About a year into my first experience as paid staff at a local church, I felt pretty good about myself. Our youth group had doubled in size and was as busy as ever. Our new mid-week contemporary service was beginning to come together, and young adults were getting involved in programs. I had even convinced a group of parents to go through a small group curriculum with me, the young and energetic leader they had always been waiting for! (That last part isn’t true, but I want you to get the idea that things were moving along just fine.)
Or were they?
For some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, so I decided to pray about it. A few months later I was with a friend in Chicago participating at a leadership event. It could have been simply leftover thoughts from a conversation I had the night before, or maybe it was the Holy Spirit. I believe it was the latter. Either way, I heard something in my head: a question.
And it continues to challenge me today, almost seven years later. The voice asked, “Where are your disciples?”
I thought of all the great programs, events, and all the people involved, but I couldn’t come up with a single person I would consider to be a disciple, someone I was deeply invested in.
After quite a bit of processing, I noticed a simple problem I had that kept me from personally engaging in discipleship. What’s worse, I found that the problem is pretty widespread.
What I noticed is that we tend to emphasize individual Christian practice when it comes to things like prayer, reading Scripture, giving, serving in the church, forgiving, or loving God and neighbor (we say “I pray” or “I serve”). We actually consider all of these as signs of Christian maturity. However, when it comes to making disciples we instead have a tendency of emphasizing our corporate call to reach others with the gospel of Jesus (we say things like “we make disciples” or “the church makes disciples”). Unfortunately, many times we just decide to hire someone to do it (any discipleship directors out there?)!
The problem with this tendency is that by overemphasizing the corporate mandate to make disciples, we dodge our individual responsibility (and privilege) to engage in reaching our families, neighbors, and workplaces with the hope we have found in a transformative relationship with Jesus.
That’s exactly what I was doing. I went through all the church motions and processes with the assumption that disciples would be made simply by going through my well-oiled programs machine. But I personally was not engaged in deep relationships whereby my friends would grow in relationship and obedience to Christ.
You see, we must realize that organizations, and in this case the body of Christ, can only reflect the sum of the people who are part of them. This is especially true when it comes to core values or purpose.
A couple of college interns at our office this summer decided to visit a church near where they are living. That church, they were told, is (supposedly) known for being warm and welcoming. So you can imagine their disappointment when only two people approached them to say hello during their visit.
Does this mean that people who are part of that faith community are simply not welcoming or friendly? I doubt it! But somewhere along the line, being welcoming became the job of a few people (committee?) in that congregation, as opposed to simply being part of their culture. The point here is that the organization wasn’t corporately welcoming because the individual members were not personally engaged in that behavior.
If the core purpose of the Church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ, then every person who is part of the Church must be personally involved in making disciples! If not, we cannot claim that the church is making disciples.
I was struck sometime ago while reading Matthew’s gospel. I noticed something for the first time. I call it Matthew’s “missional brackets.”
(By the way, I’m positive someone else smarter and more knowledgeable than I has already dissected this. I’m also aware that brackets [inclusio] are used repeatedly in Matthew as a means for organizing passages and making important points. I just hadn’t noticed this one myself.)
These “missional brackets” open with Jesus calling his first disciples saying “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” (Matt 4:19) Here we find a clear invitation (“follow me”) followed by a promise (“and I will make you fish for people”). The bracket closes with Jesus’ commissioning of the disciples saying, “…all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matt 28:18-20)
This time we don’t find an invitation. Because Jesus is now recognized as lord, he gives his disciples a charge (“make disciples”), and once again a promise (“and I will be with you always”). Simply put, I’m convinced that everything we find in between these two brackets can only fully make sense within the context of learning to follow Jesus, and helping others do the same.
I don’t mean to diminish Jesus’ mystery, nor do I mean to deemphasize his work on the cross and his resurrection. My point here is simply to say that as part of God’s ultimate plan of reconciliation and renewal of all things, the Church (you and I) is invited to follow, to be transformed through, and commissioned by Jesus to make disciples.
This invitation is just as personal as it is corporate, because at the end of the day, programs can inform people, but they can’t form or transform people. Everything we do must be placed in the context of discipleship. If developing a life of prayer, or growing in compassion for others, or even becoming diligent learners of God’s word doesn’t feed into our desire to be and to make disciples, then we are missing the point completely.
My challenge for you is this: avoid the temptation of thinking about the people you lead right now, and how you can help them understand their part in this.
Instead, consider how you might set an example. Are you making time for neighbors? Do you have a small group of people you are investing your life in right now? What’s your next step?
As for me, I’ll tell you more about a few steps I’ve taken in my next post.
Whether you’re reading this at home or at work, let me ask you a question. What sort of signal do you give your neighbors? Do you extend welcoming hospitality or have you constructed walls for your personal safe haven?
Go Home Ranch
My wife and I once hired a handyman to build a lattice fence that would enclose a giant air conditioning unit that we had installed the previous spring. This former shop teacher did an amazing job – beautiful work and to our surprise, priced extremely reasonably. On top of that, he was a nice, good ol’ guy.
Since he had recently transplanted from the Abilene, TX area to Memphis, TN, I couldn’t resist asking this Texan how the transition was coming along. I love asking that question to folks who relocate to the broader Memphis area not only because you get some great answers, but also because I love to hear the “newbie” perception, which fades or sometimes goes unnoticed by natives.
In the past, I’ve heard everything from “I love Memphis” to “Memphis is so boring and bland.” But I wasn’t prepared for our handyman’s response:
We’re adjusting to having neighbors. We didn’t have neighbors back in Texas.
What?!
Luckily my mouth didn’t fall open, but I was shocked. I think I mumbled something like, “Really? That’s quite an adjustment I bet.”
