Dispatches from the Thick of the 42 Months

Am I God's Co-Worker in Sanctification?

2011-09-21T13:54:00.003-04:00

Pastor Kevin DeYoung has a great piece on his blog today, dealing with whether sanctification is monergistic (an act of God alone) or synergistic (the result of God and man working together). If you're not familiar with the term sanctification, it refers to the process by which my day-to-day life becomes more holy as I am made more and more like Jesus in thought, word, deed, and heart. Justification refers to the initial declaration by God that I am legally righteous in his sight (which is decidedly a monergistic work of God alone). Glorification refers to the process (after death) by which God finally perfects us and renders us worthy to cohabit with him forever. This is also monergistic.

I, for one, have no problem calling sanctification synergistic. When we think of justification, sanctification, and glorification, it is clear that the beginning of the work of salvation and the end are works of God alone and the part in the middle—which is never quite “complete” as such (since it is finished in glorification)—is where he lets us be a co-worker. It’s like when my son was just learning to walk, and I would pick him up from the ground and place him on the little “bridge” at the playground, then hold his hands as he “walked along,” then put him on the slide at the edge of the bridge, and help him down. No one watching that process would ever think that he had gone down that slide by himself, or that we were equal partners in the slide venture. I picked him up and set his feet on the playground at slide level, I put him down the slide. What little co-working I let him do was not because I needed his help (it would have been easier for me to just carry him myself) but for his benefit and as a privilege to him, so that he could learn a little bit more how to walk. The slide thing was essentially Dad’s doing (and the first and third portion were ALL Dad’s doing), but that little piece in the middle was a co-labor. For a reason.

Why the Internet Is Awesome

2011-09-05T21:00:00.025-04:00

The Internet has opened up communication in a billion amazing ways. People who long ago drifted apart are now back in touch. Via social media, people who grew up with you are now chatting with your college profs and your boss, whilst gathered around ironic pictures of you in drag. Worlds are colliding! to quote Castanza.

But that's okay. I like it when worlds collide. However, the Internet is actually a pretty clumsy, crappy place to have a group conversation. For example, imagine that two pastors, two seminary professors, a copywriter, a social worker, an artist, and a windmill salesman (right?) are all in someone's living room during a social event. How would conversation play out? A bunch of little discussions would probably break out around the party, right?

Well, not on the Internet. We've got everyone in the room and now everyone's involved in one conversation. Only in true Seinfeld fashion, George and Elaine are talking about one thing, Kramer is chiming in with non sequiturs, and George is looking at his hairline in the mirror, voicing his panicked concern that it is receding unevenly. And, in this conversation, people keep walking out and walking back in. Some of them are still listening when they step out, while others don't bother to catch up with what they miss and just jump right back in without missing a beat. Oh, and the subject isn't allowed to change. If the first thing someone brought up was the recent dive in the stock market, then that's what we're going with. All night. We might experience some digressions, but someone will bring it back around. Does this sound like a fun conversation? Only if you're watching it from the outside.

Case in point: I recently threw up on my wall a little quote from an article by Kevin DeYoung. Now, I loved the article; I thought it was brilliant. I was just throwing the quote up as my facebook status because I thought it was worded a little goofy and might provide a micro-second of entertainment. Like most people, I throw decontextualized, disembodied quotes on my facebook wall regularly (I usually get about five comments).

Then a couple people responded. A pretty interesting conversation started up, which was less and less about the quote. This confused (maybe even upset) some people. Only on the Internet. In real life, if you and I are talking about baseball, then it leads into the recent heat wave, and before long we're talking about our least favorite brand of pastry, no one is confounded. We roll with it. But not on the Internet.

Just for funsies, read through the below exchange (which actually encompassed more than 100 comments), imagining it taking place with a group of people at a dinner party with the very cast I described above. Let your imagination fill in when people enter and exit, what they're wearing, and what items they may be holding (spoiler alert: someone is holding a banjo). And see if the social media is doing anything to facilitate real communication.

I want you to notice how the subject upon which we quickly land is called the "touchstone issue of our faith" by a decades-long seminary professor. This conversation coulda been a contender, if it had some focus. It could have been exilerating and satisfying in real life. But the Internet likes to ruin such things. Also notice how many times the word "disconnect" is used, which is funny considering A.) the notion of a disconnect was the beginning of the "touchstone issue" discussion, before it got disconnected, and B.) this whole thread is full of epic disconnect.

Disclaimer: I've abbreviated names because I asked no one's permission, and abridged the heck out of everyone's bloated posts (my own included) so you can get the gist of things without getting all TL;DR on me.

"Yes, I do think Mormons, Arminians, Egalitarians, and Dispensationalists are wrong—not equally wrong by any means, but on certain matters wrong nonetheless."—Kevin DeYoung. (So there's that...)

TiffCo: This quote gets to the heart of my disconnect with certain aspects of organized faith.

RevZach: How's that?

DrGreek: TiffCo's observation is good. God has given us a perfect bible and imperfect interpreters and commentaries. The real question is whether God will judge us more on our doctrinal statement or how we arrived there and how we hold it.

RevScrib: I'm lost.I have absolutely no idea whether KDY, DrGreek, or RevZach agree with me here, let alone with each other.

Josh: Since these four views do no agree about God, at least three of them must be wrong.

RevZach: Not really; it's easy to be an Arminian, egalitarian dispensatinalist, since these refer to three different categories and aren't mutually exclusive.

DrGreek: You've touched on the "touchstone" issue of our faith ... how do we know and what is the Bible's relationship to knowing? [Makes shameless plug for book he edited]

B-Atch: Like RevScrib, I'm confused. It feels like people are sailing ships past each other.

RevZach: That's cause you and RevScrib are BOUNDED-SET. Ha!

B-Atch: Again, over my head....

RevZach: DrGreek, The book sounds great.

Josh: This whole thing was an advertisement for a book? Do we all get a stipend?

DrRick: Since there are no inspired commentaries, can we add Calvinism to KDY's list?

DrGreek: You are the folks I would love to have in a class to discuss these issues... you are honest about being confused. Keep wrestling with these issues.

RevZach: RICK! How dare you, sir?! BTW, I think we lost TiffCo in the fog.

TiffCo: No, I'm still here. My understanding of God feels like it is beyond language and intellect, much like the analogy of the four blindfolded people feeling different parts of the elephant.

RevZach: I agree that we (the Christian Church, historically) too often act as though we have a near-exhaustive understanding of an infinite God. However, since we believe that Jesus Christ is God in the flesh, in order to be consistent, we must see God as knowable, rather than beyond language and intellect.

RevZach: i.e. when describing a knowable person, one *can* actually be wrong (for example, if someone described me as "thin").

TiffCo: I think we agree more than we disagree, and I appreciate when people's spirit and intellect are in communication.

B-Atch: My real confusion here is: why did RevZach bring up this quote in the first place? DrGreek, I agree with your comments. God will judge your fruit by how much he revealed to each person within the gospel of Christ. Rick, wouldn't adding Calvinism to KDY's list mean that he finds that wrong as well? I'm trying to clear everything up in one comment, since I still feel like everyone's talking past each other.

RevZach: I'm confused as to why you're confused. As far as "clearing everything up in one comment," that's kind of ironic, given the topic.

B-Atch: RevZach, sorry...I spent 40 minutes preparing my last comment, and was out of the loop. It all makes sense now.

DrGreek: I think the question is: how do we think about all the "voices claiming truth" from the same Bible, without falling victim to persuasive people or subjectivism? Since we have diversity of views within the believing community and God has not decreed a way to avoid it, he must have a purpose for it and we need to engage each other with more humility. We need to teach the "how" of handling the Scripture, not just the "what" of systematics.

RevScrib: TiffCo is right about the blind men/elephant analogy. God doesn't hold us accountable for knowledge not available to us. But when the elephant starts talking and telling the blind men about himself, they are accountable for that knowledge.

B-Atch: DrGreek, it sounds like we are on the same page, as you try to guide us through how we make sense of all of the competing doctrines within the various fields in systematics.

Turk: So is DrGreek saying that the Mormon "wrong" is different from the Arminian "wrong?" Is he saying that our faith is a blind faith, invested in a voice we might not really hear and probably don't understand, but trust anyway?

DrGreek: Turk, none of your response applies to what I said. I'm speaking of why one view might be superior to another, rather than assertions of right or wrong. Your question misses the issue of categories; Mormon is not in the same category as Arminian/Calvinist. Mormonism is outside the Christian canon; Arminians are within.I might find the Arminian view inadequate, but am very careful if I call it "wrong."

DrGreek: I would completely reject the idea of blind faith. Faith is not about not-knowing but knowing with conviction.Faith is not blind but full of light.

DrGreek: As to the question of how we know (epistemology), we have to evaluate the nature of our knowing when it comes to theological differences within orthodox Christianity. I know a lot of things that I can't prove, but can assert from a Christian worldview. When we just focus on which camp is "right," we risk missing the Truth due to poorly defined categories.

RevZach: And Turk thought he could just parachute in, drop a whole bunch of snarky questions, and escape through the storm drain.

MissusRevZach: Seriously, did KDY really equate egalitarianism with Mormonism?

RevZach: Knowing KDY, I'm sure that when he said "not equally wrong," he actually meant "not wrong in the same way," but even if he misspoke, I'm glad he did, as it gave birth to this huge theological exchange.

Turk: I thought it was over, and I'd just have to keep my Cat-5 blow to myself, but now I shall prepare a thorough response!

DrGreek: My greatest disappointment about this conversation is that no one has commented about my banjo.

MissusRevZach: Perhaps KDY didn't mean to equate them, but I would think that someone who speaks and writes as often as he does would think about the connotations of putting those things in the same sentence.

B-Atch: Speaking of which, I got to hang out with KDY today. That was fun.

TiffCo: Again, I feel God's presence so strongly, so consistently, that there can be no doubt about what I feel. Beyond that, I know NOTHING. How could I possibly have an opinion about what anybody else claims to know?

RevZach: TiffCo, would you also ask, "How can I have an opinion about what anybody else claims to know," if the claim were 2 + 2 = 4? (not that I'm saying that simple mathematical facts and Christianity are equally self-evident.) If someone says 2 + 2 = 5, can I call them wrong?

TiffCo: I'm picking up what you're layin' down. Honestly, maybe 2+2 sometimes does equal 5. I've never seen it happen, but what I haven't seen would fill two warehouses.

Turk: 2+2=Jesus, dummy.

RevZach: Okay, but you do essentially operate with the assumption that 2+2=4. In fact, every day you bet your life that you know certain things. If you didn't feel a disconnect from math class because they were dogmatic about right answers, why does it apply to the world of faith (remembering that mathematics is, at least potentially, infinite)?

Turk: You are too concerned about immediate gratification, DrGreek. Savor the anticipation.

RevZach:Turk, go ahead and build some suspense. I'm sure the Rev. Dr. Greek, M.Div, ThM, ThD won't be able to sleep tonight, worried sick that four decades of teaching seminary has left him ill-prepared to deal with a PyroManiac...

Turk: Like all the alphabet soupies before him ...

RevZach: "I'm invincible!!!" - The Black Knight

Turk: Your ironic comment misses a lot, as did your take on KDY's statement.

RevZach: I knew I should have spent a decade studying under you instead of all those "alphabet soupies..."

TiffCo: After much thought, I've determined that the disconnect originates with exclusivity of Chrstiainity, as found in John 14:6. (I actually wish this weren't so.)

RevZach: Tiff, I fully acknowledge that that's a tough pill to swallow.

Turk: Oh please -- I have dismantled all of higher education with the phrase "alphabet soupies?" Not any more than you have dismantled orthodox ecclesiology by sarcastically citing another pastor.

Turk: I don't understand how you can read KDY's essay, especially point #5 and think he lacks multiple categories and nuances.

RevZach: I've said at least twice during this conversation that I'm sure KDY did in fact mean "not wrong in the same sense" when he said "not equally wrong." But our discussion has moved rather far away from that little matter by now.

MissusRevZach: TiffCo, I agree that that is a hard passage, although I have found that Biblical exclusivity is actually far more inclusive and all-embracing than most religions. And if there were no exclusive truth claim in Christianity there would be no point in believing any of it at all.

Turk: Moved on? DrGreek's comments began and ended with sentences that contained KDY's last name. TiffCo's beef with exclusivity and DrGreek's comments can't be addressed if we don't agree that both were responding to KDY.

RevZach: So, wait. That was your cat-5 hurricane? And I thought Irene was over-hyped...

B-Atch: This thing is still going on? Holy crap! It was like '64 when I last chimed in. I wish I had some awesome snarky comment to add...

RevZach: Sure, DrGreek made reference to the KDY quote, but those were just a springboard. We're not talking about the biblicism that his article addressed, but the idea of whether and how spiritual truth is truly "knowable" (i.e. in a way that permits us to call others "wrong?")

Turk:If the conversation started out being about KDY's post, and then somehow it became about me, I missed it.

RevZach: Frank, I promise no one's talking about you. You are excused.

Turk: I'm perplexed; the RevZach I know responds with substance, not second-rate condescension.

RevZach: That's it; everyone get out of my house.

Update: Between when I copied/pasted all this into blogger (and started formatting/abridging it) and when I pasted the link into facebook, Turk had offered a kind and sincere apology (accepted and here reciprocated—sorry for the over-the-top snark, Turkish D). But this just adds further weight to my premise. I know Turk for real, not just on the Interwebs, and we've never ended a conversation with a mutual apology. I'm guessing that less than 1% of my "real life" conversations end with me needing to apologize for tone, off-the-cuff comment that went a little below the belt, etc. But on the Internet, I'd say a good 4 or 5% of longish conversations end with me apologizing that I misunderstood someone, trying to explain that they misunderstood me, or trying to backpedal where I'd gone too overboard. I wonder if Skype and the like will eventually become more integrated with social media, blogs, etc., removing these barriers, as we re-gain control over tone, nonverbals, etc.

(A) Moving Forward...

2011-08-31T15:15:00.003-04:00

About six weeks ago, I received an e-mail forward from someone I’ve never met, with the subject line “FW: LET'S PUT CHURCH FIRST AGAIN.” Now, I usually don't read e-mail forwards, but that title (despite the author’s defiant refusal to push the caps lock key in order to stop shouting at me) connected with me at the time. You see, I’d been thinking about the very topic quite a bit myself (albeit in lower case), as I always do during the summer months when church activities go on hiatus and church attendance takes a major dip.

Here is the text of the e-mail (grammar and spelling mistakes intact):

When I was growing up (in the 60's and 70's), we went to church EVERY Sunday. We also went to church on Wednesday and whenever the doors were open. The Mom's and Dad's went to Bible Study and the kids went to AWANA and youth fellowship. The teenagers volunteered in the nursery, puppet ministry and youth choir. No one brought their phone to church (because it wouldn't have worked anyways).

Hardly anyone was open on Sundays then. It was a family day for church and for spending time together. Schools did not have tests or sports games or mandatorey events during church time, because they knew if they did no one would come anyways. If the rare occasian came up when some "event" was going on Wednesday night or Sunday morning, we didn't go, we'd already made a commitment to attend church! When we went on vacation (in a station wagon, not on a jet plane), we might miss a Sunday, but we still attended church SOMEWHERE. And when we did, we knew the songs they sang and the Bible they read from, because we used them too!

Today, however....church is an optional feature on any given Sunday. If there is a game on or a big race during church time, people stay home and watch the game. If they were up late the night before, they sleep in and skip church. If they have work to do around the house, its more important than God who told us to rest on the sabbath day. If the weather is nice, they don't go to church so they can go fishing. If the whether is bad, they don't go because it would be a bother to get there. If there is a concert or a card game or a movie or a booster club meeting at the same time as church or prayer club, then it is ALWAYS more important than church. This is the opposite of how things used to be (and how things SHOULD be)!

If we really are CHRISTIANS and we are the BODY OF CHRIST we need to turn this back round! Send this on if you think Christians need to put CHURCH FIRST in their lives once again!

After reading this message, I did not “send it on,” but I did think about it. A lot. Not because it was a well-written masterpiece or even a persuasive argument (appeals to nostalgia and emotion are generally not conducive to either), but because—even though I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s (not the ’60s and ’70s)—I could relate to this trip down memory lane, and I found myself nodding as I read, longing for the Good Old Days™ along with the author of this impassioned piece. And that actually disturbed me a little bit. Because the mindset of those few paragraphs is this: “How can we move backwards?” It assumes that everything was better “back then” and everything is worse now, so our mission is to go back to the future, in a sense.

But should that be the goal? Would the church really be better off if we revived “puppet ministries,” even with the full buy-in of the congregation? Is it necessarily a step in the wrong direction that we don’t all use the KJV as our primary translation? Is there never a time to miss church for a family event or other “secular” commitment? If we were somehow able to successfully roll back the church to the ’60s and ’70s (or even the ’80s and ’90s), would we find ourselves better able to engage the world with the Gospel of Jesus Christ? I would answer no on all counts.

Remember when I coined that clever acronym G.O.D.S. (Good Old Days Syndrome) while preaching through Haggai? (Pretend that you do.) Well, too often the "Good Old Days" do become gods and idols to us, even when our intentions are good. How else do we explain the inclusion of station wagons and jet planes in this piece? What on earth does it have to do with the subject at hand, other than describing a “simpler time” in which the author was more comfortable?

While prompted by a frustration that I fully understand, I think the above e-mail forward raises the wrong questions. Instead of wringing our hands about the direction the world has taken (and its unfortunate effects on the Church) and asking how we might rewind, we ought to be asking how we can stake out a vital and effective ministry as the Church of Jesus Christ in the world and the times in which we live. How can we best play the hand we’ve been dealt?

The reality is that people’s lives are fuller, busier, and less simple than they were in the past. The way people look at time and priorities is different than it was in the past. Denying those realities is no kind of strategy. And firing off finger-waggy, we-verus-they, guilt-trip-inducing e-mail forwards is no help either. No, dealing with the reality means asking each other and asking ourselves, “In the midst of all the time commitments and all the different aspects of my life pulling me in every direction, how high of a priority is worshiping God with a body of believers, receiving Christ together, and serving in his Kingdom?”

I don’t think any Christian intentionally chooses to put Christ and his Church on the back burner; it just happens gradually. It’s not (as the man or woman who penned the above diatribe suggests) that people choose to make Church last in their lives or that they sit down and number all of their priorities and write a notation next to the word church: “Skip this if inconvenient.” People are overloaded today—mentally, emotionally, time-wise, financially, and in every other way. If the Church adds to that overload (and if the Church makes it easy to slip away unnoticed), then people will gradually find it slipping down the list of priorities. Before long, the new habit is to come every six weeks, and then not at all. Some may even find it difficult or awkward to come back once they’ve fallen out of the habit.

That is exactly why my church is planning a Back to Church Sunday on September 25. This is the time of year when we re-start all sorts of activities—new classes, new projects, new schedules, new sports seasons, new TV shows. As the summer comes to a close, people get the urge to get back into the swing of things. What better time could there be to come back to church and re-commit to making the Body of Christ a priority in your life? If you're a member at Judson, there will be information arriving in your mailbox shortly about this special Sunday, but for now, I just ask you to pin down that morning on your calendar and plan to be here for worship and fellowship that day. You won’t regret it.

If you don't live near the capital city, I encourage you to go back to church all the same. Despite what George Barna tries to tell you, you can't do this disciple of Jesus thing on your own. That's why, from the very beginning, Christians have gathered together in ordered bodies (marked by the preaching of the Word, the proper adminstering of the sacraments, and church discipline) for the apostles' teaching, the breaking of bread, fellowship, worship, and prayer. If you belong to Jesus, then you belong in church on the Lord's Day.

Or are you too busy flying around in your jet plane, talking on your cell phone, and sleeping in?

Let’s move forward together as the Body of Christ, with his cross at the center of our lives.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Pastor Zach

Speculative Faith

2011-08-19T09:48:00.004-04:00

I had the honor of filling the Friday guest post slot at Speculative Faith today. Click here to read my article, Harry Potter, Bob the Tomato, and Genre, in which I try and subtly pimp my book 42 Months Dry and explore the weird lines-in-the-sand, which (heh...sandwich) Christians tend to draw when it comes to inventive fiction.

God's Simple Perfection Wins.

2011-07-29T09:49:00.012-04:00

Last night, I travelled west (you know, the way of Horatio Alger and Davy Crockett, the Donner party...) back to my old stomping ground in Grand Rapids for a book signing-slash-lecture-slash-Q&A for my friend and favorite once-seminary professor, Dr. Michael Wittmer. He is promoting his latest book, Christ Alone: An Evangelical Response to Rob Bell’s Love Wins.

Although at least two other books have come out to answer Rev. Bell, I would point out that Wittmer’s was first. And, having read it, I don’t really see the need for any others. The book is uncompromising in its approach to the Gospel, and yet still respectful and gracious in that trademark-Wittmer way that once made Brian McLaren get misty-eyed.

We’ve got him surrounded...

I’m afraid that our attention span today is so short that, when Justin Taylor single-handedly propelled Bell’s book to #1 on Amazon before it even came out, many assumed it would all blow over too quickly to warrant a written response (beyond a tsunami of angry blog responses, most of which came from people who had just seen the teaser trailer). In fact, as the second and third responses to Love Wins have recently been released to little fanfare, many have more or less ignored them, since the media storm has basically played itself out. But as of this writing, Love Wins is still in the top 200 on Amazon. And, while it’s old news on the cutting edge blogs and no longer on the cover of Time Magazine, Bell’s book is just making its way into homes and libraries in smaller towns.

I wish I had a recording of Dr. Wittmer’s presentation from last night (maybe he’ll grace us with a link to the text in the comments section), but since I don’t, allow me to again commend to you the book Christ Alone, and to paraphrase Dr. Wittmer’s introduction (minus all the Taylor Swift stuff), which was itself worth the hour drive to the six-one-six.

One of the issues that Rob brings up in Love Wins is the question: how can a finite being ever do anything to deserve infinite punishment. Our lives span a finite amount of time and we have finite capacities, so how can hell go on and on and on forever?

But he fails to take into account whom we have offended. Everyone recognizes how important this is. If you walk outside tonight and slap a mosquito, no one cares. But if you pull the legs off of frogs just for fun, we start to worry. If you torture puppies, we call the authorities [tasteless joke about cats redacted]. If you kill another person, we put you in jail for life, or maybe give you the electric chair. Who you attack matters.

And we have all offended God himself with our sin, and attacked Him in order to kill (as the old hymn reminds us, we were spiritually present with the crowd who shouted “Crucify!”) an infinite and eternal being, and therefore deserve to be punished accordingly.

Like I said, that’s a paraphrase, but you get the picture. Dr. Wittmer flawlessly exposes the contradictions, hidden premises, and unbiblical teachings of Love Wins in a way that comes off positively, focused entirely on giving glory to God for the true Gospel of salvation, in which God’s holiness and love are not set at odds, but in which all of God’s perfections are one.

What Ted said. (About what Mark said.)

2011-07-13T16:48:00.003-04:00

Sick of whiny people whining about awesome people? There's a little catharsis wrapped up in Big T's latest post.

Ecumenical Evanglism?!

2011-06-15T15:02:00.015-04:00

Do me a favor and skim the Michigan Historical Marker to the left, which you can find outside a beautiful old church building in the happening Old Town district of Lansing, Michigan. I want to point out three phrases: “The First Presbyterian Church,” “prominent Methodist,” and “Gospel Preaching.” If you know anything about the history and family tree of Protestant denominations, you know that Methodists and Presbyterians are quite separated by doctrine and tradition. Methodism is very much Arminian, while Presbyterians have historically embraced the doctrine of election. And yet, here we read about a prominent Methodist providing land for a Presbyterian church under the condition that this church provide Old Town (then Lower Town) with Gospel preaching.

If my church (read: the congregation under my care) had one of those historical markers (which we could almost certainly procure, but haven’t because they cost thousands of dollars and serve as something of a pair of shackles, limiting what you can do with your “historic site”), it would tell a similar story:

Judson Baptist was the first church founded in South Lansing (which was, at the time, south of Lansing), an area that was booming with Oldsmobile employees and seeing new workers daily being added to the budding neighborhoods and farmers who had been working the land for generations. A group of several dozen women first started a non-denominational Sunday school program for the children of South Lansing, whom they feared would otherwise have no means of hearing the Gospel. In 1925, a Presbyterian man organized this effort in an old schoolhouse. Over the next few years, Presbyterian, Congregational, Baptist, and Methodist churches worked to support this outreach, eventually adding preaching for adults in the afternoon. Progress was very slow.

In late 1928, a representative of the Michigan Baptist Convention offered assistance in establishing a church proper, and the group unanimously accepted the offer. By 1931 (right smack in the middle of the depression), they had laid the cornerstone for the building where Judson Memorial Baptist Church still worships every week.

So, not only did we bring Methodists and Presbyterians together, but also Congregationalists and two different Baptist churches! The name for this sort of activity is “Ecumenical Evangelism,” and for some reason this has become a four-letter word in many of the circles in which I travel and operate. For example, a while back, I was looking into using the services of www.sermonaudio.com to host the growing collection of sermons we offer online. However, I found that I could not check the box of the site’s Articles of Faith, which listed rejection of ecumenical evangelism right along side the virgin birth of Our Lord and the atonement. (This proved providential, as the free services of www.archive.org are a better match for us, anyway.) Some of the major Calvinistic “coalition” and “alliance” type groups also have similar principles worked into their core beliefs and statements of faith.

Now, I acknowledge the slipperiness of this term: “ecumenical” can mean (and, today, often does mean) “spanning all religions,” in which case ecumenical evangelism becomes a complete oxymoron, as Mormons, Christians, Muslims, and Hindus could never cooperate in their efforts to proselytize or even to proclaim good news any more specific than “Some sort of God or gods love you, so be nice to each other.” If I encountered such “evangelism,” after I finished scratching my head, I would join in condemning it.

But the meaning of “ecumenical” in the Christian church, has historically referred more often to that which pertains to the entire Church universal (e.g. the First Ecumenical Council). In that sense, I would argue that ecumenical evangelism is nothing short of the most efficient and Christ-honoring way of carrying out the Great Commission. If churches and denominations can avoid duplicating efforts, many more can be reached. Christians—true Christians— of all stripes can proclaim together the basic message of salvation by God’s grace, by the blood of Christ, through faith in Him. We can together proclaim repentance and the forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name, calling sinners to repent, to confess with their lips that Jesus Christ is Lord, and to believe in their hearts that God has raised Him from the dead. Sadly, this type of “ecumenical evangelism” is often what is meant when websites, churches, and para-church organizations call ecumenical evangelism a slippery slope, an affront to the Gospel, an abomination, etc.

And yet the rolls of Judson Baptist Church are filled with the names of Christians who may never have heard the Gospel preached if it weren’t for that slippery slope. As are the rolls of North Presbyterian Church, which recently moved out of the Old Town building (left) and merged with Westminster Presbyterian. The Michigan Historic Site in question is now the home of the primarily African-American (yet diverse) congregation called Epicenter of Worship, pastored by Sean Holland and his wife Tayana. I’ve met Sean several times, heard him preach, and regularly check out the church’s video blog, which is always filled with solid Bible teaching. Also of note is that Epicenter (which, until recently, met in the building of First Baptist, downtown) shares part of their facility with the Resurrection Life East Church, a charismatic-ish congregation with unofficial ties to the mega-church in Grandville. If you're getting confused trying to keep all this straight: good.

That’s right, I don’t sweat it when the labels and brand names within the body of Christ get blurred and blurry. I acknowledge that any kind of ecumenism or Church unity always carries with it potential dangers. But so does a spirit of exclusivity and ultra-separation. And I’ll face the dangers of the former—and reap its blessings—rather than build up walls and hunker down any day.

I’m sorry I can't sign your Articles of Faith; my view of the Church of Christ as bigger, wider, and more diverse than my own little corner of the Kingdom won't let me.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Damnable Prayers, Spoken or Implied

2011-06-02T07:35:00.001-04:00

In Mark 9, a man encountered Jesus’ power to heal and restore, and responded by bursting out,

“Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!”

What a beautiful, succinct, and honest prayer: I have some faith, Lord, but give me more. Squeeze out the pockets of darkness with your light, and help me to cultivate a living, vibrant belief in you. Yeah, those six little words (just five words in the original Greek) are pregnant with theological and personal meaning.

And, yet, it’s not enough for us today, is it? Today, we say, “Lord, help me embrace my unbelief.” Because acknowledging that you do believe is not “authentic” enough for today’s spiritual climate. Just like it’s now uncouth to claim that you know with certainty anything at all about God (even those things that God’s Word tells us with certainty). There’s a new standard for faith gaining momentum, and it is unfaith. In the last few years, pastors have even begun regularly stating and over-stating the shaky and tenuous nature of their own belief from the pulpit. (“Sure, I’m a pastor, but most of the time I wonder if there’s any God at all.”)

Lord, help me embrace my unbelief.

But that’s not the only update we’ve made to the Bible's picture of faith and how we live it out. Along with sacramentalizing a lack of belief, we’ve also baptized a lack of preparation. In describing the cost involved in following Him as Lord, Jesus said, “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’” (Luke 14:28-30, esv). This is wisdom. In approaching matters of faith, we should inventory, prepare, and consider whether we will be able to follow a particular enterprise through to the end. The book of Proverbs also echoes this sentiment consistently.

But that’s not enough for us today either, is it? The new mark of faith is to rush headfirst into any endeavor, only to find ourselves unprepared, under-committed, and ultimately unwilling. Then, we say to God, “This is your work, God, so you better do something about it. Bless my impulsiveness and lack of wisdom.” And later, when we tell the story to other Christians, this is painted as stepping out “in faith.” Counting the cost is out, running up a tab and then pinning it on Daddy to bail us out with a miracle is in.

If you’ve been at my church the last couple of Sundays, you know why I’m mulling over this stuff right now. It’s because, two Sundays ago, I prayed my own foolish prayer. The gist of it was, “Lord, bless my foolishness,” but it more specifically went something like: “Well, Lord, I feel like I can barely walk into the sanctuary, but it’s about time for the sermon. So you’d better give me the strength to power through.” I don’t know that I even prayed that prayer as such (i.e. I didn’t “speak it in my mind”), but it was implied.

Of course, halfway through the sermon (if you can call it that), I mumbled something about coyotes and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little miffed with the Good Lord for failing to answer my prayer. After all, didn’t it show a ton of faith and perseverance for me to throw wisdom to the winds and step up to the pulpit anyway? Wasn’t it a laudable thing to undertake a sacred duty—proclaiming God’s Holy Word—when I was completely ill-equipped to do it at the moment? In retrospect, those are pretty stupid questions. But at the time, I was operating in the categories of the “new and improved faith,” the kind of “faith” that doesn’t count the cost, but over-commits and leaves God in the awkward position of being expected to bless my foolishness.

Ultimately, I was expecting special treatment from God—an exemption from the principles of biblical wisdom—simply because I was me, or maybe because I’m on his payroll. Either way, these are principles native to the kingdom of this age, not the Kingdom of God.

Now, let me clarify. When I call this idea “new,” I mean that it’s currently experiencing a resurgence; strictly speaking, it’s anything but new. The Scriptures are full of people throwing up foolish prayers and making foolish vows to God. Remember in Jeremiah 21, when King Zedekiah asked God to set his holiness aside, overlook the sins of the people, and give them victory against Nebuchadnezzar? (Translation: “Lord, bless our sin and hardheartedness.”) Or the men who swore an oath to God that they would not eat until they had orchestrated the death of Paul? (Translation: “Lord, bless our hate because we’ve dressed it up as piety.”)

