The Strength of Synod

Next week may be my last Synod.  The price of attendance has gone up form thirty to fifty-eight dollars.  I have just spent almost two hundred dollars on a hotel room.   When  food and gas are included in the price it should be over three hundred.  Besides the price,  in the future I may not be able to reschedule my classes to accommodate the time away.

 All in all, not much that happens on the floor seems worth the trouble. The impact of most of the speeches, greetings, presentations, urging, encouraging, rebuking,  informing, and thanking will last about as long as the wind it takes to pass them.  Only what effects the actual running of local churches or church institutions makes any difference.  The rest is pageantry.

Thinking back over my last thirty-two Synods, the one thing that I would truly miss are the people I have met. They are truly important, and usually have made the trip worthwhile.

What difference would it make if Synod were to dissolve tomorrow?  Would a single church close if it did?  Last fall I watched four  churches close, yet few of their members remain unchurched today, and those who have not yet found new churches are still going,  visiting around.  They have not stopped going to church, they are just been attending different churches. Any American Christian should be able to find a church.  Any church within our denomination ought to be able to find some Reformed body who would welcome them.  As an institution, we are simply not as important as we think. 

But if the ARP church dissolved, the true sadness of it would not be in the loss of institutions,  but the  disruption of friendships. If this is my last Synod, it would be the people I  would miss, not the institution.

Synod has been for me a time of sorrows and joy.  My thirty-two Synods have been a succession of friendships gained, lost, regained, and gone--colleagues of my  youth have moved on, retired, or simply passed away. There have been times when I have gone up the mountain to celebrate with my friends . Other times, I have gone up sadly, ashamed to meet my brothers, needing their kind words.  Sometimes, I have gone up the hill angry,  but I have always knew that there were people there who knew me, and I them.  This made me feel happy to come,  regardless of the circumstances. 

I have enjoyed the stories of people I have just met, the opportunities to  pray for others and to be prayed for, the chance to network  and share ideas.  Synod has been a place where I could meet heart to heart and soul to soul, and know together the love of God reflected in others.

What happens under the trees and in the dining hall is what Synod is really about, much more than what happens on the floor.  It is the most truly ARP thing about us.

Faith is about relationships--relationship to God and relationships to others.  The business  on the floor is about defending the status quo or reforming institutions, about worrying over money and power and other worthless things,  squeezing and fussing over particulars, so we can go on being institutions.  The structure quickly overcomes the purpose, like a family  that is more concerned about the house they live in than the home inside.  Like that family, we go on fighting over the color of the drapes and the condition of the carpet, neglecting the spiritual and emotional conditions of those we love so we can "get things done." 

Church is a great place to go if you want to run away from God--that is, if you  reduce the Body of Christ to an institution, members of of the Body reduced to church members, shepherd reduced to an office and Christ reduced to a symbol.  The official church moves on,  without the power to touch or heal anyone. In spite of our institutional order, though, the Body of Christ abides and the gates of hell cannot prevail against it. 

The strength of Synod has very little to do with what we do, but in what we choose to be--brothers and sisters  gathered in a caring community.  This is what makes us different from all other bodies I know.  We actually see each other face to face once a year.   When we forget the importance of these relationships and think of a denominational meeting as a theology class, debating society, or (God forbid) a political body,  we usually end up doing more harm than good.  When we let our strength, shine, though, Synod becomes a positive experience.

THe Ulysses Adventure

Here's one I found in my archives an rewritten. It's from an old sermon I want to use it in a book one day, when I get the time. 

There are four kinds of age.

--Calendar age.  This is our age according to the clock.  We can't do a thing about that
--Physical age.  This is the age of our body. We can be twenty on the calender, but have the body of a forty-year-old, or we can be sixty and have the body of a forty-year-old. 
--Identified age.  This is the time with which we choose to identify ourselves.
Have you ever heard some old guy say "Well in my day, we. . . “  If you are breathing, this is still your day.  You might as well enjoy this day while you have it, and stop griping about what year it isn't.  Enjoy the year that is.
--Spiritual age.  Spiritual age has nothing to do with your calendar age, but everything to do with your attitude towards time.  People who have lost their motivation are old. People who are still learning, growing, and doing are young.  

Tennyson's poem Ulysses says it well.

"Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. "

Tennyson's poem concerns a little known myth about the Greek hero Ulysses.  The story goes that near the end of his life, he gathered his old crew and sailed for the islands at the end of the world.

I love this idea--to make life's end an adventure.  Don't stop learning,  growing, or exploring.  Life ought to be more exciting towards the end, not more peaceful.

We seek adventure too early in life--when we are too young to know what we want or what awaits us.  Like a runner who expends his energy too early in the race, distance and fatigue wears us down, and we lose the spirit of adventure.  The world weighs down upon us, and we abandon our early dreams.  

As we get older, though we gain new opportunities. We do not have youth,  but we can still have courage and faith, so there is no reason to stop trying at the end of life than at the beginning, or to start something new at any age.