I’d always grown up with neighbors, yet this guy had gone years, decades even, without them. Our handyman had lived on 160 acres. The nearest Lowe’s was an hour away, and to do any errands required a whole day’s planning.
Like many Texas ranch entrances – two massive beams on either side of the horizontal beam – our handyman had a sign dangling down designating the name of his ranch:
GO HOME RANCH
That’s an interesting message to say the least.
If we are honest with ourselves, though, are the rest of us non-ranchers any different? Even though 99% of us have neighbors, do most of us in the United States act like it? We’ve constructed our own “Go Home Ranch” signs in our front yards by daily retreating into our escape, shutting the garage door, and locking ourselves inside our safe havens. If we happen to go outside it’s to hang out in the backyard…away from those dangerous, scary strangers.
As I’ve been pondering what it means to take the second half of the Great Commandment more seriously, I’ve realized that to prevent the natural tendency to create my own “Go Home Ranch,” I need to replace my praxis.
I need to “move into the neighborhood” (John 1:14, The Message) like Jesus and grow roots. I must become more specific and contextualized in my discipleship. All of this, of course, is grounded in the interdynamic relationship between humanity and land, which is quintessential to neighboring – to discipleship.
So I’ve restructured my discipleship practices around place. I’m re-placing a disembodied lifestyle with a local, rooted one. This neighborhood nexus I’ve constructed is centered around 7 P’s*: parsonage (home), porch (welcoming connectional points), pathways (daily routes), pivots (stopping points, e.g., “third place”), parish (geographical district and people), polis (city), and periphery (outer limits).
In this post I’d like to focus on porch since I touched on interactions just outside of the home (i.e., “parsonage”). Hopefully, by giving a few pointers and examples, it’ll reinvigorate you to reclaim the porch.
Porchin’ It
Most people try to play or enjoy the exterior of their home (what I call “parsonage”) via the backyard. The problem with this is that it usually limits your visibility. You can interact with your next-door neighbors through hanging out in the backyard (plenty of “Wilson” conversations over the fence), but ultimately you’ll be losing out on a myriad of opportunities to meet and greet neighbors on their pathways (“daily routes”).
One of my first neighboring experiences came through “porchin’ it” with my neighbor across the street, Mr. Sam Oakley. Sam (rest his soul) used to sit out on his porch in his rocking chair each afternoon reading his KJV Bible or the local newspaper, chilling in the shade, and spitting his chew. When I’d get home from work, Sam would wave, and I would go over and we’d shoot the breeze for 30 minutes to an hour, talking about anything and everything.
Sam taught me a major lesson in neighboring: the importance of being present. Consistently being visible and available is key to loving our neighbors as ourselves. You simply can’t engage with fellow neighbors if you decide to build a moat around your castle, which is our default mode in an individualistic culture.
Personally, I’ve met quite a few people in my neighborhood by just hanging out on the porch. But, I’ve also found that unless it’s Halloween or Christmas, not many people will approach you at your porch. So you have to meet people where they are and extend your porch to the pathways through the driveway, mailbox, and the front yard.
The Turquoise Table
Although I have many stories of utilizing the driveway, mailbox, and front yard as extensions of the porch, for brevity’s sake I’d like to highlight an excellent, ingenious idea from someone else, which has taken off like wildfire.
Ever get tired of spinning your wheels when you try to create community? (Pastors, can I get an amen?) After trying unsuccessfully for 10 years, Kristin Schell came up with a creative, simple solution. She decided to move the backyard to the front.
How?
A picnic table. To be more exact…a picnic table that was turquoise.
Before you knew it, neighbors began suddenly stopping by for coffee, a drink, or just to chat at the table. It became a gathering place where people could connect. Clearly, it hit a nerve as its popularity spread and more turquoise tables began popping up throughout her neighborhood. A little later and now there are at least 40 states where the turquoise table can be found.**
All of this happened because a faithful Christian decided to love her neighbors where they were. It didn’t involve elaborate details, or even knocking on doors, but deciding to be present and available to others. In doing so, perhaps we see a glimpse of what it means to not only extend the “porch,” but also to extend the Table into our neighborhoods.
*Inspired by Woodward and White’s The Church as Movement (pp. 205-209) and the Scottish parish model.
“If you then are risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sits on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.” – Colossians 3:1-2
The word “set” is the key word in this portion of scripture. It refers not only to placing your affection on the things of the Lord, but also to letting them stay firm. As disciples of Christ we should be stable in our desires and efforts. We are to seek consistently those things which are above.
Do you find yourself moving your attention from heavenly things to earthly things continuously? Do your affections change from one day to the next? As a believer seeking to follow the Lord, it is essential that you “set” your affections on those things which are above. Flexibility in your emotions opens the door for additional attacks from the enemy. Stay firm in what you seek for, and “set” your affections.
Observe, pray, respond: ask God for understanding.
Decisions that are made with no regard for discretion often result in negative results. Before taking action, observe prayerfully what is occurring. Then, after asking God for understanding, respond as God directs.
Have you ever responded too quickly to a situation, only to regret what you said or did? Perhaps you left God out of the process. Steps that will assist you in responding with discretion include observation and prayer. Seek the Lord for his discretion and then respond with godly discretion.
Understanding turns sadness into joy: your doubt is unnecessary.
“And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple, praising and blessing God.” – Luke 24:52-53
What changed the fears and doubts of the Lord’s disciples into joy? What caused them to worship him in the temple? After watching the crucifixion of their Lord all hope appeared lost. The disciples saw no reason to rejoice. All this changed when Jesus opened their understanding of the scriptures. Doubt was now replaced by joy.
Your doubts are there because you have limited understanding of the scriptures. As you sit before the Lord, he will open up your understanding of his Word. Where there was doubt, it will change into joy. Prepare yourself for victory, for God has ordained it.