Church history has its own damnable prayers. St. Augustine (before he had the “St.”) famously prayed for some time, “Lord, make me chaste . . . but not yet!” (Translation: “Lord, bless my carnality because I have big plans to be righteous later on.”) And even after the Reformation, some über-righteous church leaders told William Carey not to go overseas, bringing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the precious peoples of India and beyond, because “If God wants to save the savages, he will do it without your help.” (Translation: “Lord, bless our laziness, callousness, and xenophobia, even as you make our wallets fatter.”)

The modern church continues this legacy of foolish, misplaced prayers. Big-name Christian singers and preachers, caught in compromising positions, more often publicly pronounce that they need not repent; after all, they prayed for God to “release them” from this commandment or that, and he answered in the affirmative! And even local churches, whether implicitly or explicitly, pray God’s blessings upon tactics, motives, unions, and behaviors that are clearly counter to God’s revealed Word. And yet, by the current reckoning, this just shows lots of faith and a “big view” of God’s grace.

I imagine most of these people knew their prayers were foolish as they uttered them. I sure did as I began trying to sputter my way through one of the most difficult texts I’ve ever preached, even while my vision swam. But if we know it’s foolish, why do we pray at all? Why not just leave God out of the equation, as many have, and “do what thou wilt?” I think it’s the same reason people clamor to surround themselves with false teachers who will say whatever their itching ears want to hear (2 Timothy 4:3): because, in the flesh, we want a false assurance that God is okay with our sin and foolishness, the he is in fact in favor of them and will bless them, rather than to hear God’s Word proclaimed as it is, convicting us and driving us to the cross, where we will repent, be forgiven, and be changed.

At the end of the day, praying a lot (even from motives that look super-spiritual) is no guarantor of true godliness. Selfish and misguided prayers are offered up by millions of people every day. The question is: what are we praying for, in what spirit, and especially, are we submitting the content and spirit of our prayers to God’s Word? Or are we asking God to give us our own little loophole in light of our special circumstances and our years of faithful service?

May our sanctification lead us down a path toward the former kind of prayer. May we pray, “Lord, break my pride, humble my spirit, banish my fear, convict me of sin, guide me into true wisdom, and continue to renew me day by day.” And when we fall into selfish prayer (or when we fall to the ground as a result), let us be open to the Holy Spirit, prompting us to repent and to give ourselves anew to the God of Scripture.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Jesus, Tractor Beams, and Disintegration Rays

2011-06-01T10:16:00.003-04:00

I’m back like John Travolta in ’96! I have been neglecting my poor blog lately, I know, but I’ll make up for it with a double-header today and tomorrow.

First up, a topic that was spawned from the Rick Warren/John Piper Interview. If you aren’t familiar with the background, John Piper last year invited Warren to speak at the Desiring God conference, and then a bunch of heresy-hunter types launched a veritable tweetgasm of charges and condemnations against Piper, 2nd-degree-separation-style.

I posted the video of the interview on my Facebook wall, encouraging hardcore critics of Rick Warren to watch it if they hadn’t. What followed was one of those meaty meta-conversations that make Facebook worthwhile, largely between me and my friends E. Stephen Burnett and Frank Turk (aside: Turk has an excellent article on the subject on TeamPyro today). Neither of these guys is a knee-jerk reactionary or a tiny-tent neo-gnostic Calvinist, which is what made it interesting.

We disagreed on the subject of whether Rev. Warren was being entirely forthcoming in the interview, but in the process, we began discussing a fascinating question, which I formed this way:

How close to Dort do you have to be before you’re allowed to carry out ministry unmolested by the Truly Reformed?

Turk answered, in true Turk fashion, “You cannot be too close to Dort. It’s like the Theological Starbase Batcave.” Yet the question remains: how far does one have to drift before the starbase begins a sequence of either tractor-beaming him in, or blowing him to smithereens?

Are we New Calvinists supposed to despise Billy Graham? (I sure don’t!) If so, is it just old, quasi-universalist Billy or young, Finneyistic altar-call Billy too? Do we tolerate and cooperate with Methodist pastors at the local level, but then launch missiles when a preacher with run-of-the-mill Arminian theology and methods gets “big enough” to have a national platform?

Do we trust any other traditions to maintain their own star bases and determine when their own ships have strayed too far?

This is probaly really optimistic, given the fact that I haven’t blogged in like a month, but...[waaait for it]...DISCUSS.

And check back tomorrow for reflections on last Sunday, when I passed out and fell to the chancel like a sack of potatoes halfway through my sermon.

An Hour Early, A Moment Too Late

2011-04-29T19:03:00.002-04:00

I like church. Which I suppose makes sense, being that I’m a pastor and all. When I realized that our Holy Week schedule this year included four services at four different churches in the course of four days, I was jazzed.

It’s no secret that I also love ecumenical worship, and the variety in this year’s Holy Week services was very wide: a somewhat informal communion and hand-washing service at Mt. Hope Presbyterian, a kind of mosaic of different traditions at the Good Friday noon service, Tenebrae at Christ United Methodist, and of course, Easter morning at Judson, where we did what we do best—immersed a believer in the baptistery, shook the sanctuary with choir and instrumental numbers, read a bunch of Scripture, and sat through a half-hour sermon (okay, maybe a tad longer). Oh, and that was all after a potluck full of doughnuts, bacon and sausage; a Baptist-er day I cannot imagine, and it was certainly one the best Holy Weeks I’ve ever experienced.

That’s not to say the week went completely smoothly for me. When planning services with two different groups that include ten congregations from five denominations, wires can get crossed. There were a couple of small miscommunications along the way, but my biggest goof actually turned out to be a blessing.

On Friday morning, I pulled on my favorite watch (a gift from my wife), and was surprised to see that I hadn’t yet “sprung it forward.” So, of course, I took care of that and headed off to church. There, I gave my sermon a couple passes through and was surprised to see that it was already time to head to Christ Community for the pre-service holy huddle with the other pastors.

I was the first pastor to arrive, so I got my mic and did a sound check, then gave myself yet another little tour of the place (those huge old church buildings are especially majestic to those who don’t have to pay to heat them). Then, I noticed that it was quarter to, so I headed to the pastor’s office. I was still the only other pastor to have arrived. A little put out, I said, “The service starts in fifteen minutes. Where is everybody?”

“The service starts in an hour and fifteen minutes, Zach,” was his response.

That will teach me to try and decipher Roman numerals before I’ve had my first cup of coffee. Or maybe I had just confused the little hand with the big hand. Either way, the word sheepish would tidily sum up how I felt. I said I was going to go grab another cup of coffee from Biggby (which I obviously needed) and get out of the pastor’s hair, but he told me to just have a seat and make myself at home. And so I did, and got to spend an hour chatting with a pastor who I’ve grown to greatly respect over the past two or three years.

The chance to absorb some wisdom from older/wiser/more experienced pastors is a treat and a treasure to me. I found out ten years ago that coming right out with, “So, what is the most important piece of advice you can give a young pastor?” just flusters, creates all sorts of pressure and expectations, and usually results in some super-spiritual, somewhat-vague pithyism. Instead, I just like to get people talking about what they’ve done, what they’ve learned, and what they would do if they had it to do again.

And what I heard on Good Friday was that, if this pastor could go back thirty-five yeas and give himself some advice, one thing he would tell his younger self would be to emphasize putting your church in your will. Now, that might sound crass and shallow and less-than-spiritual at first (which is probably why he didn’t do it as a young man), but it’s actually as spiritual as encouraging Bible study, evangelism, or diaconal ministries within the church. In fact, it is encouraging all those things, because all of those things require funds and all of those things require a church to continue existing—to continue doing ministry—even through difficult times.

At my church,, we’ve recently seen the impact it can have when someone chooses to bless her church even after death, while she’s reigning with Christ and awaiting the resurrection. But seriously: what pastor would ever want to bring that up? Luckily, my colleague did and so now I really don’t have to .(I think he’d want me to tell you that everyone, whether 35 or 95, should have a will, and that members remembering their church in their wills can be the difference between a church folding or flourishing through difficult times; wow, I’m glad I didn’t have to say all that.)

There are a number of topics that are similarly awkward or a big downer to bring up, but incredibly important. Many of them have to do with death. Others have to do with what comes after death.

It’s coming up on the time of year when I start preparing for a week as camp pastor up at Lake Louise. I’ve been going up there since I was a squirrely little boy, and I’ve sat at hundreds of campfires there, singing the same songs, looking at the same lake, and hearing the same kind of testimonies. And yet, one of them stands out against all the rest.

When I was maybe fifteen, I remember one of the female counselors (a young lady named Natalie, who had just finished her freshman year at Judson College) breaking down and crying as she told us about her neighbor—let’s call her Judy. She and Judy (who was in her thirties) had been pretty good friends. Judy was an unbeliever, and Natalie had always wanted to share her faith with her, but had never gotten up the nerve, or perhaps the “right” opportunity had never fallen into her lap.

Then, the summer before Natalie headed off to college, Judy began asking her why she was going to that religious school. “After all,” Judy said, “you could have gotten in to State or Michigan or any number of good private schools. Why did you choose that one?” Natalie immediately saw the open door to proclaim the Truth of the Gospel. I’m going there because my faith is so important to me, she wanted to say, because Jesus saved me from hell and I want to become a better disciple even while I’m studying and preparing for a career. Can I tell you about Jesus?

But Natalie didn’t say that. She gave Judy some lame answer about how her aunt had gone there, how they had a good tennis team, and how she’d always wanted to live near Chicago. Judy had kept probing about why Natalie had chosen “that school,” giving her five or six more wide open opportunities to open wide the doors of salvation. But she never did. She’d decided after the first encounter that she needed a year of schooling under her belt—some classes about evangelism, some spiritual maturity, some stories from the halls of the Christian college—before she could grab the bull by the horns.

But Judy died in a car crash that April. And Natalie was begging all of us high school kids not to let those opportunities go by, even if they feel awkward, even if they’re easy to justify putting off. You may not get another chance if you drop this one.

That’s the kind of story I don’t usually tell. Emotional blackmail and manipulation are not my bag, but it might be worth remembering once in a while that—while we occasionally arrive an hour early and have more time than we needed (and that’s a blessing!), more often we hear of people having less time than they had counted on. And whether we’re talking about evangelism, getting that will together, getting that degree, or finally getting back on that Bible reading plan, there’s something to be said for grabbing the opportunity in the only moment you’re guaranteed—this one—and wrestling it to the ground.

So what have you been avoiding? What have you been putting off? Maybe now’s the time to do it. Maybe this is the last opportunity you’ll have. Or maybe it’s not, but either way . . . perhaps some prayer, some wisdom from the Scriptures, and some godly counsel will lead you to do something now that will have effects even beyond your life on this earth.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Pastor Zach

Code of Ethics

2011-03-31T09:15:00.007-04:00

No, this isn’t Lenten Experiment #2, although Code of Ethics was a pretty great band in the early nineties . This is about an actual code of ethics . . .

My computers died recently. That's right, I used the plural; both my home and church PCs went the way of all flesh pretty much back-to-back. I had backed up everything from my home computer. The stuff from my study is apparently gone forever. (A moment of silence, please.)

While re-loading and re-organizing my data on my new computer, I found myself flipping mindlessly through some old files, mostly papers from college and seminary. Some were painful to read, others surprisingly articulate. If you've ever spent a couple hours going through old files, you know how fun it can be to discover something you'd completely forgotten. This happened for me with the below “Code of Ethics,” written near the end of my Ministerial Ethics class in 2004.

When I came candidating at Judson, I gave the search committee a slightly modified version of this document, but mostly it was intended for my own benefit. Having been in full-time ministry for the better part of a decade, there are some items that I would nuance if I were writing this document today, but for the most part, it represents the kind of uncompromising principles that Scripture demands. As I read it through, I see a couple areas I need to work on (as well as a few with which I've struggled in the past and, with God's help, recovered). All in all, I was glad to have this document brought back to my attention. I intend to update it and post if somewhere in my office.

Do you have a code of ethics for your professional, personal, and family life? When I was a youth minister, I used to rip off some famous conference speaker's line and pretend it was my own (I didn't have a code of ethics back then), telling the teens that they should “decide in the cool of the afternoon what they were going to do in the heat of the night.” Of course, I was referring to partying, sex, alcohol—that sort of thing, but it could be applied to a shady business deal, missing a little league game, or talking a customer into a financing plan he or she can't afford. I encourage you to take some time soon—using Scripture and your own goals and values—to prayerfully lay out a code of ethics, and to give copies to some people in your life who can hold you accountable. It certainly won't make you perfect, but like Job who made a covenant with his eyes or the Nazarites who kept their vows to the glory of God, it pays to decide in the cool of the afternoon what you will do in the heat of the moment—whether in the board room, the bedroom, or the classroom. And I've found that having something succinct down in black and white helps to keep me from pulling a fast one on myself.

Code of Ministerial Ethics

Ministry

I will strive to maintain an attitude of servant-leadership. I will always remember that I have given up any life of self-fulfillment or self-seeking in order to serve God by serving my congregation. I will think of them in love and lead them with gentleness. I will avoid extreme forms of leadership, being neither dictatorial nor easily manipulated. I will serve my congregation by helping them grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus.
I will balance preaching, teaching, discipleship, evangelism, and other duties. I will do my best to fulfill all facets of my job description. I will not put an undue amount of time and energy into any individual facet to the exclusion of the others. Still, I will recognize that my primary role is that of preacher/teacher and will give it the appropriate emphasis. I will never knowingly misuse a text to fit my agenda in preaching. I will strive to always exegete, not “intro-gete” the Holy Scripture, paying careful attention to the original language, historical and cultural context, etc.
I will maintain a heightened professional sense of confidentiality. I will never break the confidence of a counselee, colleague, or parishioner unless they plan to harm themselves or others. I will never use a counseling session or church conflict experience as a sermon illustration.
I will respect the traditions of the church I am serving. I will seriously pray and seek wise counsel when considering changes to an existing tradition in the church. When such a change does take place, I will do my best to implement it gently and lovingly, understanding that traditions are important to people and often serve as aids to worshiping God.
I will not use my status as a minister to my personal advantage. I will not use the pastorate as a tool to gain deals, freebies, or preferential treatment. Nor will I use my pulpit or position to advocate particular political parties or positions. To do so would be to trivialize my call to Gospel ministry.
I will not show favoritism in dealing with my congregation. Recognizing that I will undoubtedly develop closer relationships with some church members than with others, I will not allow my ministry to be corrupted through the exchange of favors, preferential treatment of friends, etc. in the context of church business and ministry.
I will cooperate with other Christian churches and denominations as much as possible. I will teach my congregation about the vastness of the Kingdom of God through joint worship, service, and fellowship with other Christian churches. I will not attempt to recruit members from other Christian churches.
I will take on additional responsibilities (beyond my role as pastor) only if I can fulfill them without a negative effect on my ministry. Pastors are in a unique position to be salt and light to the community. I will always consider carefully my motives in taking on such additional roles and make certain that I have the time and energy to carry them out.
When I leave a church, I will do it for the right reasons and will not come back without the consent of the new minister. Although churches are usually happy to see a former pastor, I will bear in mind that, in order for my successors to be effective, they need to develop relationships with their people without competition from former leaders. I will always seek God through serious prayer to ensure that I never consider leaving a church for purely monetary or status-related reasons.

Personal

I will not use my ministry as an excuse to neglect my own physical, mental, and emotional needs. In order to be a good steward of my body and in order to be the most effective minister possible, I must take care of my own needs as a fallible human. I recognize that there will be a temptation to become a “martyr” for my ministry by ignoring personal needs. I will overcome this temptation, God being my helper. I will regularly exercise my body, maintain a healthy diet, and get adequate sleep in order to remain physically fit. I will allow myself to forget about ministry pressures and responsibilities for set periods of time to keep myself from mental and emotional overload. I will make wise use of advanced planning on a calendar or planning device to secure the time needed for these activities.
I will continually seek God in order to grow in faith and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ through personal study, prayer, and continued education. I may be tempted to neglect my own spiritual development because of the demands of helping my congregation with theirs. I will never stop studying God’s word, seeking His will through prayer, developing my theology, and enjoying personal times of worship. I will take part in seminars, conferences, and classes that will help me in my personal spiritual formation as well as those that will help me as a pastor and leader. I recognize that all Christians are called to a lifetime of continued maturing in faith.
I will respect the Fourth Commandment by devoting one day out of seven to rest, reflection, and prayer. Although I may always be on call for emergencies, I will make every effort to rest regularly. In addition to weekly rest, I will try to have regular retreats both with family (vacation) and alone (sabbatical, study).
I will honor God with the way I conduct my finances. As good stewards of the gifts God has blessed me with, my wife and I will always live within our means and cheerfully give the Lord a tithe of our income.
I will pursue friendships outside of the congregation I serve. In order to maintain a healthy personal life and avoid burnout, I will maintain friendships with some people outside of my church and denomination. These friendships may or may not be evangelism opportunities, but evangelism will not be their only goal.
I will not take advantage of the freedom afforded by a career in ministry. I recognize that although a career in ministry offers some flexibility and less direct supervision than most, ministers are more accountable to God and man. I will not take advantage of this flexibility and fall into the sin of laziness. If I do, I will confess it immediately and seek God’s help in correcting it.
I will remain humble in any successes, reminding myself that it is ultimately not my ministry, but God’s. I will continually pray for God to strengthen me against the pride that can plague ministers. Should I find that I am becoming prideful, I will ask God to break me of my pride, knowing that He will do so.
I will avoid inappropriate conversation and gossip. As a minister, I will be privy to information that should not be shared in casual conversation. I will decide before the fact what I will and will not discuss with others, based on the factors involved.
I will take part in a clergy accountability group. Because a cord of three strands cannot be broken, I will seek out a group of at least two other ministers for the purpose of accountability, mutual edification, and encouragement.
I will not be alone with a woman to whom I am not related. (Except eldery women, shut-ins, etc.) Because Satan gains footholds through such indiscretions, no matter how trivial they seem, I am committed to avoiding all such situations in order to remain above reproach and maintain my reputation. I will never counsel a woman alone unless others are present in the vicinity and able to see us at all times.

Family

I will always recognize that my first commitment is to my family. Because a man must first have his own house in order to be eligible for ministry, I will always make my family my first priority. I will do whatever I can to keep my ministry from becoming a source of conflict within my family. I will block out, in advance, regular times devoted exclusively to my wife (and any future children) and protect these times from sources of competition.
I will not use my vocation as an excuse to impose unrealistic expectations on my family. I will communicate to my church that my family is a normal family and must be allowed to operate as such.
I will respect my wife’s gifts and talents. I will not look to my family as an easy way to fill a position or need within the church unless they are gifted in that area of ministry and feel a call to it. Should we have children, I will not communicate to them any expectation that they will go into professional ministry unless they are called by God.
I will secure permission from family members before using them in sermon illustrations. Because the pastor’s family should not be expected to always open every detail of their lives up to the church, I will be very judicious about my use of family situations as sermon illustrations.
I will maintain a healthy boundary between “work” and “home.” Although a minister can never (and should never) completely separate his personal life from his “work life,” I will respect my family's needs and develop boundaries with the church as to when I am available and when I am unavailable, save true emergencies.
I will maintain an open and honest relationship with my wife. I will not hide personal and pastoral failings from my wife. If I violate an area of my personal or family ethical code, I will tell her immediately.

Lenten Experiment #1: Fireproof

2011-03-22T19:39:00.023-04:00

If you read my last post, you know about my five-month Lent commitment. I've been trying to enjoy some things that my snarkiness would not have permitted before Ash Wednesday. I bought a three-disc set of super-old-school Michael W. Smith CDs, which I've been enjoying with no little nostalgia. I've been avoiding the online Rob Bell dust-up. All was going well. But then I decided to up the ante.

That's right...Fireproof: The Christian Movie.

Who ordered the charred awesome?

Now, I've watched Fireproof before, but it was with smirk firmly affixed. Not this time. You may be thinking, “But Pastor Zach, why wouldn't you build up to a movie produced by a church, starring church members? Why not start with an incredible movie like Amazing Grace or Luther? Then move on to straight-to-video fare featuring big-name stars of the '80s and '90s? Then, once you're all warmed up, tackle the likes of Fireproof?”

Simple: Kirk Cameron is a guilty pleasure of mine.

Yeah, I wish I could rapture away every copy of the Left Behind movies, and I get a little uneasy when I see Mr. Cameron holding a banana, preparing to defend the Christian faith. But the guy is awesome anyway. Google “Camp Firefly” for an example of how awesome he is.

So, how was watching Fireproof with my new attitude? Rough. Rough-ish, anyway. Until I realized that, cast almost entirely with church members, this film should be held more to the standard of a church play than a Hollywood production. With that standard in place, the film is downright impressive. And then you've got Kirm Cameron, who is actually pretty Pesci as a firefighter in this movie.

Highlights:

Kirk Cameron is at his best here. Now, it might be the fact that he's surrounded entirely by amateurs, but I think it's something more than that. He's very convincing in his frustration and anger with his wife. I really think, given the whole recent '80s-stars-making-a-comeback phenomenon, if it weren't for his outspoken faith, Cameron would be playing roles in “real” movies these days. I'm not suggesting that he'd have gone directly from Growing Pains to $20 million dollar paychecks and leading man roles (although DeCaprio did just that), but compromising his faith could certainly have helped his career from a human perspective.

Fun fact: Cameron flew in his wife, Chelsea Noble (who is a professional actress, begging the question: why didn't she play the leading lady) and dressed her up as his on-screen wife for the sillhouetted kissing scene at the end. He's taken a lot of flack for this principle, but it just makes him even more awesome in my mind.
Erin Bethea, who plays Kirk Cameron's wife, is pretty darn good. I understand she's the pastor's daughter at the church that put this movie out, and also played a role in Facing the Giants. I also understand that her acting has improved greatly between the two films. Good for her.
The scenes in the firehouse are pretty funny. Especially the stuff with Wayne and Terrell.
The Love Dare concept itself is great. I really don't think I've encounterd any other marriage “tool” so distinctly Christian. Even amidst the awful acting from Kirk Cameron's on-screen father, I was rooting for the dare to work from the get go.
Alluminum bat vs. PC = best scene in the movie! When tempted to fall back into Internet porn after getting saved, Caleb (Cameron) brings the computer outside and beats it down, Office Space style. I was watching this with my wife and mother-in-law, who commented, “That's a little excessive,” to which I replied, “Not as excessive as cutting off your hand or plucking out your eye!”

The Movie's Message:

When this flick came out in 2008, I remember reading a lot of Reformed bloggers trashing it for being too Law-based. I just don't see it. First of all, what's wrong with the Law? If we're really not antinomians, we recognize the need for imperatives (rooted in the indicative of the Gospel, which this film does just fine). Others complained that all the marriage problems sorted themselves out too easily. Huh?!If cooking a candlelight dinner for your wife and having her look you in the eye and say, “I don't love you,“ or leaving her a dozen roses and a note only to have her leave you divorce papers is “easy,” then I need to re-visit the basic definitions of the terms involved.

I think there were basically three great messages in this film:

1. “Don't follow your heart. Your heart can be deceived. You've got to lead your heart.” Best line in the movie. And a message greatly missing from many pulpits.

2. The kind of love described in I Corinthians 13 is not nearly so neat, cute, and fluffy as we try to make it. Watching someone keep no record of wrongs, forgive unconditionally (70 x 7), and return good for evil again and again is downright painful. But, in the end, reminds us what kind of love should mark a Christian’s life.

3. Sin should not be toyed with. It should be beaten to death with a baseball bat. Rap music optional.

When Killing Pets Gets Fun

2011-03-07T20:54:00.012-05:00

Why Lent Will Last Five Months

This is going to be huge, people. And by that, I mostly mean that it’s going to be really long, but I also mean that—in the context of my little life and ministry—it may prove rather significant. Or not.

Back story: My wife and I went to a John Reuben concert last Friday at the beautiful State Theatre in my home town of Bay City, Michigan. Of course, it was incredible, as Mr. Zappin is one of the best showmen working today and knows how to ramp up the energy in a crowd with no effort at all. His music is also snappy.

Man, the camera on my cell phone sucks...

Now, I used to be the first guy in the mosh pit and the last guy out, but since about 2003, I'd rather sit and enjoy the performance. I hate it when I have to stand up at a concert in order to see. I mean, you pay for a seat, right? So, I was pleased to find a couple spots in the balcony with a great view of the stage. Add to that the dirt-cheap popcorn, Raisinets, and Mt. Dew from the snack bar and I was in concert heaven. An up-and-coming regional group called the Matt Moore Band opened up; they were great, and I’m sure they’ll be hitting the national scene soon.

Understand that Pastor Zach has been to a lot of concerts. From 1994-1996, I was a deejay at a Christian music station (89.1 FM, WTRK the ROCK), and the benefits package consisted of free trips to pretty much every Christian concert in the area. The summer months were the busiest, when I went to at least one concert a week, usually more. I saw a lot of merch tables and intentional branding. I heard a lot of rather Finneyistic altar calls. I could fill volumes with the raspy pseudo-theological musings that I heard from A, B, and C-list Christian singers.

And I loved it.

Shortly after leaving that gig, I became a youth pastor. i.e., lots more concerts, lots more merch, lots more “talks”. With my graduation from college, my marriage, and the birth of my son, that sort of thing has gone by the wayside, as I suppose it should.

But attending this concert just down the road from where I used to spin CDs was a bizarre, deja-vu-ish experience. Although for different reasons (back stage pass, manning the radio station’s booth, keeping an eye on squirrely youth group members, etc.), I often watched those many former concerts from a detached distance as well, occasionaly while munching on green room goodies. Add in the fact that the place was 90% youth group kids, and I felt a bit as if I had travelled back in time to re-experience the sort of live-music-induced, uber-positive vibes that I rarely encounter these days.

And, man, was this show—in every way—postive! Reuben led the crowd in singing Happy Birthday to an elated 8th grade girl near the front. He “opened the mic to any other emcees in the building,” an exercise which netted three eleven-year-old kids who called themselves Triple Beat and a painfully dorky forty-five year old dad who filled his embarrassing my kids quota for the next decade. Through all this, Reuben remained steadfastly amped and upbeat. There was no hint of bitterness that he used to play venues ten times bigger (perhaps he still does); he poured himself into that show like he would have if there were fifty thousand people present. My hat is off to the man.

So what does this have to do with Lent? (Or killing pets?) Well, in the after-glow of this event, I decided what I would give up for Lent this year (cue Fundie joke about giving up “popish traditions”). It’s actually quite fitting, given the nostalgic turn of the night, as my devotional life was completely wound up in my concert-going, raspy-spiritual-talk-hearing, T-shirt-slogan, high-pressure-invitation-witnessing life during my deejay days.

So here it is: I’m giving up spiritual negativity. Seriously.

What does this mean? Well, it resists being described succinctly. For starters, it means I won’t be listening to certain podcasts or regularly reading certain blogs—the ones dedicated to exposing the false teachings of everyone everywhere and slaying heretics with a fiery sword, the ones that often (literally) make a game out of spotting and crushing error. It means I won’t be writing those kinds of blog posts myself. It means skipping the semi-regular portion of my sermon where I show how wrong “certain preachers” (always unnamed) are in their interpretation of this or that text. It means I’ll resist the urge to go off on Christian music, movies, and T-shirts for being so trite, stupid, and embarrassing . . . even when they are.

What does it not mean? Well, I’m not losing my Gen X sarcastic sense of humor, for starters. I’m not bailing on writing my chapters for Beauty and the Mark of the Beast (which almost immediately stopped being a critique of anything and started just being a goofy literary cartoon).I’m not setting aside the use of the Law in my preaching or my evangelism. I’m not shirking my responsibility to discernment in my pastoral ministry (i.e., if someone asks me about a given teaching or teacher, I will respond biblically and truthfully; ibid if a prominent false teaching begins to affect my congregation and must be dealt with . . . I just won’t be searching and destroying heresies like Dog the Bounty Hunter).

And most imporantly, I’m not changing my mind about the legitimacy or importance of contending for the Faith once for all handed down to the saints, calling spiritual error what it is, and comparing what people say in God’s name to what God actually said in His Word. Yes, I am aware that a lot of what Paul, John, James, and even Jesus wrote/said could potentially be branded “spiritual negativity.” I am aware that the same people who throw around the terms “heresy hunter” and “doctrine cop” in a derisive way would probably be horrified if they read the Church Fathers.

But here’s the thing: for Jesus and his apostles, contending against wolves was not the main event. Preaching the Gospel was. Dealing with false teachers and creeping error was an unfortunate necessity. I’m afraid that, for many today, it’s not the fishing but the hunting that really gets them going. I can see myself very slowly trending in that direction. And that is not good.

Let me put it this way: my childhood cat, Clifford (who was with the family for 21 years) was recently given to a nice family who lives on a farm. In other words, he was driven to the vet, where he was given an injection of something deadly, and Clifford stopped living. I’m thankful that there are people willing to do that job; it needed to be done, as the poor old thing could no longer even find his way to his food bowl without help. It’s a necessary task, but probably the biggest downer in the day of any vet. But what if Dr. So-and-so started to like putting down animals? What if he never killed anything that wasn’t specifically brought in for that purpose, but he started deriving great pleasure from making the injections and watching the animals die? Wouldn’t that concern you? Shouldn't it concern him?

Or maybe a better analogy is the flyer I received at the church last week for a company that comes in and “cleans up” after a death, violent crime, or suicide. These people viewed it as a ministry, caring for families when they were at their weakest and couldn't deal with the grizzly reminders in the drapes or the rug. And God bless them for it. But what if one of those guys started to like the blood and guts? What if he reached the point where his favorite thing to do was to pick pieces of skull and brain off of a linoleum floor?

In neither case would society be worse off, I suppose, (grizzly jobs need to be done), but that individual would be headed down a decidedly jacked up, unhealthy road. And while the church might perhaps benefit from even the most blood-thirsty heretic hound, I don’t think it’s good for them (the hounds themselves) when they relish the kill like that.

Am I changing my theology because of a corny experience in a big room full of youth group kids? Nah, I’m not changing my theology at all. I just want another chance to be that guy who could listen to Geoff Moore talk about his “quiet time” or pop in a “Christian movie”—not without discernment, but more expecting that God might speak through it than suspecting that it’s a conduit of deadly error. This is, I believe, a needed repreive for me—a safeguard in my sanctification. And I’m not trying to tell you that I received some revelation through the mouth of John Reuben or the kids of Triple Beat. This was good old fashioned Providence at its best.

So why will Lent last five months? Because the forty days of Lent are really incidental to this whole thing, and I don’t think forty days is a long enough detox period. Perhaps I was already thinking of Brian McLaren's recently concluded self-imposed five year moratorium on discussing homosexuality. Five years may be over-committing. Five months, I can handle. And why bring up McLaren? Because the hardcore ODM guys who will undoubtedly see this as some sort of swipe at them will be horribly scandalized by the dropping of BM's name.

And Lent hasn’t started yet.

For the record, of course McLaren’s books are full of rank heresy (especially his last one) and are dangerous to the Church at large. But, for the next five months, the Church at large will have to do without me on counter-offensive.