• George Bush Sr. celebrated his eightieth birthday by going skydiving. 
• Jack La Lane celebrated each birthday by breaking one of his own exercise records well into his eighties.  
•  Grandma Moses became a world-famous artist in her eighties, 
•  Ronald Reagan became president ad seventy-eight.  

 Those of us over fifty, consider our options. We sit and watch our grandchildren play, our bodies wear out, the world change, and our friends die, mourning the loss of beauty and opportunity,  or we can play,  use our bodies and our minds, make new friends, and change the world ourselves.
Though much has been taken, much abides, if only we are alive enough to take it.  

Practicing the Presence of People

One writer who has greatly blessed me in his writings is Peter Scazzero.  Some time back I discovered his book The Emotionally Healthy Church, and thought it was the best thing I read on the importance of emotions in church life.  His follow up, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality,  though is much, much better. Scazzero relates our emotions to the spiritual disciplines.  In it he approaches the spiritual life in a practical and moving way.

One phrase Scazzero uses in discussing the disciplines of love stands out in my mind -- practicing the presence of people.  

I am well familiar with Brother Lawrence's devotional classic, The Practice of the Presence of God.  If you aren't, get it and read it immediately!  Brother Lawrence makes the point that we should strive at all times in all places to have an awareness of God with us,  whether we are washing dishes, raking leaves, or in prayer. 

Scazzero makes the same point about people.  We should also strive to have a constant ,immediate awareness of the people who surround us.  Modern urban society, with the necessary crowding of strangers together,  tends to make us defensive of strangers. We close off our minds so we look though them, not at them.  As a result,  people become less than human.

We need to always be aware that the people who inhabit our space are people like ourselves, having the same sins, hopes, dreams,  joys, comforts, and loves that we do.  They are made in God's image, just as we are.  They are also broken, fallible, frightened,  hurt,  happy,  and loved by God just as we are.

The opposite of practicing the presence of people  is the political mindset.  The political world view is seeing the world in terms of power--either power to help us or to hurt us.  We  either see others as votes, influences, or obstacles in our way, which must be manipulated,  maintained, or removed.

We see that view in the church all the time.  In our recent problems, we have reduced the other side to a political, not a human entity, allowing us the illusion that we can be a complete Body of Christ without them.  We can push them out of our circle without remorse, because we do not recognize their humanity.

But we are called to love our enemies, not destroy them.  We are called to love our brothers and sisters in Christ, not influence or dominate them.  We have to quit looking at one another as objects to help or oppose our side, and simply see them as people, for whom Jesus died.

Sit in a crowded room. Close your eyes. Listen to the conversations around you, without judging or prying, just listen. You will hear the hopes, dreams,  unhappiness, and happiness of everyone there.  Talk to people and let them carry the conversation. You will hear what Henri Nouwen once said, that there is infinite depth in a single human soul.  But when we see them only as means to an end,  we dehumanize them.

I have always felt this way about the church--it isn't new.  People who look to the past with nostalgia often forget that other people do not share their warm feelings about their personal past.  They will fight to keep things as they are, even if it means driving newcomers away. The newcomers don't count, in their opinion.  Contemporary churches, who insist that people who cherish the past are unimportant, do the same things. Others feelings don't matter.  Both sides think of their own comfort as more important than the comfort and well being of others.

Doctrinal and church disputes should not be trivialized. But neither should they be an excuse for  callousness.  People count and their opinions count--even those with whom we disagree. 

We can't stop disagreeing, nor can we stop defending what we think to be right.  But even then, we can still learn to practice the presence of people. 

A-maze-ing Grace

Working on my new book The Faith Matrix has caused me to read deeply about spiritual disciplines,  and has changed my views on a lot of things.   One of them has been the issue of God's calling. 

I always thought of God's calling was about destinations.  In the Bible, people were called either called from somewhere or to somewhere. Israel was called from Egypt.  Paul was called to Macedonia.  Jeremiah was called to preach.  Amos was called from being a dresser of sycamore trees,  Jonah was called to Nineveh,  Abraham was called from Ur, etc.

But really, this is hardly ever how God's calling works.  Most of the time we are not called to or from anywhere.  Calling is a lifestyle, not a destination.  We are called to follow, that's all. 

Jesus called his disciples by saying "Follow me."  He did not tell them where they were going.   The only reason He tells us anything about our destination is to either redirect us when we are going wrong  or give us hope to go further.  We do not need to know tomorrow if we trust God.  We only need to know where He wants us today. 

Some ancient traditions illustrated this by building prayer mazes. It was a tool for spiritual reflection.   In a maze, we do not know what is around the corner.  All we know is what is just in front of us.

Life is a maze in which we follow Jesus,  seeing only His back as He rounds the corner,  knowing that if we stay where we are, we miss Him;  if we hesitate, we are left behind.  If we go ahead of Him, we  waste precious time on wrong turns. Only by moving when He moves and holding when He holds will we actually find our way though the maze. 

We are not "called" to be ministers or missionaries so much as we are called fo follow wherever he leads.

To follow Jesus  means spending time getting acquainted with Him through prayer and the Word.  We let go of our desires for worldly comforts and carry no more than we need. We remember that we are not needed here,  that the world can carry on very well without us.  It requires that we both listen to the Spirit and know the Word and be in constant contact with Him.

