John of Kronstadt was a nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox priest at a time when alcohol abuse was rampant. Few of the priests ventured out of their churches to help the people. They waited for the people to come to them.
John, compelled by love, went out into the streets. People said he would lift the hungover, foul-smelling drunks from the gutter, cradle them in his arms, and say to them, “This is beneath your dignity. You were meant to house the fullness of God.”
Like John of Kronstadt, we can say to the broken, “Your brokenness does not define you. You are one in whom Christ dwells. You were meant to house the fullness of God.” We welcome them like the Prodigal Son, restoring them to their true birthright, even if they have trouble accepting it.
-James Bryan Smith.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
FFT
…Don’t the prophets strike you as kind of cranky? … no wonder those of us who preach often avoid them. Our listeners don’t always like it. We don’t like it.
We like happy books. In most of our churches, it is easier to preach comfort rather than judgment, mercy rather than justice, because by the standards of God’s justice, who can ever measure up?
On the other hand, these passages are in the Bible. In fact, the prophets directly account for 250 of the 1189 chapters in the Bible. Can you really be a biblical preacher and not address what the prophets have to say?
More than that, there is a reason why we need to preach on justice. There is a reason for the anger of the prophets, and why we need to submit ourselves to the discipline of regularly sitting under and preaching their words…
...We read the prophets and think: What’s the big deal? What are they getting all heated up about?
To us, the world is not so bad. Most of us are pretty happy. Things are going okay - at least for me.
I know there’s violence in the world. It’s regrettable, but as long as it doesn’t touch my life, I would prefer not to think much about it. Certainly that’s not connected to my anger, self-centredness, lack of love.
Cheating goes on everyday in business. Somebody shades the truth a little for profit - that’s just the way things are.
Some 8000 children are born with or infected with HIV everyday in sub-saharan Afica, and it’s now the leading cause of death.
A few miles from my church, from any church, children are born in poverty, living in ghettos or slums; they will grow up without access to decent education, housing.
But they’re not my children. Maybe their parents did something to deserve it. So what if in ancient Israel the poor often got the shaft? Where is it any different? Why go off the deep end?
The prophets act like the world is falling apart.
What’s the big deal?
The prophets have been given the crushing burden of looking at our world and seeing what God sees; rich people trying to get richer and looking the other way while poor people die. And thinking God is really pretty pleased with their lives. And that the world is going pretty well.
We tend to avoid preaching about justice because we don’t really want to know the truth about what sin has done to our world and to us. Because that would make us uncomfortable.
As Micah 2:11 put it: “If a liar and a deceiver comes and says: ‘I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,’ he would be just the prophet for this people.”
We prefer preaching that tastes great and is less filling….
…. Events that horrified the prophets go on every day in our world, but we just get used to it - like you get used to wearing your watch. After a while - we don’t notice any more.
The prophets noticed. The prophets never got desensitized to sin. Injustice is sin. Justice is central to shalom. We omit justice from our preaching at peril of our calling, and of our congregation’s health and ability to see the reality around them…
…Concern for justice must also be rooted in Jesus and tied to Scripture. Historian Mark Noll noted that one shortcoming of the abolition movement was a failure to do the exegetical and theological work needed to base abolitionism in the authority of Scripture. As a result, reform movements after the Civil War (from women’s rights to temperance to child labour) became increasingly detached from Scripture, and they became increasingly separated from the concerns of the church…
…When we ask people to involve themselves in justice issues, we are not adding a burden on to their busy lives, or asking them to do the church a favour. Ultimately, what matters most is… Which person is more like God?...
…In some churches, where many attenders are well off, we may have to remind ourselves of how badly injustice stings… we hate it when someone treats us unfairly - at work, in family. The call of Jesus is to get as energized about someone else’s being the victim of injustice as you are when it’s you. In particular, be concerned about injustice to those you might be inclined to overlook.