Jesus had a circle. We call them the disciples. Jesus chose a circle to influence the world.
In the Gospels (the stories of Jesus in the New Testament), we see Jesus talking to all sorts of people: crowds, religious leaders, and even “sinners and tax collectors.” But some of the most powerful exchanges and teaching moments came with his circle of 12. Instead of giving his time to the masses of people in the crowd, the most impacting and lasting ministry of Jesus endures through the witness of the small group that he led and shared life with. Jesus changed the world with 12 people.
When an elevator opens up you see a group of people in it. You always have to decide if you are going to squeeze in…or wait. There are only so many people who can fit in an elevator. Right?
You have a circle. Your circle changes throughout your life. People come and go, and hopefully, you have enjoyed the journey.
The influence of the few, rather than the crowds in your life, have made a lasting difference.
So who is the Noah in your circle? Noah’s radical faith and vision for the activity of God prevented the destruction of all mankind. We have outer circles and inner circles: acquaintances and dear friends. I want to invite you to expand your circle and invite someone in that you’ve heard of; he gets mentioned every once in a while, and he mostly “floats around” in the Sunday school curriculum. This guy, we all need someone like him. His name is Noah—and he’s strange.
In Genesis 6:13-17, we read, “So God said to Noah, ‘I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth. So make yourself an ark of cypress wood; make rooms in it and coat it with pitch inside and out. This is how you are to build it: The ark is to be three hundred cubits long, fifty cubits wide and thirty cubits high. Make a roof for it, leaving below the roof an opening one cubit high all around. Put a door in the side of the ark and make lower, middle and upper decks. I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish.’”
The author of Hebrews wrote in 11:7, “By faith Noah responded with godly fear when he was warned about events he hadn’t seen yet. He built an ark to deliver his household.” With his faith, he criticized the world and became an heir of the righteousness that comes from faith.
There are at least three reasons why you need a “Noah” in your circle.
We need someone who is talking to and hearing from God in a way that you find hard to believe. Finding and listening to a “Noah” is a reminder that there is a part of our faith that needs to be challenged to understand the profound personal nature of life in the Spirit. The presence of a radically irrational believer fertilizes and energizes our own personal walk. Noah’s personal faith was mesmerizing. He took 120 years to build a boat on the premise that God was going to flood the world. That’s weird. That should push us to listen differently to things. How do you respond when you meet other believers who might talk or act differently than you? Who is a modern day Noah you can think of? No – not the people building replica arks – but people in your life who are so trusting it makes you feel uncomfortable?
We need to have someone in our life who is doing a great thing for the kingdom. Do you know and relate with anyone who has turned their back on the things of this world? What would it look like to get that person across the table from you? (This is not to say that you’re not doing things, but rather that you might be inspired to get into the deep end yourself.) Noah’s life work was dedicated to saving the world.
You need someone in your life who is routinely ridiculed for his or her faith. Noah was derided for his plan. You may not know a lot of these people, but they’re important. Why? A lot of what we do is important but relatively “safe.” The world isn’t giving us a hard time for feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, or taking care of the poor. Where we get laughed at and ridiculed is when we talk about supernatural relationships—about God and resurrection and things that seem ridiculous to unbelievers.
Where in your faith journey do you play it safe? How might your life look different if you exhibited Noah’s radical faith?
Make room for Noah at the table. Listen to him pray. Ask him how the building of the boat is going. Ask him how he copes with the ones who laugh in his face. Let his life, his passion, and his courage shape you. Then, this week, take one step in moving from your comfort zone to exhibiting radical faith. You are called to do great things for the kingdom.
Gracious God, give us a courageous faith that would challenge us for the sake of your kingdom. We thank you for the Noah’s in our lives, that while they might make us uncomfortable, they inspire us to go beyond ourselves. Give us such faith, in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
I am writing this while “on mission with Jesus in Ecuador,”* serving together with seventeen genuinely kind and faithful people from two churches in Georgia and the United Methodist seminary of Venezuela. We are being hosted by Sharon and Graham Nichols, who serve Christ through The Mission Society.
Back in the day, church folk took suitcases of shoes, toys or food when we traveled to remote places. We planned big projects for communities that didn’t ask for them. We came home and showed pictures of children we held and houses we built. We felt great about ourselves. Well intentioned as we were, we were clueless about the long-term damage of this approach to short-term missions.
Americans have learned a lot in the last thirty years about what it means to be on mission with Jesus, how short-term experiences can help and hinder, and what is actually useful for building the Kingdom of God on earth. Churches genuinely driven to be both faithful and effective are changing the ways they do short-term international and even long-term local missions.
For those having that conversation, here are four things I believe any short-term mission team should consider:
1. Get a Kingdom perspective on poverty. One of the hardest things to learn for an American traveling in a third-world country (or among those who live in poverty in our own country) is that our stuff will not get anyone into the Kingdom. To the contrary, often the giving away of stuff or money fundamentally disrespects the person on the receiving end and changes the nature of a relationship. In the end, it may well stifle the message of the gospel.
To gain a more mature posture toward poverty, I highly recommend reading at least one of these books: When Helping Hurts, or Toxic Charity. The message of both books is the same: By giving to appease our own consciences we completely miss the chance to give something of infinitely more worth: genuine relationship.
2. Get the posture of a learner. The most valuable gift of a mission experience is exposure to God’s heart. If we allow ourselves to travel under the illusion that we “know” and that in any equation we are the teachers (or saviors, or givers, or …) then we’ll completely miss God’s heart. What most respects the country to which we travel and the hosts who have us is to learn how God is working among them.