Here's where I get into trouble--I want God to give me a road map rather than be my guide.  I try to discern where I am supposed to be years down the road, rather than just keeping up with where He wants me today. 

Most of my life I have followed what I thought was my career path, moving from one church to another.  It was a straight road, but a dull one.

Now, God has made several turns in my life--and I am glad of it. There are no certainties ahead, but there are possibilities.  For the first time in years. I am growing spiritually again. 

I'm not out of the maze yet.  There are many twists and turns ahead.  But that's part of the fun of following Jesus. 

Time Traveling

I was thinking about that old movie The Time Machine. (The old Sixties version not the messy remake of the Nineties.)  In it,  Rod Taylor plays a man who invents a time machine.  There is a wonderful sequence at the beginning when he gets into the machine for the first time, and time moves rapidly around him. Out his window,  he watches the sun and moon whiz by, as the days move faster and faster. Eventually, he can only see  grey.  In his room, furniture moves around him; wallpaper goes up and down; gas lights give way to electric lights.  Then the room itself disappears, and he is in a vacant lot.
He watches a mannequin in the store window across the street.  The hemlines go up and down with the changing styles. Then the store itself disappears. The city goes, too.  Now he is in an open field.  Trees grow and fall around him,  natural features change.  then he is encased in volcanic rock.  finally, after eons (minutes in his time)  the rock erodes away, and he views a new world, where everything has changed, even people. 
The older I get, the more I feel like that time traveler.  every year, the world changes around me.  Things I once knew and loved, places I've been,  friends, and family change beyond recognition.  Technology that I was just getting the hang of suddenly becomes obsolete.  Newton's second law holds. Everything breaks down eventually, even ourselves. 
If we could, like the time traveler of the movies, reverse directions by pulling a magic lever, we would. Maybe we could go back to times when we felt more comfortable and had more energy.  But we can't.  This is a one-way trip from birth to maturity, to change, to obsolescence and extinction. 
It seems to me there are two ways we can face changing time.  We can resent it, and try to run from it, but that is futile.  Or we can change to,  embrace the future, and cherish it.
Times are going to change, and we are going to get old, whether we like it or not.
Our other option is to embrace the future. Change can be invigorating, if we let it happen without too much complaint.
As I get olde, I make a point to try to avoid certain things.  I make it a point to avoid getting sentimental about the past. Frankly, no one cares much about the way things were when I was younger.  I try to avoid saying the words "In my day." This is my day. I plan to live in it.  I try to avoid saying or thinking that things were better when I was younger.  Old people with selective memories have been saying that line forever, and it really gets tiresome.  I try to avoid thinking that music,  the arts, movies,  books,  cooking,  of anything else was necessarily better "in my day." Things were different, that's all.  Just different.
I will do this for as long as I can,  until time and age pull me back into the past.  I have to confess that sometimes I do catch myself listening to Sixties rock and laughing at old TV shows sometimes.  Don't tell anyone, though. 

Living Sacrifice

(Note:  I received several requests for copies of the message I preached at the New Life Seminary Awards Banquet. So I am posting it here for anyone who wants it.)

Rom 12:1-2

What is the most important decision you make in life, outside of your decision to receive Christ as your savior?  Is it whether or not to go to college? Is it your wife?  Is it your career? These are important to be sure, but people can change colleges, careers. They can even change wives.  Even if they do not, we can adjust wherever and to whomever we have. 

People to think that the most important decisions they make are the big ones. But what matters is the accumulation of a lifetime of little decisions, done over and over, until they become habitual. 

One little decision is a choice. Making the same decision twice is an inclination. Three times and it becomes a habit. We are defined or defiled by our habits. Habits do not make our lives—they are our lives.

We get fat when we develop a habit of eating.  We get rich when we develop a habit of saving. We get healthy when we develop a habit of exercise. We get close to God when we develop a habit of prayer. We become generous when we develop the habit of giving. We become beloved when we develop a habit of showing love to others.  These little habits define who we actually are, far more than our thoughts, intentions, hopes, or dreams. 

With that in mind, look at this passage.  Paul tells us—no, he begs us by the mercy of God--to we present our bodies as living sacrifices to God.  Why a living sacrifice?  Because it is a decision that we must make again and again. 

Suppose a man came into this room with a machine gun and said “Renounce Christ and I’ll kill you.” Most of us, I am sure, would choose without hesitation to stand firm, even to our death.  It is a simple, clear cut decision, which we would have to only do once. But following Jesus is not that kind of a decision. It doesn’t happen once, but daily, every day, for our entire lives. 

We make a promise to God that we will get up and have devotionshen hit the snooze button. We have just broken a promise to God. In that moment we have denied His authority over us. We promise Jesus we will fast today then change our minds.  We get angry at our spouse, and take our troubles out on her, even though we promised to love and cherish her forever. We put our love of college football above our love of the faith, by skipping church to go to a Clemson game. We critics and ostracize another believer, even though we promise God that we would treat others like Him.  In a thousand little decisions every day, choose self-indulgence over self-denial. That’s the problem with a living sacrifice—we keep crawling off the altar.