This is another concrete story, from a woman quoted in Miraslov Volf’s wonderful book Exclusion and Embrace: “I am Muslim, and I am 35 years old. To my second son, I gave the name Jihad so he would not forget the testament of his mother - revenge. The first time I put my baby at my breast I told him, ‘May this milk choke you if you forget.’ So be it. The Serbs taught me to hate. [She describes her work as a teacher and how the very people she taught and cared for became her enemies.] My student Zoran, the only son of my neighbour, urinated into my mouth. As the bearded hooligans standing around laughed, he told me: ‘ You are good for nothing else, you stinking Muslim woman.’”
Jesus often surprised his followers by being concerned for those whom others were inclined to overlook….
… So we are to remind people that it is in Jesus that justice prevails. The cross was the scene of the most monstrous injustice in history, where the one truly innocent person in history was visited with the sum total of human sin.
It is on a cross we see most clearly God’s hatred of injustice. It is an empty tomb that proclaims most loudly justice’s final victory.
And so Jesus’ people are called to form a community where shalom prevails. I love the translation Eugene Peterson gives in Acts 2 of the way the world looking on the early church “and in general, liked what they saw” (Acts 2:47, The Message).
May it happen again.
-John Ortberg.
We like happy books. In most of our churches, it is easier to preach comfort rather than judgment, mercy rather than justice, because by the standards of God’s justice, who can ever measure up?
On the other hand, these passages are in the Bible. In fact, the prophets directly account for 250 of the 1189 chapters in the Bible. Can you really be a biblical preacher and not address what the prophets have to say?
More than that, there is a reason why we need to preach on justice. There is a reason for the anger of the prophets, and why we need to submit ourselves to the discipline of regularly sitting under and preaching their words…
...We read the prophets and think: What’s the big deal? What are they getting all heated up about?
To us, the world is not so bad. Most of us are pretty happy. Things are going okay - at least for me.
I know there’s violence in the world. It’s regrettable, but as long as it doesn’t touch my life, I would prefer not to think much about it. Certainly that’s not connected to my anger, self-centredness, lack of love.
Cheating goes on everyday in business. Somebody shades the truth a little for profit - that’s just the way things are.
Some 8000 children are born with or infected with HIV everyday in sub-saharan Afica, and it’s now the leading cause of death.
A few miles from my church, from any church, children are born in poverty, living in ghettos or slums; they will grow up without access to decent education, housing.
But they’re not my children. Maybe their parents did something to deserve it. So what if in ancient Israel the poor often got the shaft? Where is it any different? Why go off the deep end?
The prophets act like the world is falling apart.
What’s the big deal?
The prophets have been given the crushing burden of looking at our world and seeing what God sees; rich people trying to get richer and looking the other way while poor people die. And thinking God is really pretty pleased with their lives. And that the world is going pretty well.
We tend to avoid preaching about justice because we don’t really want to know the truth about what sin has done to our world and to us. Because that would make us uncomfortable.
As Micah 2:11 put it: “If a liar and a deceiver comes and says: ‘I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,’ he would be just the prophet for this people.”
We prefer preaching that tastes great and is less filling….
…. Events that horrified the prophets go on every day in our world, but we just get used to it - like you get used to wearing your watch. After a while - we don’t notice any more.
The prophets noticed. The prophets never got desensitized to sin. Injustice is sin. Justice is central to shalom. We omit justice from our preaching at peril of our calling, and of our congregation’s health and ability to see the reality around them…
…Concern for justice must also be rooted in Jesus and tied to Scripture. Historian Mark Noll noted that one shortcoming of the abolition movement was a failure to do the exegetical and theological work needed to base abolitionism in the authority of Scripture. As a result, reform movements after the Civil War (from women’s rights to temperance to child labour) became increasingly detached from Scripture, and they became increasingly separated from the concerns of the church…
…When we ask people to involve themselves in justice issues, we are not adding a burden on to their busy lives, or asking them to do the church a favour. Ultimately, what matters most is… Which person is more like God?...
…In some churches, where many attenders are well off, we may have to remind ourselves of how badly injustice stings… we hate it when someone treats us unfairly - at work, in family. The call of Jesus is to get as energized about someone else’s being the victim of injustice as you are when it’s you. In particular, be concerned about injustice to those you might be inclined to overlook.
