Dumb Girls and Prideful Pastors

When I was in college, I met a couple of girls who had boyfriends that were mean to them.

These boyfriends would say unkind things to their respective girlfriends.  They would belittle them in mixed company.  They would break plans at the last minute to hang out with their sideburn sporting bros.  At parties, they would shout across the room to their girlfriends, "hey babe, get me a beer."  And when these young ladies returned with a foaming cup of watery brew, they often found their boyfriends flirting with other girls.

Sometimes these girls would complain to me about their mean boyfriends.  I would ask why they were dating them, and each girl would respond, "Deep down, I know he's a really great person.  He just needs someone to bring that out in him."

At the risk of sounding judgmental, I don't think these girls had a genuine Christian desire to lift another person out of the pit of his sinful and self-destructive ways.  If that were the case, they would have visited prisoners or volunteered with at-risk youth.  Rather, I think they were filled with pride.  I think they just wanted to believe that they were more amazing and special and spectacular than every other girl in the world because they could accomplish something that no other girl could-making a mean boy nice through the power of their love.

When I became a pastor, I met a couple of pastors who were convinced that they could convert people who, quite vocally, didn't want anything to do with Christianity.

These people would say unkind things about Jesus.  They would belittle their believing aunts and uncles at family reunions.  They would refuse to attend baptisms of friends' children.  And on the rare occasion that they attended a service, they would roll their eyes during the liturgy and play on their smart phones during the sermon.

Sometimes, these pastors would lament the hatred that such people expressed for the Church.  But whenever I suggested that this was simply because the Gospel is foolishness to those who are perishing, these pastors would respond, "No, deep down, these people really want to be Christians.  They just need someone to get rid of all the negativity and stuffiness that turns them off to the Church."

At the risk of sounding judgmental, I don't think these these pastors had a genuine desire to see people converted.  If that were the case, instead of making their own personalities the center of worship and preaching, they would have made Christ crucified the center, as it is only through the proclamation of that bloody Word that Christians are made.  Rather, I think these pastors were filled with pride.  I think they wanted to believe that they were more amazing and gifted communicators than every other pastor in the world because they could accomplish something that no other pastor could-making hardened hearts believe through the power of their love.

Whatever happened to those college girls with mean boyfriends?  I'm sure that some probably have mean husbands now.  But I hope that all of them saw the folly of their pride and grew up.  I hope the same thing for every pastor convinced that "God can do all things through me who strengthens Him."

Five for Five

Five years ago today I was ordained into the Office of the Holy Ministry. 

That number is, of course, paltry in comparison to the time many shepherds have spent tending Christ's flock.  And my wisdom, if it can even be labeled as such, is nothing compared to that of those men.  But, in honor of this anniversary, I thought I would share five observations I've made during the last half-decade, especially for those seminary graduates who will be entering the pastoral office this summer.

1. "Change then teach" works much better than "teach then change."  If you want people to embrace the right practice, institute the right practice, then praise them for doing the right practice when you teach about said practice.  If you try to teach them to abandon the bad practice while they're still practicing the bad practice, they won't think the bad practice is bad enough to stop practicing because you're still letting them practice it.

2. When people get angry at you, 80% of the time it has nothing to do with you.  They're just mad at God.  But that still leaves 20%.

3. Sin makes pastors angry, which tempts us to structure our sermons like this: Proclaim the Law, then figure out how to make the Gospel fit.  Unless the text commands this, do the inverse.

4. People who don't think they need a pastor will never care about you, even if they like you.  But when people have desperately needed you to be a pastor to them, and you have been, they will never stop loving you.

5. Remember to pack a lunch.

No Moving On From the Cross

Americans weren't always this good at learning lessons from acts of violence and murder.  The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 put a long term paralyzant in our blood. It was weeks before we were able to look away from the images of smoke and sorrow long enough to ask ourselves, "what can we learn from this?  How can we better ourselves and the world in response to this tragedy?"

But now we're seasoned lesson-learning veterans.  The day after the shootings in Aurora, CO and Newtown, CT, we asked what we could do to reduce gun violence and to treat mental illness.  As ambulances were still rushing people to Boston hospitals, we could already see silver linings in the smoke clouds as we praised the helpers, the brave ones who rushed into the carnage to aid their neighbors.  Even before we knew how many people died in this evil act, we had focused our eyes on the good acts of humanity, desiring to make more of that goodness manifest in our lives.

We've been well trained since September 11, 2001.  Now, when tragedy strikes, we only look at the violence and murder for a moment.  Then we move on to the more important thing-making the world a better place in response.

