Confessions Part II

Rumours of my greatness may have been slightly exaggerated.

If you know me, you will know that I try to live my life very openly so that you see who I am. I'm very open on mediums like Facebook, Twitter and this blog so that you know what I'm reading and what I'm learning and so that you hear my heart as your leader. The truth of the matter however, and lately I've been convicted of this in my heart, is that if you think my online persona is representative of the real me, you don't really know me at all.

This medium, as well intentioned as I may be in making use of it, does not show you the real me. As transparent and authentic as I try to be in my online activities I sabotage that authenticity, both consciously and unconsciously so that you see the type of man and pastor that I want you to think I am. Not that I intentionally mislead, or misrepresent myself by what I post, but I'm coming to the realization that I censor myself, and filter my activity so that you only see the best of me and that no one sees the rest of me.

For example, I don't post many blogs about the fights I have with my wife, or the times I lose my temper with my kids. I don't write many status updates about foolish and selfish ways that I often spend money, or tweet about my struggles with resentment and anger with some people. I don't preach many sermons about my own struggles with sin or the spiritually dry seasons that I sometimes go through just like anybody else. I don't share during prayer times that I sometimes hate my job, or have conflicts at work or wonder if it's time for a change.

I filter these these things out of my online persona because consciously or unconsciously I want you to think I have it all together. Because deep down I want you to think I'm worthy of being your pastor, your leader, your shepherd. So I project outwardly the illusion that I'm past all of that stuff. That I have the perfect marriage, that I'm an ideal father, that I'm a spiritual giant and a seasoned prayer warrior - and while there are days when those things may be true - they are just as often nothing more than wishful thinking on my part.

So what is my point in all of this? Well i guess I just wanted to come clean with you all. I wanted to get that off my chest and let you know that you and I aren't all that different. And beyond that cathartic release I want you to know that I, like you have my good days and my bad days and that I'm as much in need of God's grace and mercy as you are. I want you to know that when I preach a sermon that may be somewhat difficult to hear, or that makes you really uncomfortable or that convicts your conscience - I've had to preach it first to the man in the mirror and he has had to wrestle with the implications in his life too. I want you to know that when I point my finger at the church and accuse you of missing the point of something foundational and crucial in the Gospel, that I'm completely aware of the three fingers pointed back at me. But most of all I want you to know that as you journey together as the church through this long and winding road called Christian discipleship, I'm not just the guy who's on the radio giving directions - I'm walking with you. Not just on the mountain peaks, but through the valleys and deserts as well.

My name is Christopher Smith, and if you are a member of the EAC family - I am your pastor, but more than that I'm your brother, your fellow sojourner and hopefully, your friend. That is my confession for today.

Reflections on Christian Community

This past week I re-entered the world of academia. It’s been eight and a half years since I was actually a student in any real capacity but this week I stepped back into that world with both feet by taking the first, of what will be many, courses at Briercrest Seminary towards what will one day become my MA in Theological Studies. In the time between my college graduation and this week I had taken the odd seminary course here and there, and attended the occasional seminar for training and equipping but this was the first time in a long time that there was something significant on the line. If I failed one of those courses in the past I would have been really disappointed in myself and would have questioned if I had worked hard enough to warrant the money spent - but I still would have achieved the goal of learning something. I would have still received equipping for my ministry and vocation and I eventually would have gotten over it. This week however there is much more on the line, with the start of this class the clock is now ticking on a degree that is going to take dedication, hard work and ruthless intentionality to complete without abandoning my full-time position as the pastor of Estevan Alliance Church - and I’m not ashamed to tell you that I find that a little intimidating.

Umm... something like this

Even more than that though was the social anxiety that came from entering into an established community as the ostensible outsider - the one who doesn’t belong. I was concerned that because I was taking a course usually reserved students much farther along in their degree programs that I would end up swimming with sharks and that the intellectual calibre of the discourse would be so far over my head as to render me the embodiment of the village idiot in this community of scholarship. I was worried that my classmates would be happily settled in their own closed-off social groups and that I wouldn’t find anywhere to fit-in or connect relationally with them. It was like the first day of school all over again - but worse, it was the first day of school.

Unsurprisingly, my fears have largely proven unfounded. Classes it turns out will be challenging, but not insurmountable; the calibre of classroom conversation was a stretch (and at times I had to really pay attention and quickly google a few terms on my notebook!) but I was able to engage in the discussion; and I found my classmates and professor to be warm and open relationally and by the end of the week I felt like I was part of the community.