To get a better sense of what it means to “go as a learner,” I recommend these two books:Thriving in Cross-Cultural Missions, by Carissa Alma, and Journey to A Better Way, by John Bailey. The last chapter of “Thriving” is an excellent assessment of the current short-term missions culture written from the perspective of one who has been on the receiving end of teams for nearly two decades.
3. Think of it as discipleship. Invest time in the team before going, while you’re there and after you return. Require every team member to write a testimony in 500 words. Study the great commission together. The team that invests time in meeting, praying, sharing testimonies and preparing to go as learners will receive so much more than the team that simply gathers supplies and heads off to complete a task. And they’ll do less damage.
4. Make sure it translates into action at home. The point of a mission experience is to gain God’s heart for the world and get our hearts broken for the things that break his heart. That shouldn’t leave us pining for the next “trip fix” when we return home (side note: to use mission trips to get one’s own emotional needs met is an abuse of the system. Don’t let yourself be guilty). A successful trip should create more effective disciples, more active leaders, more passionate servants … either in the field or in the community in which they live and worship.
What makes an effective short-term missionary? It is someone who goes as a learner to discover God’s heart for the whole world and to encourage those who serve full-time in the field. It is one who is challenged to go deeper in devotion to God and to look for where she can more intentionally serve upon return. It is one who comes home and starts praying with a stronger understanding and passion for the Harvest.
*This is how our hosts, Sharon and Graham Nichols, prefer to describe short-term experiences. It emphasizes the leadership of Jesus and our partnership in the process. Sharon and Graham “get it,” that short-term missions isn’t about what we do, but who we are. And even more importantly, who God is.
On May 24th, 1738, John Wesley reluctantly attended a meeting in Aldersgate. Someone read from Luther’s Preface to the Epistle to Romans. Sounds awesome right? But Wesley shared this concerning what happened to him that night.
“… I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”
For me, as a Methodist, this is an important day to celebrate. It is important to tell the story of what God can do in a person’s heart, and because of that work, the world could be forever changed.
The story and message of Aldersgate can easily become forgotten if we are not careful. Though many churches may carry its name, many also in our movement have forgotten its power. It is like this with a lot of things in our history. Take for instance the name Asbury. People in my neck of the woods hear that and only think of the town where Bruce Springsteen got his start.
We know that it is something much more. I wonder if we are going to tell the story today – how might we make it come alive? I submit to you another road – “The Holland Road” by Mumford and Sons.
“Holland Road”
So I was lost, go count the cost,
Before you go to the Holland road,
With your heart like a stone you spared no time in lashing out,
And I knew your pain and the effect of my shame, but you cut me down, you cut me down
And I will not tell the thoughts of hell
That carried me home from the Holland road
With my heart like a stone and I put up no fight
To your callous mind, and from your corner you rose to cut me down, you cut me down
So I hit my low, but little did I know that would not be the end,
From the Holland road well I rose and I rose, and I paid less time,
To your callous mind, and I wished you well as you cut me down, you cut me down
But I’ll still believe though there’s cracks you’ll see,
When I’m on my knees I’ll still believe,
And when I’ve hit the ground, neither lost nor found,
If you’ll believe in me I’ll still believe
But I’ll still believe though there’s cracks you’ll see,
When I’m on my knees I’ll still believe,
And when I’ve hit the ground, neither lost nor found,
If you’ll believe in me I’ll still believe
As people who are walking the road of faith, let us point out particular places and stops along the way where God can meet with us. Let’s travel the roads that will invite us to come to the end of ourselves that we might find Christ in us, to truly be the hope of glory. Whether you prefer Aldersgate Street or the Holland Road, start walking and be transformed.
The sixth chapter of John’s Gospel begins with the words, “After these things Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee.” Following a beginning like that, you would think that things are going to get calmer, less dramatic, and maybe you can catch your breath as you now read.
Wrong.
Our lesson today begins with verse 60 of that chapter, and began with these words: “when many of his disciples heard it, they said, ‘This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?’” So we need to go back a bit in our Scripture lesson to get the context for what Jesus is saying and why the disciples thought the teaching was so difficult.
He had been teaching his followers about who he was. He had fed the multitude by multiplying the loaves and the fishes. Following that dramatic miracle, the crowd followed him and Jesus was rather harsh. He confronted them with the fact that they were following him not because they realized who he was, but because their immediate hunger needs were being met.
Then there was an interchange about what signs were to be given. His followers called to mind that Moses had given the Israelites in the wilderness the sign of manna. Jesus reminded them that it was not Moses who gave the bread, but the Father who gives the true bread from heaven. And they responded, “give us this bread always.”
Then Jesus made that amazing claim: “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to Me will never be hungry and whoever believes in Me will never be thirsty.”
That discussion continued — all centered around the image of the bread and the manna in the wilderness. Jesus closed that discussion, saying “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day… This is the bread that came down from Heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”(verses 54, 58)
Is it any wonder that the disciples found those words hard to accept — hard to tolerate? They knew what Jesus had been saying. They knew that he was claiming he was the very life of God come down from heaven. If anyone was going to have eternal life they were going to have to accept and submit to him.
It was clear that the call to discipleship was a difficult call, a call that demanded making Jesus Master, and following him had to be the priority of one’s life. Some turned back and no longer went with him. As Jesus often did, he used that happening to focus on the inner circle — the twelve — and call them to consider their own commitment. He asked them the question, “Do you also wish to go away?”
Seeing this, Jesus keeps his focus on the twelve, asking “Do you also wish to go away?”
I’m not assuming that you are the inner circle in the sense that the twelve were. I am assuming that you are followers, or that you want to be, and are seeking to be a faithful disciple. So we need to think and talk about discipleship. I may ask you that question at the close of the sermon: “Do you also wish to go away?”