This is another concrete story, from a woman quoted in Miraslov Volf’s wonderful book Exclusion and Embrace: “I am Muslim, and I am 35 years old. To my second son, I gave the name Jihad so he would not forget the testament of his mother - revenge. The first time I put my baby at my breast I told him, ‘May this milk choke you if you forget.’ So be it. The Serbs taught me to hate. [She describes her work as a teacher and how the very people she taught and cared for became her enemies.] My student Zoran, the only son of my neighbour, urinated into my mouth. As the bearded hooligans standing around laughed, he told me: ‘ You are good for nothing else, you stinking Muslim woman.’”
Jesus often surprised his followers by being concerned for those whom others were inclined to overlook….
… So we are to remind people that it is in Jesus that justice prevails. The cross was the scene of the most monstrous injustice in history, where the one truly innocent person in history was visited with the sum total of human sin.
It is on a cross we see most clearly God’s hatred of injustice. It is an empty tomb that proclaims most loudly justice’s final victory.
And so Jesus’ people are called to form a community where shalom prevails. I love the translation Eugene Peterson gives in Acts 2 of the way the world looking on the early church “and in general, liked what they saw” (Acts 2:47, The Message).
May it happen again.
-John Ortberg.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Summertime, and the living ain't easy...
Well, now that the school year is over (part I of IV to V), I can now get back to... the normal amount of busy-ness. I find it's interesting how it tends to come in waves, rather than in a steady stream. I think it'd be easier that way, if it came at a regular trickle, rather than a mini-tsunami monthly.
Currently enjoying having a new roommate come to live with me, until she gets her life direction all figured out. It's interesting, not having had a (permanent) roommate for a couple of years now and having to renegotiate life with one. It's good and nice to have someone else around the house.
However, I'm regularly intruding on her space so I can access my computer to work on a talk I'm giving on Easter Sunday. Prophetic, it's expected to be. Challenging, too. Yipes. Calling people out of the self-centredness of their own forgiveness, and to broaden their horizons to the reconciliation and transformation of all of life through Christ is where they're being pushed to go. Hopefully impactful; we shall see. The heart is notoriously self-centred and selfish, I know. I can barely break out of my own selfish desires to tend to those around me; the cords of selfishness bind all of us quite firmly.
I'm almost grateful I'm not going to be in the country for another conference that had asked if I'd come to be their plenary speaker (for pity's sake! Can you imagine how some people's teeth would gnash? They would probably wear down their entire enamel that such an infidel as I would be allowed to speak publicly.) this year. Though it would have, indeed, been a fine opportunity to continue to call God's people to envision the wide and lavish love of Christ and His purposes and plans for all of His creation...
Currently enjoying having a new roommate come to live with me, until she gets her life direction all figured out. It's interesting, not having had a (permanent) roommate for a couple of years now and having to renegotiate life with one. It's good and nice to have someone else around the house.
However, I'm regularly intruding on her space so I can access my computer to work on a talk I'm giving on Easter Sunday. Prophetic, it's expected to be. Challenging, too. Yipes. Calling people out of the self-centredness of their own forgiveness, and to broaden their horizons to the reconciliation and transformation of all of life through Christ is where they're being pushed to go. Hopefully impactful; we shall see. The heart is notoriously self-centred and selfish, I know. I can barely break out of my own selfish desires to tend to those around me; the cords of selfishness bind all of us quite firmly.
I'm almost grateful I'm not going to be in the country for another conference that had asked if I'd come to be their plenary speaker (for pity's sake! Can you imagine how some people's teeth would gnash? They would probably wear down their entire enamel that such an infidel as I would be allowed to speak publicly.) this year. Though it would have, indeed, been a fine opportunity to continue to call God's people to envision the wide and lavish love of Christ and His purposes and plans for all of His creation...
Monday, April 11, 2011
Lenten thoughts
though they really aren't, as I was wracking my brain for a few weeks prior to Lent, trying to think of something meaningful to give up, but by the time Fat Tuesday came around, the one thing I had thought of was actually going to be difficult to implement, so now I didn't actually give anything up for Lent.
However, I'll do it next year. I had thought of giving up eating out for the whole season of Lent. The only reason why I didn't was because I had some dinner and lunch meetings booked in the upcoming weeks that I couldn't break, so I had already trespassed against Lent before it began!