I think this is how American Pop-Christianity views the cross.  The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ was a tragic event.  It's just so utterly sad and shameful that Jesus had to die for our sins.  But now that we've spent a moment looking at all that violence and murder, now it's time to move on to the more important thing.  So how do we make our lives better in response to that tragedy?

As evidence, I submit the mission statement of one of the country's largest congregations:

"As a community, we’re devoted to building an engaged, passionate, spiritually healthy community of people that makes up [our congregation]. We’re also devoted to engaging and impacting one another and others, believing that Jesus himself set an example of service and that we’ve been given the responsibility to follow it."

And if you'd like the point illustrated in picture form, here's the same thing from another mega-church:

These aren't egregious examples.  Hop on the webbernet, check out the mission statement of the congregation down the road from you, and you will probably find something exactly like this, something that basically states your journey starts with Jesus.  First look at his cross.  Then move on to figuring out how you should live in response to that cross.  Our congregation is here to help you do that.

So do these congregations deny that Jesus died for their sins?  No. But that death, that bloodshed, it's not the epicenter of the faith.  It's not the substance of their preaching and teaching.  Rather, the cross was that tragic event that should set you on the path of self-discovery.  The cross was that brutal act of violence meant to inspire you to better yourself and the world.  Stare at the carnage for a day, maybe two, but then move on.  Because, just like the children of Sandy Hook, Jesus will have died in vain if we don't learn the right lessons.

But the cross is its own lesson  And we don't move on from it.  Jesus didn't die so that we could better the world.  Jesus died to save the world.  Jesus died to give us life, to give us the love of God.

And that's what the Church is for-to give us the things that Jesus won for us in his death.  The Church makes disciples by giving us the cross found in baptism and teaching.  The Church nourishes us with the same body and blood that were broken and shed on Calvary.  The Church's mission is not to engage and impact.  Her mission is to put the cross of Jesus on your flesh, in your eyes, your ears, your mouth.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,  looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."  Hebrews 12:1-2  

"And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom.  For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified."  1 Corinthians 2:1-2  

The cross is not 9/11.  It's not the Sandy Hook shooting or the Boston Marathon bombing. There is no moving on from the cross.  Because, unlike the death of everyone else, the death of Jesus Christ is life.

The Parable of the Seamstress

Once upon a time, Hazel sewed her family's clothes.  She lived in an era when there were no department stores or major clothing labels.  And Hazel's family couldn't afford the services of the nearest tailor, so Hazel sewed because that's what was necessary to survive.  And because it was necessary to survive, Hazel taught this skill to her daughter Sarah.  

When Sarah grew up and had her own family, she found that this skill was no longer a necessity.  For a reasonable cost, and with the aid of a department store or a catalog, she could contract someone else to do the hard work of measuring and cutting and stitching.  But even though she didn't need to sew anymore, Sarah still pulled out the Singer from time to time.  She'd sit down with her daughter Kimberly in her lap and make a garment or two around Christmas.  Sarah did this because the feel of the thread on her fingertips and the vibrations of the sewing machine on her palms reminded her of her mother, and she wanted to give some of those memories to her child.

But Kimberly couldn't even tell you how to thread a needle anymore.  Her grandmother sewed out of necessity.  Her mother sewed out of nostalgia.  But Kimberly doesn't sew at all because, without necessity, nostalgia rarely makes it to the second generation.

The Christian faith is necessary.  You are dead without it and nothing in this world can replace the salvation that Jesus gives to those who hear and believe His Word.  But when your pastor doesn't see you for months at a time, when you let every conflict bump the Divine Service off your Sunday schedule, when you never talk theology with your children, you teach them that the Word of God is nothing more than a trinket we pull out of the closet whenever we want to taste the sweetness of our familial heritage.  And when you teach that to your children, your children will not grow up to be Christians.  They will not believe anymore than Kimberly sews.

Virginia's Sunday Morning Windows

Virginia woke one morning to the sound of thunder and church bells.  "Oh, that's right," she thought.  "It's Sunday.  But the weather sounds terrible, and I have a lot of things to do around the house this morning.  So maybe next week."

Seven days later, the bells sounded again, their metallic clang ricocheting off the growling thunder and the drum roll of fat raindrops slapping the pavement.  "I know, I know," she told herself.  "It's been awhile since I've been to church.  But it's really nasty out there, so I'll just wait until things clear up."

But things didn't clear up.  With each passing season, the bells never rang without an accompanying rain shower.  For weeks and months and years, Virginia's Sunday morning windows rattled from the one-two punch of the bells and thunderclaps.  As she graduated and got married, as her children grew from infants to toddlers to teens, the roads remained far too slick to hazard a trip to the church.