More even than that though I was especially blessed by the conversations I had with many of my classmates about their research topics (this class was Research Methods and Design, a prerequisite for entering into a masters thesis project or ministry related research project - basically major scholarship on a narrowly focused topic) and the things they were learning about God through their scholarship.

I was blessed by my conversations with Phil, who is studying the concept of worship as discipleship, and how what we believe and practice in corporate worship sets the pattern for all that we do throughout the week. My interactions with him caused me to consider and re-affirm the crucial importance of what we do when we gather together as the Body of Christ and how that corporate experience cannot be replaced by other programming - it’s central to what it means to be the church. Phil challenged me to think about what our worship says about God - that is, if someone only knew about God from what they observed at our worship services - what sort of picture of God would they have? As a pastor I have to admit I haven’t given that nearly enough consideration and it’s caused me to come to the Lord in prayer and reflection about that.

I was also blessed by my conversations with Steve. We talked football (soccer - Steve is from the NW of England and I think that he was impressed that I’ve seen a match at the Hawthornes) and ecclesiology and a lot about what biblical eldership looks like. I was so encouraging to hear that in his studies on the topic that he has come to many of the same conclusions about the role of biblical elders that our board has been wrestling through over the past couple of years. It was encouraging and at the same time challenging, because it reaffirmed that the role of elder in the church is not an easy calling. As Steve put it, if people really knew the cost and the call of eldership there would be a lot fewer people willing to let their name stand for nomination. 

I was excited to learn about Kelsey’s research project that is focusing on a biblical theology of suffering through the lens of famous figures who persevered in their suffering and never got better. How we too often view suffering only as a trial to be overcome, ignoring the wealth of biblical literature that points to a God who enters into suffering and uses it for his glory and purposes. We tend to over look the people who allowed their suffering to be a crucible that refined them for a specific purpose and whom God used to accomplish amazing things - the prime example being a man like William Wilberforce, who despite is constant physical infirmity and weakness fought tirelessly to alleviate suffering of a more dehumanizing kind affecting millions of people around the world through the abolition of slavery in the British Empire. We often forget when thinking about Wilberforce that he suffered most of his adult life and then died three days after witnessing his motion pass parliament. It’s an amazing thing to consider.

These stories an more are representative of my experience this week in the community of Briercrest Seminary - but more than that they are illustrative of how life in the community of the church is supposed to be. Perhaps it’s been a long time (if ever) that you’ve sat down and talked about a masters-level research project on spiritual issues with someone - but every week you sit down next to someone in church who has been learning things about God. Every week you bump into people to whom God has been revealing himself in new and exciting ways. Every week we talk to people who have had “aha” and “eureka” moments in God’s Holy Word - and we need to foster the type of community where those things are shared with one another. My professor this week spoke on a number of occasions about the privilege of being involved in a Christian community of scholarship - where ideas are freely exchanged and feedback is solicited and extended because we’re all working for the glory of God and the edification of his Church. He spoke of this of course in contrast to secular scholarship where ideas, theories and thesis are held close to the chest for fear that someone else might run with your ideas and get the grant money that you so desperately need to perform your research - but I have to wonder if in the church we don’t sometimes think more like these secular scholars than their Christian equivalents? God has placed us in a community where we can share, sharpen and celebrate our ideas, observations and experiences with one another - why are we so often reticent to do so?

If I learned nothing else this week (and I learned a lot!), it was the value of talking about what we’re learning with each other. Not so that we can sound smart, or to make people think that we’ve got it all figured out (I didn’t meet anyone this week that did) but so that we can glorify God, build each other up and sharpen our understanding of what God is teaching us. Christian community is a blessing, and I for one don’t want to waste it.

These are my reflections on my first week at school, now to go and do some more homework!

-Chris

Thoughts on changing the world

I'm doing some studying for a future sermon on Mark 10:32-45 and in my notes as I was surveying the text I wrote the following words which strike me as poignant in this season of elections in the USA with both parties promising that they have the best way forward.

At least I thought they were poignant.

The cross challenges all earthly kingdoms, all ideologies, all Utopian ideals, all best intentions, and shows them for what they really are – nothing. Only God was capable of doing what was necessary to set the world right. The cross was not only the best plan for the salvation of humanity, it was the only plan.

Read the passage and tell me what you think.