Admittedly, with a significant amount of disposable income and living in a city with a significant wealth and diversity of cuisines, it's very difficult to give up the idea of restaurants and food services. However, I think I, like many of my peers, spend an inordinate amount of money on food outside the home. For me, I find that even more profoundly ironic with my fruit and veg box and my commitment to local producers and vendors. It's certainly not a cost thing: certainly, I likely spend close to the same amount in restaurants monthly as I do on food consumed in the home, but, as opposed to the majority of Torontonians, this doesn't affect my own food security.
It is, however, a justice thing. When we are called as people to temper our appetites (of all sorts), to snuff out greed and selfishness, then I find the over-abundant expenditures on food outside the home fairly unjustifiable. It's a tough balance: many chefs I know are talented, hard-working people, who deserve the accolades and fair compensation for what they do. However, it still remains a luxury for most of the people in our city. And so that's where I remain: You would think it would be easy to give up restaurant food for 47 days, but it's not as pragmatically easy as one realizes...
However, I'll do it next year. I had thought of giving up eating out for the whole season of Lent. The only reason why I didn't was because I had some dinner and lunch meetings booked in the upcoming weeks that I couldn't break, so I had already trespassed against Lent before it began!
Admittedly, with a significant amount of disposable income and living in a city with a significant wealth and diversity of cuisines, it's very difficult to give up the idea of restaurants and food services. However, I think I, like many of my peers, spend an inordinate amount of money on food outside the home. For me, I find that even more profoundly ironic with my fruit and veg box and my commitment to local producers and vendors. It's certainly not a cost thing: certainly, I likely spend close to the same amount in restaurants monthly as I do on food consumed in the home, but, as opposed to the majority of Torontonians, this doesn't affect my own food security.
It is, however, a justice thing. When we are called as people to temper our appetites (of all sorts), to snuff out greed and selfishness, then I find the over-abundant expenditures on food outside the home fairly unjustifiable. It's a tough balance: many chefs I know are talented, hard-working people, who deserve the accolades and fair compensation for what they do. However, it still remains a luxury for most of the people in our city. And so that's where I remain: You would think it would be easy to give up restaurant food for 47 days, but it's not as pragmatically easy as one realizes...
Friday, April 01, 2011
FFT
Our Greatest Threat
Much as I hate to admit it, I do reconnaissance at the Department of Motor Vehicles before choosing my seat. The place is a collision of diversity. Logically, I shouldn't feel so uneasy. No one's going to pull a knife on me. But within this diversity there are certain people groups that I view with suspicion. I'm not proud of it, but I believe certain people groups have an unusual capacity for doing evil.
Are certain people really more prone to doing evil than others? Yes. I've found that history points to a single people group who do the most evil. I know it sounds terribly intolerant to label a single people group as the enemy, but this is what history shows.
So who is this great enemy of ours? Three historical vignettes will answer that question. We begin in the 5th century with an answer offered by Symeon Stylites. A Christian ascetic, Symeon sought to free himself from the corrosion of the world by building a 60-foot pillar and standing atop it for 37 years. He started a trend and soon a forest of pillars grew up around him, each topped with a man who similarly believed that the problem was something "down there." Who's the enemy, according to Symeon? The swamp of depraved souls below.
A second story offers a different answer. A journalist once approached Mother Teresa, notepad in hand. Apparently thinking he'd stump her, he asked pointedly, "Where is God when a child dies alone in the slums of Calcutta?" It's not an uncommon question. A God who claims to be both powerful and loving should be taken to task for such an atrocity. The implication, of course, is that God is the perpetrator of evil.
A third answer comes from Flannery O'Connor. As a novelist and essayist, she's not exactly writing history, but her vision is sharp enough to blur the line between fiction and reality. In a doctor's waiting room, Mrs. Turpin sits and reflects on her good nature, thankful that Jesus "had not made her a nigger or white-trash or ugly." Then for no apparent reason, a snarlingly ugly girl hurls a book at her from across the room, followed by an insult, "Go back to hell where you came from, you old warthog." Having collected herself, dusting off her pride Mrs. Turpin notes silently of the insult, "There was trash in the room to whom it might justly have been applied." Who's the enemy, according to Mrs. Turpin? Others who don't know good folk when they see 'em.