Then, one Sunday morning, the rain stopped and the sun began to shine.  A soft heat began to radiate on Virginia's Sunday morning windows.  And even though the bells didn't clang that morning, Virginia told herself, "ok, now I'm ready.  Now that the rain is done, I'll go back to church."

But when she pulled into the lot of that old building, she didn't have to fight anyone for a parking spot.  She was the only one there.  Getting out of her car, Virginia saw that the church doors were locked and the windows were boarded.  Peering in through a crack, she saw that the font where she'd been baptized was dry, the altar where she communed was bare, and the pulpit where she heard the word was empty.  Then, stepping onto the same grass where she'd done cartwheels while her parents shook the pastor's hand on the Sundays of her youth, Virginia saw that the ground was now pierced with the shards of that bell she'd heard calling her for so many years.

So Virginia sat down and wept.  "There used to be so many people here.  What happened?" she asked herself aloud.

"They got old and died," a voice responded.

Virginia looked up and saw the gardener standing in front of her.

"And the younger generation, people like you, they didn't come back, at least not in time."

"But if God wanted me to be here, if he wanted me to come back to Church, why did he make it so difficult?  If he wanted me to follow the bells on Sunday mornings, why did he keep allowing all those thunderstorms?"

"O you of little faith," the gardener replied.  "It was the rain that made the bells ring."

God’s Word and grace is a passing downpour, which does not return to where it has already been. It has been with the Jews; but what’s lost is lost, and they now have nothing. Paul brought it to Greece; what’s lost is lost, and they now have the Turks. Rome and Latin-speaking regions have also had it; what’s lost is lost, and they now have the pope. And you Germans dare not think that you will have it forever, for the ingratitude and disdain will not let it remain. Therefore take hold and hang on tightly, while you are able to grab and to hold. Lazy hands are bound to have a hard year.

-Martin Luther

A Parable for Abused Pastors

And the Lord sent Nathan to the District President.  He came to him and said, "A rich man had a daughter with tuberculosis.  He married her to a man, but the man fell sick with her disease and died.  So the rich man married her to another man, who also contracted her infection and he died.  Five times this happened until the rich man could find no other suitors willing to marry his daughter.  So the rich man went to one of his servants and said to him, 'Marry my daughter or you will starve."  The servant protested, saying, "But master, surely if I do this, I will be like those men before me, falling ill and dying in my youth.  The rich man responded, “Surely not!  I give my word that, if you love her enough and be patient with her, my daughter’s disease will not take your life as it did those men before you.”

The District President’s anger was greatly kindled against the rich man, and he said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, this man will never arrange another marriage because he showed no mercy or wisdom.”

Nathan said to the District President, “You are the man.”

These words are not aimed at all men who wear the title "LCMS District President."  I thank the Lord for those men who have defended the shepherds under their care when they were attacked.  And I pray that He may grant us many more men to join the ranks of the faithful.

Tebow Update

After reading some more at the request of a commenter, it appears that Tim Tebow has not sought a trademark on the Tebow pose itself, but merely on the phrase "Tebowing."  

So, just to clarify, I still stand by the following words:

Tebow's legal action is annoying for three reasons.  First, because Matthew 6 commands Christians not to pray to be seen by others.  And even if you weren't originally praying in your signature style to be seen in a pharisaical manner, the fact that the masses have named your prayer posture after you should make it fairly clear that it's time to take it out of the public eye and into the privacy of your room.  

I also stand by these words:

Second, when the world mocks you for your faith, the Bible tells us to rejoice that we've been counted worthy, not to threaten legal action against anyone who imitates the way you display your faith without authorized written consent.

If altered to say:

Second, when the world mocks you for your faith, the Bible tells us to rejoice that we've been counted worthy, not to threaten legal action against anyone who attaches your name to the mocking imitation of the way you display your faith.

However, in light of this clarification, I retract and apologize for my claim that Tim Tebow's attempt to trademark genuflection is a great example of the ignorance and arrogance often found in Ahistorical Christianity.  Seeing that this was not what happened, the Tebow example simply doesn't fit and I was wrong to make it based off of the rather misleading article I linked in the original post.

I do not, however, retract my statements concerning this widespread problem of ignorance and arrogance in Evangelicalism and Ahistorical Christianity.  Certainly a better example could have been used, but the problem is very real, as the examples of dispensationalism, pentecostalism, and anabaptism certainly illustrate.

So, again, to Mr. Tebow, I apologize.