Please understand, I do not suggest that being a living sacrifice is hard. It isn’t—it’s impossible! No one does it perfectly. Fortunately, God’s in Christ has already forgiven our failures, so we don’t have to worry about punishment.  But the consequences are still ours.

 There is a difference between consequences are punishments. Punishments are corrections imposed upon us from without.  Consequences are the natural fruit of our efforts, or lack of effort.  If we eat ice cream three times a day, we will get fat.  No one makes us fat but ourselves.  Don’t blame it on God.  If we spend money on nice clothes, then can’t pay the mortgage, you are experiencing the consequences of a little decision.  If we walk in a path away from Him, why do we think we would feel close to Him later?  He has not moved--we have. 

But if we daily present our bodies to Him, denying our own habits in order to do His will, we will get closer to God. We either choose to get close to Him every day or we choose to get farther away every day.

Paul goes on do not be conformed to this world.  J. B. Phillips rendered it “do not let the world squeeze you into its mold.” There is a powerful force in this world pushing against us, forcing us not to follow Jesus every day.  It is the Devil. It is our own habits and inclinations. But Paul calls it “the world.” It is as if the whole world is out to keep you from following Him, which it is. 

If we do not choose to follow Jesus every day, we will become increasingly like everyone else around us and less like Jesus. Eventually we join our voices to their chorus pushing against people who want to follow him.  We either resist the enemy or we join it. As we look at the church around us, we can see that this has already happened. We are like  people trying to swim across a rushing river.  If we do nothing, you will be swept away.  Every moment, you must struggle not to let that happen.

Paul says be transformed by the renewing of your minds.  If you do this, you will be able to say “What Jesus wants is what you want.” Your will surrenders to his and we become what we want to become, true children of God, a new and different person. 

The tricky part of this passage is the term mind.  We get hung up there, especially Presbyterians, into thinking that if we are rational, if we just think hard enough, we will become like Jesus.  

Does this work in any other sphere of life? If you read a drivers’ manual, can you drive a car?  If you read the biography of a famous baseball player, do you develop a good pitching arm? This is not an intellectual exercise. It’s not that we don’t know what it means to be a Christian; we know, we just don’t act like Christians. 

Here’s how I was always taught this verse was supposed to work: We put God’s Word inside us. If we do this (so we’ve been taught), then God’s Word inside will push back against the opposing forces, and then we’ll be transformed and be like Jesus.  Only, it doesn’t work that way.

The Word of God can’t affect us if we don’t listen. Even if we did take the time to study, we still don’t want to do it. Knowing the Bible doesn’t change us. Faith in the Bible does.

This phrase “be transformed by the renewing of the mind” is read as a causal statement—that is, that the cause of the transformation is mind renewal. However, it may also be read as coincident-- that transformation and the renewal of the mind are caused together by something else.  This actually makes more sense in context. Paul says first we present our bodies to God—everything we are. If we present our bodies to God, in time our minds will be transformed, and then the renewed mind continue us in the right direction. 

This opens up an interesting idea. That the process of change is not always led by the mind, but our bodies--our Let’s look at each of these four parts aspects of the body—head, feet, hands, and heart. 

Our heads.  Knowledge does transform us.  When we grasp insight into God’s Word, it does transform our lives.  The more we absorb from God’s Word, the better off we are.

But there’s the problem.  How do I want to study it?  We need to give God our feet and hands, too—that is, to go to the places where we can make a difference. We’d rather keep our feet propped up in our recliners or stuck under our own dinner tables than to be among the lost. 

Our hands. Jesus used His hands to heal the sick and raise the dead. But that was not all. Jesus raised them to heaven, or folded them in prayer. In other words Jesus practiced the spiritual exercises of his tradition, praying, fasting, and giving.

Our heart. Jesus was anointed with the oil of gladness above his peers.  In other words, He was emotional about it.  We have emphasized coming to church as a duty, but do not emphasize loving and glorifying God as a duty. We are head heavy and heart poor. 

Jonathan Edwards wrote in his Treatise on Religious Affections that true religion consists in great part in holy affection. Furthermore, he insists that these affections should be given outward demonstration, since it is natural for them do to so, that the will is strengthened by affection, and that the without emotional inclination, religion is practice by definition with indifference. Or to put it another way, “If you’re happy an you know it/Then your live will surely show it/ If your happy and you know it say Amen.”

The ailment that affects us may not lie in our theology, but in our suppression of passion in religious life.  By emphasizing order, calm, and regularity, we have suppressed the emotional side of the faith so much that our desire to practice the duties of the faith has become virtually non-existent.

Presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice to God meant following Jesus and denying ourselves in the small areas and details of our everyday life--our head, heart, hands, and our feet.

What can we do about Synod?

Two days  ago I wrote a pretty angry article, about the Synod packet. It isn't the only one I've written. 

Apparently, a lot of you share my anger. because more people read it than any of my other postings.  So if you passed around that last one,  I hope you will pass around this one , too. 