If you’re still with me, then you’re a true-blue reader of this blog. I’ll still be writing during the next five months, still determined to know nothing among you but Christ and Him crucified. Nothing at all, not even heretics and them humiliated.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

What About Bob?

2011-03-04T09:46:00.015-05:00

So, in this former post, I described in very general terms a man who claimed to be a Christian. I told you that he wanted your sincere opinion—recognizing that only God really knows who his elect are—as to whether or not Bob fits the bill.

Seventeen people weighed in, and one cyber-troll used the meta as a forum for taking cheap shots at the one and only Frank Turk¹. Of the useful comments, there was a wide range of perspectives represented.

Several people were concerned by the fact that he felt the need to ask. If he was unsure of his faith, that might be a point of concern, they said. Turns out Bob was just asking so that we could have this discussion.

Rachel over-thought the heck out of it, but warmed my heart and convicted me by viewing this hypothetical scenario as an opportunity to bring glory to God. (Sadly, I sometimes find myself doing the opposite, and viewing real opportunities to share God’s love as academic exercises.)
Pastor Kit deemed Bob Chalcedon-compliant (assuming that he truly believes what he says he believes).
Αναστασία wondered why baptism had not come up in his summary. Others wondered why church membership was not part of the equation. Still, these were generally hopeful that Bob is a true Christian.
Ruth wrote, “Bob believes and has confessed that Jesus is the Son of God. We are saved through faith by God's grace. Isn't it that simple?” and cited Ephesians 2:8-9.
Brad systematically laid out Bob’s affirmation of basic Christian doctrine, his acceptance of the Gospel, his desire to know God, his apparent penitance, and the fact that he is “testing his election.” He concluded, “I can comfortably say that Bob shows signs that he has been regenerated via the spirit.”

This is more or less what I expected. And my basic plan for the follow-up post was to agree that Bob seems to be a Christian . . . and then to give additional details for several possible Bobs, all of which could fit with the information given us by Bob himself—at least from Bob’s perspective:

Bob is a hard-core fundamentalist who thinks everyone who uses real wine for the Eucharist (and everyone who uses the word Eucharist) is going to hell.
Bob “loves Jesus, but not the Church.” He never gathers together with other believers, thinks of his relationship with God in purely vertical, individualistic terms, has not been baptized, and never receives the Lord’s Supper.
Bob is a faithful Roman Catholic who attends mass twice a week.
Bob is a homosexual, who lives with his partner (who also describes his own faith in similar terms).
Bob is actual Rick Warren. He’s been working undercover at your workplace.
Bob is a universalist. (How timely.)

Despite Otternam’s suspicion that he was being “played by some technicality,” my real aim was to spark thought (and maybe conversation) about how we define a brother or sister in Christ. And, while it’s an easy copout to just say, “Only God knows his/her heart,” Scripture tells us how to deal with believers and unbelievers, true brothers and false, in a way that assumes we can make some distinction. It is an important discussion to have. And I’ve noticed that people usually have one set of criteria when dealing in generalities, and an entirely different (and more fluid) set when dealing with specific people. I am no exception. My list of essentials can tend to grow or shrink depending on the situation.

I know I’m not alone here, because I’ve seen many other Christians doing the same thing. You might even be mentally adjusting your list now, based on the above Bobs.

SO...

1. Are we over-simplifying the marks of a true disciple when we quote Romans 10:9 or Ephesians 2:8-10 removed from their epistolary homes, thus making for a very big and diverse tent?

or

2. Do we tend to selectively add non-essentials to the requirements for a disciple in order to keep certain people out, because they make us uncomfortable or challenge our own cultural-religious presuppositions?

or

3. Something else entirely?

That’s what I was going to write, but then a friend of mine re-tweeted that post and I got another wave of answers, which were far less certain about Bob’s salvation (even without the above fill-in-the-blank specifics). They wanted to hear the word “repentance,” rather than talk of “feeling bad” or “being sorry.” They wondered about fruit in this man’s life. I might sum up their collective reservations by quoting a guy name Daniel (whose animated avatar I could not stop staring at): “ Tares believe that the truths are true, and that they are saved - not because they have repented of their rebellion and are trusting God to save them, but because they have been fortified in (and by) an incomplete (and therefore false) gospel.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that these “Turkish” responses throw a wrench into the works of my planned follow-up, but I’m not sure of the full ramifications of said wrench.

Let’s sort this all out together, shall we?

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Footnotes
¹ This is sort of a roadshow that makes its way around the reformed blogosphere; it feels a little bit like Cool Hand Luke, but, being more like Drago than Dragline, I don't think Turk’s ever going to get tired of knocking him back down.

Is Bob a Christian?

2011-02-24T09:35:00.007-05:00

Bob comes up to you at work while you’re enjoying your turkey sandwich and swiss cake roll. He asks for a moment of your time. Bob knows you’re involved at your church and he’s seen you carrying that big Bible around, so he wants your opinion on something: is he a Christian? He knows that only God can distinguish wheat from chaff and that only God knows the heart and all that stuff; he just wants your best guess.

Without pausing to take a breath, he gives you this information:

Bob believes in a triune God and that Jesus Christ is God and man.
Bob believes that Jesus died on a cross and rose again from the dead.
Bob believes that, as a result of Jesus’ death and resurrection, he (Bob) will be able to stand before the Father on the last day.
Bob tries to live a godly life according to the Scriptures, but knows that he continues to sin, which grieves him.

So here’s the question:
do you need any more information before you give Bob your assessment?

Love and Two Martyrs Named Valentine

2011-02-14T07:30:00.005-05:00

Happy St. Valentine’s Day, everybody!

Yeah, it’s Saint Valentine’s Day. At least it was originally. It actually ought to be Saints Valentines’ Day, because the Church originally set aside this feast day to honor two guys named Valentine (from the 2nd and 3rd Centuries), both of whom were killed as martyrs. One was burned to death and the other, tradition tells us, was thrown to wild beasts. Yeah, I know—romantic!

Unlike most sacred-turned-secular holidays (which have slowly evolved from purely spiritual observances into vaguely cultural excuses to sit back, eat, and drink), Valentine’s Day was pretty much hijacked all at once by Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14th Century. Chaucer noticed that “on seynt Volantynys day…every foul comyth ther to chese his make.” No, that’s not a reference to chickens making cheese, and Chaucer hadn’t been drinking. Turns out everybody spelled things all janky back then. What Chaucer meant was that, during mid-February, every bird chooses his mate. Ya know, early spring, when a young bird’s fancy turns to love and all that.

As a result, the day formerly dedicated to the Sts. Valentine instead became a day for men to pronounce their love for women by writing poetically-charged letters (eventually known as “Valentines”). The day has been so entirely secularized that, in 1969, the Catholic Church erased it from their religious calendar (even while they continue to make a case for St. Patrick's Day being spiritually grounded). These days, I would think it all but impossible to find anything pertaining to the original celebration of St. Valentine’s Day in any store amongst the $5 cards, lacy red underthings, and boxes of mediocre candy.

In a way, this is a picture of what the world has done to love itself. We’ve taken it from a spiritual act, which we are bound to apply to our families, neighbors, and our enemies alike, and turned it into sensuality—a “feeling” which may come and go, and which we follow around from person to person.

Case in point: I Corinthians 13, the “love chapter.” This passage is often trotted out at weddings and preached as though it is about how one should treat one’s soul mate. And, of course, this is how you should treat your soul mate. But it’s also how you should treat your boss, your annoying cousin, and that guy across the street who plays his music too loud, too late at night.

Of course, I Corinthians 13 has a context—a place in the flow and development of Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth—and in order to really understand the chapter fully, you’ll need to read the whole thing and get your mind around its place in the whole. Still, we can benefit from looking at this composite picture (not exhaustive definition) of love and asking the question: as a Christian, is my life painting the same picture? After all, Jesus said that the world would know we are his disciples because we love one another.

“Love is patient. Love is kind. It is not self-seeking.” That pretty much drops a bomb on the cultural view of love as something we feel, something we follow around, that search for the “perfect someone.” Love doesn’t withhold until the perfect someone shows up. Love is patient and kind; biblical love is not discriminating, not focused on what I get out of the deal. Futher, “Love does not envy or boast” refers to the inward (“I want! I want!”) and outward (“I have! I have!”) manifestations of self-seeking. These things are foreign to biblical love.

“Love keeps no record of wrongs.” When two people (whether friends, co-workers, or spouses) are always updating their mental grievance files, in anticipation of the day they can run down the list and announce, “Here’s all the horrible stuff you’ve done,” that relationship is not firmly based in love. Those lists exists solely for self-seeking. That’s not patient or kind.

“Love does not rejoice in evil.” Most of what Hollywood calls “love” is the very opposite of love, because the silver screen continually rejoices in evil (the breaking of God’s Law) even while it celebrates what it calls “love.” I’m always disgusted when a film or television show will present two people as having slept together for some time and then one of them finally takes the leap and says, “I love you.” And we’re all supposed to be touched. That’s not biblical love. Love is patient and love does not rejoice in evil.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” The current incarnation of Valentine’s Day lends itself to the culture’s version of love: flitting about, something we “follow,” rather than something we lead; something very transient and temporary, rather than something that endures all things and never ends.

Sure, romantic love is its own animal, and should probably be discussed according to its own attributes, but unless romantic love is rooted in sound biblical love—the kind of love that should mark a Christian’s dealings with everyone in his or her life—then it is not truly love; it’s not that thing which never fails, which always remains faithful according to Scripture. The kind of love that empowered two men named Valentine to go to their deaths for the sake of the Gospel.

Even as we enjoy the cultural aspects of a cultural holiday, let me encourage you to inventory your love life at large. Are you loving your friends, your neighbors, and your enemies with the kind of love we see in Scripture, that Christlike love that puts others first and self last? If not, what a great opportunity St. Valentine’s Day gives us to ask God to continue breaking our fleshly ideas about love and replacing them with true biblical love.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Younger, Restlesser, Reformeder Interview

2011-02-11T08:45:00.005-05:00

Most of you know that I've co-written another short satire with my boy Ted Kluck. This one is a little closer to home:

Just how reformed do you think you are? With clarity of insight that comes only from firsthand experience, the authors of Kinda Christianity take on their own cultural-theological movement, offering tips and tricks for all you New Calvinists. From what to wear to who to marry (and how to court them) to what to read, Ted Kluck and Zach Bartels help you work out your reformedness with fear and trembling.

Today, an audio interview with me and Ted is up on the one and only PyroManiacs blog. Click here to check it out.

Click here to see the book’s homepage (and blog).

Click here to buy the book on Amazon (paperback or Kindle version).

Dispen-sensational, re-visited.

2011-02-02T10:26:00.009-05:00

Remember when the Left Behind novels were big? Yeah, me too. As a Christian who holds exclusively to doctrines not dreamed up in the last 175 years, I found them incredibly embarrassing. I listened to the first four of them on my Walkman (because I was hammering traffic counting hoses into the road for a living and, having already exhausted all of my good books on tape, started borrowing from others), and spent the duration keeping score between three teams: Bad Theology, Bad Story Telling, and Downright Boringness. (Bad Theology won by a nose.)

Well, it's been almost fifteen years since they made a splash, but some of us still aren't over it. And so, my wife Erin, my buddies Ted, Brad, and Ronnie, and myself have started the serialized dispensational end times blog-novel, Beauty and the Mark of the Beast: A Dispensational Thriller.

Why even bother to parody a genre that peaked in 1997, you might ask?

There are several valid answers to this question, as follows:

1. We’re a little bit lazy. When you parody a living, growing, changing phenomenon, you have to stay on top of the latest developments. And it pays to work fast in such circumstances. Having already done satires of more recent phenoms (e.g. the emergent church and the New Calvinism), we thought we’d take a little break and just kick a dead horse while it’s down.

2. It’ll be back. Soon. Mark my words. Then we’ll appear to be way ahead of our time.

3. To us, pop dispensationalism kind of stands in for everything that’s tacky, embarrassing, and mockable about modern day Evangelicalism.

Click the graphic below to be raptured away. Comment. Subscribe. Repost/tweet. Etc.

Topical vs. Expository Preaching

2011-01-22T15:56:00.005-05:00

This past week, I had a fun and lively exchange with some friends over the issue of topical preaching. As I read through it, I see that I harden my stance against topical as I go (a natural debate tactic for me, but not helpful). Ultimately, I do not condemn topical preaching and you can even find a handful of my topical messages on my church's website. I do believe, however, that the best way for a Christian minister to preach faithfully is by giving expository messages that rightly divide Law and Gospel. Below you will find the exchange in the comments section on facebook and also a couple of messages that came afterward.

Please feel free to continue the discussion in the comment thread below!

Zach
I'm finally preaching a "topical" sermon this Sunday! The topic is: the context, meaning, and application of Zechariah 4:1-14.
Wednesday at 2:46pm

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Joshua
I'm doing the same thing! Only my topic is: the context, meaning, and application of 1 Peter 3:1-7. It's like we learned preaching from the same school, professor and everything.
Wednesday at 3:10pm

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Zach
What are the ODDS?! :D
(God bless Bill Brew and Jim Carlson for bringing us up right!)
Wednesday at 3:11pm - 1 person likes this

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FrankFusion
I am interested in your writings and would like to subscribe to your newsletter.
Wednesday at 3:18pm

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Pastor Frank
Maybe topical sermons aren't so bad after all...love it!
Wednesday at 3:23pm

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Cory
So, I'm a little afraid to ask, but what's wrong with a topical sermon, that's, you know, topical?
Wednesday at 5:23pm

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Josh M
I'm guessing the constant flipping back and forth between a dozen or so different passages can get distracting and less coherent as the sermon goes on.
Wednesday at 5:34pm

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Zach
Topical sermons are not always horrible, they're just almost always horrible. They put the preacher in control of the content of God's Word to God's people. It doesn't take much experience with the Scriptures to realize how easily one can mine the text for quotes and then make it say whatever I want it to say.. Preaching God's Word, a portion at a time and letting the text itself determine the content of the sermon is a safeguard against the preacher usurping the role of God's Holy Word, inspired by God's Holy Spirit...
Wednesday at 5:49pm

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Josh M
Ok, your answer was better.
Wednesday at 5:52pm

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Zach
No, yours was classic. But, in the case of Rick Warren and the seeker/purpose crowd, dont forget that the dozen or so passages are in a dozen or so translations to make them further sound like they're saying what I want them to say.
Wednesday at 5:53pm

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Cory
That's a good point that the text itself can serve as a safeguard against finding what we want the Bible to say. On the other hand, our selection of the text to preach can lead to the same problem.
I see expositional preaching as the homiletical extension of biblical studies and topical preaching as the homiletical extension of systematic theology. Since I think both the "narrow-angle" and "wide-angle" scholarly approaches to Scripture need each other, I use a balance of expositional and topical preaching to achieve this on Sunday mornings over time.
Wednesday at 6:00pm

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FrankFusion
I don't know. I know John MacArthur does topical stuff on Sunday nights. Exposition is for the morning.
Wednesday at 6:07pm

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Zach
FrankFusion: John MacArthur also teaches all sorts of dispensational nonsense, so you're not really helping the case for topical there...

Cory: Selecting your text can't lead to selective preaching if you preach THROUGH whole books of the Bible a passage at a time, not skipping anything, and making sure to alternate Old and New Testament and hit every genre. Since I've been at Judson, I've preached through Luke, the Pastoral Epistles, the Johannine Epistles, Jude, Nehemiah, Joshua, the Sermon on the Mount, James and four of the minor prophets. I've also preached a handful of one-offs and topical sermons, which have essentially served as filler between books of the Bible.
Wednesday at 10:19pm

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Cory
That sounds great, Zach. But how long until you preach straight through a book in the Pentateuch, or Hebrews, or 1 & 2 Kings, or the Psalms? The sheer magnitude of the corpus is overwhelming! And you do agree that there is wisdom from those books that you haven't hit yet that your folks need to hear, right?
Wednesday at 11:56pm

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FrankFusion
I'm not dispensational by any measure btw. My point is, that if you teach with a Systematic theological bent you will get topical as systematic theology is topical. Unless you don't preach/teach that way. At least not Sunday morn.
Thursday at 2:59am

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Zach
Cory, no book is off-limits. Took a year and a half to preach through Luke. Hebrews is definitely on my radar. As are the books of the Penteteuch (particularly thinking of doing Genesis soon) and I Kings.

Frank, I didn't suggest that you are dispensational, just that your "But Johnny Mac does it!" argument does not pull its own weight. teaching with a systematic theological bent is just that: teaching. I do that every Wednesday night. The pulpit is for proclaiming Law and Gospel, rightly divided, and showing God's people Christ in all Scripture. It is clear *to me* that expository preaching is by far the best way to make sure this is what takes place. The professors and mentors who taught me to preach bear this out, as do the lion's share of the great preachers throughout the Church's history.
Thursday at 9:01am

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Zach
BTW, Cory, I also failed to mention that, in addition to preaching straight through books, one can also guard against indiosyncratic selection of texts by following the lectionary.
Thursday at 9:01am

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Cory
Good point about the lectionary, Zach. And I'm honestly not trying to change your approach to preaching as God has directed you to do it—he's our Boss. But I just have two other arguments for the validity of topical preaching. First, the Puritans (some of them anyway) were terrific preachers, but their general approach was to take a single verse as their "text" and then go all over the Bible for support for the thing they wanted to talk about. I'm not saying that I think this is the best method in the world (or one that I use), but they preached some very gospel-centric, Christocentric sermons that way. Second, we tend not to see what we would call expository preaching in the New Testament itself. The sermons in Acts don't follow that pattern, nor does the book of Hebrews, which is considered by many to be a sermon as a "word of exhortation" (13:22), unless we look at it as a bunch of tiny expository sermons strung together (which, to me, a good topical sermon usually is). But I'm glad you're striking the balance between wide-angle and narrow-angle by employing one on Sunday morning and the other on Wednesday night. I hope that your folks are coming to both. Okay, I promise I'm done now. Rock out in the Lord on Zech. 4:1-10 this Sunday!
Thursday at 9:22am

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Zach
Do you seriously think God is "talking to" different preachers and telling some, "You preach topical sermons" and telling others, "You preach expository?" I guess I'm way too Reformational to see things that way. I believe God already just ...told us all: "You preach faithfully" in His Word.

We can't use the Apostolic sermons as our models because they did not have a New Testament to preach out of, which is why they were speaking authoritatively, inspired by the Holy Spirit; same reason the Apostolic miraculous signs are not normative. And I don't buy for a second that Hebrews is a collection of sermons.

I also want to be clear that I don't preach one way Sunday morning and one way Wednesday night. I preach on Sunday morning and teach a class on Wednesday night. Topical studies work better as a class because, as you break out a bunch of decontextified verses, you can make sure everyone is familiar with the original context (literary, cultural, circumstantial, etc.) of that passage before moving on... Without that element, topical preaching itself seems to reinforce the very unhealthy view of the Bible as a treasure chest full of gems waiting to be pulled out and "used."

Also, I'm not sure whether you're calling topical or expository "wide angle," but in a good expository sermon, it always begins with the wide-angle (establishing context) and then zooms in, so you wind up covering both.
Thursday at 12:18pm

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Cory
Maybe I need to back up. Do you believe that expository preaching is the only way to "preach faithfully" and is incumbent on all preachers at all times?
Thursday at 4:18pm

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Zach
I believe it is the BEST way to preach faithfully and the only way I know of to present Scripture in a way that communicates Scripture to people in context and in a way that also helps teach them how to STUDY the Bible.

I fear that people who sit under buckshot topical preaching week after week will assume that the way to approach the Bible is to look topics up in topical Bibles or keywords in concordances and mash everything together into a Bible salad. When pastor so-and-so does it, it seems to work...
Thursday at 6:22pm

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Cory
Thanks for your explanation and distinctions. I agree with you that expository preaching is the only way to preach to communicate Scripture in its context and in a way that also helps teach them how to study the Bible. This is one reason that expository preaching is essential.

I also believe, however, that just as good expository preaching models how to study Scripture in context, good topical preaching models how to synthesize the range of biblical teaching on a topos and get the "whole counsel of God" on that issue. I totally agree that "buckshot" topical preaching is terrible. That is taking unrelated Scriptures out of context and using them as mere prooftexts. But good topical preaching isn't like buckshot; it's like raindrops on a spiderweb, all carefully linked. I think that this kind of preaching is important too. One reason is that sometimes the Spirit of God desires a church to squarely face God's word on a certain issue for a week or for a season. The other is that just as Christians can do the prooftext-from-all-over-the-Bible thing to justify what they want, I've also heard Christians be stubbornly dogmatic about an off-kilter dogma they derive from one passage of Scripture that they have failed to compare with the whole biblical witness on that topic. They have no model of how to make that comparison or even awareness that it is necessary to do so.

Our conversation has led me to examine my preaching file. I've found that I occasionally preach a topical sermon, but I often preach a topical series that is composed of a number of expository sermons, and I attempt to connect the dots over the course of the weeks that I preach it.
Thursday at 8:10pm

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Zach
The latter kind of "topical preaching," which is really preaching an expository sermon on a "topical" text is a thoroughly venial sin, even by my estimation. My few topical sermons have been of this variety...

I should also point out that "be[ing] stubbornly dogmatic about an off-kilter dogma they derive from one passage of Scripture" is not a danger of expository preaching, because expository preaching does not involve dwelling on a single passage for more than a week. In fact, I've only ever seen that happen in topical preaching, which frees the preacher to bring up the same text--as one supposedly relevant to the topic--week after week after week...
Thursday at 8:27pm

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Terry H
I am no Bible college or seminary-trained Christian; however, I have learned more scriptural relevance over the past five years under Zach's expository style than I did for approximately twenty-three years under the topical style of a former preacher. I speak as a layman who has seen the misuse of scripture presented via the topical approach of this former pastor who warped scripture to support or perpetuate racial prejudice (to name one misuse).
Saturday at 10:41am

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Message from Adam to Zach
January 22 at 12:55pm

Zach,
Read a few of your blog posts recently. The one about priorities was exceptionally written and illustrated. Nice Job. I've been lazily reading internet stuff recently as I scan and digitize more than 1000 slides...

Anyway, after reading that blog post coupled with a recent fb post you made about topical preaching (and seeming disdain for it), I would think that a message around the issue of priorities, as you wrote about it, would make an absolutely fantastic message using those illustrations around the issue of "no time" for prayer, "no money" for giving, etc. There is scripture galore about prioritizing things in your life towards greater kingdom impact/involvement. Would you ever consider doing something like this? I think topical messages have their place, don't you?

Anyway, just a thought.

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Message from Zach to Adam
January 22 at 1:21pm

Hey, man
Thanks for joining the DOZENS (heh) of people who read my blog... As to your question, "I think topical messages have their place, don't you?" I answer, nope.

Case in point, that stuff about time management is Law (law-lite, but law all the same), not Gospel. It falls under the heading of self-help. Now, only a real smarmy chore of a preacher sends people links to his own blog, but since the subject of your message was "blog," check out this post... I'd be interested to hear your response in the comments section.

Anyway, that do-it-yourself, good-attitude, debt-free, time-management, have-a-great-sex-life, self-improvement stuff has a place as a newsletter article, maybe a Sunday school class, a blog post, or a "thought-for-the-day" at a retreat, but I'd rather be shot in the chest by a high-powered diahrrea cannon than proclaim that as if it were Gospel preaching from the pulpit with my Bible open. That's just me. But it's also the Reformers. (And St. Paul who "determined to know nothing among you but Christ and him crucified.")

I mean, sure, a preacher can open his Bible and try to show me what good time management looks like, and I will see how I continually fall short. He can present poor stewardship of time as sin, which it is, and give me hints and tips like the jar of sand thing (from a Mormon's book about priorities and productivity) which are very good and useful tips indeed, but at the end of it all, my question is: WHAT HAVE YOU GOT FOR A SINNER LIKE ME, who wastes time, often spends it in sinful thoughts and endeavors, and continually falls short? In other words, why is he preaching stuff I could hear on Oprah, Dr. Phil, or read on zenhabits.com, instead of proclaiming repentance and forgiveness of sin in Jesus name and showing me Christ in all of Scripture? (BTW, please don't mis-read my passion about this as judgmentalism directed at guys who preach topical sermons.)

I've been planning to post the entire exchange from facebook as a blog post to stir up some more discussion. With your permission, I could add your follow-up message above as well...

Mission Creep, 2010

2011-01-10T09:19:00.003-05:00

Are you familiar with the term “mission creep?” A mission creep is not a jerk who works in a humanitarian field; rather, it refers to the phenomenon in which an organization expands its goals far beyond its original purpose. The term was first used to describe military strategies. For example, the Korean War began as an attempt to save South Korea from a Northern invasion. After some initial success, however, it became an attempt to reunite the peninsula, which proved ultimately unattainable. I haven’t studied the Korean War enough to know weather this was a foolish expansion of the mission, but many have pointed to that conflict and others like it as an example of the dangers of Mission Creep.

The same thing can happen in the business world. A restaurant starts with the mission of making the world’s best tacos, and it seems like they are succeeding. Soon they add hamburgers to the menu. Then hot dogs. Then they start a dog-walking service. Before long, a fast-growing business can become so broad that they seem to be about everything. Which means they’re about nothing. This often results in losing sight of the original mission. GM seemed to acknowledge this when they hit hard times and unloaded Hummer. Suburban tanks were not their main mission. Cars and trucks were.

A related term, “feature creep,” describes the common practice of adding more and more features to a product or software package until it becomes ridiculously complex, bloated, and difficult to use. At the end of the day, the basic function of the program or product is obscured by all the bells and whistles. I’m sure we’ve all experienced this.

Recently, many of the ministers and church leaders in my circles have been writing about Mission Creep in the church. Mega-churches add programs, ministries, groups, and classes simply because they can. Smaller churches get caught up in the “felt needs” trap and start trying to tickle ears and entertain wolves as a matter of first importance, rather than feeding the sheep. When the church coffee shop, after-school program, or film festival is on par with the preaching of the Word, we’ve got a problem.

Mission Creep is a real danger for churches, since we were left with a very specific job: teach what Jesus and the apostles taught (repentance and the forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name), baptize, break bread together, pray, and worship. Of course, we see the church doing some other things in the book of Acts (most notably taking up offerings for the poor, providing food for widows, etc.), but these things were always secondary; they were done in a way that served the actual mission—the basic function of the Church. As with any organization, churches must constantly and intentionally major on the majors and minor on the minors.

In 2010, I believe our church has been almost completely immune to the epidemic of Church Mission Creep. We’ve met together for worship services that have been utterly centered on receiving Christ and his Gospel. The educational ministries at Judson, the outreach projects, the mercy ministries, the music—all of these have, as I perceive them, fit the mission of the Church, which was handed down once for all to the saints from Our Lord and his apostles. I am not saying we’ve been perfect this year, and I will resist the urge to catalogue every little item that you can read about in the annual reports of our boards and ministries, but I do believe that 2010 has been a faithful year of worship and service, furthering the mission of Christ’s holy Church. I am prouder than ever to be Judson’s pastor.

That said, despite having written and taught much on and around this very topic, in reflecting on this past year of ministry (my fifth at Judson), I realized that I have, to some extent, fallen into the trap of pastoral Mission Creep. You see, for all of our faithful service and worship, there have been two areas of concern for me this year. First, while we did add some wonderful new members to our number in 2010, that number is smaller than it has been since my arrival in 2005. In addition, the loss of members though death and relocation has led to a rather significant shortcoming in pledges as compared to our proposed budget for 2011.

Partially motivated by those two areas of concern, I expanded my goals as pastor and allowed Mission Creep to creep into the way I have led Judson Baptist. I have spent a much larger portion of time attempting to attract new members, solve financial problems, motivate giving, re-vamp the website, and other goals which, while laudable, are not the first concern of a pastor. A pastor (literally, “shepherd” in the New Testament Greek) is to be about feeding, guiding, and protecting his or her flock.

In hindsight, I can see that my visitation of home-bound and grieving members has been weaker this year than it was in years past. My follow-up with members who have begun to drift away from the church has been lacking. Even my routine of praying for each of you by name has often been squeezed out by less important pursuits. I’ve been busier than ever before, but perhaps with the wrong things.

Of course, my job description does include a wide and diverse collection of tasks and responsibilities, but, as a minister ordained to Gospel ministry, I need to continually remind myself that some of those tasks are majors and some are minors—and I need to dole out my time, energy, and creativity accordingly.

Mission Creep is never intentional. Whether it affects a restaurant chain, military operation, or pastor, the people in question always tell themselves that they can add more and more to the plate without harming their ability to remain faithful to that original mission. In 2010, I’ve learned anew that this is impossible. Remaining faithful means knowing what is central to the mission, what is of secondary importance, and what is inconsequential.

As we move into a new year of life and ministry together, I will be re-centering myself on a calling to spiritually care for my flock—to preach, teach, pray, serve, and love. And I will continue to lead our church further and further into the center of God’s revealed mission for his People on earth. If we’re all faithful in the task we’re given—if we seek first the Kingdom of Heaven—we can trust our God to provide all the rest of the things we need.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

My Cheesy Christmas Poem

2010-12-17T11:42:00.007-05:00

Here’s a corny little rhyme-couplet style poem I wrote a few years ago. Trust me, the metre works if you make it...

Twas 750 years before Christmas and all throughout Judah
There were idols a-plenty (of Baal, not Buddha)

The Assyrian Empire was everywhere feared
Led by Tiglath-Pilesar, whose name was quite weird

King Ahaz had buckled like the belt on my khakis
And the great nation Judah became boot-licking lackeys

They abandoned the covenant and the God who had made them
Looked to Egypt for help, which had been...um...forbaden

Their enemies were mean, they were kickers and spitters
So the people lost hope, like a bunch of lame quitters

The Devil was happy; he was pleased! he was winning!
With the king a big wimp and the people all sinning

And so without hope, they gave in to these Gentiles
As Isaiah had prophesied, a couple of exiles

The South off to Babylon, the North to Assyria
(‘fore that massive Diaspora from Spain to Siberia)

Could there ever be hope again for this covenant people?
It seems the Old Testament is in need of a sequel.

For 400 years, not a peep from a prophet
God withheld the big bomb, not quite ready to drop it

Then about A.D. 1 God said, “Now, let’s get to it—
To reverse the great curse that came down when they blew it”

The arrangements all made and the stage all prepared,
The Virgin conceived and the census declared

And up in the heavens, God let loose with his Spirit
(He doesn’t say “Ho ho ho”—when He laughs, you can feel it)

“On Raphael, on Michael, on Uriel, on Gabriel”
Operation Immanuel will kick off in a stable.

Salvation is coming; Satan’s curse is deleted,
The people redeemed and the devil defeated

Old Satan was cooked—with potatoes and gravy
How horribly embarrassing—to be trounced by a baby

So into the darkness was born a great light
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Talkin' Bout a Revolution

2010-12-13T10:00:00.002-05:00

Facebook can be a great tool for keeping in touch and re-connecting with old friends. It can also be a depressing source of unhappy discoveries. I have previously blogged about how many of my childhood friends have left the Faith, and how I probably wouldn’t know about most of these apostasies if it weren’t for facebook.

A similar phenomenon has developed (with a different demographic) in the past five years, as junior high kids from the Baptist camp where I pastor each summer friend me on facebook, all on fire for Jesus and stuff, only to—in many cases—immediately begin cooling off. It’s heart-breaking to see kids’ faith being slowly chipped away and the culture begin to conform them to the patterns of this world. Add to that the majority, who never saw any use for the the Gospel to begin with, and whose updates reflect the godless culture with which they’ve chosen to identify.

