Sheep Feeding

I came across a quote from C S Lewis' book Letters to Malcolm in Richard Foster's book on prayer  "Jesus told Peter,  'feed my sheep,' not 'try experiments on my lab rats.'"

How true!  Pastors often forget what a pastor is. Basically, we are keepers of the sheep. 

We are called to feed them, care for them,  help them.  We are not called upon to drive them like a team of horses,  or experiment on them like guinea pigs, or to use them as fertilizer by a leader to grow a church.  We are called to care for the sheep God has given us.

Pastors frequently come down with the disease of "holy ambition."  I say "holy" because that is how Christians leader typically excuse their own ambition.  If we want a bigger church,  we can justify it as winning the lost.  If we want a big career with lots of followers, we can justify it as utilizing our gifts.  If we want to remake the church as images of our own egocentric vision, we are just fulfilling our call.  It's easy for us assume that the people we serve exist for the purpose of serving our purposes and not theirs.

But Jesus didn't call us to feed sheep.  To me, that means two things.

First we are called to acknowledge that the people we serve in our churches are  our flock, and not our servants.

Suppose you had a dog, but you decided you wanted cat.  You could staple whiskers on him, stick him in a tree, and teach him to say "meow"  it would not be a cat. It is by nature a dog. 

No amount of training will make lambs into lions.  Only God can do that.

Sheep do not have a purpose in life beyond being sheep. They will give their wool, but they are not treated like cattle or hunting dogs.  Most of all to be left alone in green pastures and still waters.

But what about the Great Commission (some will say)?  Jesus called us to go into the world and make disciples--that is, sheep of Jesus.  The Great Commission is not a call to build our own kingdoms, but to introduce people to the true, good Shepherd.  Church leaders will seldom lay down their lives for the sheep, but often leave the flock at the first hint that things may not go their way.  But the Good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep, whether or not they do what He says.  He doesn't leave because some bigger flock is calling. 

Second, our job is to feed them that means to preach, teach, minister, and visit for their benefit, not for the benefit of others.

If we want to know what sheep need, look in the Bible.    In  Psalm 23, one of God's sheep lets us know what the Good Shepherd ought to do.

• I shall not want--The shepherd has my needs and wants in mind.  I have security,  knowing that the shepherd is doing his best to provide my needs and wants.

• He leads me in green pastures and still waters--the food he gives is pleasant and easily accessible. I don't have to work hard to get it.  He lays it out clearly and easily.
• He leads me in righteousness--He keeps me from straying the wrong way.  He doesn't let me go to far up the mountain, so I  lose my fooding, nor does he let me stray into the valley, where I can be devoured, but he keeps me on the straight an d narrow.  Step by step, he shows me the right path through life.
• He keeps me from fear--when I am in scary places in life,  He walks with me.  He doesn't take the danger from me, but he defends me and comforts me when I am in danger.
• He assists in my healing.  Anointing oil is medicine. Is presence is medicine to me,  and comforts me in trouble. 

• He uses his rod and staff.  He's not always gentle, but if I need it, he can give me a lashing.  More often, though he draws me back from danger, not drives me away.

• He stands with me in danger.  He recognizes that I live in a dangerous world, but he teaches me not to be afraid.  Instead, gives me valuable advice to sustain me in the rough patches of life.
• He takes me to my final destination. Nothing about the journey matters if I wind up in the wrong place.  Thanks to the Shepherd, I am going to make it home safely.  That’s what shepherds are for.

Feed God's sheep. Don't drive them, don't beat them, don't use them. Let God take care of them, they way He takes care of you. 

We don't "do" church

Some time ago a church sign caught my attention.  The sign announced a new sermon series entitled  "Why do church anyway?"

I understood what the preacher was driving at.  We often go through the motions of faith without thinking.  We come to church, sing songs,  go to Bible studies, all without a clear end in mind, because those are things seem to be expected.  It certainly makes sense that we should think how we should do things at church.

But do we "do" church?  Really?

Church is not a verb. It is a noun.  It's not something we do; it's something we are.

The church is the visible Body of Christ on earth. It is not a voluntary association like the Lions club or the Rotary or even the Republican party.  It does not exist a purpose, any more than our families exist for a purpose.  It exists because it exists,  just like you and I.

Suppose we substitute a person's name in the sign instead of the word church?  Suppose we say why "do" Mary,  or why "do" John?  The only time  "do" in used in such a context is crude slang for killing or having sex.  Either way, they become the object of either anger or desire.  To think of the church in such utilitarian terms is to depersonalize it, to deny its essence,  the very essence which makes it the church. 