It's good to see people talking and responding ,  but honestly I have no passion for church fights. I only want to be faithful in saying what I believe God wants me to say.

And so I must.  The problems with this church cannot be fixed either by reforming Erskine or not reforming it.  They are spiritual, and have much more to do with our hearts than our heads. 

Considering the sad state of unity in the church, the decline in membership and giving, and the sad state of fellowship in a once gracious community of believers,  what are we to say?  It doesn't seem to me that we ought to be fighting.  There are other problems greater than these.   

I know some will disagree.  Some believe that purity of the church trumps peace,  and that we should have purity at any cost.  I wrote about that in one of my old blogs on four visions of the church (here) (here) 

But it is also a mistake to want peace at any cost.  Sometimes we have to fight. 

Even so, there's something we need more than either or them.  We need to change the conversation, and look for answers from God.  Without a rebirth of the spirit and a renewed passion,  we are doomed.

Our forefathers were men who lives breathed, and enjoyed prayer.  We take to it like a cat takes to water. 

Even so, our forefathers often failed when it came to loving each other.  We shouldn't make that same mistake. We should love God and love each other.

Do you remember Micah 6:8,

"He has showed you, O man, what is good.  And what does the LORD require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

We'll disagree on things. We see the same circumstances differently.  But it would not matter if we gathered together around in justice, mercy, and humility.   nothing matters but what is good. 

1. First, let's be just.  "Justice" is a hot topic, but  in its most agreeable sense it means treating people with fairness.  Everyone should feel free to say what is on their mind, and not be afraid.  We can criticize what each other says without questioning that they have the right to do so. In a disfunctional organization, people are afraid to speak. They are afraid to speak or their voices are not heard. This should not be.  It's time to treat each other as equals.

Recently after church a man came up to me and made a comment about compassion. A businessman had recently told him there were two kinds of people--those who hurt him and those who helped him, and  the rest did not matter. It  that comment epitomizes to me the political mentality--people only count if they help or hurt the cause. 

Everyone counts, and everyone should be encouraged to speak. They should not be shushed, but should be respected.  It has always bothered me that the ARPs have not been able to handle conflict better than they do. They either have false tranquility or all out war.  There doesn't seem to be any way of disagreeing fairly.

2. Next, let's love mercy.  People needed to be treated mercifully,  as we like to be treated ourselves.   Their feelings matter, no matter, whether they be for us or against us. 

Politics is about making yourself look good while making your opponent look like a monster; exaggerating their problems while hiding our own. 

God requires us to love each other, even if it means we look weak doing it. The Romans persecuted Christians partially because they thought their mutual love made them look weak. They could not understand it.  Romans believed in demolishing enemies, not loving them.  They feared Christians because they believed their mutual respect weakened their iron resolve.  They were right. 

God requires it, though. We ought to be more concerned with reconciliation than retaliation, and with  love than winning.  Our battles of today matter less than our friendships.  I disagree with many of my close friends a little,  and  with some of them a lot.  If I only stayed friends with those who agreed with me, then  even my dog wouldn't like me.

3. Most of all, let's walk humbly with God.   As a denomination we very much need to pray. We all say it, but most people don't do it, and when they do, they often pray about the wrong things.  I  don't think we should be praying today for the defeat of that other side, whichever side we are on.  Instead,  let's pray for our own humility. 

We all have much to repent for.  I have been a terrible witness in many ways, and have often been more concerned about building my caree r and my reputation than getting close to God.

Ever since I left the pastorate for the school,  denominational concerns  not been on my mind.  Instead, I've been teaching an writing mostly on the disciplines of the faith,  Bible reading, meditation, praise,  thanksgiving, and  confession.  These are in my opinion far more important than being a denominational man.  Walk humbly before God seems much more important than what happens to ecclesiastical institutions. 

Could we focus more on getting humble and less on getting even?  Is it possible that we could have a time this year of confessing our own sins forgiveness each other?  It would be so much better for us to work on clearing relationships between people than cleaning house.  Then if anyone needs to go,  maybe we could part as brothers than as enemies. 

Most of the issues in our denomination are about running institutions,  power, money, and control, as well as what we believe about god.   But we don't need money, power, or control to be godly, and being right about God is not that important if we are not right with  Him. 

Ten years ago, my life was pretty much settled. I was on a good track.  Since then I've left two  churches full of people I  loved and started a new career as a teacher for which I feel woefully unqualified most of the time. I  still grieve for both congregations, and yearn to preach.

But this  isn't a complaint--on the contrary, it been a very good thing for me. Once I was out of my comfort zone, I discovered how much God provided.  My life had to be out of control before I could allow God to run it. 

What's true of us as individuals is also true of us as a group.  It's more important  for this denomination to walk humbly before God than that we settled and prosperous.   Let's pray and get humble before we come to Synod. 

In one of my previous blogs I threw out a suggestion.  Let's get some prayer partners and pray not for the synod, but for ourselves, that we can get humble before Him.

Reading through the Synod Packet

I got my report  last week. It is so disheartening, I hardly know where to begin.