Yes, the tweets and such of young people (and I use that term broadly, to encapsule everyone from middle schoolers up through my own peers, now entering our mid-30s) can be an eye-opening, heart-wrenching thing to behold.

I am occasionally overwhelmed by this phenomenon, and will from time to time become very depressed by the way the youngest couple of generations have embraced carnality, relativism, and blasphemy almost in complete unison, regularly mocking and attacking the Scriptures, the Church, and the Lord in that distinctly Gen X/Millennial way that is so sarcastic, it almost makes sarcasm lose all meaning. At such times, I am tempted to go all grizzled and make blanket statements about how the end must be near, because it’s never been this bad before, blah, blah, blah. And all the while, the tweeters in question have an equal-but-opposite view of such things: We’ve never been this free, they say, this unencumbered, this evolved.

And, of course, both the would-be grizzled and the would-be evolved are dead wrong. It’s always been this way.

Sure, young people today laugh at “repressive” ethics that would cramp their experimental style with outdated biblical guidelines. They believe that all spiritual roads lead to the same God (or non-god enlightenment source). They look increasingly to purely empirical sources for Truth, even while promoting a view of truth as relative and ever-shifting. And this is all so unheard of! Why, to find another generation who thought like that, we have to go back to . . . their parents. (There’s that Gen X sarcasm again.)

Yeah, when they were young, large swaths of Boomers were largely about the Summer of love, anarchy, free-thought and legalized drugs. Damn the Man!, etc.. Now they are the Man. Most of them, anyway. It’s difficult to find a Boomer who hasn’t grown up and grow out of all that (or at least tempered it with large doses of reality). In fact, one of the most automatically funny characters in film and TV today is the Boomer still stuck in his hippy ideals, lovable for his naïveté.¹

Before the Boomers, we could point to the hedonism of the beatniks in the late ’50s / early ’60s, with their own experimental drugs and sex. Or back another generation to the Roaring ’20s: swingers, flappers, jazz, and liquor. The young people who were into that scene were later the very moms and dads who sat down on the couch to watch Leave It to Beaver every week with their kids in the 1950s.

We could keep on pushing backward in history and form an unbroken chain, if we were so inclined, highlighting the culture of Rome in the 1500s or Roman Culture in the 4th Century (a brief perusal of Augustine’s Confessions will remind us that there is nothing new under the sun, and certainly nothing unique or ultimate about the current moral slide). We could follow this back to the Athenians, the Cretans, the Babylonians, the men of Sodom, all the way to Cain. They all thought they’d arrived by throwing off shackles. They scoffed at their uptight forefathers and patted themselves on the back for their wide acceptance of any vice or perversion in the name of unfettered living and shameless self-gratification. Granted, an outer veneer of decency (a la Leave It to Beaver) or righteousness (a la the Pharisees) does not necessarily indicate a right standing with God, but when a generation actively rejects God and rebels against his Word, it is a sign that they are lost. It’s happened before and it will happen again. Again and again. Until the end.

Inside the Church, we lament that we haven’t arrived anywhere good. But the fact is that we haven’t arrived anywhere at all. This is as cyclical and predictable as it gets.

I’ve got some bad news for the tweeters in question, and history will bear me out: You’re not liberated. This isn’t social, sexual, and philosophical freedom; this is bondage to sin, self, and Satan and it ends with epic emptiness and regret. This isn’t the inevitable progress toward man’s great evolution; it’s the inevitable growing pains on the way to (none-too-inevitable) maturity—the moral and intellectual equivalent of those awkward, gawky teenage years.

This is not the Revolution that won’t be televised; it’s a temper tantrum, and it’s archived on YouTube.

And this isn’t limited to generational distinctives. As Christians, we know that the wheat and the chaff will grow up together. We need to remind the Church that there will always be chaff, lest we fall into the man-centered eschatology of the old Postmillennials. But we also need to remind the world and the Church alike that there will always be wheat—no matter how unified the prominent cultures of the world may be in their rejection of Christ and his revelation (and how deep into the church visible these errors may seep), the gates of hell will never prevail against the True Church. This world will not be ceded to the enemy and Christ will prevail. We’ve seen it before and we’ll see it again.

I suppose, then, that it is a revolution, in that it keeps going around and around. What will cause the wheel to stop spinning is not our collectively reaching some Nirvana state of enlightenment, but the return of our Lord Jesus in glory.

With that in mind, the eye-opening, heart-wrenching proclamations of generations past and present should fill us, not with despair, but with compassion, as they did our Lord Jesus when he saw that the people were like sheep without a shepherd. They need the Great Shepherd, and we know the Great Shepherd. And as these wandering sheep, one by one, run out of fight when it comes to their Creator, and run out of interest when it comes to the “revolution,” we can be there to proclaim the Good News, and see them taken home, safe and sound.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

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1 “There’s nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster.” -Dr. Evil

Seriously, DO call it a comeback...

2010-12-08T11:13:00.004-05:00

While I count down the days to the release of the Crossway/Gospel Coalition title Don’t Call It a Comeback featuring pretty much every YRR superstar (including my boy Ted Kluck), there is a more urgent comeback taking place.

Once great and once defunct website, www.calvinistgadfly.com has finally and fully been resurrected by the great Frank Turk. The NEW Calvinist Gadfly is less about counter-polemics and (at least so far) more about getting back to the basics of what Calvinism is really about and how it affects our lives as disciples of Jesus. And, of course, Turk does this as only Turk can.

It also features a purple and green comic book character (the aforementioned gadfly) in a biomechanical suit of some kind, and lots of fun Calvin-related photoshop. (Turk referred to the above graphic as “almost Bartels-esque,” but I think that’s giving me too much credit.) And like any good website, fan art is part of the culture at the New Calvinist Gadfly, which means you’ll be seeing some of my humble offerings soon.

Anyway, it’s just a click away on the blogroll to your left, so go check it out. And have I mentioned that Frank Turk wrote the foreword to Younger, Restlesser, Reformeder: A Good-Natured Roast, a little humor book by me and Ted Kluck, which comes out on December 15? Well, I have now...

Christmas Morning (and Evening)

2010-12-02T13:28:00.004-05:00

First of all, let me just apologize for not blogging for a full month. I have been giving most of my free time (and my creative energy) to a couple of projects, which lend to this preacher’s mind a sense of Ahhh, that is complete that is ordinarily missing from a life of ministry. I will be talking your ear off about a couple of these projects soon enough. For now, let me talk about Spurgeon.

One of my very favorite preachers of all time, Rev. Charles Haddon Spurgeon, lived from 1834-1892, and pastored the famous New Park Street Chapel in London (called there when he was only 19 years old!). I read at least one Spurgeon sermon each week and am always blown away, inspired, and convicted.

I also appreciate Spurgeon’s devotional book, Morning and Evening, which offers two short devotionals for each day of the year, one intended for reading as the day begins, and one for reading as the day ends. Each devotional entry is short—sometimes, no longer than an article in “Our Daily Bread” (which I often call “Our Daily Crouton”) but the depth and insight contained within are far beyond any modern devotional I’ve ever encountered.

If you are looking to deepen your devotional life in 2011, I highly recommend you get a hold of a copy of Morning and Evening. You can actually access this work online without trouble, and there are even a couple of sites (here and here) that will drop you off right at today's reading, but I prefer the feel of a book in my hands. Along with the Treasury of Daily Prayer, this book has been one of the greatest assets to my devotional life.

To give you a little taste, enjoy the morning and evening entries for Christmas day, which I find to be just as relevant today as they were in the 19th Century when they were first written.

Morning

”Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”-Isaiah 7:14

Let us to-day go down to Bethlehem, and in company with wondering shepherds and adoring Magi, let us see Him who was born King of the Jews, for we by faith can claim an interest in Him, and can sing, “Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.” Jesus is Jehovah incarnate, our Lord and our God, and yet our brother and friend; let us adore and admire. Let us notice at the very first glance His miraculous conception. It was a thing unheard of before, and unparalleled since, that a virgin should conceive and bear a Son. The first promise ran thus, “The seed of the woman,” not the offspring of the man. Since venturous woman led the way in the sin which brought forth Paradise lost, she, and she alone, ushers in the Regainer of Paradise. Our Saviour, although truly man, was as to His human nature the Holy One of God.

Let us reverently bow before the holy Child whose innocence restores to manhood its ancient glory; and let us pray that He may be formed in us, the hope of glory. Fail not to note His humble parentage. His mother has been described simply as “a virgin,” not a princess, or prophetess, nor a matron of large estate. True the blood of kings ran in her veins; nor was her mind a weak and untaught one, for she could sing most sweetly a song of praise; but yet how humble her position, how poor the man to whom she stood affianced, and how miserable the accommodation afforded to the new-born King!

Immanuel, God with us in our nature, in our sorrow, in our lifework, in our punishment, in our grave, and now with us, or rather we with Him, in resurrection, ascension, triumph, and Second Advent splendour.

Evening
“And it was so, when the days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and sanctified them, and rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually.”-Job 1:5

What the patriarch did early in the morning, after the family festivities, it will be well for the believer to do for himself ere he rests tonight. Amid the cheerfulness of household gatherings it is easy to slide into sinful levities, and to forget our avowed character as Christians. It ought not to be so, but so it is, that our days of feasting are very seldom days of sanctified enjoyment, but too frequently degenerate into unhallowed mirth. There is a way of joy as pure and sanctifying as though one bathed in the rivers of Eden: holy gratitude should be quite as purifying an element as grief. Alas! for our poor hearts, that facts prove that the house of mourning is better than the house of feasting.

Come, believer, in what have you sinned to-day? Have you been forgetful of your high calling? Have you been even as others in idle words and loose speeches? Then confess the sin, and fly to the sacrifice. The sacrifice sanctifies. The precious blood of the Lamb slain removes the guilt, and purges away the defilement of our sins of ignorance and carelessness. This is the best ending of a Christmas-day-to wash anew in the cleansing fountain. Believer, come to this sacrifice continually; if it be so good to-night, it is good every night. To live at the altar is the privilege of the royal priesthood; to them sin, great as it is, is nevertheless no cause for despair, since they draw near yet again to the sin-atoning victim, and their conscience is purged from dead works.

Gladly I close this festive day,
Grasping the altar’s hallow'd horn;
My slips and faults are washed away,
The Lamb has all my trespass borne.

By the way, if you’re intrigued by the evening reading, Spurgeon preached an entire Christmas sermon from that text, which you can read here or listen to here.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Let’s “Rock”

2010-10-29T11:49:00.005-04:00

Note: I have once again left off illustrating the blog for a while, as all my artistic vigor is being channeled into another project with the one and only Ted Kluck.

It was looking to be one of my busiest weeks in at least three months—one of those perfect storm things where an already-tight schedule is complicated by the seemingly un-providential/coincidental convergence of multiple meetings, projects, and appointments (both personal and professional), leaving you to wonder how/if you can possibly deal with everything on your plate.

In the midst of this, a friend of mine from overseas, whom I haven’t seen in over a year and who is currently stateside for a very short time, called to see if we might get together this week. “I’d love to,” I told him, “but it’s not possible. If we can’t work it out for early next week, then I’ll have to catch you next time.” There was just no space in the schedule.

I was already falling a good deal behind by mid-morning on Tuesday when my son’s day care called. He had a fever and was acting lethargic and clingy and they wondered if I wanted to come get him. Erin was in Grand Rapids for work and so, suddenly, my schedule cleared itself. I sped over and picked him up, scored some chocolate milk and cookies on the way home (mostly for Calvin), and settled in on the couch with him, where he alternately played with toy trains and soaked up TLC for the balance of the day.

Just after lunch, in a doomed-from-the-word-go attempt to salvage the work day, I lugged my PC (I don’t have a laptop) and 2-ton monitor down to the basement and fired it up while Calvin indulged in a couple episodes of Bob the Builder (spoiler alert: yes, we can fix it). But before I had so much as answered an e-mail or parsed a Hebrew verb, my little son was climbing up onto my lap, where he summarily fell asleep against my shoulder, snoring and drooling as I gently rocked him.

It was the best Tuesday I’ve had in a long time.

As I sat there, afraid to make any large movements lest I wake my sick child, I pondered how tricky priorities are. I’d just preached a message on the topic two days earlier, but right here on my lap was a living reminder of how we truly do have control over our own priorities and the way they play out in our lives (even though we might tell ourselves otherwise).

For instance, I had told my friend that I don’t have a spare hour this week, but with a single call about my son, I suddenly found more than six. We might tell a church or charity that we don’t have another dollar to spare, but if the car breaks down, we’re suddenly able to scare up a few hundred, simply by a forced shift in priorities. We might tell a co-worker that we lack the emotional energy needed to care for a pet at this point in our life (so please stop trying to give me one of your kittens), but if a spouse, child, or parent falls ill, emotional energy will suddenly be in record supply, at least for a time. The issue with the kitten is that it’s just not a priority.

The variables here seem to be willingness and intentionality. When I’m protecting my life’s status quo from a new element that is vying for a chunk of my time, money, or energy, I tell myself how impossible it would be to displace something else (anything else!) from its current rank in my life in order to accommodate these new items. Nine times out of ten, I don’t go to the trouble of evaluating each and every time-, energy-, and money-zapper in my life to see how each compares to the new prospect. And yet, when something significant happens, it becomes very easy to overturn old priorities. Compared with a basement filling with water or the chance to finally meet Eric Estrada, my formerly top priorities find themselves downgraded. And the only thing that has changed in such situations is my willingness to make the comparison and act on it.

I think this (our lack of willingness and intentionality) is why Christians often fall drastically short of our own expectations in the areas of prayer, Bible study, evangelism, tithing, and the like. We wish that we “had the time” or “had the money” to follow through in these things, but alas, our resources are all tied up. We don’t analyze what’s got them tied up and then compare the importance of these things with different elements of discipleship. Rather than being governed by our values, we usually just follow the inertia of the status quo. It might be laziness that keeps us from making needed changes or it might be workoholism. Either way, being intentional about our priorities (not just knowing what they are, or should be) is essential to being an effective disciple of Jesus Christ.

There’s a rather corny old illustration about time management (which also applies to most areas of stewardship) that I’ve come across about twenty times, and yet it always strikes a chord of truth with me:

An old professor was once addressing a group of top executives on the subject of time management. Rather than just give a lecture, he provided an object lesson by way of an experiment. Pulling out a large empty jar, he proceeded to place tennis ball-sized rocks into it until no more would fit. Turning to his audience, he asked, “Is the jar full?”

“Yes,” they replied.

Without a word, he reached under the podium and pulled out a box of pebbles, which he slowly poured into the jar. The pebbles fell into the cracks between the large rocks and, before long, almost the entire box of pebbles was in the jar, such that not one more would fit. Again he asked, “Is the jar full?”

Having caught on, the executives answered, “No!”

The professor smiled and produced a box of sand, which he very slowly poured into the jar, allowing it to fill in all the space between the large and small stones. He then surveyed the crowd and asked, “Now, what is the point of all this?”

One man in the audience raised his hand and suggested, “You’re telling us that, no matter how full our schedules may seem, we can always fit in more client meetings, more phone calls, more staff training, etc. if we fill in the cracks.”

“Wrong,” said the old professor. “The point is that, if we don’t put the big stones in first, we will never be able to fit them in later.”

We all have our “big stones” in our lives—those things that we would identify as top priorities if asked to list them out. Family, health, maybe time with friends. For the Christian, these should include time in prayer, time in the Word, service in the Kingdom, financially supporting missions and ministry. And yet, because we are not intentional about putting them in the jar first, we find that the pebbles and sand of life too often crowd them out.

Television or mindless Internet screen-sucking can steal an evening and give you nothing back in return, and yet we might tell ourselves that we don’t “have time” for personal devotions or exercise or a Bible study group or whatever the big rock is. “I’m only giving 2% to the local church and missions, but I’m stretched as far as I can go,” one might say, even while the sand of satellite TV and web-enabled smart phone payments, along with the pebbles of payemnts on two brand new cars and countless meals out are poured in first, leaving no room for the rocks that we wish marked our lives.

Although God’s resources are infinite, he’s entrusted each of us with only so much time, so much energy, so much material wealth. Stewardship means looking at that finite jar and putting in the big rocks first. I find that I’m continually working on this, re-building my schedule and priorities from the ground up. This sometimes frustrates me, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative. I pray that I’m getting closer and closer to a life that seeks first the Kingdom of Heaven and trusts God to provide the rest—a life where the big stones are placed in the jar before the sands of life fill in every little crack.

And while nobody is perfect, I’d love to reach the level of Martin Luther who used to (unironically) say, “I have so very many things to do today that I can’t afford to spend less than three hours in prayer this morning.” May the priorities of the Kingdom be the biggest rocks in our lives, and may we place them firmly and firstly on the Rock of Jesus Christ.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Pastor Zach

Where Are HERESY, FALSE, and BUS?

2010-10-25T08:15:00.001-04:00

I’m working on a project that includes a spoof of a wordle word cloud.

In light of my most recent post (wherein someone suggests that Pastor Zach is all about pointing out falsehoods and heresy and “throwing people under the bus”), I decided to run my blog content from 2010 through the cogs of wordle and see what came out the other end.

Here's the result:

(Click to enlarge)

First and foremost, any little nagging doubts lurking in my mind, that maybe I’m not preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the love of God from pulpit and keyboard alike faded away.

I did notice some little problems with the distribution, however. For example, I may need to talk about sin and God’s law more. (As it is, I talk about them less than I talk about Frank Turk; but, then again, sin and Turk are related subjects, no?). I'd also like to see “cross” be significantly bigger. Although, just because I don’t use the word “cross” in a given sentence doesn’t mean I’m not talking about Christ’s sacrificial work on the cross.

All in all, I’m pretty please with the result of the wordle analysis. But two things keep me from patting myself on the back:

1. The thought of how disappointed I would likely be by a word cloud of what I’ve said in 2010.

2. Although I wish I could say I didn’t also wordle my accuser’s blog (and find a little sinful pleasure in the result), I can’t.

Here’s praying that 2011’s words will be all the more honoring to Our Lord Jesus.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Bombing Bridges

2010-10-20T08:45:00.013-04:00

Carifications Born of an Internet Blow-Up

Note: The following post is more or less part 2 of this older post. In the former, I addressed why I think it is often necessary to respond strongly to false religious ideas that are being advanced in the public square. In this post, I explain how I go about deciding which claims warrant such a response. I know it’s insanely long and you probably won’t read the whole thing. That’s okay; I wrote it for me.

Also Note: I am well aware that, in many ways, arguing on the Internet is akin to entering a Twilight Saga trivia contest—even if you win, you still entered a Twilight trivia contest.
____________________

If you don’t find yourself publicly rebuked once in a while, you’re doing it wrong. At least that seems to be the conventional wisdom among we New Calvinists (and, I suppose, Christ’s words in Luke 6:26 could be offered as biblical evidence of this to some degree). The word troll was invented for those who intentionally invite the public rebukes because they like the feeling, but most people—healthy people— aren’t crazy about the prospect. You can count me among that number.

Recently, though, I was harshly admonished (first on a blog and then on facebook) by a guy who’s been my friend for much of my life. The long and short of it: I’m apparently a self-righteous jerk who “throws people under the bus” if they aren’t of the exact same theological stripe as me or don’t do things in the exact same way that I do. The idea is that I’ve got God in a box (although those words weren’t used, the equally trite phrase “my God is bigger than that” was), and I’m unnecessarily divisive to boot. The case in point was my posting a video of a Hannah Montana song being performed at a mega-church service (where it was billed as “worship”) and posing the question, “If this is worship, who is being worshiped?”

I deleted the entire exchange, which ended in private message and began with the issuing of anethamas in my direction (albeit slightly softened by replacing “cursed be...” with “shame on...”). Lots of buzzwords and clichés, but little actual content, followed, capped with, “No wonder we haven’t reached the whole world yet.” (And here I didn’t even know we were trying to proclaim the message of Hannah Montana to all nations).

I can’t be too critical here, though, as my friend’s words and tone remind me of myself about ten years ago, when I was just starting seminary. My theology was undeveloped and based more in popular trends than serious study, but I tried to make up for it with extra-strong opinions and an extra-incredulous disposition. (Of course, that being the case, I would have responded incredulously to the very suggestion).¹

I answered all this by pointing out that St. Paul often responded very strongly to false teaching that was in danger of twisting or obscuring the Gospel, as did St. John, St. Peter, Jude, and pretty much all the prophets—in ways that make me look like Stewart Smalley.

After all, it was the Apostle Paul who wrote, “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

But when I brought that up, my friend said,

“... quote Paul all you want, i’ll stick with Christ who encourages us to go, live, and love... ”

Of course, this “Red Letter hermeneutic” shows a lack of understanding regarding the inspiration of Scripture, but it also overlooks much of what Christ taught during his earthly ministry. Our Lord Jesus taught more about being on guard against false doctrine, false prophets, false christs, false teachers, wolves in sheeps’ clothing, and dangerous theological leaven than anyone else in Scripture. The love Jesus taught and modeled doesn’t look like path-of-least-resistance, flower child love. Sometimes it looks like this or this.

But here’s the funny thing: from the other side, I’m occasionally accused of having way too big a tent when it comes to the Church. For those who know me, the very notion that I make a habit of excluding Christians of other traditions is downright laughable. My view of the Kingdom stretches from Rome to Constantinople (the long way around) and includes everything in between. (See this post and this post, where I talk at length about this topic.)

Compared to many in the circles I travel, I am laid back to a fault when it comes to what should be exposed, anathematized, and refuted. I have again and again come out against neo-gnostic Calvinism (the notion that everyone who leans Arminian is a suspect Christian, unfit for service or ordination). I don’t dismiss Roman Catholics out-of-hand as non-Christians. I don’t indulge in screeds against the use of “worldly” music styles in worship (so long as it is actually worshiping Our Lord I don’t care what genre or instruments you employ). And I totally want to meet Billy Graham before he dies.

By holding a big-tent view of the Church, even while defending to the wall the doctrines of the orthodox faith, I’m often seen as reactionary and harsh by emergent types and seeker-driven Christians, and as compromising and overly accommodating by my more confessional/ fundamental friends.

Now, is it possible that I am the kind of jerk who gets off on confrontation and, therefore, just says whatever will get a rise out of the present company/ audience, thus cementing my identity as a “persecuted reformer?” I have considered this and rejected it for a number of reasons, most tellingly that there are many, many people (the vast majority of people) with whom I have no beef in these matters whatsoever and who have no beef with me. And this highly diverse, beefless group contains people with whom I differ greatly (here are just a few examples)—people with whom I can share a wide view of the Christian faith, but not so wide open that it lacks distinctives; people with whom I can disagree vehemently and debate passionately without the bridge being bombed (see below) and the inevitable, “Shame on you; you’re the reason we haven’t reached the whole world with the Gospel.”

Just because I often feel like either the most liberal or most conservative guy in the room at many clergy gatherings (depending on the group) doesn’t mean that it usually gets personal. It almost never does—this is one reason I love being a Baptist. We historically have been able to carry out the lively debate without dulling the edges of God’s Word, and then continue to embrace each other as brothers and sisters. Besides, I happen to know for a fact that I dread this kind of spat. Dread it. Still, one can’t stop speaking truth and exposing lies just because it is uncomfortable.

Another friend of mine (who can’t be hyperlinked because he lacks a blog) once told me that he also has no problem getting along with both liberal and conservative Christians and, in his ministry context, thinks of himself as something of a bridge between the two. “That’s awesome,” I said. He wasn’t so sure. “What’s the first thing they bomb when a war starts?” he asked.

Yeah, some people clearly view bridges as something to be burned.

But here’s the point: I don’t know many who would argue that—if someone is actively, clearly, and publicly teaching false doctrine—that no one should point out the error. To let people be led astray while doing nothing to help them see the Truth (usually in the interest of unity (read: uniformity)) is not loving in the least. I don’t care how open-minded you claim to be, within three guesses I can identify a teaching that you believe should be called out and refuted. Obviously, my friend agrees that there are certain things that should be boldly corrected, as he felt the need to try and correct me.

Therefore, the question that remains is: When has one crossed the line into error touching on essentials? In other words, when are we just quibbling over methods or details and when are we obeying the biblical call to contend earnestly for the faith once for all handed down to the saints? Everyone ultimately has to answer this question for himself; I can only tell you how I do it.

Last night, my wife and I watched the Robert Duvall movie, The Apostle, which has been my favorite film since it came out in 1997. It’s one of those Gen X phenomenon things, where it’s not just two hours of entertainment that I appreciate— no, loving this movie kind of helps define me. I almost always cry when the man at the bulldozer is converted and/or the final evangelistic sermon before the Apostle E.F. is arrested. (Oops: I meant to say, “spoiler alert”). And, in light of this whole bridge-bombing, I found myself reflecting on the film I had just watched and wondering, “Why does this story touch me, inspire me, and cause me to give glory to God?” It became kind of a test case in my mind.

Let me explain. The Apostle is a story about a Pentecostal Holiness preacher who pastors a large “tabernacle” (with a rather flashy, carnival-esque service) and travels from town to town, preaching revivals, and then (due to unforeseen circumstances) heads to a small town, where he builds up a church in the Deep South. In other words, we’re talking Finneyism par exellance, Arminianism, enthusiasm, slaying in the Spirit, the anxious bench ... basically, a lot of the very American spiritual elements that I roundly reject. This is not my tradition and I do believe that my reading of the key texts involved is the correct reading.

But I know a few local pastors in this same tradition. I pray for and with them. I worship with them from time to time. I greatly appreciate their ministries. We might have some good discussion or friendly debate, but I feel no need to warn the Christian community at large to be on guard, and I certainly don’t worry in the least about violating St. John’s admonition in 2 John 1:10 by supporting their ministries.

Why not? Going back to the test case of The Apostle film, Duvall’s character takes part in ministries that differ very much from my own, built on traditions and understandings very different from my own, but which have something vital in common with my own: absolute Christocentrism,² continual reference in every form, action, song, and sermon to the Lord Jesus, His death for our sins, His blood which paid our debt, the concept of salvation by grace through faith alone, and a commitment to glorifying God with every aspect of life (although Sonny himself falls very short, as we all do).

Even if I would not personally want to join a church that sings “Jesus, He’s Alright” for ten minutes or encourages speaking in tongues (i.e., Duvall’s church in the film), I love to celebrate and experience diverse traditions that lift up Jesus Christ and glory in his death for the forgiveness of our sins and resurrection for our justification. I love the Eastern Orthodox church, where the notion of Christ’s body and blood, broken and spilled for me, is front and center in the eucharist (the high point of the service). Certainly, I have issues with Eastern Orthodox doctrine and even with elements of their liturgy, but Christ is proclaimed in it as Savior and Lord. Ibid concerning my friends at All Saints Episcopal in East Lansing, who are significantly more liberal than I (both theologically and socially), and yet I don’t know how Christ could possibly be more central to their life as a church. The same is true of a number of Independent Fundamentalist churches whose pastors are firebrands and likely think of me as too theologically liberal. But they love Christ and they proclaim Him clearly to the lost.

I would bring this all back to Paul’s statement, “The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.”

Where I take issue and where I see danger is where Christ, His cross, and His blood are toned down, twisted, perverted, obscured, or obfuscated; where they are hidden behind or presented as serving “my dreams for my life,” “the vision I’m casting,” or the notion of prosperity. If one gets the impression that Christ is here for my comfort, my entertainment, my glory, or my cultural proclivities, a false soteriology is at play.

A man-centered Gospel is no Gospel. And while my friend’s heart is in the right place as he pleads with me not to “turn people off to the message,” I sincerely want nothing more than to turn people off to that message. For once someone thinks they’ve found salvation in themselves, their heart will be all the more hardened to the true Gospel, which, although it is foolishness and a scandalous thing—a stumbling block—to this world and its culture...to us who are being saved, it is the power of God, for God has chosen the foolish things of this world to shame the wise.

Solus Christus,
Pastor Zach

____________________

¹ There is indeed a certain sense of newly discovered freedom (and perhaps an initial smugness) that comes with realizing that your tradition is not the extent of the Christian faith, that things may not be as black-and-white as they were presented to you in high school youth group, and that there are a lot more questions and a lot fewer pat answers than you once thought. But that’s only beneficial if you come out the other side with stronger faith, having wrestled with these things and having realized that, while not everything you thought was cut-and-dried is such, the Bible is still trustworthy and you can know what you believe and why you believe it.

² I realize that the charismatic/Pentecostal traditions do sometimes overemphasize the Third Person of the Trinity, but as with any tradition, there are different strains and I cannot deal with them all at once, nor would I like to lump them all together.

HOLIFIED!!!

2010-10-11T21:01:00.006-04:00

There’s a phenomenon that I bump into maybe once or twice a month, which occasionaly manifests itself in ordinary spoken conversations, but is usually found on Internet social networking sites. And since I’ve never seen anyone else identify/ isolate/ name said Internet sensation, I’ve decided to refer to it as being holified.

What does it mean to holify someone? Well, the holifier is a relative of the “story-topper” or “one-upper”—you know, the guy who always has to out-do you in conversation. If you got two speeding tickets in one week, he talks about the time he got three. You had painful surgery on your foot; she had the same surgery twice, and the second time, they left a pair of snips inside her big toe, which then became infected. If you say which ‘80s punk bands you like, he scoffs and explains how none of those are really punk, then schools you on which bands you should like. Story toppers are very versatile; they will one-up your story no matter the topic or context.

Holifiers, on the other hand, are more specialized. They also can strike at any time, regardless of the subject being discussed, but they only spew uber-spiritual stuff. This leaves the one holified with the implied message that he hasn’t been holy enough in how he has expressed himself or even in his topic of conversation.

This may all sound absurd and quite random, like nothing you’ve ever encountered before. Let me show you some concrete examples, and I’m sure you’ll recognize when you yourself have been holified!

It often starts with a quote, quip, or inside joke to which the holifier is not privy. For example,

Facebook status: “Do you ever just get down on your knees and thank God that you know me and have access to my dementia?” [this, of course, is a quote from George Castanza on Seinfeld]

Comment/response: “I thank God that I know HIM and have access through Jesus Christ!”

You’ve just been HOLIFIED!

Do you see how, even though you weren’t actually talking about gratitude or heavy spiritual matters, all the same you sort of look like the jerk now? I mean, compared to what that second guy is thankful for, your thing just looks downright irreverent, am I right?

Some more examples:

Facebook status: “I hate it when people cut you off in traffic because they’re texting, applying makeup, and eating at the same time.”

Comment/response: “Hate? How is that Christ-like? They only text while driving because they are in dire need of sound doctrine and religious conversion. You should be on your knees praying for these people, not on facebook complaining about them!”
Holified!

Facebook status: “Check out this video; Mark Driscoll is awesome.”

Comment/response: “No man is awesome; that belongs to GOD ALONE. Soli Deo Gloria!!!”
Holified!

Facebook status: “I hate so much...of the things you choose to be.” [this, of course, is perhaps the funniest sitcom line ever, penned by Steve Carrel for The Office Season 2 finale]

Comment/response: “Maybe I'm just stupid, but I thought Jesus told us to LOVE our enemies last time I checked!” [This begs the question: do I need to love Toby Flenderson to be a good Christian—even though Toby is a fictional character and does not really, ya know, exist?]
Hoooooolified!

