them? Is it laziness? Do we feel too vulnerable out there in the world and want to return to our comfortable surroundings? Or is it a simple way of keeping score, where a big crowd at church equals successful completion of God's mission?
Whatever our reasoning, I don't think it's sound in light of what Jesus actually commanded us to do. The reason I don't think so comes from Jesus' actual last words in Matthew: "And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Not a single word about us having to come to Him, and He's the Master. Imagine what we servants are called to do.
What did you see today?
9/10/2009
9/06/2009
I saw a passage in a Stephen King book
Context
Stephen King is my second favorite author, after C.S. Lewis. Because I've read many of his books several times, sometimes I just go back and read passages again, revisiting certain concepts rather than taking in the whole work. I did this today with Pet Sematary, and found a passage describing the horror (well, it is Stephen King, right?) of leaving a young child alone in the house with a dying relative.
Commentary
This is my 100th blog entry! Hope it's worth it.
The Stand is my favorite Stephen King novel; in fact I've already blogged about here and here. But Pet Sematary is hands-down the scariest Stephen King work I've read, right up there with The Silence of the Lambs in terms of "don't read it before you go to bed" creepiness.
The passage about the little girl left alone while someone passes away is horrifying not in a scary way, but more in the "What were these people thinking?" sense the protagonist muses to himself for our benefit. One of the qualities of childhood should be the nurturing presence of adults when dealing with the harsh realities of life.
In the New Revised Standard Version of the New Testament, people are referred to as the "children of God" 14 times (yes, I have a concordance), mostly in this passage in Romans. By contrast, there are only ten reference to the "people of God" and those are all in the Old Testament, where the "children of God" never make an appearance.
What's going on here? Did we suddenly become less mature with the coming of Christ? Did we come to realize that we needed more protection and nurturing than originally thought? Or is it just a translation quirk between Hebrew and Greek? I don't know; I just know I'm more likely to think of myself as a child of God than a woman of God.
If we're children now, do we ever grow up? Maybe. In fact, that may be what happens in heaven. I've been thinking about heaven lately, inspired by a fellow Friend in my meeting. She has little patience with mainstream Christianity, and I believe some of that is because of what she considers the ridiculous imagery associated with it. So she'll ask questions such as, "Do you really believe God is an old man with a white robe?" or "What is heaven like, really?", possibly referring to the "sitting on a cloud all day playing the harp" idea.
My current view of heaven (could change any minute, my ideas on matters like these tend to be capricious to put it charitably) thinks of it as where we get to become the adult children of God. And so our views of heaven now are often similar to the ways children think about growing up. There are plenty of "I'll get to stay up as late as I want and eat candy bars all day!" visions. The harp-playing idea may come from what children often see of adult behavior in church, mindlessly mouthing praises to God and not really doing anything useful. There are also people who are horrified by the prospect of heaven: "If I can't have my whiskey and tobacco, I'm not going!" These are like children who cannot conceive of being sexually mature: "I'm going to like boys? EWWWW!"
The point is, as children we really have no idea what being a grown up is like. We get glimpses, we have hope and fears, but the reality is that not only do our circumstances change as we mature, we do as well. We'll probably even see different things.
What did you see today?
Stephen King is my second favorite author, after C.S. Lewis. Because I've read many of his books several times, sometimes I just go back and read passages again, revisiting certain concepts rather than taking in the whole work. I did this today with Pet Sematary, and found a passage describing the horror (well, it is Stephen King, right?) of leaving a young child alone in the house with a dying relative.
Commentary
This is my 100th blog entry! Hope it's worth it.
The Stand is my favorite Stephen King novel; in fact I've already blogged about here and here. But Pet Sematary is hands-down the scariest Stephen King work I've read, right up there with The Silence of the Lambs in terms of "don't read it before you go to bed" creepiness.
The passage about the little girl left alone while someone passes away is horrifying not in a scary way, but more in the "What were these people thinking?" sense the protagonist muses to himself for our benefit. One of the qualities of childhood should be the nurturing presence of adults when dealing with the harsh realities of life.
In the New Revised Standard Version of the New Testament, people are referred to as the "children of God" 14 times (yes, I have a concordance), mostly in this passage in Romans. By contrast, there are only ten reference to the "people of God" and those are all in the Old Testament, where the "children of God" never make an appearance.
What's going on here? Did we suddenly become less mature with the coming of Christ? Did we come to realize that we needed more protection and nurturing than originally thought? Or is it just a translation quirk between Hebrew and Greek? I don't know; I just know I'm more likely to think of myself as a child of God than a woman of God.