We don't "do" family--we are a family.  We don't "do" church, either--we are the church, existing as a community because God put us here.  We are related by blood--not our own, but Christ's, and that means we are responsible for and beholden to each other in a bond that is greater than that of our own flesh. We are fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers in the Lord,  called to love each other in Him.

The church is not a means to an end, not even a good end like evangelism or social justice.  It  is an organism, not an organization.  Organizations exists for a purpose.  Organisms exist because God made them for His own glory. 

The problem with the modern church is that it thinks it must  have a reason to exist.  If we applied the same utilitarian standard to infants,  the elderly, or the handicapped, it would be horrific.   If the bonds between brothers and sisters, fathers and sons,  were only important if they furthered some greater  purpose,   then the world would be a horrible, loveless place.  So why should the bonds between Christians only exists for a greater purpose?  Why can't a church just be?

The modern church, both in its traditional and  contemporary forms, has been often guilty of treating its members as mere utilities.  Contemporary church leaders in their zeal to win the lost, have often seen their members as unimportant in themselves  unless they further the cause of church growth and evangelism.  The preferences and comfort of older members are often cast aside in favor of the new, the experimental, and the innovative.  We spiritualize the abandonment of the old, calling it "pruning the dead wood" or of "throwing out the old wineskins."   C S Lewis once commented that Jesus told Peter "Feed my sheep" not  "perform experiments on my lab rats." 

The traditional church is no better, in fact it may be far worse.  Traditionalist want nothing to do with  "do" church in a differently, confusing outward form with inward conviction,  freezing the church in whatever era they feel most comfortable, allowing church ritual and expression to become increasingly irrelevant and archaic.   They, too, favor the members who can best maintain our institutions,  pay for our preachers, and bring prestige to our tarnished denominational names.

The church isn't something we do.  It's a family--a fellowship of men, women, and children in which everyone is loved, everyone is important and everyone is cherished.  When the church is viewed as a means to an end, it ceases to be a family and becomes an adornment to our egos.  It becomes  a way for pastors to prove their superior worth by performance instead of by  humbly accepting God's gift of grace. 

With all due respect and to Rick Warren (who I really do admire), I've seen the "purpose-driven church," and frankly it sickens me. I would rather have a church which goes nowhere but loves everyone than one where its members are merely means to an end. 

If there is an a way to "do" church then it should be with love, and grace,  praising God and being in favor with one another. 

Grace and Habit

I cannot remember when I first learned what we Presbyterians call "the doctrines of grace."  I only remember that it was a tremendous relief when I did.   The "doctrines of grace" is the knowledge that God loves me just the way I am, that He showed it  by dying on the Cross for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I don't have to prove anything to God for Him to love me--He already does. I don't have to choose Him--He chose me.  I don't have to be good enough to earn His favor--He already is better than good enough for both of us.  His  death on the Cross gave me complete forgiveness for everything I've done wrong, and for those unfortunate,  wayward tendencies which make up so much of my psyche. God is a forgiving Father, who keeps taking me back no matter how much I embarrass Him, or fail His instructions.  He loves me, and that is a good thing.

The doctrines of Grace liberates me from shame and the from the tyranny of perfectionism.  God simultaneously sets the bar of perfection too high for me to reach and acceptance too low for me to miss it.    In this, God is like my wife who loves me even when I act like a jerk and dress like a hobo.  Her love is not  affected by my many failures, and neither is God's.

Yet as satisfying as grace may be, there remains a nagging disquietude.  Deep down, I'm not that good of a guy.  I may be forgiven, but that doesn't make me  right.

The grace, at least as it is sometimes understood, is that it gets at the punishment but not the cause.  Sure we are forgiven, but are we changed?  Suppose I were an alcoholic, and God were to say me " That's okay, son. I forgive you for drinking,"   That would be good, but I can still be a slave to drinking.  Even if my drinking had no direct punishment, it could till wreak havoc on my life.  Forgiveness, however wonderful, is no answer without  change.

This sets up a conundrum. If our relationship with God demands change, that implies there must be a standard of living, a law, that defines the way ought to live.  If there is a law, then I am under it. If I am under it, then I ought to be ashamed and feel guilty when I break it. I cannot be guilty and not guilty at the same time.  How, can grace and the Law coexist?   Yet they do coexist somehow. 