There's a line in the last Batman movie, when Alfred is trying to explain why the Joker is blowing everything up.  "Some men sir, just want to see the  world burn." Judging from the Synod packet, some men just want to see the ARP church burn.  It's hard to see any other motivation. 

Synod and Erskine have always had differences of opinion.  Thirty years ago, when I  was there,  there was a severe difference of opinion over the role of faith in the church.  I once took  a group of students to an orientation where the president said outright that it was not a Christian college. 

Today,  Erskine is very, very different. The President is an inerrantist and the school is much, much better. In fact, we have the most conservative administration the college has had in sixty years.  Outside of a few tenured professors, there are few who would deny the infallibility of the Bible.   That was not the case before. 

Nevertheless,  a couple of years ago a  group of presbyters tried to fire the bulk of the board so they could put their own people, picked not for their qualifications to run a college, but for their party spirit.  Some members of the old board resisted by going to the one source they could--the secular-court.  Instead of lying down and taking their beating from the bullies who picked the fight, they asked the secular courts to intervene.   When they did not lie down submissively enough,  this group who tried to have them removed wailed in mock righteousness that they were insubordinate and deserved to be punished for defending themselves.  When everyone knows that if they lost, they were prepared to do the same thing.   If they did not,  why were they so eager to get lawyers on their side?   Then,  when a concord was reached between Christian gentlemen from both sides who favored peace over strife, this same group pushed harder for division.  When the session  of one man who dared to resist refused to punish him sufficiently, they brought charges against the session. When their presbytery refused, they brought charges against presbytery.  Then they accuse others of not seeking the peace, purity, and prosperity of the church, when they should be on their knees in repentance for doing that very thing!

Now, one of the synod moderator's committee-namely Erskine's--has been deliberately stacked to produce a political outcome.  If you think that untrue, look at the packet for yourself.  Eleven members of the Erskine moderator's committee come from one presbytery, while Florida presbytery has none. Three churches have both a pastor and an elder on the same committee. In thirty years, I have never seen that happen before.  Cross-reference the names and churches of the people who were appointed to the committee with those who have signed the various complaints included in the packet, and you will see a remarkable similarity. 

One of the members of this committee, admitting to this collusion ,  justified this privately by saying,  "The liberals used to do it to us all the time. "  By "all the time," he meant thirty years ago.  Since when are standards of Christian behavior based on how other people behave?  If the old liberals were wrong to do it, why do they do the same thing?

Why continue to push for discipline over a matter that had long since been settled?  Who do they think they are helping?  Do they think that a God of peace and mercy is best served by pushing punitive action over a matter that that no longer matters?

I must question their motives. I do not think this is about Erskine or about the Bible. I think it is about power and control.  Some of them just want to see Erskine burn and know that they set the fire.

If that were all there were,  that would be a bad enough. But that is not all.

This year, Erskine has been seeking to renew their accreditation with ATS and SACS.  Last year, that would not have meant much to me. But this year, I'm working at a school that is also renewing their accreditation. Board autonomy and academic freedom are serious, serious matters to accrediting agencies.   If you haven't seen the thoroughness and pickiness of reaccreditation boards, you probably can't appreciate the seriousness of it.  If the board is not free of undue influence, and does not take a warning from the accrediting agency seriously, they can and will shut it down. This happened a few years ago to Barber-Scotia College in Concord, North Carolina. Overnight, it went from several  hundred students to twenty-five.  Students lost their degrees, their financial aid--everything.  

The writers of the minority report give their word that it won't happen. They also gave their word that they know what is best for the college and denomination, and that they are acting in the school and denomination's best interest.  Do we really want to take their word for it?  I don't.

But wait,  There's more.  There are no less than four disciplinary actions either referred to or calling for our action.   There's a call for action against a member from First Presbytery.  The information we are given ahead of time is a blank sheet.  A blank sheet!    All we know is his name.  Evidently, it was okay to publish his name as a potential malefactor, but not any charges,  leaving the rest of Synod to freely imagine whatever charges they wish   Look at the report of the Ecclesiastical Commission on Judiciary Affairs indicating that we have apparently already lost Pacific Presbytery.  The Ecclesiastical Commission report also refers to another ecclesiastical trial, that was cut short only because one presbyter  recused himself and another quit.  Otherwise, that one would probably be before us, too.

Think about it, those of you who've been around Synod many times.  How many trials have you seen on the floor of Synod?  At this rate, we'll soon have more ecclesiastical trials than Salem, Massachusetts.  

I have been told by some of these men that they are acting in defense of the Bible and the Reformed faith. But they use the Bible the way an ape uses a computer--to bang people over the head with it, without any regard for what is in it. 

Ask yourself this,  how does any of this relate to the Great Commission or the Great Commandment? Does it help or hurt making disciples? Does it unify or divide the church? Does it cause us to love God and our brothers more or less?   How can they be squared with the vow to seek the peace, purity, and prosperity of the church? Does it bring peace? Does it bring purity? Does it bring prosperity? 