If we're children now, do we ever grow up? Maybe. In fact, that may be what happens in heaven. I've been thinking about heaven lately, inspired by a fellow Friend in my meeting. She has little patience with mainstream Christianity, and I believe some of that is because of what she considers the ridiculous imagery associated with it. So she'll ask questions such as, "Do you really believe God is an old man with a white robe?" or "What is heaven like, really?", possibly referring to the "sitting on a cloud all day playing the harp" idea.
My current view of heaven (could change any minute, my ideas on matters like these tend to be capricious to put it charitably) thinks of it as where we get to become the adult children of God. And so our views of heaven now are often similar to the ways children think about growing up. There are plenty of "I'll get to stay up as late as I want and eat candy bars all day!" visions. The harp-playing idea may come from what children often see of adult behavior in church, mindlessly mouthing praises to God and not really doing anything useful. There are also people who are horrified by the prospect of heaven: "If I can't have my whiskey and tobacco, I'm not going!" These are like children who cannot conceive of being sexually mature: "I'm going to like boys? EWWWW!"
The point is, as children we really have no idea what being a grown up is like. We get glimpses, we have hope and fears, but the reality is that not only do our circumstances change as we mature, we do as well. We'll probably even see different things.
What did you see today?
9/04/2009
I saw comments on a blog
Context
The library I work at has a new book by Kate Gosselin. I got to looking around on the Web for more information about her and came to the TLC website, which has a blog written by Kate herself. The posting I looked at had 235 comments on it.
Commentary
My husband thinks I'm addicted to tabloids. I say that can't possibly be true, since I've never paid money for one of them since they lied about Carol Burnett. But the truth is, I do read them in the supermarket checkout line or in the staff lounge and that's the only reason I know anything about Kate Gosselin at all, since I'm not a fan of reality TV.
As you might imagine, the tabloids give me a kind of skewed summary of the Gosselins' life; for example, I didn't know until today that their eight children consisted of one set of twins and one set of sextuplets. So it was interesting to me to read what the lady had to say about her own life in her blog. Mostly she sounded shallow and saccharine, writing in the mommy-blogger style, nothing particularly out of the ordinary.
Then I saw the comments. Most of them had nothing to do with the topic Mrs. Gosselin was writing about, but instead offered her sympathy and support regarding her recent divorce. This seemed kind of odd to me on two levels: why would the commenters care so much for a woman that they, frankly, only know from television and why would the support of anonymous strangers (nobody uses their real name when they comment on a blog, right? ;-)) be of any value to a woman going through a painful personal transition?
The negative responses were even more incomprehensible. Again, why would she care about the disapproval of people she's never met, but even more, why on earth do they disapprove so much? Kate Gosselin may be vapid, vain, and moneygrubbing. She may even be a bad wife and/or mother, but she's not your wife or mother! Why effect could she possibly have on your life that would inspire you to spend time carefully crafting a hatchet job? Of course, I'm never going to get back the time I spent writing this blog post either, so maybe I'm just feeding the beast.
What did you see today?
The library I work at has a new book by Kate Gosselin. I got to looking around on the Web for more information about her and came to the TLC website, which has a blog written by Kate herself. The posting I looked at had 235 comments on it.
Commentary
My husband thinks I'm addicted to tabloids. I say that can't possibly be true, since I've never paid money for one of them since they lied about Carol Burnett. But the truth is, I do read them in the supermarket checkout line or in the staff lounge and that's the only reason I know anything about Kate Gosselin at all, since I'm not a fan of reality TV.
As you might imagine, the tabloids give me a kind of skewed summary of the Gosselins' life; for example, I didn't know until today that their eight children consisted of one set of twins and one set of sextuplets. So it was interesting to me to read what the lady had to say about her own life in her blog. Mostly she sounded shallow and saccharine, writing in the mommy-blogger style, nothing particularly out of the ordinary.
Then I saw the comments. Most of them had nothing to do with the topic Mrs. Gosselin was writing about, but instead offered her sympathy and support regarding her recent divorce. This seemed kind of odd to me on two levels: why would the commenters care so much for a woman that they, frankly, only know from television and why would the support of anonymous strangers (nobody uses their real name when they comment on a blog, right? ;-)) be of any value to a woman going through a painful personal transition?
The negative responses were even more incomprehensible. Again, why would she care about the disapproval of people she's never met, but even more, why on earth do they disapprove so much? Kate Gosselin may be vapid, vain, and moneygrubbing. She may even be a bad wife and/or mother, but she's not your wife or mother! Why effect could she possibly have on your life that would inspire you to spend time carefully crafting a hatchet job? Of course, I'm never going to get back the time I spent writing this blog post either, so maybe I'm just feeding the beast.