Most of the holificiations I’ve encountered have been directed at other people’s statuses, tweets, etc., but I’ve been holified a good number of times. Of course, not every critical comment of a spiritual nature makes the cut. It must be at least somewhat passive-aggressive and come out of nowhere. If one is truly holified, it’s a straight-up topical ambush!

You get it, right? At this point, you probably think I want to hear examples of when you have been holified. You are correct, and bonus points if they took place OFF-LINE.

_

Two Reasons to Obey the Law of the Land

2010-10-06T16:56:00.003-04:00

I got a speeding ticket today.

It’s been about eight years since I’ve had the pleasure, and it caught me rather off-guard, as if those flashing lights simply couldn’t be for me. It also brought to the front of my mind the same basic thoughts it always has, including:

“Why don’t you go catch some real criminals, hot-shot?”
“The speed limit on Oakland is thirty-five?! WHAT? It’s three lanes, one way, all commercial! That’s ridiculous. Nobody goes thirty-five on this street.”
“Seriously, you should go catch some real criminals.”
“I wasn’t even the fastest one in the pack. I was barely going 50. That guy in the red Mustang was going 60. Plus, he was texting. Why me?”
“I guarantee someone in Lansing is getting stabbed right now. Stabbed by a real criminal. And you’re here giving me a ticket for going with the flow of traffic. This is so stupid.”

Of course, I don’t actually say any of this out loud to the police officer. I’m polite to a fault, admit my guilt (bearing false witness in a court of law kind of goes against my conscience, so I won’t be fighting the ticket), and even tell the policeman “thank you” before driving off. (What I’m thanking him for, I have no idea—helping take that pesky $180 off my hands?)

All the same, behind my not-so-righteous indignation, I know the policeman is just doing his job. Part of protecting and serving a community is making sure people drive safely. And one way to do that is hand out tickets to people who break the rules. They give tickets to a few and scare everybody into driving reasonably—and to a degree, it seems to work. Now that I have a son, this makes a lot more sense to me; when people go zipping past my house while Calvin is outside, I’d like to see them get loaded into the backseat of a police cruise—forget the ticket.

And ultimately, I’m not mad at the officer; I’m mad at myself. I should have spotted that speed trap, I think. I should have known he was hiding there, because cops are often hiding there. I’m annoyed with myself for getting caught. I should have slowed down because, if I didn’t, there was a good chance I’d wind up paying the price.

If that sounds a little selfish, I suppose it is. But it’s also biblical. In Romans 13, St. Paul tells us that one reason we should obey the law is because of possible punishment from the civil authorities. He tells us that God has instituted the authorities that we answer to, and that by disobeying them we bring judgment upon ourselves. “Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority?” asks Paul. “Then do what is right and he will commend you.”

Now, I’ve never been pulled over by a police officer so that he or she could commend me for my good driving, but the principle holds. These people are there to do us good. Does that police officer (or magistrate or meter maid or IRS agent) seem like they’re just out to ruin your day? Well, there may be a reason, and it may just have something to do with God. According to Romans 13, the one in authority “is God's servant to do you good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword for nothing. He is God's servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer.”

So there you have it; if there is a possibility of punishment, we should submit to the civil authorities and the law of the land, so that we won’t bring judgment upon ourselves. But if you know there’s no cops around, blow through that red light. If you’re sure the IRS won’t catch on to you, take that fake deduction. If the DNR is understaffed, then what the heck is a “limit,” right?

Not quite. You see, there’s another reason for Christians to obey the law. Romans 13 goes on to say, “Therefore it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also because of conscience. This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God's servants, who give their full time to governing. Give everyone what you owe him: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.” (Romans 13:5-7, ESV)

In light of that, it makes perfect sense for me to tell the police officer “thank you” before he drives away. After all, he is God’s servant giving his full time to help uphold the law. He’s there for my good, even when he has to punish me for breaking that law. I owe him respect and so I give him respect.

St. Peter adds yet another reason for Christians to obey the law: so that we will be a better witness to the unbelievers who are watching the way we live. Peter writes, “Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men.” (1 Peter 2:13-15)

As we come up on an election—a time when we typically get so tired of our elected officials that honor and respect go by the wayside, let us remember that God has ordained the power of the civil authorities every bit as much as he has ordained the authority of His church. It is often wielded inapprop-riately (just as it is within the church), but that doesn’t negate the authority. Luther called the civil kingdom the “Left Hand of God” and the Church the “Right Hand of God.” We hate to see missionaries and ministers go unappreciated, dumped on, and disrespected. We should have a similar burden for respecting the secular authorities who “bears the sword”—police and law enforcement, judges, governors, lawmakers, mayors, city council, all the way up to the president.

And let’s not forget to keep these men and women in our prayers. Paul wrote this to Timothy: “I urge . . . that requests, prayers, intercession and thanks-giving be made for everyone—for rulers and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior.” (1 Timothy 2:1-3).

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Jesus and The Punisher

2010-09-16T14:45:00.012-04:00

In the unspeakably brilliant Gut Check Rocky IV white paper, I made passing reference to my annoyance with how carelessly literature professors will assign the Christ Figure title to any character that could possibly wear it. In a strange paradox, the pomo/reader-hermeneutic crowd loves using their literary revisionism to retroactively make every character either gay or Jesus. Or gay Jesus. Seriously, if you can convincingly identify a classic literary character as a gay Christ Figure, you have mad post-everything skillz.

However, there is one literary character to whom I have never heard either of these labels applied: Frank Castle. For my non-nerd readers, that’s The Punisher of really-awesome-comic and really-horrible-movie fame. If you’re not familiar with Frank, he is a superhero (in the loosest sense of the term), a one-time seminarian, a Vietnam vet, and (since the senseless slaugther of his family in Central Park—wrong place, wrong time) a one-man war on orgainized crime, disorganized crime, and semi-organized crime. The Punisher wears a skull emblem on his chest and takes no prisoners. He really ought to be called “The Executioner,” but that name was already claimed by Don Pendleton.

Okay, I need to throw out a disclaimer here: pastors probably shouldn’t be fans of the Punisher. And I’m not really a fan anymore. The stories took a horrible turn—from Rambo-style, shoot-em-up action to gore, more gore, profanity, and sex— sometime in the early noughties (that would be the decade between ’00 and ’09), at which time I jumped ship. I still have most of the classic issues, but I got rid of the few “Marvel Max” era issues I had. (I don’t even want to know about the current “Frankenstein” version of the character. Sigh...)

Anyway, I’m certainly not writing to endorse the comics or the character (or three of the worst movies ever made). No, I want to do something much worse: to suggest that there is a connection between Frank Castle and Jesus. Yes, this is a gimmick; the proposed connection is not in their characters per se, but in the way they’ve been represented.

By nature, publisher-owned comic book characters are drawn, inked, colored, and written by hundreds of different people over their lifetimes. As a result, they often differ significantly from one incarnation to another. But I would argue that Frank Castle, more than any other comic character, has been re-defined, re-oriented, and re-directed based on the worldview of his current writer.

To me, this is kind of funny. Why would you want a character who is essentially a mass-murdering vigilante to share your political/social opinions? I would be tempted to attribute my opponents’ views to The Punisher and portray him as the logical end of thinking like they do. This has been done to some degree, but more often than not, Frank Castle thinks like the writer of the current issue.

For example, in the early ’90s, The Punisher comics were largely penned (not to be confused with “inked”) by conservatives, particularly Chuck Dixon and Mike Baron. This Punisher fought against environmentalist extremists and animal rights groups. In one particularly goofy issue, he protected a right-wing radio host (who was obviously supposed to be Rush Limbaugh) by killing the radical feminsts and others who attacked him outside his studio. Frank thinks (or writes in his War Journal; it’s hard to tell the difference) that, after listening to this particular host for a while, a lot of what he says “makes sense.”

Now contrast that with Garth Ennis’s version of the character (circa 2001-2006). The Irish Ennis is a militant atheist and strident leftist. His version of the Punisher is quite vocal about his pro-homosexual stance, ridicules a Fundamentalist preacher, and declares himself “anything but” pro-life. Oh, and he once broke into the oval office and threatened to kill President Bush. No, I’m not making that up; it was published two months after September 11. Apart from his obvious affinity for capital punishment, this Castle is basically a buffed-up version of Al Franken.

At this point, I hope you’re thinking that to suggest a connection between Jesus and the Punisher is kind of crass. And I would agree that it is, but it’s legit all the same. What Mike Baron and Garth Ennis have both done to the Punisher (taking his back story, general motivation and mission in life, supporting cast, etc. and filling them in with their own views, values, and passions), we all tend to do with the person of Jesus Christ. But here’s the problem: Jesus isn’t a fictional comic book character to be re-invented every few years. He’s the Alpha and Omega, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, through whom everything that exists was created.

Jesus hung out with sinners. He did miracles. He defied the religious leaders of his day. He died on a cross. He rose again. We humans have found it really easy over the last 2,000 years to fill in all the Jesus details with our own desires, values, goals, and passions. And it’s not hard to find two “versions” of Jesus that differ as much as the two versions of the Punisher described above. For example, compare the pro-capitalism, God-and-Country version of Jesus trumpeted by James Dobson or Gary Bauer with the Jesus of liberation theology or Jim Wallis and Brian McLaren’s disaffected hippy Jesus. It’s incredibly easy to re-make Jesus in our own image, even when we all accept the same origin, back-story, supporting cast, etc. (although the Jesus Seminar crowd wants to remove certain back issues from continuity and I think McLaren, et. al may be going for a full retcon).

Of course, the difficulty is that we can easily spot everyone else doing this, but most of us assume that we’re not. We’re just taking the Jesus of the Bible at face value. We’re not importing any of our own ideas, motives, or baggage. Are we?

I want your thoughts on this. (Let me be clear: this comment thread is for discussing the issue at hand, not to question whether Jesus really lived or attack the doctrines of the Christian religion. All off-topic posts or attempts to start unrelated arguments will be zapped). How can we guard against re-defining Jesus in our own image? How can we remain true to the real Christ—not the one you find inside yourself, but the one outside of us who died on a cross for the sins of the world? We can all write the standard general answer in our sleep. I want to hear your specifics.

Here’s my two cents to start us off: one way to ensure that we will re-define Christ as we wish he was is to stop believing in authorial intent and absolute Truth. If the Truth is really inside you, then you will bend it (and Christ) to whatever you want them to be.

Are you reading Jesus like you want him to be? One indicator might be if you find that Jesus thinks just like you most of the time. You are never scandalized by what he taught or how he lived. If we’re following Christ as he is, we should expect that we will have to change (read: be changed) in order to think like him (having the same mind in us that is in Christ Jesus). Otherwise, we’re likely modifying him to have the same mind that is in us.

I fear that excessive length + nerdy excusus = no one reading to the end and, hence, no one commenting.

Prove me wrong.

-Z

Homophobia

2010-09-01T00:15:00.005-04:00

Two days ago, I overheard two Christians arguing about the concept of homophobia. I felt like I was watching one of those cable “crossfire”-type shows, in that they were both committed to opposite extreme views and were clearly both committed to talking, but not hearing.

It went something like this:

Righty: Homophobia is a made-up word, used to steal our right to free speech and silence people who disagree. Just because I disagree with someone’s lifestyle choices doesn’t mean I’m afraid of them. Nothing irks me more than hearing someone play the “homophobia” card! It doesn’t scare me that people are gay. It sickens me! Just like it sickens God!

Lefty: The fact that you are so angry about this tells me that you yourself are homophobic. You are afraid that the lives and views of other people will threaten your own narrow view of the world and so you just condemn them. You’re “othering” when you do that, creating a group of outsiders just like the Nazis did to the Jews and Southern sheriffs did to people of color during the ’50s.

Okay, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Seriously.

I have to say that both of those views seem like cartoonish nonsense to me. I do believe that homophobia is real, and that there is plenty of it out there. And I do believe it’s a bad thing for our society at large when one group of people is singled out and demonized by another group. And I do believe that it’s a bad thing for the church when one group of sinners is demonized by all the rest of the sinners. If you think like Lefty (above), you may be angrily preparing your own counter-post after reading that last sentence. Slow down and read it again. I said that we’re all sinners.

Righty was right in calling homophobia a made-up word. Granted, all words are made-up words, but this one is of recent enough invention that everyone seems to kind of detrmine for themselves what does and doesn’t constitute homophobia. So let me do that now...

Homophobia is not:

Believing that homosexual behavior is sinful, or that it is not the best way to live.
Believing that marriage should only be between a man and a woman.
Voting against a plank of the homosexual lobby’s platform.
A church or denomination barring non-celebate homosexuals from spiritual leadership positions on biblical grounds.
Christians calling people to repent of homosexuality based on biblical texts.
Asking someone you just met, “Are you married?”

Homophobia is:

Treating a homosexual like he or she has less value as a person than heterosexual people.
Pushing legislation that would make life almost impossible for homosexuals (i.e. no gay marriage or civil unions of any kind, no medical benefits, etc.)
Being unkind or rude to someone simply because they are a homosexual.
Refusing to acknowledge the existence of a co-worker’s partner because you don’t approve of their lifestyle.
Any business (including a church) refusing to hire homosexuals for jobs that do not directly by their nature involve adherance to a particular theological and ethical system.
Refusing to rent a room to a couple of men or women because of their sexual orientation. (The last two are also illegal, by the way.)
Disowning a child because they are gay. (How, how could anyone do this?)
Calling a gay person by a derogatory term.
Believing that you are somehow less sinful in the flesh than homosexuals.
Calling homosexuals to repent in a condescending way that implies that their sin is filthier than your own.

I will undoubtedly get angry comments from both sides on this one. Feel free to insult me and say all sorts of false things aganist me, since great is my reward in heaven when you do. (Matt 5:11)

But here’s the thing: I do believe that homosexual behavior is a sin. This means that I actually do believe that my ethical and religious view is right and someone else’s is wrong. But wait; that person believes that my view (being narrow and exclusive,) is wrong and theirs is right! In this, they are being narrow and exclusive. We both think the other one is wrong, so why am I the only one being called names here? (There was a time when I would unrepentantly call a homosexual by a rotten slur, but no longer. And yet, “homophobe” is still thrown at me by default.)

The issue as I see it is not, “Can we get to a place where we completely agree and accept each other’s views?” Of course we can’t—our views are incompatible. No, the question is, can we accept each other? Can we love each other, help each other, comfort each other, and live together in harmony even though we disagree on this issue. Even though we both think the other’s theological and ethical view is, in some sense, wrong.

If you think about it, this is the same question faced by the Jew and the Muslim. Or the Christian and the atheist. Or the Democrat and the Republican. Most people don’t feel a pressing need to convince someone else of all their beliefs before they can be civil, before they can be friends, before they can live and let live. So why is this one issue the exception?

The Orthodox Jewish woman may believe that eating pig meat is an affront to God, while the Christian Reformed guy next door likely believes that mowing your lawn on a Sunday is the cardinal sin. And yet, nine times out of ten, if she’s mowing on Sunday, while he’s sitting on his front porch chowing down a ham sandwich, nothing is going to stop the exchange of pleasantries and general sense of good will from prevailing. They aren’t both thinking, “I’m so horribly offended by the fact that my neighbor disapproves of my ethical and theological beliefs that I must now invent a term to describe their intolerance.” We just accept the differences and move on. Welcome to America, the melting pot.

So, what makes this issue different? Homophobia. The real thing, not the blanket accusation that the media throws at anyone who resembles a conservative Christian. What makes this issue different is that, in certain areas, gay couples do still have a hard time finding a landlord who will rent them a place to live. They still do find it hard to walk down the street without someone shouting a slur (or threat) at them. They often are disowned by family and condemned by former friends. And the church, despite Scripture’s repeated insistence to the contrary, often acts like the sin of homosexuals is filthier than the sin of heterosexuals.

So, yeah, it’s a made-up word. But it describes a real thing. It describes a phenomenon wherein I can point at someone else, call them queer, and feel like I’ve got it all together morally, spiritually, family-wise, etc. because hey—at least I’m not like them.

And shame on us if we ever give in to that temptation.

Just love the sinner. You don’t need to worry about hating their sin for them. You’ve got enough of your own sin to hate.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Kinda Extras

2010-08-24T16:24:00.004-04:00

A few posts ago, I reproduced the full text of the paper I presented at the Kinda Christianity signing/in-store event. In the same post, I promised to also share some of the visual materials that I presented there. As partial fulfillment of that promise, I offer: this Guide to Advanced Techniques!

Enjoy...

Free Resource!

2010-08-11T16:43:00.004-04:00

If you regularly read this space, you are doubtless aware that my partner-in-crime Ted Kluck and I have started a small imprint, called Gut Check Press. We have released one book (you can learn more about it by clicking the small banner ad to your left), and have several others in the pipline, including:

Audio book, Facing Tyson: Fifteen Fighters, Fifteen Stories (due out next month, in conjunction with WAC Productions)
Younger, Restlesser, Reformeder, our follow-up to Kinda Christianity, wherein we satirize smug, self-important young Calvinists (read: us)
A cookbook, entitled Saucy Broad: A Culinary Manifesto of Hope
A book about predestination by a brilliant young Baptist minister (not me).
A book about Christian music by Ronnie Martin of the always-cutting-edge Joy Electric
Five other projects in various stages of completion, including one by me.

But all of those are going to cost you money to procure (unless you’re a blogger who wants to review them, in which case we’ll probably hook you up for free). That's why Gut Check Press is pleased to offer you a free resource (the first of many) to help keep your scholarly chops up.

We are proud to present the first offering from our new line, Gut Check Smackademic, Everybody Can Change: A Critical Cinematic, Philosophical, Socio-Political, Theological Literary Analysis of Sylvester Stallone’s Seminal Work, Rocky IV.

Click here to download this brilliant piece free of charge! And don’t forget to leave glowing feedback about the paper below.

If...

2010-07-29T16:38:00.020-04:00

If a man set up a meeting with me in my study at church....

...and if that man showed up with charts and graphs and powerpoint presentations, offering me access to a program by which I would be guaranteed to quadruple attendance, membership, and involvement at our church, all within six months...

...if he had iron-clad documentation showing that, should my church not grow to 3,000 members within a year of implementing the program, he would cut us a check for $10,000 (because he’s just that sure about his methodology)...

...if the fee to be involved in said program was absolutely zero—free as the air...

...and if a lawyer whom I trusted intrisically was there to verify that everything was above-board and on the level...

...well, I'd be interested. I'd ask what the program entailed.

And if the man explained that his program involved de-emphasizing the cross of Jesus Christ (which is a stumbling block and foolishness to those who are perishing) and instead emphasizing how God can help you live an exciting, “extreme” life of faith; how God can improve your ho-hum sex life; how God can show you the best ways to financial security and the quickest way to professional fulfillment...

...if it meant looking at what the lost people in our area would like to see in a weekly Sunday meeting and hear in a “sermon” and then implementing those things in order to pack the house...

...if it meant moving the Lord’s Supper to a secondary mid-week service so it wouldn’t creep out “seekers...”

...in short, if it meant transitioning to a purpose-driven, seeker-driven, pragmatism-driven, felt-needs model of church and leadership...

...I'd laugh in the guy’s face and tell him, “No thanks, and here’s the door.”

And if he persisted and tried to hard-sell me, I’d say these words:

“Get behind me, Satan. For you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of man.”

Why, you ask? Wouldn’t it be better to at least get a whole bunch of people in the front door?

No. Not like that.

There are some cases in which the difference between perishing and parishing is negligible.

Yeah, I've Heard That Story...

2010-07-09T10:32:00.021-04:00

Lately, I’ve been making use of the Lutheran Treasury of Daily Prayer for my evening devotional reading. It’s a spectacular volume, each day providing a psalm, an Old Testament reading, a New Testament reading, an excerpt from a hymn, and a devotional writing (often from the church fathers).

I love that it’s the opposite of most modern day “devotionals,” which are generaly concerned with giving you a little nugget of law-lite—some advice to help you get through the day (90% of which could be given just as well even if Jesus Christ had not died on a cross for the sins of the world).

As the TDP maintains the distinction between Law and Gospel, I’ve noticed something else too—it’s rather repetitive. Again and again, we read about what Christ did on the cross, what he accomplished for you and me. Not so much about tackling your day, grabbing your “marked moments,” or any of that other goofy stuff you find in most devotional books. Instead, it’s cross-centered through and through. Again and again. Day after day.

But being repetitive, I recently realized, is our faith’s heritage, even pre-dating the cross by many centuries. The Old Testament readings in the TDP have just wrapped up Joshua and moved into Judges. The people of Israel have settled in the land and are now struggling with the Gentiles living amongst them with their heathen gods and idols. Again and again, the people go after other gods, and each time God chastises them by allowing their enemies to overtake them for a time. Once they’ve repented, God raises up a leader to throw off the oppression of the Moabites or Amalekites or whoever... Last night, it was the story of Ehud, which pretty much reads like a Tarantino screenplay.

These events take place over the course of hundreds of years, but when you see that cycle repeat itself page after page—rebellion, punishment, repentence, deliverance; rebellion, punishment, repentence, deliverance—it’s easy to get annoyed with these people. Hello! What do you think is going to happen if you follow false gods? Maybe the same thing that happened the last eleven times?!

The fact of the matter is that we are forgetful people. We forget what God has done in the past. That’s why the Old Testament is chock-full of re-tellings of the Exodus story. Over and over and again, God reminds His people how they were slaves in Egypt, how he brought the plagues and brought about their release, how he parted the sea, how he was faithful to them in the wilderness and brought them to the Promised Land. They already knew the story, of course. They hadn’t really forgotten, but they hadn’t remembered either. And that was the problem.

It seems the antidote to that frustrating pattern in the book of Judges is to keep remembering the story of our deliverance by God’s merciful hand.

We were slaves too—slaves to sin. We were unable to free ourselves, just like Israel could not even dream of defeating the Egyptian army. Like Israel in Egypt, we were resigned to our slavery, more or less content to live and die slaving away, building someone else’s kingdom, having never tasted freedom. But God sent a great leader to us. Greater than Moses. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ. Jesus lived a perfect life, thus fufilling our contract with Egypt. Then he told the Devil, “Let my people go!”

Like his servant Pharaoh, Satan was not about to just give up all of his slaves. The ensuing conflict was not a seven-part tit-for-tat like the story of Moses and Egypt’s king; it was an all-or-nothing final conflict, played out on a hill called The Skull outside of Jerusalem,
and it ended with Christ dead and Satan gloating. He had finally won, and his slaves would be his slaves forever, bound to build his kingdom forever.

He enjoyed the day intensely, watching the Son of God dying, sin piled on his boney shoulders, occasionally crying out in pain. Satan enjoyed creeping up beside him on the cross to mock and jeer. He enjoyed sticking his sword through the heart of Jesus’ mother who was weeping in a heap a few yards from the cross, while Jesus writhed in agony, seemingly helpless to put a stop to it. And he enjoyed stroking the egos of the religious leaders standing at a distance, stirring up an almost sexual glee in their flesh as they watched their enemy finally get what he deserved.

When Christ gave up and died (the first on the hill to cash it in, the demons pointed out with a scoff), the Devil laughed himself hoarse. The sight of the King of Kings, slumped against that pole, his eyes vacant, the birds of prey already swooping closer and closer, was too hilarious for words. The Christ’s hold—or what had remained of it—on this wicked planet had finally been broken. Decisively. It was now the exclusive property of the Devil and his angels. If Satan had any doubt of that, it was put to rest when he learned that the curtain in the temple was split in two (so long, “holy place!”) and a surge of supernatural energy had caused hundreds of people to start seeing ghosts all over the city!

Saturday was a field day for the Devil. He was usually in a foul mood on the Sabbath, but not today; not ever again! He attended a Roman orgy, the stoning of a young child, and several pagan temple services. And between each, he made a stop back at the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, where Jesus’ dead body lay at room temperature. As for Jesus’ soul, it was in hades with all the pitiful slaves who had died before him. How utterly stupid of God himself to become sin and tempt fate on a Roman cross. Didn’t he know that, to the Prince of Darkness, a cross was like a lyre in the hands of a skilled musician?

The Devil spent the evening curled up under the bloated body of Judas Isacriot, hanging dead from a tree. Treachery was a great dessert, and Satan lingered there, dreaming about what he would do to his slaves tomorrow.

Then came Sunday.

Satan first heard the report from a demonic foot soldier who had been skulking around the garden tomb, then from some higher-ups whom he had years earlier assigned to follow the Twelve at a distance. The reports were all vague, but together they painted a unified and horrifying picture: the stone had been moved, the tomb was empty. The women weren’t crying—they were laughing! The peasant fisherman (just two days ago running away from the action and cowering in an upper chamber) were running to the tomb, emboldened. They were all telling and retelling stories about seeing the Christ. Seeing him alive and well!

Satan rushed to the tomb. The damned thing was empty.

He then rushed to the mouth of hades. Christ was gone. And he’d taken many of the other souls with him. All of Satan’s greatest trophies were gone, escaped! He skulked and moped and roamed the earth, hoping to calm himself by once again taking in the scope of his kingdom. But something was different. His slaves were being set free. One by one, their massive iron slave collars were falling away, replaced by a yoke that was easy and light, signifying that they now belonged, not to him, but to the Christ.

In a rage, he ascended to the gates of heaven. He would take his grievance into the courtroom of God, where he went regularly to accuse his slaves and keep them firmly in his grip. As he neared God’s abode, he rehearsed in his mind what he would say, how he would make his case and appeal to justice—after all, he had won at the hill called The Skull, and to the victor goes the spoils!

But the gates were locked. You can’t come in, he was told. Never again. You’ve been locked out. The dragon has been cast to the earth.

“But who will stand between God and man?” Satan protested. “Who will do what I have always done? Who will accuse and bring charges and point out their filth?”

I’m afraid your position has been eliminated, came the reply. Christ himself now stands between God and man, but not to accuse and condemn. He is there as mediator, to make peace.

As he descended back to the earth, Satan felt his stomach tighten. He could see that it was already spreading. The fithly, fleshy creatures were still telling that horrible story and it was oozing into every corner of Satan’s kingdom. The servants of the Christ were telling it to the slaves, whose collars were falling off left and right with a deafening clang. And they were telling it to each other, giving each other strength and comfort.

Satan had to stop this. He would put a stop to it. It was then that he noticed the chains binding him, holding him back from deceiving the nations. He was helpless to stem the spread of the story. It was too powerful. Christ was too powerful. And with every re-telling, even the filthy flesh-bags who worshiped the Christ were ever-more powerful. As he finished his descent and his talons touched down on the earth, Satan made a decision. There was only one thing to do.

He had to distract them from telling the story.

What You Missed If You Weren't There...

2010-06-21T18:21:00.007-04:00

Last Thursday, Ted Kluck and I were hosted by Baker Book House for an in-store signing event to promote our book, Kinda Christianity. We were pleased with a better-than-expected turnout, and rewarded all who attended with all sorts of funny. We fielded some questions, talked about the book, its inception and reception. I presented a paper about how Gut Check Press is, in the words of St. Polycarp, the bomb, like tick tick. I also taught a lesson on advanced emergent techniques for those wanting to go beyond missional and incarnational, into the word of incarmissional.

In the spirit of second chances, I have below reproduced the paper I presented, and will soon be sharing the graphics-heavy lesson plan for the advanced emergent course.

Enjoy.

Grand Rapids has been the building site for many of the bedrock houses that comprise the skyline of Christian publishing: Zondervan, Baker, Eerdmans, that one guy who writes his own tracts and then hands them out on college campuses and calls all the girls whores and then gets eggs thrown at him and says, “Oh well, they spit on Jesus too,” Kregel. And while each of these has made its own contributions to the church, to biblical scholarship, and to the reading world at large, they all lack a certain boxing-glove-logo-ness. And where the aformentioned have fallen short, it is this paper’s contention that Gut Check Press excels—not only in the literal boxing glove present in its logo, but also in the literary punch-in-the-face that Gut Check Press offers its readers via their “pull-no punches, blow-your-skirt-up, break-your-shin-bones” style of books—books that would not sit well with the Amish Girl fiction enthusiast or even the world of Christian mens’ literature and its ever-popular “Ten Steps to a Good Public Cry” genre.

In short, Gut Check Press is in another class altogether. Perhaps an analogy would be apropos here: David C. Cook (the man) is to Mickey Rourke as David C. Cook (the publisher) is to Gut Check Press. Gut Check would make Davey go buy it a Rockstar energy drink and fill Gut Check’s car up with gas. Premium. GCP has no inexplicably British Jesuses, no voluminous ruffly dresses, no endless self-exploration and accompanying discourses about how you “feel” and the “journey you’re on.” Also no fainting.

Take, for example, Gut Check's first publication, Kinda Christianity: A Fair, Organic, Free Trade Guide to Authentic Realness, a 62-page epic of missional proportions, packed with sardonically irreverent satire, dazzling gray-scale graphics, and endlessly useful information for the aspiring emergenteer.

If ever a popular work filled a scholarly void, it is this one. After all, while there has been a glut of recent books that lay out for the reader an emergent worldview and theology—books like A New Kind of Christianity by Brian McLaren, A Christianity Worth Believing by Doug Paggitt, and The Secret by Rhonda Byrne—these books are, as the addage goes, fish. And while fish may be delicious for a moment (provided they weren't caught by a commercial vessel), they will soon leave one famished and trolling the streets for more, harder fish. Only Kinda Christianity teaches the reader to cast the line of incarnational community into the depths of the wildly diverse sea and reel in endless bucketsfull of genuine authenticity.

As would be expected with such a groundbreaking work, it has not landed unnoticed. The press has taken notice. And not just the blogosphere, but, like, the legitimate press—the Grand Rapids Press. Front page of the religion section, above the fold. Win.

The retail world has taken notice, as evidenced by this very event. Not only did Kinda Christianity reach the top 1% of 1% for sales on Amazon.com, the last week of April and first week of May, it is also available in stores. Two stores.

And of course, the academic world has taken notice. At the 2010 meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in Sacramende, the Rev. Dr. Michael E. Wittmer presented a paper entiteld “Gut Check Press: It's Legiznit, Brah,” in which he concluded, and I quote, “What Karl Barth is to neo-orthodoxy and Benny Hinn is to TV preachers, what Voltaire is to the Enlightenment and Pat Robertson is to the leg press machine, what Schleiermacher is to Classical Protestant Liberalism and Brian McLaren is to the Emergent church (or the other way around, I can't really tell the two apart anymore), so Ted and Zach are to to the fiercely orthodox, thirty-something, Calvinistic, cigar-smoking, boxing enthusiast set.”

Actually, there wasn't really a paper. And there is no such city as Sacramende. But what if there was, right? Right?

In conclusion, we submit as incontrovertible fact that only one publisher has brought you a book parodying the emergent church and an audio book about Mike Tyson. Does that make Gut Check Press great? Does it make it an Amway-esque empire worthy of your fear, love, and devotion in equal proportions?

Yes.

Pastoral Advice Re: Pastoral Advice

2010-06-10T23:41:00.005-04:00

I have three beautiful moles on my face. This isn’t an opinion—it’s a medical fact. When I was 20 years old, about to fall off from my parents’ insurance, I went to a dermatologist to have them removed (the moles, not my parents). The doctor said, in his thick Indian accent, “If I do this, I will scar you.” I inquired about the size of said scars, to which he replied, “It does not matter. I will not cut you; these are good moles. They are nice-looking moles.” And so the mole triangle remains. After all, he’s the doctor.