Some men just like to see the world burn, all right, and apparently the Synod, too.  I cannot conceive of any reason all this could be done, unless it were to see our church divide and fall--strip off Erskine,  keep the presbyteries in turmoil, and threaten with tribunals any who get in  the way. 

I do not like church fights.  I would rather see us praying and repenting together,  seeking God's will for why we haven't fulfilled either the Great Commission or Great Commandment.    But sometimes we just need to say the truth.  Either we treat our own behavior as seriously as we treat other people's doctrinal errors, or we cease to be a practicing Christian denomination.

 NOTE:  If you read this, and want to know more,  please click here.   And also here

Living the Dream

Back when I was a college sophomore  ("sophomore" being a Latin term for "smart idiot")  I wanted to be a writer/professor.  I think that had a lot to do with two of my favorite writer/professors--C S Lewis and Francis Schaeffer.   They both smoked pipes and wore tweet jackets and were both very, very smart. 

But that wasn't the best part.  Lewis and Schaeffer were Christians who got paid to sit around and have great ideas.  Students like me on college campuses all over the world read their books, sought out their opinions and marveled at their smartness. The sheer force of their intellect shook the Christian world,  made the secularists  quake in their boots.   It was a grand life.

Francis Schaeffer in particular was cool, in a geeky kind of way.   He lived in a chalet in Switzerland where students traveled for long distances to came to marvel at his wisdom. He wore a goatee and a haircut like George Washington.  He wore knee breeches, too,  and had a soulful,  mildly depressed look all the time which told everyone he was a deep thinker.  I wanted to be him. 

That was forty years ago.  Since then I've married, become ordained, served five churches, raised a family, and held down a job. 

Now,  at fifty-eight I've actually become a writer and a professor!  While the world has not exactly flocked to learn from me, in my own little way, I'm  living my dream and having fun doing it. It's a great gig. I have time to think deep thoughts, people don't look at me weird any more if I use big words, and I actually do wear a goatee. I even get to hold deep conversations with people who are interested in what interests me. 

School isn't the real world, though.  When you face the  reality of life outside the ivory tower, things  look a whole lot different.   College is a great place to prepare for the world, but it is also a great place to hide from it.

Colleges can't stand alone.  They need fundraisers, donors,  accountants, workmen, plumbers,  lawn mowers,  farmers, salesmen,  printers,  painters, and garbage men who do their jobs so we can sit in class and wax philosophical.  We depend upon our students making great sacrifices to better themselves and their children.  I could not be here if it were not for the sacrifices of my parents, and the patience of my wife who had picked me up and cheered me on when fo r thousandth time I have been ready to quit. 

I am also humbled to remember that a two-thousand-year -old Jewish carpenter who was smarter than I am told us  not to serve ourselves, but to serve the least of the earth, and treat all as better than myself.

I don't want to stand aloof some ivory tower.  I want to stand beneath those I teach ,  supporting and uplifting  them.  I want to use what gifts God gave me to give something back to Him and especially to those who gave me the privilege of doing what I do. 

I'm a child of God, no better or worse than any of my brothers or sisters.   It's a privilege to see the wonderful ways God created us all, and to marvel at the gifts of others.

Even so,  it's an awful lot of fun to be who I am, living out  a lifelong dream. 

The Liturgy of Fireflies

At my momentous age, I often look back at where I have come, and compare it to where I am now. I see pictures of myself at fifteen or twenty or thirty and realize that person isn't me. I was intense back then, and passionate about ideas. Though I miss that persons' youth and enthusiasm, to tell you the truth I'm glad the whippersnapper is gone. If I met that young man now, and he me, I 'm not sure we would get along that well. One difference between me and him is in our attitude to ideology and theology. I cared a lot more about it then. I used to enjoy debating the difference between presuppositionalism and evidentiary apologetics, supra and infralapsarianism, or the six day versus the framework approach to Genesis. Now, when my younger friends talk about them, I yawn. I used to find reasons for caring about minor differences of faith. I saw dominos tumbling everywhere--if you believe this it leads to that, if you believe that it saps your interest in this, etc. etc. I used to think this made me a scholar and a deep thinker. Now, I realize my folly. The gates of heaven do not require high SAT scores, neither do I possess the intellectual arrogance I once had. I now know that I don't know much,and never did know much. The longer I live, the lower my taste for nonessentials. I am almost, but not quite, back to the "Jesus Loves Me" level of theology. Someday I hope to get there again. Let me tell you what excites me now.
One night, my five year old granddaughter Chloe was sleeping at our house. We put her in our big bed but she couldn't sleep. After about the fifteenth "Grandpa!" of the evening, having given her water, fish crackers and comforting kisses, I decided my best approach was to lay down with her until she got sleepy. Whenever you get with a five-year-old, let them talk--you won't regret it. She talked about kindergarten, her toys, cartoons, garden spiders, her jewelry box--all kinds of things. Trying to remember what she says is like trying to put spider webs in your pocket, but some things stick. What I remember most from her monologue were the fireflies. You can't catch fireflies too hard, she says, you have to cup your hands just so. Fireflies' morning is our night, and they go to bed in the morning. Through the night they chase each other with "soccerberries" which they get from the chinaberry bush outside her apartment. I'll never forget the image of fireflies playing soccer through the night.
 What moves me to worship and praise God today? I think it has less to do with systematic theology and more to do with fireflies.