What did you see today?
9/03/2009
I saw a question
Context
First United Methodist Church has an electronic sign in their parking that flashes a variety of messages about events, upcoming sermons, etc. Today one of the messages said, I think, "How does God guide us? Romans 12:1-2."
This is the text of Romans 1:1-2, according to the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible: "I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God--what is good and acceptable and perfect."
Commentary
I sometimes get concerned about the ways churches market themselves, believing that they sometimes work too hard to be the "cool kids," instead of the people of God, but I honestly like First Methodist's sign. I really feel like I've learned a lot about their faith community just by my almost daily observation of the sign.
That being said, I'm not sure what they were trying to say with today's question and quote. Maybe it's a preview of an upcoming sermon, because I don't think Romans 12:1-2 answers the question "How does God guide us?" More like, "How do we prepare ourselves for God's guidance?", which is an important question in and of itself.
As for the original question, I got to thinking about it right away. Not having the Bible memorized, I didn't know until I got home what Romans 12:1-2 said, but my answer to "How does guide God me?" (I wouldn't dream of speaking for anyone else) is, "By how I feel, as long as I'm wiling to examine those feelings closely."
As mentioned previously, my conscience is very active. I generally know when I've done wrong because I feel bad. Not always right away, because most of my sins involve anger and arrogance, and those emotions give a nice little adrenaline rush, but when I start to come down I realize, "Wow! That was bad behavior!" Conversely, when I do the right thing, I feel good. Again, not necessarily immediately; an onerous task in the pursuit of righteousness is still an onerous task, but eventually I find I'm given a generous measure of both peace and joy.
These "not right away"s and "eventually"s are the reason I make examining my feelings closely part of the formula for discerning God's will. I can't just take an "If it feels good, do it!" attitude, because being evil can feel awfully good at first. I believe we have a lot of lower instincts and sin appeals to all of them. I also think we have a tendency to tell ourselves we're happy or content or even justified when we're not, and can carry on that way for quite a while. But my experience is, if I really examine what's going on I feel unsatisfied if I've been unjust or callous or dishonest. My conscience is saying, "You've got unfinished business. And you can cover your ears and say, 'la, la, la' all you want. It doesn't change a thing."
What did you see today?
First United Methodist Church has an electronic sign in their parking that flashes a variety of messages about events, upcoming sermons, etc. Today one of the messages said, I think, "How does God guide us? Romans 12:1-2."
This is the text of Romans 1:1-2, according to the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible: "I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God--what is good and acceptable and perfect."
Commentary
I sometimes get concerned about the ways churches market themselves, believing that they sometimes work too hard to be the "cool kids," instead of the people of God, but I honestly like First Methodist's sign. I really feel like I've learned a lot about their faith community just by my almost daily observation of the sign.
That being said, I'm not sure what they were trying to say with today's question and quote. Maybe it's a preview of an upcoming sermon, because I don't think Romans 12:1-2 answers the question "How does God guide us?" More like, "How do we prepare ourselves for God's guidance?", which is an important question in and of itself.
As for the original question, I got to thinking about it right away. Not having the Bible memorized, I didn't know until I got home what Romans 12:1-2 said, but my answer to "How does guide God me?" (I wouldn't dream of speaking for anyone else) is, "By how I feel, as long as I'm wiling to examine those feelings closely."
As mentioned previously, my conscience is very active. I generally know when I've done wrong because I feel bad. Not always right away, because most of my sins involve anger and arrogance, and those emotions give a nice little adrenaline rush, but when I start to come down I realize, "Wow! That was bad behavior!" Conversely, when I do the right thing, I feel good. Again, not necessarily immediately; an onerous task in the pursuit of righteousness is still an onerous task, but eventually I find I'm given a generous measure of both peace and joy.
These "not right away"s and "eventually"s are the reason I make examining my feelings closely part of the formula for discerning God's will. I can't just take an "If it feels good, do it!" attitude, because being evil can feel awfully good at first. I believe we have a lot of lower instincts and sin appeals to all of them. I also think we have a tendency to tell ourselves we're happy or content or even justified when we're not, and can carry on that way for quite a while. But my experience is, if I really examine what's going on I feel unsatisfied if I've been unjust or callous or dishonest. My conscience is saying, "You've got unfinished business. And you can cover your ears and say, 'la, la, la' all you want. It doesn't change a thing."
What did you see today?
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