Those words freed me to truly love the sacred mole triangle. These days, when my sister starts talking trash about our gorgeous governor (don’t worry—my wife knows), quoting Uncle Buck’s “Have a rat gnaw that thing off your face” line, I don’t die a little inside because of my own facial moles. Not at all. After all, I know mine are “good moles.” Still, though. The nerve.

If, on the other hand, a doctor some day tells me that one of my moles looks suspicious—if he furrows his brow and points at the one closest to my nose and says, “I don’t like the look of that one; I think we should remove it,” then it’s goodbye Cherith! (note: I named him Cherith). I’d miss him like Dr. Chris Turk (obscure pop culture reference), but I’d get over it. You don’t want to mess around with your health over mere aesthetics, accessories, and beauty marks.

I actually trust doctors quite a bit. I’ve heard all the horror stories about missed diagnoses and I’ve read the statistics regarding the number of patients who wake up during surgery each year. . . I’ve even overheard my mother—an RN whose range of jobs (from jail nurse to ER nurse to college faculty) is downright Cherry-Ames-worthy (obscurer pop culture reference)—talking to her coworkers about the very human foibles and failings of the doctors with whom she has worked.

All the same, as a pastor, I find myself a spectator and bystander in hospitals all the time and I’m eternally amazed and impressed by the sheer volume of knowledge in the average doctor’s mind and their ability to sort through and apply it all. So when a doctor says, “I want to take a closer look at this,” or “I want to run some tests on that,” or, “Whoa that mole is changing shape and color before my very eyes and we need to freeze it, scrape it off, and graft some of your butt-skin in its place,” I’m down. You’re the doc. You’re the expert, the one who went to med school, did an internship and a residency. You’ve got the book-learning and the hands-on experience in this case. This is why we pay experts to be part of our lives—because we can’t all be experts on everything.

I would guess that, when it comes down to it, most people share my view on such matters. I don’t think I know anyone who would tell the doctor, “You may think we should remove or at least biopsy this mole, but I think it looks better and better the bigger it gets, so I’m going to disregard your expert opinion and just leave it be.” Sure, we might ask for a second opinion on major matters, but not because we think we know better than the doctor. If we’re thinking rationally, we’re not looking for a doctor who will just tell us what we want to hear; we’re looking to confirm what the first doctor told us.

And yet. . . I have a very different experience when I diagnose. No, I’m not practicing medicine without a license. (I’d throw up the first time I saw an infected wound.) I’m referring to my job as a minister, in which I am in a sense the expert hired by a group of people to guide them in spiritual/Scriptural matters. With another set of people, I don’t have a formal pastor/parishioner relationship, but am the main (or only) source for information and guidance on Holy Scripture and its application to their lives.

As such, I often have people ask me about this doctrine or that teaching or my assessment of a particular television preacher or popular author of religious books. I’m always happy to answer such questions, whether they are posed online, in a class setting, or one-on-one. And yet, I find that, in the majority of cases, if my answer doesn’t jibe with what they wanted to hear in the first place, such people disregard my counsel. They say, “Well, you think the mole is dangerous, probably malignant, needs to be removed. But I’m comfortable with this shape-shifting, hypercolor growth, so it’s going nowhere. I’m going to get a second opinion. And a third. And fourth, until I find someone—be it doctor, chiropractor, medicine man, shaman, or ‘holistic healer’ who agrees with what I want to hear. Or maybe I’ll just ask the mole itself.” Hi, I’m Buck Melanoma, Moley Russel’s Wart.

In such cases, I always wonder: why ask me to begin with? Were you just making conversation? Just asking about “spirituality?” I have no interest in nebulous conversations about a “spirituality” devoid of absolute truth claims. Now that you know, it’ll save us both some time. Did you decide while I was speaking that the TV preacher in question must be more trustworthy than me because he/she has an exponentially bigger audience? Well, this guy has an exponentially larger “patient-load” than your family doctor, but I’d still go with the latter. It just makes more sense.

I’m not suggesting that nine years of college and seminary somehow make me infallible and that my take on anything Scriptural should be followed as Gospel without question. I’m just suggesting that, if you’re gonna go ahead and get a second opinion, approach it with the same rationality that you would if it was your health on the line—don’t just search the web for someone who will tell you what you want to hear (Cf. 2 Timothy 4:3); rather, look to confirm (or not) my diagnosis from the Word of God alone, inquiring of someone who is trained, gifted, and experienced in rightly divide the Law and the Gospel and properly exegeting the text. And as with your dermatologist or family doctor, most cases don't even require the second opinion.

And if you find yourself defending a TV preacher or religious book author against your own pastor, I'd look long and hard into yourself, to make sure you don't have a case of “porno-preacheritis,”

Because, while suspicious moles are nothing to mess around with, they don’t have a real agenda or a strategy to bring about your destruction. False teachers have both. And if you ask me, neither one (the iffy mole or the iffy teacher) is something you want to mess around with.

But then again, you don’t have to ask me.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Why So Snarky?

2010-05-25T12:18:00.022-04:00

I get hatemail.

Not nearly as much as Frank Turk or Kevin DeYoung, but I do get a bit—more and more as my blog’s readership has grown. And, of course, publishing Kinda Christianity created quite a bump in my inbox from emergent keyboard warriors who want to tell me how heartless it is for us to reveal their secret formula and how our words make Bono cry.

Apparently, though, I’ve hit some magical point of no return, after which every single thing I do attracts its share of critical response. For example, Ted Kluck and I recently filmed some goofy little “webisodes” for a Wayne’s World-esque comedy series called Pastor Zach’s Basement, which is currently being cut together by the incomparable WAC Productions. Last week, the aforementioned producer put together a brilliant little teaser trailer to build some hype. Go ahead and watch it; you know you want to.

As you can see, if you take away the bells, whistles and cool video effects, you’ve basically got me and Ted [this may be a good time for any small children to leave the room]...walking down some stairs! Oh, the horror! The hatred! Or so one would think, because—you guessed it—I got some hatemail. One particularly self-righteous screed came from a woman who tracked me down on Facebook after seeing the teaser trailer, feeling the need to send me an indictment of my life and ministry, mixed with her own ultra-deep thoughts on the “artform of religion,” mixing metaphors and skipping punctuation until I, the reader, gave up trying to follow.

But I do think I got the gist of it: why be snarky? is the question on her mind. Why be sarcastic and cutting about other people’s “spirituality?” Admitedly, the first thing that comes to my own mind when I hear this question is always Phil Johnson and his hilarious “po-motivators,” particularly these two:

I also think of Mike Wittmer’s recent reminder that people who get offended and mad about stuff like Kinda Christianity also love The Colbert Report, The Onion, and The Daily Show. Double standard much? Ultimately, though, “You do it too” or, “Hey, he started it” is no real response.

So instead, let me say this: I am a Reformational Christian. And in that, I do try to follow in the footsteps of Martin Luther and my beloved John Calvin, both of whom preached Christ from the Scriptures (including the harsh stuff) and both of whom never minced words when error came creeping its way into the church. Granted, these men were not infallible, nor were their writings. In fact, at the Diet of Worms, Luther confessed that some of his writings against individuals had been a tad too harsh.

More specifically, though, I find myself in the tradition of the early Baptists who believed in religious toleration and were willing to give the benefit of the doubt on non-essential matters of faith, even while debating tirelessly and aggressively for their own doctrine. When essentials of the faith have been attacked, however, all of the above, at their best, took off the kid gloves and put on the spirit of the apostles, exposing false doctrine with anathemas, logic, and wit, and putting the spiritual security of their sheep always before the wounded pride of the wolves who would introduce such heresy.

The irony in all this is that I do have a rather big-tent view of Christianity; there are very few things that I consider deal-breakers, essential doctrines. I won’t break fellowship with my ultra-fundamentalist brothers and sisters or with my fellow mainline Protestand ministers (most of whom are incredibly liberal, theologically) for the usual beefs. I’m generally the guy cautioning, “Let’s not turn on each other. Let’s get beyond denominational differences and, as the unified body of Christ, show the world His love and grace.” (I’ve gotten more hate mail for that sentiment, by the way, than I have for anything I’ve written on the emergent church; see this post for more on that.) Why, then, make a big deal out of some doctrinal differences and not others? Why point out what’s wrong with someone else’s theology, rather than just preaching Christ?

Ah, there’s the rub. From whence should I preach Christ? From my own thoughts and ideas? From my personal experiences? From the goings-on in the cockles of my heart (or, perhaps, in the sub-cockle area)? Or from Scripture? If I preach Christ from the New Testament, then a large portion of what I preach (much of Jesus' teaching in the Gospels, much of the Book of Acts, II Thessalonians, all of Galatians, I & II John, Revelation 1-3, for a start.) will become out-of-bounds, as it was initially written to expose errors in other people’s theology! How uncouth! I can imagine Paul receiving angry messages from certain Galatians, or John being mail-bombed by Cerinthians, demanding to know why these men of God were being so divisive and harsh. After all, there may be some disagreement about the role of the law or the details of Christ’s identity, but can’t we all sweep that under the rug and just agree that love sorta wins?

Why would Paul make a joke about wanting his grace-neutralizing circumcision proponent opponents to “go ahead and cut it all off?” Why would John tell the elect lady and her children not to welcome into their homes a professed Christian who teaches a false Christ, or even to greet them? Why would Jesus paint an insulting picture of his opponents carefully straining out a gnat from their wine, even while they try to swallow down an entire camel? What occasions such rhetoric?

Since I’m a Baptist pastor, union rules require me to answer the question with an illustration:

Suppose there is a large organization called the Society for the Recovery of Sight for the Blind (SRSB). They were founded when a new, inexpensive technology became widely available, by which people who were born blind could see for the first time. This organization grew quickly, establishing chapters in most every city in the country. Early on, it was decided that it would be irresponsible to give sight to people who had never seen and then just send them out into the world. And so, when the official founding documents were drafted, the purpose of the organization was two-fold: to restore sight to the blind and to help these now-seeing people adjust and assimilate into a world of sight.

Then things began to change. Some large cities had waiting lists for sight restoration. Seeing this, committees were formed to work with those who were still blind while they waited their turn to receive sight. This initially involved preparation for sight restoration, but soon spread to include art appreciation campaigns (wherein the blind people feel the texture of oil paintings and listen to smell-enhanced audio books), blindness discussion groups, and the rather expensive enterprise of retro-fitting the homes of blind people with the latest technology so that they could function more easily and comfortably while they remain blind.

Before long, so much time, funds, and resources were going into these secondary efforts that fewer and fewer blind people were actually receiving their sight. The passion and direction of many chapters shifted away from returning sight to the blind and, instead, became wrapped up in blindness-affirming activities. Soon, it actually became taboo to talk about sight restoration, as the topic might imply to the blind that seeing is better than not seeing. Who are we to say? many chapter heads asked. Maybe we’re the ones who really can’t see and they have true sight. Things went down this road until a good number of the local chapters had completely “lost sight” of the original purpose of the group.

So what needs to happen here? Someone needs to take these people and their organization to task in a public way that involves the entire national SRSB. Someone (or many someones) needs to call these chapters back to the original stated purpose of the group—to say plainly that, while other organizations could be very useful in doing all these outlying activities, it’s not what our group was founded for! We’re the Society for the Recovery of Sight for the Blind. Anyone who keeps receiving grants under that name and operating under that name needs to get back to doing that work primarily (if not exclusively). And groups that continually do work that celebrates blindness and suggests that no radical sight-restoration procedure need take place are free to do so, but they really ought to change their name in the interest of openness and honesty.

The Scriptures paint a clear picture of sinners as being spiritually blind or, as Jesus said in John 5:24, dead. Perhaps a better illustration, then, would be a group that stops raising people from the dead and, instead, starts hosting deadness awareness events, helping the dead achieve “wholeness,” and organizing ice cream socials for corpses.

Let the dead bury the dead. And let us call them to life!

So, yeah, when a sector of the church visible, wearing the name of Jesus Christ, stops calling sinners to repentance, stops viewing God’s Word as the authoritative final authority, and stops proclaiming the forgiveness of sins by grace through faith because of Christ’s substitutionary sacrifice on the cross, I’m going to go all St. Paul on them.

Hatemail or no.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Short Stuff

2010-05-16T15:29:00.011-04:00

I have removed the “Link Within” (aka “You might also like...”) widget because it linked all of my 100+ posts to the same five random articles. Why? I don't know... So, goodbye Link Within. Better luck next time.
Kinda Christianity is now avaiable on the Amazon Kindle. So...ya know...if you have a...Kindle, then...um...buy it. The paperback is now on Amazon UK as well--for all my British readers.
I've made some updates to Pastor Zach dot Com, including an archive of Calvinati.com (which I finally mercy-killed) and a video page...
...which includes the new teaser trailer for our web series Pastor Zach’s Basement! This is the stuff dreams are made of; don’t miss it!
Ted Kluck has procured some golf clubs for us to use this summer. Neither of us golfs, but we’re going to hit a nine-hole course soon a la Mikey and Peter Gibbons on Swingers. Any golf advice?
And speaking of Ted, he’s headed to the Moody Pastors Conference, which I had been intending to attend with him, but a couple things fell through (on Moody’s part, not mine) and I am not going after all. I do attend at least one conference per year, which now leaves me wide open for 2010. Anyone know of any good conferences on the horizon that I should check out? (Remember, I’d rather chew on a broken-glass-filled dead rat than go to anything “Purpose-Driven,” “Missional,” or “Seeker-based.”)

We Need a Pandemic

2010-05-04T12:44:00.003-04:00

Grand Rapids is known for many things: having deceptively small “rapids,” being the boyhood home of Gerald Ford, being rather uptight and conservative (in every sense), producing quality wood furniture, and being full of Dutch people (the last two are increasingly outdated stereotypes). Oh, and Amway. Grand Rapids is definitely known for Amway.

Now, technically, Amway is in Ada, Michigan, but it’s just a stone’s throw away from GR. In case you don’t know, Amway is a ginormous corporation that sells everything from insurance to makeup to vitamins. But what they’re best known for is their use of Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) to move these products. MLM is the name for a pyramid-shaped structure of promoters and sales people, in which you get credit for your own sales and for the sales of people you recruit (as well as for sales of people they recruit). Kind of like Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, and that company that sells knives that can cut a couch in half.

Anyway, in Grand Rapids, Amway jokes are good for an automatic laugh. Not that people dislike the company per se, just that it’s a shared point of reference for everyone who lives there. So if a soccer coach tells his booster club, “Jim, you call all of these people about uniforms, Rachel will call people about snacks, and Denise will call the parents about the change in practice times,” then Jim is guaranteed a chuckle if he quips, “This is starting to feel like Amway.”

When I moved to Lansing, I found that Amway jokes didn’t really translate. Mostly because they’re not really funny. And, as it happened, when I moved here, the Amway model was being taken to the next level anyway. While MLM uses existing social networks (friends and family and coworkers, and their friends and family and coworkers, and their friends and family, etc.) to reach increasingly massive group of potential customers, the Internet was making it much easier to use existing social networks to reach millions upon millions of people with almost no investment and very little trouble.

This has been called viral marketing (or viral advertising) because it essentially works the same way the swine flu does, spreading from one person to, let’s say, ten—then from each of those people to ten more, etc., etc. Within 5 generations, you’ve reached more than 100,000 people with your illness (or advertisement). Local businesses, multi-national corporations, and politicians have all scurried to use this type of marketing, and many have been very successful in getting their message out.

It may have a new name and new tools in its belt, but this way of spreading information to an exponentially growing audience is as old as language itself. And, in fact, before it was praised to high heaven by business gurus, this method of disseminating a message was ordained by God as his preferred means for spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which is the wisdom of God and the power of God for the salvation of all who believe.

Jesus told his disciples to “Go into all the world and proclaim the Gospel to the whole creation.” (Mark 16:5) And, as we see this playing out in the Book of Acts, it takes on a decidedly viral form. Before the Apostles have even set foot in many of the far-flung areas of the Roman Empire, the message has already arrived via word of mouth. A Christian in Jerusalem proclaimed the Gospel to fifty people. Let’s say ten of them believed and were saved. Three of those traveled to a distant city and, “while going,” they made “disciples of all nations.” (Matthew 28:19). Then those disciples made disciples and those disciples made disciples and, as they went about their lives, they brought the life-changing, soul-saving, sin-erasing power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ with them!

You see, the ability to communicate a message of hope in such a way that it takes on a life of its own is one of the ways in which we are made in the Image of God. It’s not that we’ve taken something bad (a virus) or annoying (Internet advertising) and “Christianized it”; no, this method of spreading information—namely Truth—is a God-ordained phenomenon. When he ascended into heaven, and saw those eleven regular guys and handful of women getting smaller and smaller on the mountaintop below, Jesus knew that they would proclaim the Gospel to all nations. He knew that, unlike viral marketing, the proclaiming of the Gospel is God’s chosen means of giving faith to the faithless, forgiving their sins, and making them new people. And once you’ve been forgiven and made into a new person, how can you not tell the whole world what God has done?

But let me ask this: do we see the same sort of viral growth when it comes to the Church today? If Christianity were a disease (and our culture seems to be leaning in that direction), would the CDC call it a pandemic? Or would it be more or less contained—something you’re unlikely to catch, even if regularly exposed to an infected person? If viral marketing in itself is effective, and if proclamation of the Gospel is additionally given the guarantee of success (since God’s Holy Spirit is at work), why do we see the Church shrinking in the West, rather than continuing to spread at an alarming rate?

The answer, of course, is multi-layered. There is the shift in culture—away from absolute Truth-claims—which makes people less open to the Gospel message. There is the mysterious aspect of God’s predestination, which we can’t factor into our analysis. But most of all, there is the fact that Christians are just not attacking this Great Commission thing with Amway intensity. We’re not proclaiming the Gospel like that pink Cadillac is almost within grasp. In fact, many Christians aren’t proclaiming the Gospel at all.

I mean, think about your own experience here. Have you ever been motivated to sell something? Have you made your living selling clothes or shoes or lawnmowers? Has your kid made doe-eyes and handed you the sign-up sheet for this year’s gift wrap fundraiser and asked you to pass it around at the office? Have you ever found yourself reminding people, "I’ve got quality cutlery at competitive prices; tell your friends!" Or perhaps have you been working to raise support for that 5K charity race for cancer awareness? Have these same people heard the Gospel message from you?

Whether you’re reserved or outgoing, there is something that will motivate you to open your mouth and get a message out to others, even ask them to make a commitment of some kind. It becomes easy to steer the conversation toward that particular item.

Well, we Christians are not “selling” anything (despite what you might hear from certain “evangelism experts” or the late D.L. Moody). In fact, when we approach evangelism like a slick salesman, it becomes painfully obvious and turns people off from the outset. But our passion and intensity in spreading the Good News ought to be far superior to any MLM marketer, over-zealous fundraiser, or confrontational mall kiosk pitchman.

Consider this: an Internet “viral video” of some idiot dancing for six minutes was watched by 100 million people in two weeks because of word of mouth (or “click of mouse”). That started with one person sending the video to somebody else. That’s the power of communication and it’s a power that God has ordained for his use. How many have heard of the saving power of Jesus Christ because you opened your mouth? And how many more could hear if you tell just one more person? Or ten? Or a hundred?

If you’re not proclaiming the Gospel, why not? Maybe you feel ill-equipped. After all, it’s easier to prove that your cutlery really can cut a penny in half than it is to risk entering into a philosophical or theological debate with someone. Or maybe you’ve bought into the culture’s lie that religion is something “personal” and you really shouldn’t “force yours” on to other people, as if the respectful thing to do is just let people die in their sins and go on to a Christless eternity. Well, I don’t know about respectful, but that’s sure not loving. Or maybe you’re afraid that “outing yourself” as a Jesus Freak will mean that your friends will start holding you to a higher moral standard. (They will).

These are all pretty compelling excuses to keep us from proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They’re not entirely different from the excuses Moses threw out when God charged Him with proclaiming a message of freedom and redemption. But ultimately, God won the argument with these words: "Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak." (Exodus 4:11-12 )

In a world where we’re all receiving and sending out information and communication all the time, whether by tappity-tapping it into a little keyboard on a phone, sending an e-mail, or chatting over a back fence, we must remember that our main mission as Christians is the proclaiming of one particular message—the Good News that Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, died on a cross for your sins and mine, was raised on the third day so that we could be declared righteous, and is coming again for His own.

As you go about your life, be about that mission, and "be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you." (Deuteronomy 31:6)

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

On Writing, Frank Turk, and Big Boy

2010-04-30T15:50:00.010-04:00

I had lunch with Frank Turk today. Yeah, I drop names like Osteen's preaching drops the ball. I'd like to elaborate on that, but can't because I have to tend to some ministerial functions here shortly before meeting up with famous author Ted Kluck to pick up our press passes for Acquire the Fire. Note: I know God is no respecter of persons, but when it comes to Ted and Frank, I'm barely a respecter of persons, either, so it's okay. (BTW, did I mention that the three of us are responsible for this book and that you can buy it here? I did? A whole bunch of times, you say? Okay, I won't bring it up again.) Also note: Ted and I are probably not going to be acquiring any fire. Just sayin'.

Anyway, Turk was passing through Michigan on his way from Amsterdam to his home state of Nunyabusiness and so we darted out to a nearby Big Boy for a quick lunch. The restaurant was...just as I remember Big Boy being. I swear time stands still inside Big Boy restaurants. The same lady is always sitting at the little lunch counter/bar with a four-inch ash on her cigarette (don't think for a minute that the Michigan smoking ban, which takes effect tomorrow, will change anything inside Big Boy--you're confusing categories if you do), the menu is the same, the smell is the same. But enough about Big Boy.

First of all, let me just squash Turk's aforementioned mysterio and say that, despite an online reputation which ranges from snarky, confrontational brawler to, in fact, being the devil himself, he's actually one of the most down-to-earth, friendly, and agreeable guys I've shared Big Boy with. Even paid for my lunch. (Sorry to blow your cover, Turk.)

But here's the thing: Turk's not pseudo-famous for being nice (or even for being snarky), but rather for his straight-forward way of saying something worth saying in a very succinct and direct way. That last sentence was a segue, by the way, because this post isn't really about Turk--it's about something he said. You see, I asked him straight-up how he become one of the most followed bloggers out there. He answered with two generations of life story (which were rather gripping and did involve Eastern Europe, gunshot wounds, homelessness, and Dayspring Greeting cards--although Frank himself was only involved in the last one), and capped it with an anecdote about a time he, Dan, and Phil did a panel about blogging at a conference, where someone asked what it takes to be a successful blogger.

Turk's answer then, as it is now, was that--first and foremost--you have to want to write. Then he clarified (and this is where the succinct brilliance comes into play), not that you want to want to write, but that you actually want to write. The profundity of this bit of wisdom--doled out between bites of Reuben (Turk's first non-airline American cuisine in like ten days)--didn't really hit me until I was halfway back to the capital city.

I know a lot of people who want to want to write. They like the idea of being someone who writes. They like having written. They like everything that kind of goes along with writing, but they don't actually want to write. Not at any given time. They put it off, they do other stuff, they have all these reasons why they can't write right now...because they don't really want to write. They just want to want to write.

The same thing is true of the guy who swears he has a novel inside of him, but never makes time to sit down and put it to paper and the teenager who wants to be a rockstar, but doesn't want to learn scales, modes, and chords. Forget practicing, forget hours of strumming and strumming away--he wants to skip right to adoring fans, video shoots, and snorting coke out of a supermodel's navel or something. You know what? That's not a rockstar. That's not even a musician.

Turk talked about the feeling that, if he didn't write, it would come shooting out his ears. It would back up in him--he'd be miserable. I'm finding myself more and more in the same boat. Less someone who wants to want to write and more someone who wants to write. And I think what moves someone from point A to point B is simply choosing to be someone who writes. When you see the two levels of "want to want to" between you and writing, you have to just decide to bypass both and write. Right now. Last night, I was up until what is really late for me (by the standards of a guy whose toddler is ready for world conquest at the crack of dawn each morning) re-working the end of a novel I've been working on for several years. A few years ago, I wanted to want to work on it. Last night (and last week, and last month), I wanted to. So I did.

I think my wife has a little notepad that says, "If you want to be a writer...write!" (If not, I have no idea where I saw that). That could be said of any activity-based identity, not just writing. I've got a basement full of tools and I want to want to work with wood, but I don't do it nearly as much as I wish I did.

I could go on with many more examples (a flaw of Baptist ministers), but I won't, because this is the kind of post where I'm trying to start a conversation. Seriously, pull up a chair to our imaginary Big Boy booth, and tell me...

1. Your thoughts on writing, on wanting to write, and on wanting to want to write, and
2. What other activities, habits, etc. (excluding eating right, exercising, getting a good night sleep, etc.) that you want to want to do, but clearly don't really want to do.

Does that make sense? Too bad.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

UPDATE: If you linked here from facebook and want to comment, please do it here (not on facebook). You don't have to sign up for anything; if you don't have a google account, just choose "Name/URL" and you can weigh in on the comments section all the same...

Unwarranted Speculation and Self-Promotion

2010-04-28T22:13:00.010-04:00

I imagine that, if an old man with a microphone were to walk up to two emergent-church-types and ask them, "Have you ever heard of Zach Bartels?" this is how the conversation would play out:

Emergent #1: Grrr... Zach Bartels. Isn't he thanked in the acknowledgements of Don't Stop Believing (Zondervan, 2008), which is a horrible, bounded-set book by Mike Wittmer?

Emergent #2: Yeah, I think he is. And, as if that's not enough, he's also cited in chapter 6, footnote 14 of the same book, if I'm not mistaken.

Emergent #1: I can't stand the way that book uses Scripture to refute many of our emergent leaders...

Emergent #2: And is this the same Zach Bartels featured on pp. 149-152 of Why We Love the Church (Moody, 2009) by Ted Kluck and Kevin DeYoung, another book that flies in the face of our emergent conventions?

Emergent #1: The very same...

[at this point, the old man drops the microphone and whips off his mask, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE-style, revealing that he's actually ME! ]

Zach!: I just blew your minds! I'm not an old man! And now, Ted and I have written a book satirizing the Emergent Church called Kinda Christianity (Gut Check Press, 2010). Buy it on Amazon today!

Emergent #2: Wait, you wrote a book satirizing the emergent church this year? You're a couple years too late. Don't you know it's pretty much dead?

Emergent #1: Dude! Shhhh!

Emergent #2: I'm just saying, who would buy such a book?

Zach!: [whipping a laptop out from under my trenchcoat and displaying the rankings page from Amazon.com] Only enough people to launch us to the #2 rank in the "Humor: Religion" category!

Emergent #1: Gasp! Did you displace Brian McLaren from the #2 spot?

Emergent #2: Is McLaren's book in the religious humor section?

Zach!: Should be, but it's not. So long, suckas. Ha-sha-sha!!

And with that, I shatter one of those expansive-gas-filled glass beads against the ground and disappear in the mist.

Emergent #1: [shakes head] First the footnotes, then the three pages, and now a book that isn't available in stores, save for by special order... How will postmodernism survive, Tad?

Emergent #2: I don't know, Randy... I don't know.

----------------------

So, yeah, anyway, Ted and I wrote Kinda Christianity: A Generous, Fair, Organic, Free-Range Guide to Authentic Realness and it launched fairly successfully, thanks to some blog cover from my friend Frank Turk. Hopefully, upcoming blogs from Dr. Wittmer, Kevin DeYoung, and others will give it a couple more bounces before its plunge into literary obscurity.

The funny thing is that the one book we have yet to beat in the Books > Humor > Religion division is Stuff Christians Like by Jonathan Acuff. This is funny because I recently posted (and then half-recanted) a rather critical review of this book, after which I was accused of being "bitter" by someone named "Anonymous."

This charge didn't really make any sense to me. Why must I be bitter in order to not find this book all that funny? But now, retroactively, it makes perfect sense (anonymous and clairvoyant, this guy)--I'm kind of bitter that we, for a time, are ahead of the flying spaghetti monster, the Tao of Pooh, that guy who lived biblically for a year, and Garrison Keillor's Church People...but we never elbowed past Jonathan Acuff.

Not yet anyway.

Click here to read more about the book, or click here to buy it.

Different Eyes by Steve Chalke (a book review)

2010-04-14T09:55:00.019-04:00

Book reviews aren't really the heartbeat of this blog, but I've been known to do them. More recently, I've taken part in some "blog tours," in which a bunch of bloggers review the same book on the same day. It's a clever little pyro marketing technique that Zondervan has used to their advantage. In fact, Zondervan has sent me a couple of free books for blog reviews. I, of course, praised to high heaven my mentor Dr. Michael Wittmer's book Don't Stop Believing. I also really appreciated a book called Busted that clears up false claims and urban legends about Scripture and Christianity.

So a few weeks ago, when I got an e-mail asking me to take part in another of these blog tours, I thought nothing of it. The book was called Different Eyes: The Art of Living Beautifully and was, apparently, about tackling tricky ethical issues from a Christian perspective. Sure, send the book. I'm in.

But when it arrived, the cover gave me pause. "By Steve Chalke + Alan Mann." Why did I know those names? Then it hit me: these are the guys who wrote The Lost Message of Jesus: A Heterodox Re-framing of the Christian Faith. (That's not really the sub-title, but it should have been). Apparently the fires of pyro-marketing are burning out of control and creating a lot of smoke. I mean, I don't expect Zondervan to be aware that I just co-wrote a minor little volume with Ted Kluck, or even that this blog is frequently about the business of refuting McLaren, Bell, et al. But I would expect them to keep their e-mail lists straight and know that bloggers who were geeked to promote Don't Stop Believing would be less than excited about Steve Chalke's latest work.

But, hey. They sent me the book so I read it, and my review follows:

First of all, the book was all over the place, subject-wise. Sure, it was all under the broad umbrella of ethics, but there was no progression, no real thread running through it. It seemed like a collection of essays or blog entries strung together. Maybe it was. If there was a single theme, it would be "playing fast and loose with the faith once for all handed down to the saints." Against a "rulebook" approach to Christianity, Chalke and Mann advocate a Christianity that is more like "jazz improvisation." Perhaps a more accurate description would be that, instead of creeds and confessions, they advocate jam sessions. This particular session is "Riffs on ethics." Sadly, their instruments are way out of tune.

It is noteworthy that the first page (which is really just 2/3 of a page of text) already contains two false statements about the Bible, most likely just stemming from a fading knowledge of the Bible's original languages. Chalke tells us that the Hebrew word El "translates into English, 'God of your fathers.'" Ummm, nope. And BDB or Koehler Baumgartner will confirm that. He then tells us that, when Moses asked what God's name was, God replied with the Hebrew word "Yahweh," which means "I am." Nope again. God said to Moses, "I am that I am" (אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה), not "Yahweh" (יְהוָה). You don't need to know Hebrew to see the difference.

Now, the Name Yahweh probably does come from the root "to be," but to equivocate these terms is misleading. Am I nitpicking here? No, I'm making a point. From page 1, Chalke and Mann present Holy Scripture as they wish it was, filling in the backgrounds and motivations at their own whims, in order to make Scripture agree with their own politics and ethics. We all have a tendency toward doing this, but most people don't have the capacity to do it on this level.