A Fat Boy's Guide to Fasting

I'm getting ready to teach on spiritual disciplines, so I have been studying on their meaning and practice.  The third most mentioned of the spiritual disciplines, behind prayer and Bible study, is fasting. 

Personally I hesitate to  teach on it.  After all, what does a fat boy know about fasting?  I'm beginning to think that the only people who understand what fasting really is or can be are fat people.  We understand food, and its seductive appeal better than anyone else. 

 A great deal is written about fasting. Nevertheless , it is the least practiced of them all.

There is a lot about fasting in the Bible and in church history.  Jesus spoke about it in the Sermon on the Mount.  What He wrote seemed to be  saying that He expected us to do it,  and not just occasionally,  but regularly.

Some have argued that Christians don't need to fast. They argue this on the basis of a comment Jesus made when his enemies challenged his disciples for not fasting.  "When the bridegroom is with you, you don't fast."  In other words,  who fasts at a party?  That doesn't mean we don't fast the rest of the time.

First of all, I want to dismiss some of the mistaken ideas about fasting. 

Many in the church have been taught about fasting as a kind of "super prayer."  If you don't get an answer from  God by simply asking Him, then we go on a hunger strike until we get it.  Not only does it sound irrational, it doesn't even seem Christian.  Is God like some prison guard who has to make concessions?  Yet this idea of fasting is common among us.

Another misconception is that we go on fasts to gain some kind of deeper spirituality.  We don't think we're deep enough spiritually, so we go on a fast so that we can hear God's will better.  Again, why?  Why not just hop on one foot for an hour to gain spiritual enlightenment? 

Another misconception about fasting is that it is a form of showing how sorry we are for our sins.  Again,  this does not seem rational.  If people starve themselves in our modern culture to show grief, then why do we bring so many cakes and pies to people's houses when they lose a loved one?  It seems to me we should be taking food out of their house, if starvation is a form of grief.    It may be for some people, but not for most of us.

No, fasting is most important for our lives,  perhaps vitally important, but for none of the reasons we think it is.  I am becoming increasingly convinced that we must fast, and fast on a regular basis.  But the reason for it is much simpler than any of these--we fast because we are addicted to indulgence.  We depend upon worldly necessities and pleasures to get us through the day.  The only way we can depend upon God is to stop thinking of food, and other pleasures as so necessary to us.  That can only come when we voluntarily go without them.  We buffet our bodies  (that's in the discipline sense, not the all-you-can-eat restaurant sense)  for the purpose of showing our bodies who is in charge.   Our addiction to fleshly desire is our ruin. We don't follow God, because it affects our compulsion to eat and eat well.

Let me give you an example.  A friend of mine had recently become a Christian.  His occupation was driving a beer truck.  I won't argue whether or not it's unchristian to drive a beer truck, but in his mind it was. Nevertheless, he kept driving it.  His reason  "A man's gotta eat."  

True enough. But what if we didn't.  Suppose we could live on a lot less than we think we could.  Suppose we discovered that we could live on thirty dollars worth of groceries a week, instead of a hundred. Think what that would free up for us.  We could do what we wanted,  take whatever job we wished, because we were freed from the necessity of supporting our self-indulgence habit.  We could drop out of our job, start a church or an orphanage, or just spend more time in prayer and fellowship.  Freed up from the necessity of a full-time job we hated, we could do what we wanted. There would be sacrifices, of course, but so what?  We'd be giving up minor pleasures, but we would be gaining major ones.

Yet faced with the prospect of giving up desserts or television or chocolate, our minds go into panic mode. We behave like heroin addicts on the prowl for another fix.  I saw one T shirt which said "Just give me the chocolate, and no one will get hurt!"   We, especially we obese folk,  are not far from that.  That's why fasting scares us.

Fasting is simply the realization that if we are to practice positive disciplines such as prayer, quiet times,  and exercise  with regularity and zeal, then we must also practice the negative disciplines of fasting,  simplicity, and  dieting.  We cannot be in control of our positive actions while allowing other portions of us such as our  physical hunger,  to act like a spoiled brat, throwing tantrums and demanding whatever it wants. 

It's not just hunger, it's all our appetites.  Why do otherwise intelligent men and women get caught in stupid sexual sins?  Why do some people feel compelled to take on crippling debt over a slick car or massive home, when common sense would say they did not need them?  It is because we can no longer tell the difference between our needs and our wants.

Fasting is a spiritual discipline that teaches us to say "no" to our appetites.  Like Sabbath keeping and tithing, the real power of it is to teach us what we do not need,  and to let us know what we do need.  It is our way of saying to our bodies that they are not in charge.

Seen in this way, fasting is a tremendous boon to our spiritual lives.  But occasional fasting will not do this, only regular fasting.  Regular fasting is establishing regular rhythms of eating and not eating for the purpose of learning that with God's help we can do anything.