Discipleship is the most common theme in the church today, and rightfully so. I want to add my prayers and thoughts to the discussion, and I begin with a bridge observation.
Two issues have emerged in the church over three or four decades that have severely limited our understanding and practice of discipleship. One, too many have accepted a dichotomy between evangelism and social transformation. Two, we have practiced evangelism void of discipleship. These two failures have resulted in a church that has lost its power. To a marked degree, we have even lost our identity and integrity as the Body of Christ.
I’m going to speak in some broad generalities now, but please, register the point I’m trying to make. The evangelical church (don’t boo me now; I’m an evangelical, though I’m reticent to say so publicly given the presidential candidates who are claiming they have the evangelical vote, but I am…I am an orthodox, evangelical Wesleyan) – the evangelical church has been guilty of making converts, but not making disciples.Let that register:the evangelical church has been guilty of making converts, but not making disciples.
At least 75% of our population call themselves Christian. Over half of those claim to be “born again” Christians. We have to question what that means. If all “born again” Christians were disciples, would there not be greater signs of the transforming power of Christ at work in the world? Jesus certainly intended it to be so. Do you remember what he said? “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under a bushel basket, but on a lamp-stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see you good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” (Mark 5:14-16). Jesus expected his followers to make a difference in the culture around them.
Peter Kreeft, professor of Boston College, has perceptively noted that “the City of the World” increasingly oozes its decay. Isn’t that a graphic image? “The City of the World” increasingly oozes its decay. But what aboutthe disciples of Jesus? What about the city set on a hill?What are we doing about the fact that the septic tanks on the hill are backing up and are overflowing into the minds of our children and youth and are poisoning our culture?
Do you hear the case I’m making? We evangelicals have been guilty of making converts without making disciples. But mark this as well. The more adamant among us, I being one, may say with equal conviction, theMainline Church,and United Methodism is a part of the Mainline, the Mainline seeks to make disciples without making converts. Thus we reduce the Gospel to a political or social agenda. That’s the battle we United Methodist will be fighting at our upcoming General Conference.
Both groups, evangelicals and mainliners, perpetuate within the Church a deadly omission of the Great Commission to make disciples.
Let’s not forget, salvation is far more than forgiveness of sin; it is an act of the whole person, involving the mind, the will, and the affections, issuing in a changed life, committed to live in obedience to Jesus Christ as Lord. Scripture calls this the life of holiness or sanctification as we Wesleyans talk about it. And that’s what discipleship is all about.
Listen to me now…listen closely. Our ultimate quest as persons is to know who Jesus is and who we are in relation to him. Let me say that again. If you are taking notes, write it down. Our ultimate quest as persons is to know who Jesus is and who we are in relation to him.
I confess, I have not always been self-consciously aware of this as my quest, but as I look back over my life and ministry, the pattern is a clear expression of that quest: I have passionately desired to know who Jesus is and who I am in relation to him. As I have pursued this quest for over sixty years, in the past few years I have discovered what I believe is the shape of discipleship for our time. I call this the intercessory life.
The intercessory life is a pattern for our interior growth in prayer that isabiding in Christ, and the outward expression of a missional Christ life in the world. It is a dynamic balance of paying attention to our personal spiritual maturity, and the call of Christ to minister as servants in the world.
My image is scripturally rooted in the Epistle to Hebrews. The teaching of this Epistle is that God has appointed his Son, Jesus, High Priest in the likeness of Melchizedek. He is our High Priest, ready now to offer the sacrifice once and for all, a “perfect and sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the whole world.” He offers it according to a new covenant that completely displaces and satisfies…get that now, completely displaces and satisfies the old covenant. He offers it in a temple not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
Other priests’ ministries are limited because they die; not so with Jesus. He lives forever, therefore his priesthood is unchangeable, unalterable, permanent and perpetual. So the writer to the Hebrews concludes, “He ever lives to make intercession for us.”
I know I can’t sayintercessionwithout you immediately thinking of prayer…intercessory prayer. That’s normal, because at the heart of prayer is intercession. Listen closely now. Prayer isanexpression of intercession,but that isnot all intercession is. The Hebrew word for intercession is paga. It means, “to meet.” It also means, “to go between.” So intercession is not only prayers we pray; intercession is a life we live. Discipleship is intercession.
With all that in mind, go back to my dogmatic claim: our ultimate quest as persons is to know who Jesus is, and who we are in relation to him. Now, if that’s true, then if Jesus is our High Priest, who ever lives to make intercession, doesn’t it follow that as Christ-followers, we must ever live to make intercession?
The Go-Between Bridge in Brisbane, Australia
Remember now: prayer is an expression of intercession, but it is not all intercession is. As I stated earlier, the Hebrew word for intercession is paga. It means “to meet.” It also means “to go between.” That’s the dynamic of our discipleship: we meet…we meet with others and we meet with God. In meeting, we go between as the presence of Christ.
We are called to intercessory prayer, yes, a big yes, but the ultimate expression of our discipleship is to live an intercessory life. Here is where the Gospel and living the Christian life become a radical matter. And again, here is where our interior spiritual life and our active outward expression of being a disciple of Jesus come together. Listen to me now. The call is not be responsible to Christ; we are to be responsible for Christ.
Now that’s not double talk, so let me make it clear. The normal stance of a person who wants to be a faithful Christian is to seek to be responsible to Christ. That’s the reason we talk so much about following Christ. We want to be responsible to him. But, friends, we may have emphasized following Jesus too much. Don’t close your mind now, or get defensive. We may have emphasized following Jesus too much. I believe this emphasis is often distorted and it reduces Christianity to the level of other religions, diminishing Jesus to merely an example to follow. Jesus is not merely an example to follow. Jesus is Savior. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is sovereign over us and all creation.