So this thing about God telling Moses "I am" (which God did say, in Exodus 3:14) becomes Chalke's foundation for what he will do in the rest of the book. Apparently, God chose this label because he "wanted to surprise us." "The name Yahweh is an invitation to discover, an enticement to an adventure of slow revelation." (p. 14)

Of course, this is true. The whole Old Testament is a slow unveiling of who God is, revealed at many times and in various ways. But in these last days, God has been revealed to us through His Son. Ignoring that distinction has become a common tactic in the past 100 years. I call it the Wineskin Fallacy. Show that Jesus was a continuing revelation of who God is, maybe quote His teaching about new wine needing new wineskins, then announce that you're bringing some more of the new wine, which requires more new wineskins. The problem with this, of course, is that Jesus is the finest wine available. There is no newer, better teacher, philosophy, or set of ethics to come after him. You can't improve on that Wine, and you can't apply the slow revelation of God in the Old Testament to the Church Age without recognizing the discontinuity.

Chalke (+ Mann, who gets a little plus sign and a smaller font) hang their suvery of Christian ethics on this re-casting of the metannarative. They appeal to "context" frequently and, when that doesn't get them the desired results, they zoom out further and claim that the “story” of Scripture is what backs their position. Context and metanarrative are essential to understanding Scripture, but Chalke so ignores context and twists the metanarrative that God's Law becomes an extra little bonus gift given to people whom he's already (somehow) redeemed. If you know anything about the distinction between Law and Gospel, you can see how this would make for one janky set of "biblical ethics."

For example, Chalke (+ Mann) writes "It is easy to make the mistake of thinking that biblical ethics are set in stone, when in fact, they are set within a story." (p. 18) Again, story is essential, but too often this is just an excuse to use "narrative theology" as a pair of pliers to yank out any of the teeth I don't like from God's Word. For a proper laying out of the Bible's meta-narrative and how it informs our reading of Scripture, see Dr. Michael Wittmer's excellent book, Heaven Is a Place On Earth (Zondervan, 2004).

The authors do acknowledge that our story is The Story, which at first is a bit refreshing. They even hint at the possibility of evangelization, but of course, this is accomplished by letting our ethics shine, and that's it (rather than letting our good works adorn the Gospel or Jesus Christ--more on this distinction later).

In addition to some faulty biblical data, Chalke really likes to employ his favorite logical fallacies: namely the Fallacy of Extension and False Disjunction (neither of which I made up, unlike the Wineskin Fallacy). The Extension Fallacy is when you take your opponent's argument to the furthest absurd extreme possible, and then break it off. (For examples of this, turn on right wing talk radio for five minutes). Along these lines, Chalke continually returns to the canonized "Christian Ethics 101" scenarios to show how silly God's Laws are if taken seriously. To read this book, one would think that Mr. Chalke lives in a world where murderers are continually asking him for the location of their next victim, where he daily has to chose between rescuing a child from a burning building and collaring fleeing criminals, and where he is expected by society to lug his elderly relatives up into the mountains to die on their eightieth birthdays. Basing rules on exceptions doesn't work, but of course Chalke (+ Mann) doesn't want any hard and fast rules, but rather ethics "set within a story."

Along the same fallacious lines, Chalke tells stories of people who are morally opposed to zippers and people who live on top of poles. Scenarios starring Monty Python, Mr. Bean, and the cast of The West Wing are presented in detail, highlighting ridiculous extremes in ethical thought, and then Chalke's view--which looks moderate and reasonable by comparison--is laid down as the only other alternative.

Another favorite tactic of Chalke's is to simply redefine everything. He has no problem, without logical, textual, or linguistic evidence, decarling that holiness is not so much about separateness as it is about "distinctive presence" (wha-?) This has become commonplace in Kinda Christianity; it's the most arrogant form of false humility that would declare Augustine (and the balance of the historic, orthodox Christian Church) completely off-base for having called the Lord's Supper a sacrament and having tied it to bread and wine shared regularly by local bodies of believers. But then again, that's a fairly minor assertion for two authors who have already labeled penal substitutionary atonement "cosmic child abuse."

When he does occasionally back up his raw assertions, it's almost always with quotes from (usually rather dubious) theologians. An aside: William Willimon (UMC bishop and rather solid theologian) is quoted at least once per page. I mean, it's distracting how often Chalke quotes Willimon. If I were Willimon, I'd demand half the royalties from this book. Scratch that; I'd demand that they re-issue the book with my name changed to "Alan Smithee."

As to the ethics themselves, the book very briefly lays out three possible models, landing on "virtue ethics." He may as well have called his system "virtual ethics." In fact, for Chalke, the term "ethics" is synonymous with "being human" and "[is] essentially about everyday life--our passions and perceptions--and the slow cultivation of good habits and moral skills." (p. 65). Guess what, Steve? Oprah, Dr. Phil, and Joel Osteen can give me that. Why do I need Jesus?

Again, Chalke--having no vicarious payment for his law-breaking (ya know, "cosmic child abuse," and all that) just goes the old liberal route of dumbing down and sweetening up the Law. This statement sums up his confusion:

"...when Jesus announced, 'If any of you want to be my followers...you must take up your cross each day and follow me' (Luke 9:23 CEV) was he really implying that each of his hearers should aim to follow an identical pathway to his through life? Of course not. What he was doing was suggesting that they adopt the same habits and attitudes -- those of service and sacrifice -- that he demonstrated on a daily basis, because in doing so, they would have the tools to do the right thing in any given situation." (pp. 147-148)

Yes, it's all about "good habits." Law, anyone? Anyone want to put on the crushing yoke of the Pharisees? No?? But it's the way to living beautifully! Look, I even painted flowers on the yoke! You might be thinking, "But this is an ethics book; of course it will deal primarily with imperatives, rather than with the Gospel." Granted, but for Christians, the imperatives must always grow out of the indicative of what God did for us in Christ, as they always do in the New Testament epistles.

When he started pontificating on the Sermon on the Mount, I almost quit, fearing I didn't have the stomach and the strength to grit my teeth through it. But I endured. Of course, the Sermon on the Mount is the best example of Jesus showing us what it looks like to fulfill the Law. It's as if He's saying, "You want to earn righteousness through the Law? I'll give you Lawⁿ! You've heard it said, no adultery? Check this out: no lusting!" But Chalke sees the Sermon on the Mount as Jesus offering up some tips for living, and another few inches of the unfolding story. He so thoroughly mangles the whole point, that the reader leaves with the impression that "Be perfect even as your heavenly father is perfect" is an attainable goal in the flesh (p. 75), rather than an uppercut and a shove toward the foot of the cross.

The bottom line is this: you can't tell the story when you don't know the story.When you miss the fact that the whole Bible—Old Testament and New—is about Jesus (and not just an "unfolding story about Yahweh's interaction with Israel"), you wind up missing the point at every turn. The near-sacrifice of Isaac becomes just a springboard for some long-term re-education program about child sacrifice and how (contrary to popular belief) it’s actually bad(Who knew?); and the parable of the foolish builder becomes a warning against living our lives "insisting [on] obedience to every detail" of God's Law.

Not surprisingly, Chalke continually models the use of our own human criteria to determine whether God is actually "virtuous." And when God doesn't make the cut, we just re-imagine Scripture again and again until He does. Horrifying to most Christians, yes, but then again, if the substitutionary atonement is a tale of "cosmic child abuse," then acknowledging the fall would leave us dead in our sins. And we can't have that.

Scripture is clear that, for a believer, our sanctification is the work of God in us. The old self died with Christ, we were raised with Him a new creation, and the Holy Spirit now indwells us. That's how we have any hope of living ethically. That's where the power comes from. But where does Chalke find the power?

"It is one thing to know the commands--'Do not kill', 'Do not commit adultery'...but where do we get the strength from to overpower our baser instincts? Only a different story -- a different set of values, practices and relationships -- can empower us to live differently" (p. 25)

WHAT? A "different set of values, practices, and relationships" empowers me to overcome the flesh and live a godly life? So a different law, law, and law? The saddest thing: it is a different story that empowers us to live godly lives, but Chalke never gets around to telling it. Because, ya know, it involves "cosmic child abuse."

I am not ashamed to tell that story, though. Jesus Christ, being God in the flesh (the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity), lived a perfect life, fulfilling the law (which was in fact written in stone). He did what we couldn't do--lived a perfect life, then he died on a cross, bearing God's wrath against our sin. On the third day, he rose from the grave, having conquered sin and death! By God's grace, through our belief, we are then declared perfectly righteous (with Christ's righteousness!) in God's sight. This also begins the process of sanctification, wherein our lives more and more reflect that perfect legal righteousness. Now, if that was the "story" on page one, we might have seen a worthwhile discussion of Christian ethics.

As it is, though, his book could have been marketed as the second in a series and been titled The Lost Message of the Bible: Law & Splenda. Remember, Chalke views the Law as something that God gave us to keep us happy, not to break us and drive us to the foot of the cross!

What I found endlessly frustrating is how Chalke kept flirting with the Gospel. He'd look like he was headed that way, then veer away at the last second. For example, the chapter called "Enlightened" started out promising, describing in a rather compelling way the problem of human autonomy. But, again, the answer was Law--sugar-coated Law, but Law nonetheless. Even when Christ's death, resurrection, and ascension are acknowledged as the center of history, it's only to back up the idea that Jesus is for us "an advanced course in moral formation, the key to living beautifully." (p.52-53)

According to Different Eyes, rather than raise us up, Christ came to lower the bar of the law so that we could make it over on our own, taking into account the situations and complications of our day, and cutting us a little slack. This is clear on page 70, when Chalke gives examples of goofy laws that remain on the books in the US and UK, despite being embarrassingly out of date. Is this how he views God's Law? What does he want to repeal (or re-invent)? The same old issues that theological liberals have been banging on for years. That pesky Bible just keeps getting in the way.

Different Eyes might be worth reading just to see what happens to Christianity (including its ethics) when the cross has been robbed of its power. Like Chalke, I oppose unyielding and unbiblical legalism. But the way from dead Phariseeism to a Living Christianity is not via dumbing down or re-imagining God's law--it's by accepting that we can never fulfill God's law, accepting the sacrifice of Christ in our stead, and being made into a new creation, sanctified in life and practice. But hey, if God's commandments aren't rules (?!), then we can't have broken them. If we're not lawbreakers, then we don't need the atonement.

[Another aside: while awkwardly scattered throughout, the point-counterpoint sections are interesting and might make fun conversation starters for small groups looking to introduce a little conflict to the mix...]

So, how does a book like this end? I was curious enough to read to the final page. The contextless block quotes get thicker and denser as the book sputters out, until you forget that you're not actually thumbing through Spencer Burke's scrapbook. Then you hit a case study about euthanasia, followed by the acknowledgments.

Then you read some Machen to get the taste out.

Interview With Frank Turk

2010-04-11T15:16:00.011-04:00

I am pleased (is "pleased" the right word?) to present to you the following interview with omnipresent reformed blogger, Frank Turk, in which we talk about his mysterioso, comics, and the fact that he is, indeed, mean. This interview is not as random as it seems; you see, my boy Ted Kluck used his not-unimpressive evangelical street cred to convince Turk to provide the foreword to our soon-to-be avaible book, Kinda Christianity. So, yeah, this is yet another grinding wheel in the hype machine that is now beginning to roll.

In the past, I've posted interviews in two parts, but it seems like part 2 always has about a third of the readers/commenters that part 1 has. So, this time, I am unfurling the entire thing in one rather lengthy piece.

A little background for the two people out there who are unfamilar with Frank Turk's work: he is probably best known for being one of the three twisted minds behind the Pyromaniacs weblog . He also posts at First Things, centuri0n.blogspot.com, and about a million other places. Oh, and he hates my blog template and seemingly won't rest until Dispatches is no longer "a brown mess."

ZB: Thanks for taking the time, Turk. I appreciate it. Let me just jump right in by stating the obvious: you are a man of mystery. You seem to run at least 65 well-known, well-trafficked blogs, you rub shoulders with the Reformed elites, and yet no one knows your whereabouts, your day job, or about your secret drinking. Are you, in fact, a legend? (Sub-question: do you regularly get from point A to point B on a horse?)

FT:Much of my persona is actually an urban myth. They say that Ashley Flores is living in my basement, that I'm about to disseminate all cell phone numbers to telemarketing firms in order to break the back of the wireless communication network globally, I've lauched a virus on Facebook and via Hallmark e-cards, I'm working for Michelle Obama, and I'm the one who forced Starbucks not to serve GIs who have been stationed in Iran and Afganistan. And I hate somebody this week -- I think it's Ingrid Schlueter.

Obviously, almost all of this is false.

I hate Starbucks (unless it's free, so that's the next Obamacare as far as I'm concerned), love GIs, I'm launching the new and improved CalvinistGadfly.com this summer if I can get my software to work (and there will be no viruses, but maybe some cookies)(those lemony ones the Girl Scouts sell), I have never met Michelle Obama, I fear wireless communications even though I walk around with a Borg implant in my ear, I don't want your cell number, and I think "Ashley" is a stripper's name and I can't understand why you'd name your daughter after a stripper. Sounds to me like you have her future all laid out already -- and not for the better.

My horse is a Nissan Altima my kids call "the Silver Bullet". Local law enforcement officials usually call it 47 in a 35. Dang it.

ZB: Okay, it's obvious you live in some sort of underground bunker or perhaps the mansion headquarters of a cult that you started in the mid-'90s. We'll leave that alone. But here's the thing: on facebook, you'll occasionally relate the contents of the day to come with some level of work-related stress. Ted Kluck has always thought of you managing a giant (like four-story) book store, while I think of you sitting at a loom in an all-glass cubicle high above a factory floor, churning out tapestries (I also imagine you living on a boat, but that's neither here nor there). Just tell me this: who's closer, me or Ted?

FT:Up until Christmas 2008, I owned a Christian bookstore which served its community admirably (but not very profitably). Since then I have been the spider in the center of a web which, because it is full of nano-technology and pure spite, churns out giant industrial machines which are used in the renewable energy sector for something only an engineer can explain adequately. I'm an English major, so my explanation is that we make the part that goes round and round, and we believe most of them will not fall off or down.

So in this case, Ted does not win, and your odd, delusional interpretation of what I really do inspires me.

ZB: Am I right in assuming that, if I were to keep pushing for more details about your life, this interview might end with a walk-off a la Robert Schuler on the White Horse Inn? That would be epic and spoken of for YEARS.

FT:You couldn't make me walk off. Do your worst. Just don't ask about my many wives or the training my children are going through and why it involves high doses of radiation, Red Bull, and small packages from the orient with an archane symbol on them. Or why I own so many Doombots.

ZB: Fine then, let's switch gears. How did you get started on PyroManiacs? And did you know it would be as huge as it is?

FT:I had lunch with Phil Johnson and he asked me. Of course it was going to be huge -- it has me and Phil and Dan in it. you can't put the three of us into anything that's not actually "huge" because we are, each, individually, huge. And by "huge" I mean "pants sizes above 40 waist."

ZB: Where did you get the monicker centuri0n?

FT:Back in the day (like, 1994 -- you were like 7 back then, right?), nobody used their real name on the internet. And I had just gotten saved. So I had to come up with a user name for my Macintosh internet service (what did they call it back then? It was actually consumed by AOL ...) using my blazing-fast 28.8 modem, and I liked that guy in Luke who could command an army of soldiers but couldn;t save his own servant's life who told Jesus, "If you say the word, my servant will be healed -- because I understand authority, and you have it."

ZB: Actually, in 1994, I was sixteen and running a corny Christian BBS called "The Lamb."

FT: Oh, I didn't know you were like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

ZB: Hreh. Does the zero [in centuri0n] have some theological significance or was "centurion" already taken?

FT:The "ZERO" is a nod to the primative 1337-spellers.

ZB: Your many blogs (particularly your work on Pyro), have a reputation for gravitating toward what some call "discernment ministry" (i.e. warning Christians about subtle and not-so-subtle errors within the visible church and without). Was that an intentional decision, or just kind of a groove that you found?

FT: Eh. I don't see it that way at all. I think getting too focussed on bad people and why they're so bad, and they will make your children bad, and there's only one generation standing between us and raw, rank secular religion makes us forget that Jesus is good. I have this post out there someplace that talks about how the Gospel is not something that really needs to be protected so much as sort of fired like a missile into sin and death, and we shouldn't be living in a bunker hoping the Gospel somehow survives if we only defend it to our deaths.

Some people are wrong -- the internet is full of them, and many of those people are on "my team" theologically and politically. Making one's whole life about those people is a waste of time. I'm more concerned with the people who don't know better, or who are confused, or who are somehow being indoctrinated by all kinds of kooks. Maybe "discernment ministries" would be better off talking about what they believe and what the consequences of those things are rather than how many times Rob Bell sticks his foot in his mouth.

You know: we get it. Now what? What if everyone stopped going to Rob Bell's church, and stopped buying Ann Lamott (sorry: I meant Donald Miller) books, and took all their PDL/PDC books back for a refund. Now what?

You think that Detroit downsizing is bad, you can't imagine the carnage that would ensue if the apologetics blogosphere suddenly had nothing to talk about.

ZB: I'm thinking about things like "Redneck Atheism" and book reviews you've done. Maybe it's more along the lines of apologetical equipping of the saints than the usually "caution: heretics ahead" type blogging.

FT:Yeah, fair enough. I get itchy with the label "discernment blogging". It's either too broad or filled with people I'd rather not be compared to.

The "redneck Atheism" thing is an interesting touchstone for the question becuase I see that as talking to people who, frankly, have started the discussion with their own little apologetic nerdy zeal. Nobody's getting drawn out of Christianity by the nutty ideas in the atheist top-10 list, but plenty of people are trying to close the conversation with that stuff, and I see it as useful (as they say at Between Two Worlds) to say, "hey -- if your logic there was a pair of pants, you'd be wearing yours on your head backwards with the fly down like the turkey in the Boynton children's board book. Oops!"

ZB: Holy crap, I love that book. When that turkey jumps into the pool fully clothed at the end...it always catches me off guard. And speaking of high art, who's repsonsible for all the cleverly photo-shopped stuff on TeamPyro?

FT:Phil is the king of teamPyro graphics, but I make one from time to time.

ZB: What about the art on centuri0n.blogspot.com? Is that your work?

FT:Most of the stuff at centuri0n is scanned -- about 10% are my own work.

ZB: Of course, anyone who's been to your blog knows of your proclivity for comic book art. From whence did this interest spring, and what has been your level of involvement in that scene?

FT:You have no idea how chained-up to comics I am. When I was a kid, on sundays my parents would grocery shop, and next door to the grocer was this drug store -- I know, it's like 100 years ago when the grocer and the druge store were two different businesses. In the drug store there was this wire rack, and one day I guess my dad thought it would be fine for me to sit there and read comics. I remember clearly it was Avengers #158.

I bought is for 30 cents, can you imagine that? You can't buy an on-line greeting card for 30 cents. How did those guys eat?

Anyway, 35 years later I have this absurd stack of boxes in my garage full of comics, most of which I will not let my kids read because they are evil (the books, not the kids), but we make a monthly pilgrimage to the local comic book retailer (because fat guys with no lives and no chance of every having a girl friend gotta eat, too)(maybe they could lay off a donut or something, but you see what I'm sayin') and we indulge in the world of primary colors and narrative art and "WA-BAMM" and "POING!". My youngest actually coined a great phrase -- "I'll smack you to Ala-WaBAM-a!" So I'm very proud.

I actually wrote an unpublished comic with my youngest brother. I just wrote a description of it and deleted it because there's a good reason it's unpublished. Anyway, comics rock, and if more reformed people read comics they would probably implode because the nexus of geekery that would develop in their brains between theology and glossy pictures of genetic freaks with suggestive costumes would undoubtedly cause some kind of cerebral infarction.

ZB: I'm only in my 30s and I used to buy comics from a wire rack in a pharmacy. They were 75 cent then, though. (I too have hundreds of them--combined value of about $22). I am officially intrigued by your comic book. Would you re-consider letting us in on the synopsis?

FT:{sigh} It's a full-blown universe. I'm not sure I can summarize it without having your eyes roll up in your head. It's about corporate espionage, government corruption, libertarian values, hot rich girls, high-tech weapons, and family vendettas. The main character is Daniel Decker, AKA WildCard. His mentor in John Adams Calvin, billionaire industrialist. His sidekick is an AI andoid called "Shyster", and he works with a guy they call "the Grappler" who's an ex-pro wrestler with a PhD in philosophy.

I really can't say more without dimming the lights and running the projector.

ZB: I can tell you're getting uncomfortable, so let me stay on this subject... so, this is an actual, finished, drawn, inked, and lettered comic, sitting somewhere collecting dust?

FT:It's sort of a novella. I can draw most of the characters still. Don't make me pencil.

ZB: What is your opinion of Christian comics in general?

FT:There are Christian comics? You mean like Tomo? What's Christian about that? I love the Ninja raccoon thing, though. That's awesome.

Did you know that Brian Augustine is a Christian? Yeah -- met him at a CBA show years ago, and he was "promoting" (right next to the guy with 1000 flavors of annointing oil) a new line of high-quality Christian comics. I felt bad for him -- becuase I was the only one there impressed that they had gotten Brian Augustine -- the guy who made the Flash cool in the early 90's -- to do Christian comics. They had no idea what they were dealing with -- and the books showed it. He was obviously hemmed in by the CBA hacks who make everything holy and stupid and somehow soul-numbing -- it's like anti-presbyterianism. They baptize it and instantly it sucks right to hell.

So you can imagine what I think about Christian comics.

ZB: There are lots of "Christian titles" that have spanned about three issues before they go the way of all flesh (David's Mighty Men, Archangels, Dust, etc.). And who can overlook the Christian versions of Archie, Dennis the Menace, etc? And of course, the King Kong of Christian Comics: Jack Freaking Chick (yeah, I'm a big-time JFC collector).

FT:Meh. Somebody who's a decent writer and a Christian will get his hands on Captain America one day and THEN there will have been a truly-Christian comic. Until then, the rest of that stuff is embarassing.

ZB: Ouch. That's a good segue to my next topic: you're often accused of being mean, uncharitable, harsh, etc.

FT:I am mean. Like a snake-killing ferret.

ZB: Mmm. I bring this up not to rub salt in your wounds, but because my own blog (in which I don't pull punches when wolves come prowling) has brought on similar charges, and Kinda Christianity is sure to bring on even more (as you predicted in the foreword). How do you deal with the charge (either blasted at all three of you Pyro guys or at you individually) that you are not being Christian when you don't dance around the issue?

FT:I laugh. I like to laugh, so I laugh.

This complaint comes from people who are willing to call most Christians hard-hearted, who think those who take Scripture literally are ignorant, who see sex outside of marriage as OK in spite of things like the consequential illegitimacy rate and the real people that harms, and who are themselves somewhat smug and sarcastic.

So I laugh. No sense arguing with people who are that self-ignorant.

ZB: Makes sense. Let's talk about labels for a minute. Dan Phillips calls himself a "CalviDispieBaptoGelical." What labels do you wear? (Surely it would be too cliched for you to say "I'm not in to labels.")

FT:Christocentric, people-loving glutton for punishment who admires post-mil enthusiasm for the power of the Gospel and a-mil patience for holiness and church life.

ZB: Nice. Assuming you someday have "a legeacy," is that what you'd want to be remembered as? If not, what would be your ideal legacy?

FT:I believe the children are our future. teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside.

Seriously, though -- if we can be completely serious in this interview for about 30 seconds -- Piper did a talk at San Luis Abispo a couple of years ago, and the slogan for that talk was this:

The greatest cause in the world is joyfully rescuing people from hell, meeting their earthly needs, making them glad in God, and doing that with a kind and serious pleasure that makes CHRIST look like the treasure He is.

That'd be a pretty cool legacy.

ZB: I doubt we could end this interview on a better note than that.

FT:The only better ending would be if Rick Warren could somehow say the benediction and the Jonas Bros sing the recessional.

Seinfeld and Solemnity

2010-04-01T22:32:00.007-04:00

Tonight, we once again joined our Methodist and Episcopal brothers and sisters for a wonderful Maundy Thursday service at St. Paul's. Click here to read my post about last year's experience, when I was assigned the meditation in the memorial garden, in the shadow of the Capitol. Tonight I was assigned the meditation just before the foot washing.

This is what I said:

"Perhaps the least appropriate thing that I could bring up tonight would be a comedy routine. And yet, today, as I was meditating on this text in John 13, wherein Our Lord puts on the uniform of a lowly servant and does the work of a lowly servant, my mind drifted to a bit that Jerry Seinfeld used to do about 'dry cleaning.' He talked about how no one really knows what 'dry cleaning' is; we just know that we give them our clothes, they bring them out of sight somewhere, the clothes don't get wet, but they do get clean. And no one questions this because it's an ideal arrangment for us. We can have our cake and eat it too.

In this text, I see Peter wanting to have his cake and eat it too. He wants a relationship with Jesus, complete with all the benefits and glory that may come with it, but he doesn't want to let Jesus in on all his filth, his dirt; he doesn't want Jesus to take on the role of servant in their relationship--he doesn't want to get his feet wet. That night, Peter wanted dry cleaning.

But a dry-clean Lord is of no use to us, as Jesus pointed out. "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." If our Lord does not take on the role of servant and wash us--if there is no sacrifice--then we are still separated from Him. If He is not our Savior, He is not our Lord. (We often remind ourselves of the opposite truth, but it is easy, like Peter, to withold ourselves from His washing, and still try to call Him Lord and Teacher).

There are several foot-washings in the New Testament; all involve great openness and great sacrifice, and none of them is a case of "dry cleaning."

While Jesus was eating at the home of Simon the Pharisee, a sinful woman came in and washed Jesus feet. There was nothing dry about it. She was heartbroken for repentance and the Greek literally tells us that she 'rained tears' onto Jesus' feet and dried them with her hair. The Pharisee who owned the place was horrified by this sloppy, open show of repentance and love. He thought to himself, 'If this man were really a prophet, he'd know that this woman is the town tramp.'
Mary (sister of Lazarus and Martha) similarly anointed Jesus' feet with incredibly expensive perfume. Judas was incensed (I resisted using the pun at the service), and cried out, 'Why this waste?!' He was keeping the books (and a cut for himself) and would have much preferred a more reasonable, dignified exchange with the Lord, and one that was a whole lot drier.
Likewise, when Jesus tied a towel around His waste and washed His disciples' feet, not only was he making a sacrifice by condescending to serve those he created; he was foreshadowing an infinitely greater sacrifice. His blood, which is pictured in the synoptics by the institution of the sacrament, is in John symbolized by this water, washing away the grime and dirt from his disciples.

In that sense, then, Peter was not just holding back his feet from his rabbi, by saying, 'Let's keep this professional,' he was, in a sense, trying to hold himself back from being washed in the blood of Jesus. Thank God he doesn't wait on us.

In this text, we see the normal progression that we see in the New Testament: Indicative (statement about what God has done for us), therefore Imperative (command that we should obey). 'Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.'

But if we try to see in Jesus' foot washing a sterile, gerneric, dry-clean act, it is useless to emulate. We need to see the sacrifice that he undertook and the sacrifice that he was foreshadowing. When we 'wash each other's feet,' we mustn't make the same mistake as Peter and go for the dry cleaning--without tears, without incense, without the blood of Christ. To truly follow His example requires true openness and true servanthood."

Soli Deo Gloria,

Pastor Zach

Timothy Didn't Give "Life Advice" (a sort-of book review)

2010-03-30T14:53:00.012-04:00

EDIT: For the record, I must have been in a bad mood when I wrote this. I recently used a passage from Stuff Christians Like as a sermon introduction and found it quite funny. Take the following with a grain of salt. (Although, I don't think Anonymous was right about me being "bitter.")

"What up, m'NERDS?!" [Todd Packer]

I am back on the blog with a vengeance and, unlike my defeated return from the last hiatus, this re-mounting of the horse signifies that the book is DONE. (We're just trying to get Frank Turk to write the foreword; he may have been kidnapped by drug lords or something, but apparently they're still letting him blog.) Anyway, more on the book in a later post. I'd point you toward http://www.gutcheckpress.com/, but there's not really anything there yet. Next week, I'm thinking.

[Oh, and I'm not even going to bring up the upcoming web series Pastor Zach's Basement. I mean how much rocking can your world withstand in a single blog post? Ted's already worried that Brian McLaren might sue us, without additional anxiety about a class-action lawsuit by droves of people whose world has been over-rocked.]

At any rate, let me answer the question on everyone's mind (and on their lips and in their hearts): what else have I been up to in my spare time these past six weeks? Well, when I haven't been drawing and writing and smoking pipes with Ted in the basement, I've been reading. Got through a lot of stuff that had piled up next to my bed and some stuff that I need to review for an upcoming blog tour.

As a little treat to myself, I capped it all with Stuff Christians Like, by Jonathan Acuff. I know, I know--another blatant Christian ripoff. But he acknowledges in the book that he ripped it off and, in a satisfyingly ironic move, uses his own co-opting of a secular phenomenon to illustrate one of the things that Christians like (i.e., disregarding international copyright), which kind of made it all okay.

All in all, the book was not nearly as funny as I had hoped. I mean, the subject is pregnant with comedic possibility. His style was agreeable enough and he is certainly a talented writer (apart from a random over-use of the word "sweaty"), but I didn't find myself laughing much. Or wanting to laugh. I think part of the problem was that the author is a member of a mega-church with a house band, giant jumbotron screens, and chairs that need to be stacked each Sunday so that the "worship space" can be used by one of the other nineteen people on staff. Yeah, that's funny, but since that's not my world, most of his jokes didn't hit home with me. A whole different set of foibles is associated with my religious tradition.

Instead of guffawing, I found myself critiquing the theological error present just below the surface in most of his little articles (perhaps "critiquing theological error in humor books" should have been one of the things Christians like). Since it's a "Christian Book," most of the articles (originally blog posts) ended with a "now let's get serious" moment, in which is found a mini-devotional (and, yes, he acknowledges that this is also one of the things Christians like). But his devotions showed a total lack of understanding when it comes to rightly dividing Law and Gospel.

For example, one of the things Christians like was "not listening when the youth pastor is the guest preacher." Acuff humorously goes through a middle-aged man's inner-monologue as he sees this punk in his early-twenties get up on the "stage," preparing to preach the sermon. I don't have the book with me, but it was along the lines of, "You better not give me life advice, kid, because the hardest decision you've ever made is whether to get the 14- or 21-meal plan at college" and, "You better not try and give me marital advice because you're still tan from your honeymoon."

Kind of edgeless humor, yes, but the real problem came when he unleashed the "let's get serious" moment. You see, he didn't correct the assumptions behind the guy's inner-monologue as he had corrected many (perceived) false assumptions in other articles. I'm not saying he should have quoted I Timothy 4:12 (although I am very thankful that ten years ago, when I was in my early twenties, my church gave me ample opportunities to cut my teeth at preaching; I'm far better for it.) No, the real problem is this: the reader is left with the impression that the author really thinks that the purpose of preaching on Sunday morning is to give life advice, marriage advice, financial advice, etc.

But it's not.

That's why Timothy (probably in his late teens or early twenties) could preach the Gospel. That's why a twelve-year-old (see my favorite movie, The Apostle) can powerfully (if a bit Finneyistically) preach the Gospel. And that's why the church has historically been much stronger than it is now. Because we used to offer the world something they couldn't get on Oprah. Something not rooted in "felt needs" and scratching itching ears. Something that doesn't require jumbotron screens.