More specifically,  how can I both believe in doing the right thing, and believe I don't have to do the right thing?  How can we  live with God, ourselves and others, seeking to please Him, yet failing at every turn to do it right?

I cannot say that I  have fully grasped intellectually or experientially this paradox, but I can say that may have found a way around it that preserves my freedom and leads me to live a better life

 It lies in the habits of the heart.

Most of what we do in life we never think very little about. We do them automatically by learned instinct. This  ability of human beings to do repetitive tasks or to make repetitive judgments is called habit.  Habits carry the force of momentum in the mind--if we don't make a conscious effort to stop, we just keep doing them.  We act by habit without paying attention.  That is the purpose of habits, to relieve our conscious mind of constant decision making by creating a bank of premade decisions. 

Habits do not always happen by accident. We can make or break habits by the repetition of the same small decision over and over.  Have devotions three or four days in a row, and it starts a habit.  Oversleep for three or four days in a row, and that becomes a habit, too.

 Some habits are positive,  such as kissing your wife good morning, while some are negative, such at overeating,  gambling, or pornography.  Once they are formed, they draw us  like iron to a magnet. 

Habits frequently supersede the intentions of our heart.  They are, like Paul said, another law in our bodies, drawing us to do thing our spirit says we should not do. 

Habits are in many ways are the opposite of laws.

Laws are imposed from outside--habits exist on the inside. Laws are hard to keep--habits are hard not to keep.  Laws are enforced by shame--habits are enforced by momentum. Laws are more of a burden the more we have--habits  are easier to follow the more we have. Laws demand perfection--habits are about inclination.

Habits are like gravity. Whether or not we defy them, they are still there, pulling us in one direction or another. 

Laws can become habits.  For example, we may be in the habit of buckling our seat belts when we get in the car,  when we also know it is the law we do so. Once we get in the habit, we no longer worry about obeying .  Once a law becomes a habit, it no longer becomes a burden. 

The intention of the Law was to help us develop of the right kind of habits.  We my no longer need to be told not to kill, because  we do not want to kill. We no longer need to be told not to steal, because we don't want what other people have.  We  may not be under the threat of punishment, but we still need to make good habits instead of bad ones.

This pursuit of good habits is purely personal.   Failure in habits, at least at first,  is to be expected, but it doesn't need to stop us from trying.  We don't stop trying to develop good eating habits because we overindulged in a meal last week. We just get up and try again.  We don't stop talking to God because missed devotions one morning--we just try again. 

Whether we are trapped in bad habits or failing at good habits, there is no habit which cannot be changed with God's help.  Paul says that there is no sin which is not common to us, but God will with each temptation give us a way of escape, so that we may be able to bear it.  With God's help we can break every binding habit. 

I am grateful for God's universal forgiveness in my life. I am also grateful that He can help me develop positive change though positive habits .   The struggle for  sanctification is a struggle to develop new habits. Change our habits and we change ourselves.

My Three Sons (in Law)

This last week has been a whirlwind for us.  My youngest daughter, Grace, has just been married, and  is now off on her honeymoon, leaving us with bills, leftovers and a warm remainder of happiness. The wedding was beautiful beyond words.  They were so happy, the groom burst into laughter during the vows.  It was a wonderful,  glowing day. 
One of my proudest treasures of the weekend, though was this photograph. 
years ago,  God blessed me with three wonderful daughters.  Now he has blessed me with three equally wonderful sons-in-in law.  cop
They are (in order) Richard Smith (for Iris), Jeff Baker (for Grace), and Mitch Sailors (for Molly.)  If I had designed three husbands for my three daughters, I could never had done it more perfectly for any of them than God did, when He sent these three men into our lives.  Each one is an answer to prayer,  suited in personality and interest for our daughters.
Richard is the most loyal,  hardworking, honest, and compassionate man I know.  He would walk through a wall for what He believes in, and he is fiercely loyal to my daughter, and to us.
Jeff is one of the smartest men I know.  He and Grace finish each others' sentences.  At the wedding, the minister said that the offspring of this union could produce and Einstein or an Emily Dickinson.  I agree.  He is also, like Richard, a passioniate,  funny, and devoted Christian.
Mitch is a hard-working, caring man who has taken on the task of raising my two grandchildren, and has already done worlds of good for Molly, Ethan and Chloe.  He is also devoted to his mother's needs, and does it all with firmness and humor. 
There's no message to this,  blog,  just a wedding toast to three men I admire and love.  Thanks to God for each one of you. May you have long, happy lives with my daughters and treat them well, because I'd hate to have to kill you.