Remember Jesus extended a dual invitation: One, come unto me; two, abide in me and I will abide in you. I know it is a dangerous oversimplification, but I will risk it. The first invitation is a call to Christ, to accept him as Savior; the second is the ongoing call to discipleship, not just to come, but to remain, to abide in Christ. Being disciples, living the intercessory life requires abiding in Christ.
Being responsible for Christ, then, is something different from following Christ, or being responsible to Christ; it is not seeking to be accountable to or to please Christ (hold your breath now); itis actually being Christ in the world, living and acting in our family and community as Christ living and acting there.
This distinction becomes clear as we reflect on two sayings of Jesus. In one situation after another, he identifies himself, in effect saying, “this is who I am.” In John 8:12, he made the expansive claim, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). But listen. He not only said, “I am,” he said, “you are the light of the world.” As radical as it may be, as Christ-followers, we are what Jesus was and is: the light of the world.
Am I making sense? If we are, as Jesus said, “the light of the world,” then we are not responsible to Christ, we are responsible for Christ.
I hope you hear what I am saying, though it may shock you. We are to be Christ in the world. Over 40 times in John’s Gospel alone Jesus mentions the importance of having been sent by the Father. God had to have someone to re-present him, so he sent Jesus. Likewise, Jesus needs us to re-present him, just as he represented the Father. The language could not be clearer: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”
Don’t miss the implication of this. If Jesus is to do the will of the Father, he is sending us to do that same work. Listen to his words in Matthew 10:40: “He who receives you receives me, and he receives me receives the Father who sent me.”Live with this for a moment. It’s not difficult to think that if a person receives Jesus, that person receives the Father, the one who sent Jesus. But how radical is this? Jesus says to you, “Hey John, hey Bailey, he who receives you receives me.”
Think about that. Jesus is saying to you as his disciple, “He who receives you, receives me.” Think about it…think about it and tremble! We are living Christs here and now. As Jesus represented the Father who sent him, we represent Jesus who sends us.
That may sound simple, friends, and it is – simple in that it is clear, simple, but oh, so radical and demanding. I’ve come to believe that the grace of God, which we are called to express as we abide in Christ, and live an intercessory life – the grace of God is so radical that, when we express it, in its fullness, those around us may think we are accepting the lifestyles and the sins and failures of the persons we are seeking to serve. Are you hearing me? Really hearing me? The grace of God is so radical that, when we express it, in its fullness, those around us may think we are accepting the lifestyles and the sins and failures of the persons we are seeking to serve.
With that thought tumbling around in your mind, and maybe having knocked you a bit off balance, I challenge us as individuals and as a congregation to measure the state of our intercessory life by responding to these questions:
*Who are the people in our community who have yet to receive a clear message from you personally, and our church, that we deeply care for them and that God loves them?
*What about the recovering community – those folks seeking freedom from alcohol and drugs? Are you and our community of faith a place of welcome, a place of grace that will help them break the chains of shame and blame?
*What about the thousands of children in our city who don’t yet have access to a good educational opportunity? A child’s zipcode should not determine her opportunity for that. We have made a marvelous response in our founding and supporting Cornerstone School, and that school, as well as other creative enterprises, are proving that there can be excellent urban education in Memphis and in any city, but we are only scratching the surface.
*What about the immigrants in our community? Are you and our community of faith showing hospitality to these “strangers in our midst,” those who are culturally homeless? We have spent millions of dollars in the past going to them in faithfulness to the Great Commission. Now they are coming to us. Is the Great Commission still operative? Remember that word from Hebrews 13: “In welcoming these strangers we may be entertaining angels unawares.”
Icould go on but that’s enough to grapple with and test our intercessory life, our discipleship.
My friend Bishop Prince Taylor was one of my favorite people. He died a few years ago, and I miss him. He was a great story teller. The last time we were together, he told me a marvelous story. He was visiting people in the heart of Liberia, where he served for a period of time as a bishop. When he arrived after a long, hard journey, the old chief welcomed him formally, and with a great deal of celebration. When the formal part was over, the chief said, “Bishop, we believe in God. But sometimes he seems so far away. You be God for us today.”
Don’t take that as sacrilege. People everywhere are asking that of us. They may not speak it verbally, but their lives cry out for it. We are to be living reminders of the Kingdom, by being living reminders of Christ. That’s the shape of discipleship and that’s what it means to live an intercessory life.
It was clear that Jesus’ call to discipleship was a difficult call, a call that demanded making Jesus Master, and being a disciple had to be the priority of one’s life. Some turned back and no longer went with him. As Jesus often did, he used that happening to force them to consider their own commitment. He asked them the question, “do you also wish to go away?”
I’ve been as honest and clear as I can be, so listen now. If Jesus is our High Priest who ever lives to make intercession, isn’t that our calling, to ever live to make intercession, to live an intercessory life? Will you say, yes, and mean it…or do you simply “wish to go away?”
Today’s post is a compelling piece written anonymously by a successful pastor.
The Ideology of a Cancer Cell
I rarely have those moments I would unquestioningly call, “divine.” I’ve never been one to see the fingerprints of God on everything around me. So when something happens in my life that just seems divinely orchestrated, I have to latch on to it.
The other day I was sitting in Chik-Fil-A, eating my #1 with no pickles, sipping my Coke Zero, and reading my new Eugene Peterson book, The Pastor. As I read, sometimes challenged, sometimes encouraged, sometimes disagreeing, and sometimes annoyed with Peterson, I looked over and saw a young lady at the table next to me. She had a baseball cap on with a small, round pin clipped to the side. I’m sure I looked rather stalker-ish trying to read the small print from 7 feet away, but the effort was worth the risk. Her pin read, “Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell.”