So far, our three stories don't agree on a common enemy, except to say not me. But the stories go on. Mrs. Turpin left the doctor's office baffled by the ugly girl's ignorance. Later that night, however, she couldn't shake the girl's words. They echoed in her mind, speaking the truth by stripping bare her self-righteous soul: "Go back to hell, you old warthog." Mrs. Turpin is the real enemy.
Mother Teresa took the journalist's question in stride. But her answer cut short any further ridicule. "Where was God when a child dies alone in Calcutta?" She responded patiently: "Where were you?" The journalist is the real enemy.
Symeon Stylites eventually became a saint. But in his effort to escape the corrosive world below, his foot produced a terrible ulcer. The pus that continually seeped out is documented in graphic detail. Corrosion, it seems, also comes from within. Symeon is the real enemy.
Which is the people group most prone to do evil? History tries to dodge the question, but the answer is inevitable: it's not them; it's me. I am our greatest enemy.
May God save us from ourselves.
- Brandon Gaide.
Much as I hate to admit it, I do reconnaissance at the Department of Motor Vehicles before choosing my seat. The place is a collision of diversity. Logically, I shouldn't feel so uneasy. No one's going to pull a knife on me. But within this diversity there are certain people groups that I view with suspicion. I'm not proud of it, but I believe certain people groups have an unusual capacity for doing evil.
Are certain people really more prone to doing evil than others? Yes. I've found that history points to a single people group who do the most evil. I know it sounds terribly intolerant to label a single people group as the enemy, but this is what history shows.
So who is this great enemy of ours? Three historical vignettes will answer that question. We begin in the 5th century with an answer offered by Symeon Stylites. A Christian ascetic, Symeon sought to free himself from the corrosion of the world by building a 60-foot pillar and standing atop it for 37 years. He started a trend and soon a forest of pillars grew up around him, each topped with a man who similarly believed that the problem was something "down there." Who's the enemy, according to Symeon? The swamp of depraved souls below.
A second story offers a different answer. A journalist once approached Mother Teresa, notepad in hand. Apparently thinking he'd stump her, he asked pointedly, "Where is God when a child dies alone in the slums of Calcutta?" It's not an uncommon question. A God who claims to be both powerful and loving should be taken to task for such an atrocity. The implication, of course, is that God is the perpetrator of evil.
A third answer comes from Flannery O'Connor. As a novelist and essayist, she's not exactly writing history, but her vision is sharp enough to blur the line between fiction and reality. In a doctor's waiting room, Mrs. Turpin sits and reflects on her good nature, thankful that Jesus "had not made her a nigger or white-trash or ugly." Then for no apparent reason, a snarlingly ugly girl hurls a book at her from across the room, followed by an insult, "Go back to hell where you came from, you old warthog." Having collected herself, dusting off her pride Mrs. Turpin notes silently of the insult, "There was trash in the room to whom it might justly have been applied." Who's the enemy, according to Mrs. Turpin? Others who don't know good folk when they see 'em.
So far, our three stories don't agree on a common enemy, except to say not me. But the stories go on. Mrs. Turpin left the doctor's office baffled by the ugly girl's ignorance. Later that night, however, she couldn't shake the girl's words. They echoed in her mind, speaking the truth by stripping bare her self-righteous soul: "Go back to hell, you old warthog." Mrs. Turpin is the real enemy.
Mother Teresa took the journalist's question in stride. But her answer cut short any further ridicule. "Where was God when a child dies alone in Calcutta?" She responded patiently: "Where were you?" The journalist is the real enemy.
Symeon Stylites eventually became a saint. But in his effort to escape the corrosive world below, his foot produced a terrible ulcer. The pus that continually seeped out is documented in graphic detail. Corrosion, it seems, also comes from within. Symeon is the real enemy.
Which is the people group most prone to do evil? History tries to dodge the question, but the answer is inevitable: it's not them; it's me. I am our greatest enemy.
May God save us from ourselves.
- Brandon Gaide.
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