Chris

Getting over Jesus

Waylon and I were having one of our theological brainstorming sessions the other day in advance of some sermon work that we were both about to embark upon when an interesting question came up: are we as a church getting over Jesus? It seems like a bold and terrifying thought when it’s vocalized – but does the seriousness of the accusation make it any less true?

A few years ago there was a book by a guy named Francis Chan that went through many churches (including ours) like wildfire – it was called Crazy Love, and it painted a very radical portrait of what Christian discipleship should look like. People were falling over themselves to ask me if I’d read it and how we should change what we do as a church to emulate Chan’s model of discipleship in our church. Young people were reading it, seniors were reading it, and I led our Guatemala missions group through the book while we were on the field a couple of years ago. It was a good book – not perfect by any means, but this blog is not about pointing out theological fault in Crazy Love – it spoke of a revolutionary type of experience with Christ and then called the reader to follow the model espoused by the author to respond to that crazy love through an equally radical shift in lifestyle. For a while it seemed that a groundswell of radical Christian living was going to overtake our church and that the world would be completely turned upside down by our obedience to the Gospel. But we got over it.

Within a few months, the hype and excitement of Chan’s challenge was lost to the realities of life in Estevan: responsibilities, relationships, recreation and maintaining the status quo.

On a smaller scale, in the last four years a bunch of people in our congregation have had life-changing cross-cultural experiences through short-term missions trips. They have seen the Sprit of God at work in other parts of the world, they have experienced the Church expressed in ways that seem completely foreign to us yet at the same time seem so ‘right’ and ‘natural’, they have had the opportunity to evaluate our culture (both secular and sacred) from the outside – both coming to appreciate the strengths of our culture and being made painfully aware of our blindness to our own sinfulness and shortcomings. People routinely come back from those experiences (as I have) committed to living life in this culture differently as a result of what God showed them from another perspective – and for a short time we witness exactly that happening. People make radical life decisions, change the way they do things, get involved in different ministries, become more generous and more aware of the trappings of our upper-middle class North American culture and Christianity... for a while. And then inevitably life once again intervenes and what was at one point world changing, becomes only a guilt and regret inducing memory of what once was and what could have been. And before too long, even the guilt goes away and we simply get over it and go back to life as usual.

Corporately we’ve been journeying for the last year through the Gospel of Mark in our worship services, and along the way we’ve encountered a Jesus that would be very uncomfortable with our brand of westernized Christianity that has tamed Jesus and made him into our image rather than perusing a path of discipleship that eschews the cultural norms of our culture (again both secular and sacred) leading us into conformity with Christ’s image.  And once again we find ourselves challenged to live a life less ordinary, to pursue Jesus more radically than we have before and see the world changed through the risen and exalted Christ at work in and through his Church as they surrender their lives to his lordship. Along the way we’ve talked about countercultural issues like the primacy of the Family of God in the Kingdom over and above the nuclear family; the fact that Jesus calls people to relationship before he calls them to life transformation; how to Jesus, people are more important than protocol; the radical cost of true discipleship; the inefficacy of tradition, ritual and legalism for defining disciples; and most recently we've looked at a series of stories from the Gospel that reflect on our own desires to be special, to be in authority and to be exclusive in direct contradiction of the teachings of Jesus about servanthood, submission and radical inclusivity as we've watched the disciples continually miss the point on the road to Jerusalem (examples here and here). At every point the message of the Gospel beckons us to live our lives differently than what is culturally expected, than what is culturally normal, than even what passes for ‘normal’ in most Evangelical Christianity – and for a brief moment every week it seems like we’re getting that – for that fleeting season in the foyer after the service we are all in agreement that we need to change, that we need to commit ourselves to a radically new expression of discipleship and obedience – but by Monday (or sometimes even earlier) we've gotten over it and life returns to normal.

Every time we read a book about discipleship, listen to a sermon about following Jesus, experience God in a new way (be it cross-cultural or otherwise), and especially when we see, hear, and are challenged by the words of Scripture itself we are called to a more radical expression of our faith than we are used to. Every time we allow that challenge to change the way we live, relate, shop, worship or serve we become a little more like Jesus and our witness to the world becomes a little more credible – but when we hear the call of discipleship and subsequently get over it, it’s like we become inoculated to the Gospel. Like a virus, every spiritual infection (in the good sense) that we catch and then get over makes us a little more resistant to the next. Every time we fight off the advances of the Holy Spirit in our lives, every time we resist the call of the Gospel and we return to living life exactly as we did before the infection we make ourselves less prone to infection the next time. The Bible calls this phenomenon the hardening of the heart – and we are warned against letting it happen to us:

So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts. Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, and they are full of greed. That, however, is not the way of life you learned when you heard about Christ and were taught in him in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus. You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Ephesians 4:17-24 (TNIV)

We are encouraged, exhorted – commanded in scripture to work against this hardening of the heart, this spiritual inoculation that seems to beset us at every turn. We are called to be a people who are irredeemably redeemed, irreversibly infected with the virus of the Kingdom of God. We are called to be a people who get Jesus and then don’t get over him. We are called to be a people who encounter the Gospel and are forever changed by what Christ does to us and in us and for us! Just as Christ bears the scars of his sacrifice eternally we are called to bear the marks of our transformation – a transformation that affects every function of our life – from our religion to our relationships, from our work to our play, from our morality to our money and everything in between. We desperately need to get over, getting over things – this is an instance where the sickness (Jesus) is the cure.

My hope for you in reading this is that you will once again feel the symptoms of the infection of the Gospel becoming manifested in your life. That in reminding you of these things that we have learned and experienced together that you will feel the fever of the Gospel making you uncomfortable in your own skin; that you will experience fatigue with the status quo and a desire to rest in God’s perfect will; that you will experience an ache in your spirit for people who are living lives apart from God; that you will feel the vertigo that comes from recognizing that this world is not as it should be and that this infection that comes from exposure to Jesus is something that you, and I, will not get better from.

May we never get over Jesus.

Barth on Theological Solitude

I've been working through a book by the renowned theologian Karl Barth for a course I’m taking this fall and as I've been slowly moving through it (you cannot rush through Barth) I've been gleaning little gems along the way that I've been throwing up on my Facebook timeline. Today however I came across a section that speaks so loudly to what I've been experiencing over the last year of my own personal study that it bore a more carefully crafted and permanent feature than Facebook would afford.

The following excerpt is from the chapter on the solitude of the theologian and the theological process and it speaks to a reality that I've been experiencing as the work of theology challenges strongly entrenched positions of both culture and Church, there can be a despair that comes upon the theologian; a loneliness that comes from choosing God’s revelation over encultured practice, whether secular or sacred. Barth here has given words to my experience and I have found it tremendously helpful to hear them. Here is what he says:

"Finally, however, theology is not simply exegesis, Church history, and dogmatics. It is ethics as well. Ethics is the scrutiny of a definite conception of the divine command which is implied in and with the divine promise. Ethics seeks to form a clear conception of those actions to be performed in Church and world which are essential and typical of the obedience of faith. Ethics seems to formulate the practical task assigned to man by the gift of freedom. But an immediate conformity is not to be expected between this conception and the wishes, attitudes, and efforts that are current and dominant at any one time, both in the world and in the Church. What is, as a rule, much more to be expected in this area is a more or less definite opposition between theology with is questions and answers and the opinions and principles of Mr. and Mrs. “Everyman,” be these major or minor characters, un-Christian or even Christian. Although theology is no enemy to mankind, at its core it is a critical, in fact a revolutionary affair, because, as long as it has not been shackled, its theme is the new man in the new cosmos. Whoever takes up this theme must be prepared, precisely because of what he thinks and says in the practical sphere, to displease the masses. Any environment that measures itself by its own yardstick will find the minority view of theology and the theologian seriously suspect.”
Evangelical Theology. Pg 118-119

All of this sounds pretty depressing and hopeless – after all, if this is the destiny of the theologian who would want to be one? And what kind of person would this pursuit produce? It is all too easy to become exasperated with a world (and often a Church) that does not wish to deal with the hard and often demanding words of Scripture and commands of Christ. When this despair sets in though It is helpful to remember the next thing that Barth says as he immediately turns from explanation and commiseration with the theologian to exhortation with his next sentences:

“In such a situation a person may easily become desperate, bitter, skeptical, perhaps even bellicose and mean; he may become inclined, as an accuser, to turn permanently against his fellow men on account of their lifelong folly and wickedness. Precisely this, of course, may not be permitted to happen.”
Evangelical Theology. Pg 119

I’m still wrestling with the outworking of that exhortation but I think that it’s one of those things that I’m not supposed to be able to do in my own strength. May God grant this theologian his power to overcome the despair of theological solitude when it strikes.

Just my rambling thoughts for today.