The pin had no logo. Just the words. I have no idea exactly what it was protesting. But because I’m a pastor, it didn’t take long for me to think of the church and how I, and many of my fellow pastors, see church growth as an end in itself.
After reading the pin and being prompted to thought by its vivid verbiage, I then looked down at my book once again. Where I’d left off before staring at the other patron’s head, Peterson had just written a letter to one of his friends who was leaving his church to pursue the greener pastures of a bigger church. Peterson wondered, in his letter, if the guy hadn’t just been enamored with the idea of a big church and had not been sufficiently enamored with simply being a pastor. So when my eyes went back to the page, this is where Eugene picked up – and I think you can see from this why I think I was having a divine moment:
“He accepted the call to the big church, and then another, and then another. I would get occasional reports on him from friends. All the reports seemed to document that size was turning out to be a false transcendence in his life. Meanwhile, the momentum of what was being termed church growth was gathering. All of us in the Company agreed it was misnamed. It was more like church cancer – growth that was a deadly illness, the explosion of runaway cells that attack the health and equilibrium of the body.”
If I can have a moment of critical reflection before anything else – I honestly do find Peterson’s comments here a bit condescending and extreme. I’m sure he knows his friend and probably something of his friend’s motivation, but not everyone who goes to a bigger church does so for self-centered glory. I do not believe either big church or small churches are the solution to the American church’s major problems. If you’ve ever spent much time in a small church, you know not to sentimentalize them any more than people who have seen the sausage made in big churches can consider them all bunnies and sunshine. Both are filled with finite, sinful human beings. Neither should be held up as the ideal – after all, Acts 2 records a church of 2,000 on the day of Pentecost, and some of Paul’s letters were probably written to small churches meeting in houses. Both are acceptable New Testament models. Both have strengths and weaknesses. I think Peterson is too hard on big churches in The Pastor. I think he’s too easy on small churches.
But he’s probably not entirely wrong about the church growth movement that drives big churches. I can probably point to other people I’ve known, other ministers and pastors, but I think it’s mostly appropriate to talk about myself. There is something grand and exhilarating about growing a church. It’s in some ways validating to the pastor, his/her preaching skills, and general likeability. There’s a kind of energy (often confused with the Holy Spirit, I think) in a room full of worshipers that is contagious and addicting. For these reasons, it can be really easy for me to focus on and find my satisfaction, not in changed lives, but in simple numbers. Church growth. Attendance. Butts in seats.
I know I can’t be the only one who struggles with the temptation to find my satisfaction and identity in church attendance because we have entire conferences pastors pay lots of money to attend simply designed to tell us how to make our churches get bigger.
When pastors lament the waning of the American church, what we are often really lamenting is a declining attendance. Our complex metrics and statistics tell us all kinds of things about church attendance trajectories and predictions, but few of us have thought through adequate and objective ways to evaluate whether or not our congregants are taking up their crosses. Some churches even hire pastors based on whether they think the pastor can make the church grow numerically. Pastors like me can even get caught up in it, thinking we’ve “arrived” because the numbers are the primary indicators of our talents. Then we secretly compare the size of our church with that of our colleagues – the fallout of which is, ehem, a bit of steeple envy.
At some point in wrestling with my own gauges of success, I wonder, to what end are we growing? Why exactly am I excited that my church or my service is growing at a high rate? Am I obsessed with growth simply for growth’s sake? How big is big enough for me? Am I just building bigger and bigger barns to store more and more people but caring only in a lip-service way for the development of their souls, bodies, minds, and societies in the image of Christ? And is there ever a time when church growth might be contrary to the kingdom of Christ? If so, how would we know?
Again, don’t get me wrong – I don’t have a problem with big churches in themselves. I work in a big church. Given the right structures for relationships, personalization, humanization, and discipleship, big churches can be really healthy manifestations of the gospel. They can be salt and light. They can most certainly witness to the gospel in their towns and around the world. So, no, big churches are not the problem. And to that end, I’ve also been in churches of 30 people that were obsessed with the attendance they didn’t have. But at the same time, whether the church is large or small, pastors can still have that greedy, cancerous voice in our head that wants us to value church numerical growth over church spiritual growth. That cancer whispers in our ears of the glory that could be ours if the sanctuary had 3,000 people instead of 300, or 300 instead of 30. At every level these sirens cry out for the pastor’s attention, and I fear for myself and many of my colleagues that we will find ourselves shipwrecked there if we are not careful.
When we take an honest look at the Bible, church growth as an end in itself does not seem to be something Jesus seems manifestly concerned with. Jesus had several opportunities to grow his numbers, but instead he sent the crowds away. He had no problem letting people walk away who could not give up their possessions (something almost no church growth experts would recommend, I expect). He had no problem angering the Pharisees, even though he knew that if he got them on his side he would gain the average-Joe population with them.
Of course, no pastor – myself included – has the guts to say, “I don’t care about making disciples; I only care about making my church bigger.” We don’t want to think of ourselves as having the “ideology of a cancer cell.” Every one of us is, in theory, willing to let people walk away. Every one of us is, in theory, willing to suffer the loss of audience for the sake of the gospel.
But how often does this really happen in practice?
Be honest. Don’t just attribute the decline in attendance to “the gospel” when it could have been your bad preaching or the cliques in your church. Be honest. How many times have any of us actually lost people because of the call to take up a cross and deny self?
This is what makes me wonder about my motivation. This is why I wonder if we have somehow missed the point. Look, if you want to gain a crowd, serve some coffee and have a giant pizza party. You don’t need Jesus for that. Some Papa Johns should do the trick. But if your objective in ministry is to make disciples of Jesus Christ, church growth may be a natural corollary to that mission, but it is not an end in itself. And therefore we pastors – the royal “we” by which I mean “I” – need to be much more in tune with our motivations, measuring methods, and the things we celebrate with our staff and congregation.