We used to offer the world Christ crucified for our sins and raised for our justification.
And we used to offer the Church Christ crucified for our sins and raised for our justification.
And some of us still do.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

You Just Had To Say It

2010-02-15T14:40:00.007-05:00

Note: I will not be illustrating posts for a while, as all my artistic vigor is being channeled into a project with the one and only Ted Kluck.

I've got a bad case of "In-my-thirties-but-it-hasn't-hit-me-yet-itis" (also called "Youth Pastor Fever," due to the nearly 100% rate of infection among youth leaders). The symptoms of this illness primarily affect one's perception of movies, books, films, etc., especially causing a misconception that ten-fifteen year old slang and media are still fresh and new. Batman Forever? Yeah, that's a pretty new flick, right? And that Seal song from the soundtrack (the one about kissing roses and graves or...something)—that was on the charts, what, two/three years ago? Oh...it was fifteen years ago?

Outbreaks of YPF hit me maybe twice a year when I realize that DC Talk's "Jesus Freak" is fifteen years old, or that Nivana's "Nevermind" came out twenty years ago. Minor spells can be triggered by those little signs in convenience stores that remind us that kids born in 1992 can buy cigarettes. (By the way, if the Michael Keaton/Jack Nicholson Batman movie were a dude, he could buy alcohol today).

I've come to terms with my YPF. Why fight it? Rather than try and stay on top of the latest music (most of which I hate by default), I just keep following my favorite artists. I bought the new John Reuben album and the latest Thousand Foot Krutch, but mostly I split my musical preferences between hymns, liturgical music, and the best of the 1990s. I mean, show me a band that's better than MxPx and I'll show you a band that actually sucks compared to MxPx.

When I was in college (1996-2000), I always scoffed at thirty-year-olds who still listened to '80s music. But I'm doing the same basic thing, (In my defense, though, songs like "Flagpole Sitta," "Supertones Strike Back," and "Santaria" are immeasurably better than the schlock turned out by the likes of Def Leppard, Ratt, or Metallica in the '80s.)

So, anyway, it's not unusual for me to bust out a CD from the mid-late '90s and bring it out to the car for a couple months of heavy rotation (nostalgia = bonus). Recently, I've been enjoying the musical offerings of one Value Pac (the miles-better second moniker of the once horribly named "Won By One.") Value Pac came out during the big bang of the Christian Alternative scene, when Tooth & Nail was just getting big. Their first album (self-titled) will always be one of my favorites.

Great lyrics. Great hooks and melodies. Bass lines that could give you whiplash. And, as I recently noticed, a decidedly Calvinistic bent to their songs. I doubt they knew they were "being Reformed" (after all, a basic understanding of the Bible will send you in that direction), but it recently occurred to me that many of their songs presupposed the Doctrines of Grace.

For example, check out some of the words to "One Way Out:"

All alone in this world, you don't want it.
Not anymore, oh no!
The ways of this world have got you down,
You got no direction you can't find your way out
Trapped in the maze that you call life
You're not gonna make it until you see the light so bright

So we've got the total depravity of man, spiritual blindness, and the natural man's inability to free himself from his sinful state without his blinders being removed by a supernatural act. So far, so good.

These walls you built them up yourself
Locked from the inside, you can't break your way out
Which way is up? Which way its down?
Walking in circles, you can't find your way around

Here, the young lads in Value Pac refute the pathetic Sunday school picture of Jesus standing outside of a sinner's heart, baleful eyes next to tears, patiently and politely knocking because there is no lock (or even a handle) on the outside. What a confused misinterpretation of Revelation 3:20! Sure, our sin has locked us in "from the inside," as the song says, but we are unable to "break our way out" of that prison. We're stuck "walking in circles," spiritually disoriented. Of course, when Jesus frees us, it's not with a knock and a polite hello; it's with a sledghammer and a chainsaw. Observe...

CHORUS:
But Jesus will find you and He'll never let you go
Jesus will find you; He won't leave you standing all alone
He's gonna find you, and He'll never let you go

You won't find Jesus. Jesus will find you. What a faithful presentation of the Gospel, much like the way Jesus presented it (Luke 15:3-7).

BRIDGE:
So watch your back as you walk astray
Turn around and walk the other way
You only want to live for you
Someday I hope you get a clue

A call to repentance ("turn around and walk the other way" being a pretty decent gloss for the Hebrew word שׁוּב , usually translated "repent".)

CHORUS:
But Jesus will find you and He'll never let you go
Jesus will find you; He won't leave you standing all alone...

I can't hear those words enough! "Jesus will find you." And now that he's found me, he'll never let me go. How comforting is that? My ongoing salvation and sanctification rest, not in my hands, but in Jesus' hands!

So, that was a great song, right? But, wait. They're not done. Even though all of their imagery (which they've borrowed from Scripture) points entirely to sovereign grace, they can't leave it there. The culture of the Second "Great Awakening" led Value Pac to add this little tag, a disclaimer of sorts to balance things out. Wouldn't want to rock the boat or anything.

So, as the last chord fades, we hear these words:

...but it's up to YOU!

Wait. It's up to me? Didn't you just spend an entire song showing how it wasn't up to me to save myself? How I could never save myself? How, without Christ, I was lost, blind, and entirely trapped in my sin? It would follow, then, that I'm completely screwed if it's "up to me."

This is the kind of Pelagian Calvinism I bump into just about every day. People who have read their Bibles, learned true doctrine, encountered God in His sovereignty are still so tied up by the American pre-occupation with "pulling myself up by my bootstraps" that, every time they present the Gospel, they have to toss in that pinch of leaven before they let it bake.

Well, I've got great news for you. It's not "up to you." I too will implore you to "turn around and walk the other way." But I won't pretend that repentance is a quality possessed by some spiritual elite, but not found in the common people. Rather, repentance is something given by God in his infinite grace (2 Timothy 2:25, Acts 11:18). No last-minute tag, no disclaimer, no compromise with the fans of DIY salvation.

Jesus will find you. You can run, but you can't hide.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Did Jesus Die to Make You a ZERO?

2010-01-28T14:19:00.010-05:00

Note: I will not be illustrating posts for a while, as all my artistic vigor is being channeled into a project with the one and only Ted Kluck.

I’ve always been partial to the phrase “by the numbers.” (I also like “according to Hoyle,” but that’s neither here nor there). As I understand it, this phrase finds its origin in a training manual for militiamen during the Revolutionary War. Each bayonet and rifle position in the manual was numbered. Hence, doing things “by the numbers” is to do them by the book, following proper procedure. That being the case, I truly like the idea of doing ministry by the book or “by the numbers,” especially considering that our Book is actually divided up into numbered chapters and verses.

But the church today is more concerned with just about every other set of numbers, particularly performance-based numbers—in fact, we’re obsessed with them. Pastors keep track of attendance trends compulsively (and who can blame us, since the first question everyone always asks upon learning our vocation is, “How many people in your church?”). We update the numbers of conversions, baptisms, and first-time potluck attendees.

And more recently, churches have begun assigning numbers to non-numerical items. Some of the most popular books on church growth and “healthy churches” (by the way, ask any dermatologist and she’ll tell you that not all growth is healthy growth) are all about assigning numbers to churches and people. Surveys and quizzes must be filled out ad nauseum so that the church can be identified as scoring a 4 in “friendliness,” a 9 in “worship intensity,” and a big fat zero in “ever going to actually do anything with these survey results.” Other books actually assign individual people numerical values. The so-called “seekers” at a church service are level 2 humans, the church members are level 5, the woman who sits on half a dozen committees and also does the landscaping is a level 9, etc.

Needless to say, this kind of ministry by the numbers is upsetting to me. Despite all the noise about how “postmodern” we’ve become, the world continues to be obsessed with numbers (Cf. the omnipresence of online IQ tests, magazines promising that you can go down a dress size in two weeks, or the inordinate weight given to a “credit score,” which is mostly based on how much one loves staying in debt). But the church should not be falling into the same patterns, because they can be incredibly dangerous.

I recently saw a great example of this danger in the form of a banner hanging at the front of a local church's sanctuary. It looked like this:

[Click the image to view a larger version.]
At first glance, you may be thinking, what’s the problem here? People do start out against God, are drawn to the cross, saved (justified), and then they mature (are sanctified). Well, the problems that come with ministry by the numbers are often subtle, but grave. And the errors involved in boiling the mystery of salvation down into a cute little chart are manifold and I could go on for pages; but, I shall resist and just address the main problem that relates to my point (because I do have one).

To begin with, the paths to and from the cross are presented as one long “journey.” But they’re not the same thing. You see, you and I are involved in the process of reaching spiritual maturity—that’s a fact. While it is by God’s grace that we are sanctified (made holy in life, thought, and practice), we do have a role to play in pursuing the deeper things of God, in reading and internalizing the Scriptures, in putting to death the works of the flesh, etc.

But since they’re all on one long continuum, this chart seems to at least imply that I also helped bring myself from -10 (enmity with God) to my salvation at the cross. It shows a picture of a sinner slowly learning more and more, getting “righteouser and righteouser,” became less and less an enemy of God until the two of them become friends when they meet at the cross. This couldn’t be further from the Truth presented in Scripture. Even while an unbeliever is beginning to feel convicted of his sins, he remains God’s sworn enemy (a -10, if that helps) until the moment he is born again by the power of the Holy Spirit and his sins are washed away by the blood of Jesus Christ.

Yet the real danger in these numbers is that big fat goose egg under the cross; the idea that Christ’s ultimate act of sacrificial love, the death of God the Son on a tree, only accomplished bringing me back to zero so that I could start working my way toward ten. I can think of no quicker way to cheapen the cross. But sadly this has become a common way to think of salvation—by the numbers.

Let me hit you with some really good news: Jesus didn’t die to make you a zero. When you’re saved, it doesn’t just take away your sins and put you back in a position of innocence like Adam and Eve, (How horrible would that be? Remember what happened to them…) No, when Jesus died, he took your sin from you and he gave his righteousness to you!

If I had to try and put it by the numbers, I’d say this: you and I are sinful people in ourselves and as such. Before we were saved, our standing before God was -10 (or more realistically, the numbers on the chart should go way lower). If we were to stand before God on our own merit, we’d be found to have a huge sin debt, which would even include our attempts to redeem ourselves with good works. Therefore, when we died and were separated from God, we’d be getting exactly what we deserved.

But when Christ died, he had no sin at all—only perfect righteousness and obedience. In terms of the chart above, He didn’t stand before God the Father as a zero, but as a +10 (again, assigning any kind of number to Christ’s righteousness is toying with blasphemy, but I’m working with what the chart gave me).

That means that when Christ died, he not only bore your sin (paying for your -10), but gave you his righteousness, his +10, or rather, his + ∞!

There’s an old Christian cliché to help believers remember what “justification” means. It says “that I’m justified means that it’s just-as-if-I’d never sinned.” That’s clever and it may be a useful memory aid, but it’s not accurate. You’re not just as if you stood in the Garden in a state of innocence. You have perfect righteousness imputed to you from Jesus Christ! (Romans 4:6). It’s “just-as-if-I’d” always obeyed!

And now the big question: SO WHAT? Does this stuff really matter to you and me in our day to day lives? You bet it does! If you’ve been born again and put your faith in Jesus Christ, you don’t default to zero, having to claw your way to a good standing based on your score or performance. (In fact, the process of sanctification should be on an entirely different chart). If you’re saved, you stand before your Heavenly Father clothed with the righteousness of Christ. That should give you the confidence, boldness, and perseverance to pursue spiritual maturity, knowing that your standing in God’s eyes is not at stake, and that your salvation rests solely in His strong hands. What a gift!

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Classic Posts!

2010-01-15T10:23:00.014-05:00

Update: I have relocated the continually updated page of my favorite classic posts here.

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It occurred to me the other day that most of the people who regularly read this space have not been with me from the beginning. It also occurred to me that when I pick up a new blog, I almost never go back and read what I had missed in the months or years before I got on board.

With that in mind, then, I humbly (?) present the best of my posts thus far (as of 4/16/2010), my classics. Classic status is determined by number of hits, trackbacks, links, and comments, as well as my arbitrary affection for a given post. (Sadly, most of my favorite illustrations have been wasted on one-paragraph sermon synopses, so you may also want to check out the graphics album as well.)

And now, without further jibber-jabber, I offer the classic posts:

An Annotated Guide to Christian Buzzwords (6/25/09) - Perhaps my most popular post. This list of Christian clichés and accompanying commentary took me some time to compile (hence its excessive length). Feel free to add your own (least) favorite buzzwords to the mix.
centuri0n Drama (4/11/10) - My interview with big-time blogger Frank Turk, of which one little inconsequential comment sparked all sorts of high-pitched debate and crossed over into three other blogs (including TeamPyro). Oy vey. Great interview, though, if I do say so myself.
Dispen-Sensational! (10/28/08) - My favorite post. A play-by-play of my experience at the Jack Van Impe 60th anniversary rapturepalooza!
Jerry Falwell and Jim Wallis (1/26/09) - Featuring one of my favorite Dispatches illustrations (Chalres G. Finney as a circus clown/ring master), this is my ultra-condensed primer on what has happened to the American church and why we're in such a theological wasteland today.
Ted Wins (2/26/09) - My two-part interview with author Ted Kluck (click here for part 2), covering everything from pro wrestling to the Institutional Church.
Who Sets the Menu? (4/15/09) - A rant on seeker-seeking and itchy-ear-scratching. How did we get to the point where the Church measures its success by whether it's meeting the world's expectations? That's like basing the State of the Union on what grades we got on the Taliban report card.
The (Not So) Great Apostasy (3/17/09) - An epiphany that I put to paper when I realized that all of my formerly Christian friends who had ditched the faith had one thing in common.
Don't Stop Believing (10/14/08) - My two-part interview with author and professor Dr. Michael Wittmer (click here for part 2), in which he talks about his latest book and helps us understand why living like Jesus is not enough.
Me Painting a Bullseye on My Head (12/10/09) - If the Alliance for Confessing Evangelicals held an Inquisition, what would likely get me burned at the stake? The answer: a conviction that I believe to be thoroughly biblical and rather benign. But others strongly disagree. (The real incriminating stuff is in part 2).
What's In a Name? (8/13/08) - What the world is the significance of "42 months" and "twelve sixty?" Well, it involves the book of Revelation, but it's even less sexy than you thought.

I'm Running a Marathon! (but not really...)

2010-01-14T10:43:00.003-05:00

When I was a little kid, one of my favorite games was to pretend I was an explorer sailing through uncharted waters to land on undiscovered coasts. Of course, I didn’t realize what scoundrels the Conquistadors were in real life—I just knew they were soldiers, explorers, and adventurers. And the idea of sailing across the sea to unknown lands and discovering places and civilizations that had been untouched for centuries seemed like the most exciting life possible. I mean, how amazing must it have been for Christopher Columbus to stumble upon an entirely unknown continent? Compared with my boring life of school, play, chores, church, it seemed like Columbus’s life must have been one long string of non-stop thrills and adventure.

The truth, however, is that sailing across an ocean, while exciting at times, was more often than not mundane and even tedious work. There are many, many entries in Columbus’s journal that simply read, “Today we sailed on.” That’s it. No pirate attacks. No life-threatening storms. No amazing discoveries or breakthroughs. No great challenges overcome. Just, today we sailed on. Faithfully, single-mindedly, perseveringly, sailed on.

As I look back at 2009 at Judson Memorial Baptist Church, I see a lot of that sailing on. When the end of the year roles around and I put together an annual report (I'm now on my fifth such report at Judson), my default setting is to look for a big blockbuster theme around which to spin the year. What was the big event, the big breakthrough, the identity-redefining, course-altering element that will cause future generations, in retrospect, to recognize the monumental importance of what we’ve accomplished?

2009 had none of that. This year, we sailed on. There were ups and downs. I baptized a few and we welcomed a dozen or so into membership, while some members left. I officiated a handful of weddings and a whole lot of funerals (in fact, the unrelenting series of deaths this year—many of our most treasured bedrock members—led me through quite a spell of spiritual darkness this year). Still, we celebrated three surprise birthday parties for members hitting milestones. There was some conflict within the church (most of it unseen) and struggles making next year’s budget.

And there were a few mountain top experiences. We licensed a lay pastor to preach and administer the sacraments (something I’ve wanted to do since arriving here). I got to accompany the youth group on a mission trip. And we enjoyed a very refreshing and spiritually renewing church retreat at Camp Lael.

But mostly, it was a year of sailing on. A year of finding that rhythm of doing ministry with a new son (and finding that that rhythm is going to keep changing). A year of finishing one sixty-three-week sermon series and launching immediately into another section of God’s Holy Word.

I do look forward to 2010, in which I will celebrate my fifth anniversary of ministry at Judson. I have big plans, of course. I have high hopes for what we can accomplish together for the Kingdom of God. And yet, despite knowing that future generations will not be pointing back at ’09 as an amazing turning point or a year of unspeakable greatness at Judson Baptist Church, I thank God for this past year. I thank God that we’ve been able to sail on faithfully and that, as we’ve sailed, we’ve had his Holy Spirit and his holy Church to encourage us, comfort us, minister to us, challenge us, correct and rebuke us, and through us, to magnify his Name!

Whatever 2010 brings, let us remember that the Christian life is never likened to a wind sprint in Scripture, but to a marathon. May God be praised by the way we run this next leg of the journey.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Tips and Tricks for Weight Loss

2010-01-10T14:09:00.014-05:00

I haven't touched on the "miscellany" end of "Calvinist Theologizing and Miscellany" for a while, so let me do so right now.

This is the post in which I teach you what I've learned about losing weight.

I know what you're thinking: "Zach, you're chubby. Who are you to teach me how to drop some pounds?" It might sound kind of like the guy who said, "Quitting smoking is easy, I've done it hundreds of times," but the fact is that I have three times successfully dropped a significant amount of weight and kept it off for a good while. Observe:

(click graphs to enlarge)

As you can see, in 2002, I dropped 30 lbs in eleven weeks (an average of 2.6 lbs/week); in 2005, I dropped 40 lbs in 23 weeks (an average of 1.83 lbs/week); and in 2008, I dropped 17 lbs in eight weeks (an average of 2.13 lbs/week). Yes, I gained weight back each time (I'm not offering tips on how to keep it off), but I never gained it all back. All together, there was a difference of 51 pounds between my high in 2002 and my low in 2005.

How did I do it? The old fashioned way with a high tech new twist. In short, I counted calories and fat grams and exercised every single day. The high tech part is that I use a program for my Palm Pilot, called Calorie King Diet Diary (hereafter: CKDD). It contains a vast library of just about any food brand, item, restaurant, etc. you can imagine and does all the work for you, letting you know exactly how many calories you've consumed and how many remain for the day (it helps you pick the goal based on your weight, age, sex, etc.). It also will figure how much you've burned with a given exercise routine. If you don't have a Palm Pilot (and fewer and fewer people do), there's a Windows version of CKDD available, and I know there's an iPhone app that does the same thing, with the added feature that it knows what restaurant you just walked into and automatically pops up their menu's nutrition information.

However you keep track (a little notebook, a smart phone,or whatever), I have found that I have to do the math after (or preferably before) every little thing I eat. What follows are some additional tips for weight loss that I've discovered over the last eight years (I recognize that different things work for different people; these are just things that worked for me):.

Pick realistic goals. 1-2 pounds of fat per week is about as much as you want to lose. Any more is unhealthy (you'll lose more at the beginning, but most of that is water weight).
Set realistic limits. If you're a 6' tall 200+ pound man like I am, it's ridiculous to try and limit yourself to 1400 calories a day. Your body will go into starvation mode and start hoarding calories. My standard for weight loss is 1900 calories and 35 grams of fat per day.
Record an entire meal as you prepare it. While you mix together the ingredients, record the calories, fat, carbs, etc. of each (this is where a tool like CKDD saves you hours a week by doing the grunt work).
Tuna fish is your friend. So is fat free mayonnaise (Kraft makes a decent one, which tastes very good when cut with a little Smart Balance mayo.)
A big mug of coffee with a teaspoon of sugar easily takes the place of a mid-afternoon or mid-morning snack. Bonus: caffeine metabolizes faster on an empty stomach.
Forget low carb diets. Do you really think you can bacon your way to weight loss? Give me a break. In losing a combined 87 pounds, I've never once (that I know of) consumed less than 60% of my calories from carbs. If you burn it off, you burn it off. Duh.
Don't eat so much as one M&M without writing it down. Be a completely inflexible calorie nazi. Writing it down makes it real for you. If you don't write it down, you didn't eat it. You have to be clever enough that (even as clever as you are) you can't fool yourself.
Subway is your friend (swear off mayo, oil, and southwest sauce; stick to turkey, ham, roast beef, and chicken with American cheese or no cheese and mustard [any kind], sweet onion sauce, and/or vinegar).
Have a list of go-to foods--one list for breakfast, one for lunch, one for dinner, and one for snacks (Smart Pop Microwave popcorn and pretzels are two of my favorite snacks).
Grill a lot. Chicken, salmon, asparagus, portabellas, corn on the cob. When you grill (if you do it right), you don't need to add any oils at all.
No one really needs eight glasses of water a day, but drinking plenty of this free beverage helps the weight loss effort in several ways. I also pound the Diet Pepsi, Sugar Free Red Bull (although it's pricey), and light lemonade. Watch out for sugar free Rock Star and other "diet" energy drinks. Does it just have 10 calories per serving? Look closer: that's 10% of your recommended daily allotment of calories (or 200).
Fat free, calorie-free spray butter is your friend.
Weigh yourself a lot. When I'm losing weight, I weigh myself every morning and every night. Most weight-loss books tell you only to do it once a week or so because of natural fluctuations in your weight from day to day, but if you do it frequently, you'll learn to read through the fluctuations and anticipate them. Whenever I've gained weight that I'd previously lost, it started with me gaining a little and then becoming afraid of the scale (like a debt junky afraid to balance the checkbook or add up all the loans). Was it GI Joe or St. Francis De Salle who said, "Knowing is half the battle?"
Don't force yourself to do exercises you hate. Find something that you look forward to. For me, that's BIKING (in the summer), racquetball, a long walk with a nice cigar, or hitting the treadmill with a stupid Adam Sandler movie in front of me (in the winter).
Keep reminding yourself that the longer you keep up a good habit, the more automatic it becomes. At some point, you won't even have to think about how many calories are in this or that or stand there debating about whether to have just one doughnut. It will be robotic.
Despite what you read in all the articles on weight loss, I have found that if I let myself splurge, I will regret it. The conventional wisdom is that if you never eat a big wedge of chocolate cake, you'll eventually snap and go on a three-day cake bender. I'd rather have a little cake (small enough to fit into my daily allotment) than ruin two days of work in five minutes and then regret it and feel like crap.
If you're married, it really helps if your spouse is on board with you. If you're not married, some kind of weight loss partner is a good idea. I have lost weight without my wife being on the same program (Figures A and, of course, C [don't try to get a pregnant woman on a diet if you value your life]), but it's ten times easier if you approach it as a team. Contests have also worked for me. Friendly competition between my dad and I has proved a great motivator.

At the end of the day, it's all a question of self-discipline. Who's in charge, you or your craving? It's a matter of budgeting (just like financial budgeting). Erin and I are also (if God wills it) going to pay off our last debt (other than our mortgage) in May of this year. We finally got the traction we needed when we really owned the fact that we had to spend every penny on paper, on purpose before the month began. Then, once that paycheck is direct deposited, there's no decision to be made. The money's spent. The same thing is true of weight loss. You have to determine before you smell that Pizza Hut or are offered that cookie that you won't be eating that way. Not today. You've already got the budget written and it's a contract with yourself.

So, having once again re-gained some weight (I'm calling mine sympathy baby weight), my wife and I have started a weight-loss contest that runs through the end of May. There's a cash prize involved, but mostly I'm in it for the bragging rights. Since we're working together again, I am certain that we will both lose the weight we want to without much of a problem, but I want to actually keep it off this time.

So what has gone wrong in the past? Conventional wisdom would say that we hadn't really changed our eating habits, so when the diet was over, we went back to our old default way of thinking about food. That's not altogether true. We were never on some liquid shake or fad diet that was unsustainable. We were very happy with how we felt, what we were eating, and had every intention of staying with the program for life.

What went wrong is that life closed in each time. Look at Figure A (2002). The weight loss ended when I started an overwhelming semester of seminary and, in order to accommodate the hours, started working some nights. It was much easier to run out and grab some fast food than actually pack a dinner. Once in a while turned into every night I worked and, before long, I wasn't keeping track of anything (on paper or even estimating in my mind). I stopped caring. Figure B (2005) ends with my graduation from seminary, moving to a new city, starting a new career, etc. And Figure C (2008) ends with the birth of my son, Calvin. Things were too hectic to worry about what we were eating; we were lucky to have time to eat at all.

So, how will this one end? Will we keep the weight off longer than eight months (my record)? Do you have any tips for keeping weight off? Or additional tips for losing weight?

Hit the comment button!

Bullseye, part 2

2010-01-08T10:22:00.011-05:00

I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted here. The stupid thing is that I've had four or five ideas for interesting posts of moderate length, and yet did not put fingertip-to-keyboard because I promised that my "next post" would address specific items of ecumenidom. Like anybody would have even cared.

But, here I am, true to my word, darkening the bullseye. I was rather surprised at how nice everyone was last time around--maybe because most of the "true reformed" folks had already un-friended, un-followed, and dis-fellowshiped me (see last post). Anyway, if you're a "Rome as the Whore of Babylon" type, no need to bite your tongue for my feelings' sake. Let's get it lively in here. And if you're a "we need Luther to interpret Paul" kind of cat, you're really going to think me some sort of suspect quasi-Christian in a minute.

So anyway, the two things I left hanging:

1. The Baptist connection to my ecumenism. This may seem weird, since most Baptists today are über-separationists. And when you read our definitive (at least in my opinion) confession, the 2nd London (1677, 1689), there is a reference to the pope being Antichrist.

But I'm thinking more about the practical aspects of early Baptist life in America. In Rhode Island (before it was Rhode Island), two cooperating settlements--Providence and Newport--were the first places in America where Christians of different stripes lived together in harmony. Quakers, Baptists, Catholics, Anglicans, Puritans, and even more obscure sects, all living together without flogging, banishing, beating, burning at the stake, etc.

Now, I realize that this has more to do with the separation of church and state than how one defines the church, but I see it as a metaphor for a spirit that was present within many early Baptists. Despite their religious toleration and the spiritual benefit of the doubt that goes along with the doctrine of Soul Liberty, the Baptists did not sweep religious differences under the rug. They debated. Week after week, you could find public debates (as well as many private conversations) about the important differences in doctrine between these very different traditions. The ecumenism (if it can be called that) present in Providence and Newport was not a "thin ecumenism" (the lowest common denominator type), but a "thick ecumenism," which acknowledges and debates differences, but does not see non-essential divergences as default communion-breakers.

Even going back further to English Baptist history (the beginning of our movement, despite what the silly "Trail of Blood" Baptists try to claim), we see a tendency toward a broader view of the church. In 1673, John Bunyan (author of Pilgrim's Progress) wrote, “The church of Christ hath no warrant to keep out of the communion the Christian that is discovered to be a visible saint of the word, the Christian that walketh according to his own light with God.” Again, Bunyan didn't sweep these differences in doctrine under the rug. Like many early Baptists, Bunyan was an accomplished debater and, like many early Baptists, he had his area of expertise: debating Quakers.

Likewise, William Carey, the father of modern missions (and the man who baptized our beloved Ann and Adoniram Judson) was pushing for a worldwide ecumenical meeting, in which all Christian groups were recognized and represented as early as 1810. To the over-Jack-Chicked, Left Behind crowd, this sounds like Mystery Babylon the Great just waiting to happen. But to a Baptist with a high view of Christ's historic Church, it's a logical and (if approached correctly) beneficial idea.

2. Communion Despite Differences in Soteriology. So here's where I'm going to plant myself on several people's skubalist. I believe that when we get to heaven, we will find people of many varying soteriologies there (soteriology is the doctrine of salvation), all having been bought by the blood of Christ. No, I'm not suggesting some PoMo "all paths lead to God" nonsense. I affirm all of the Words of Our Lord as true, including his statement, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except by me." Yes, it is only through Christ that any fallen human can have any hope of salvation. But throughout Christian history, many different traditions have described this salvation by Christ in many different terms and with oft-conflicting concepts.

There's the obvious difference of Calvinist and Arminian (the issue of whether man's will plays any role in his salvation). The "true reformed" folks would have us believe that any non-Calvinist is a heretic (a Pelagian of some rank) and, therefore, not saved. Greg Fields has (I believe correctly) identified this as a new form of Calvinist Gnosticism. Who could ever read the works of John Wesley and then declare him unregenerate? It's beyond me. And I believe Satan gets giddy over these attitudes. After all, a house divided against itself will fall.

Alright, you say, but even I would have to admit that the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches are doomed, blasphemous abominations, and that any unity with them is simply the work of a compromising, worldly spirit and another step down the path toward a one-world-church...right? Pffft. Wrong.

I believe in and preach substitutionary atonement; divine election; salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. And while I'm happy to make a righteous judgment (κρίνω) about the Arminian view of salvation (and that judgment is: they're quite wrong on the details), I will not judge the individual (κατακρίνω) because Jesus himself warned us against doing so (Mark 9:39-41, Matt 13:29), as did the Apostle Paul (Romans 14:4). For this reason, when I encounter Christians who worship in churches that affirm the Apostles Creed, Nicene Creed, Athenasian Creed, the Trinity, the Divinity of Christ, his death for our sins and resurrection for our new life, his ascension, and his coming again...well, call me nuts, but I think of them as Christians. And I have no problem worshiping with them in our interdenominational Good Friday service or welcoming them to our table when we observe the sacrament of Holy Communion.

I tell sinners and self-justifiers to repent and believe, to flee the coming wrath of God. From my pulpit, I preach a Protestant, Calvinistic understanding of salvation. I don't sweep differences under the rug. Like my early Baptist forebears, I have the debate, the discussion, the exchange. But if a Protestant understanding of Sola Fide is absolutely essential for a church to be considered a Christian church, then there was no Church on earth for at least 1,000 years. In fact, if agreeing with Luther or Calvin on all matters soterological is the criterion for salvation, then, while we Calvinists love quoting St. Augustine and claiming to have an "Augustinian view" of salvation, Augustine himself is certainly in hell.

Even if we make substitutionary atonement the lynch pin (while I absolutely do believe it is grounded in Scripture and is the most biblical way to look at the cross), almost no one spoke of it at all until Anselm of Canterbury (born a thousand years after our Lord's ascension). Do we assume that he was the only true Christian on earth at that time? I'm afraid I cannot. Jesus' promises vis a vis his Church were just too many and too far-reaching.

Am I making a plea for watering down doctrine based on history rather than Scripture? No. In fact, I don't want us to water down doctrine at all. I am making a plea for embracing the tension that is present when we recognize that the Church is bigger than our own movement. The tension I feel between my Calvinist soteriology and the Church unity that Jesus himself prayed for, between my confessionalism and my ecumenism. This tension is going to involve acknowledging that growing along side the wheat is some chaff. It involves deciding where non-essentials end and the beating heart of the Gospel begins, and doing so in a way that recognizes the unfathomable depth of God's grace,shuns all neo-gnosticism, and does not make me and my movement the default yardstick.

How you do it is for you to figure out. I'll just point you to that old maxim, which has been attributed to everyone under the sun: In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity. I believe that's a good starting point.

But, at the end of the day, there will always be theological tension there (as there should be). Embrace it.