Since we pastors struggle to grapple with this question in a self-reflexive kind of way, I’d like to just pose a few questions to help us see whether or not we desire growth for the sake of growth or if our growth is really kingdom oriented.
When you evaluate the success of the Sunday morning service (or any ministry of your church) is your first question, “How many people attended?”
Do you find yourself envious of pastors with bigger churches? Or judgmental toward pastors of smaller churches?
Have you ever said something you thought might lose you a percentage of your congregation, but you knew you needed to say it to be faithful to the gospel? Or did you shy away from it for fear of slipping attendance or making people upset?
When you consider the measureable goals you have for your church this year, how many of them are attendance based or financial? How many of them concretely gauge whether or not true discipleship and life change is happening in your congregation?
Do you spend as much time and energy thinking about how to get people into deep relationships with each other and Jesus as you do how to get them in the door week after week?
Is your self-esteem as a pastor in any way connected to how many people attended church last Sunday? If there had been fewer people, would you have felt like a failure? If there had been more people, would you have felt like more of a success?
When you think about the future of your church, do you primarily dream in terms of more attendees, more services, more programs, and more visitors, or do you think in terms of more relationships, more disciples, and deeper connection to Christ?
Comparatively, what do you spend most of your time doing? Praying for your Sunday morning services or planning how to get people to come/return?
If a neutral party were to anonymously ask your staff, “Does your pastor care more about church growth in attendance or church growth in connection to Jesus” what would your staff say? Why would they say it?
When you celebrate your staff, do you celebrate their numerical victories in regards to attendance at their events, or do you celebrate the concrete discipleship and relationships they built and fostered?
Have you ever been willing to send someone to another church because you think they would fit in better there? – in other words, do you think kingdom growth is more important than your local church’s growth?
Deep down in your heart, when you’re honest with God about your motivations, do you have a sinful desire to grow the church big for the sake of growing the church big (and all the reputation and frills that come along with that), or do you want to see God’s kingdom grow, even if that means shrinking attendance at your church?
I ask you all these questions because these are the questions I must ask myself. I love preaching to a full room. I love it when people respond to my preaching and my ministry. I love looking at the spreadsheet every Monday morning and seeing how much our congregation has grown in the last two years. A certain amount of my identity is wrapped up in that growth. It’s tempting to keep chasing it.
And I know it’s tempting for you, too. But are you willing to acknowledge that this exists in your heart? And what are you willing to do to shift gears, change what you value, and see church growth (or non-growth) in light of God’s kingdom values? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have the ideology of a cancer cell. I want to have healthy growth, which may or may not look like the image we’ve been sold at conferences, by consultation groups, or even by our peers.
Note from the Editor: Wesleyan Accent is pleased to share this sermon from Rev. Jorge Acevedo, pastor of Grace Church in Cape Coral, Florida. Find out more here: www.egracechurch.com
“Conduct yourselves wisely toward outsiders, making the most of the time.Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone.”
Colossians 4:5-6
“Now who will harm you if you are eager to do what is good? But even if you do suffer for doing what is right, you are blessed. Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil.”
1 Peter 3:13-17
As one continues to study the Gospels, one quickly realizes how many questions are directed to or about Jesus. Jesus’ identity is a major motif in the Gospels. In Mark’s Gospel we arrive at a crucial turning point when Jesus becomes the questioner: who do people say that I am…but who do y’all say that I am?
How we answer that question is hugely important; however, I’d like to focus on something else, something so basic, yet so very easy to skim over.
Notice that Jesus was living a questionable life. Let me repeat that. Jesus lived a questionable life. His life elicited questions. He lived in such a way that people found it worth questioning.
Was he the only one in his movement that folks directed questions about? Of course not. The early church lived questionable lives, too.
That is how Christianity spread. These Christians lived in such a way that it raised eyebrows, piqued curiosity, and drew interest. Like a centripetal force, people were drawn in by this Way and asked questions, to which these funny Christians declared the Lordship of the crucified and resurrected King.
This begs the question: are we living questionable lives, lives worthy of questioning? Or, has our culture become so accustomed to who we are, how we react, where we live, that there isn’t anything different about us? Have we accommodated to the culture so much that we reflect it more than the kingdom of God?
This idea might pump folks up. Let’s live radical, counter-cultural lives! But that line of thinking can shoot off into several different directions including separation from our culture or domination over our culture.
Furthermore, we must also realize that there’s a flipside to this questionable living. Questionable living can be both a centripetal and centrifugal force. Many were excited about this Great Healer, but when he began talking about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, almost everyone ditched him. Not many of his followers followed him to his crucifixion. Many will take offense at the Light. Some will gravitate towards it; others will be dispelled by it. Light can both illuminate (reveal) and blind (conceal). When confronted with the life of Christ, some will be compelled and others dispelled. The disposition of one’s heart indicates whether you’ll draw near or withdraw.
At least one other question is raised when speaking of questionable living: are we questioning our lives? Are we questioning the lives of our churches? Are we asking questions of those who are not in our pews? Or are we complacently moving with the flow? Are we willing to listen? Or do we listen so that we may get our point across?
At the heart of being a disciple is being a learner. Questions lead to answers and sometimes more (unanswered) questions. If we’ve lost the drive to ask questions and to be questioned, then it may be an indicator of where our hearts are.
Are people asking us who we are and why we do the things that we do? Are we curious or piquing curiosity? If not, we may be either living a laissez-faire life or a life of an autocrat, trying to usurp the authority of Christ or disregard it all together.
Living a questionable life doesn’t mean doing things just for the purpose of piquing curiosity (that’s selfishness) or questioning things just for the sake of it (that’s annoying). Rather, it’s living a life of Cross-shaped purpose.
