I am reading So Beautiful by Leonard Sweet and came across this gem on page 85:

There are many features in my ministry that get me in trouble with certain segments of the Christian community, but perhaps the biggest of them all and the one I least understand is the way I am deemed guilty by association because I quote certain people. I admit it: I quote anyone. I quote the good, the bad, and the ugly… especially the bad and the ugly. I get this from John Wesley, who enjoyed everybody he met and believed he had something to learn from everybody. I begin every day with the assumption that everyone I meet has something to teach me. I begin every day with the assumption that the most important people in my life I haven’t met yet.

Here’s a happy thought for you to consider:

“Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction.”

I’ll leave the source a mystery.

jerry

PS-I hope this isn’t a repeat. If it was, I’m sorry. My wife just read it to me a little bit ago and it sounded like a great quote for this series.

I’m a little more than half-way through Jesus For President. It’s rough, for a variety of reasons, but I’m pressing onward. Here’s something that struck me as rather poignant today:

These religiously inspired settlers, instead of embodying Jesus’ peculiar society, which is both revolutionary and subordinate, aimed to be solely revolutionary by creating a competing state that would exist on the world’s terms of power and violence. They eschewed the upside down politics of the mustard seed kingdom of God, while retaining the language of piety. They refused Jesus’ call to be a humble people (to the surrounding natives, to say the least!) and instead seized land to colonize. If we look hard, we might find some sincere Puritans with admirable qualities (as with any person or group), but essentially their identity was less in being the church and more in becoming a state with church words and practices sprinkled in.

Some congregations have identified this historical mistake and attempted to correct it. But in many cases, the treatment doesn’t get to the root of power. Take the great project to ‘take back America for God’ as an example. This project, of course, is rooted in the thought that the United States was initially founded ‘on God,’ a seriously contested claim. But even more, this grand goal, while it sounds pious, attempts to grasp power the same way the world does. The American project may have been a result not so much of malicious people as of bad theology–or wanting the right thing but pursuing it by the wrong means.–Shane Claiborne & Chris Haw, Jesus For President, 173*

Indeed. The church must not become a ’state’ with a few church words and practices sprinkled in. The church must be the church, the body of Christ. Nothing more. Nothing less.

_____________________________

*Unless everything all of us have ever been taught about the founding of America and the Puritan ‘conquest’ and the rather ‘gentle’ nature of the indigenous inhabitants of this place, then there is not a little revisionism in Claiborne and Haw’s words.  Or, to put it another way, while I happen to agree in principle with their thoughts on power, bad theology, and the upside down nature of the kingdom of God, I think that for the most part their interpretation of American history is weak at best. And for all their eschewing of the distinctively American politic that is the democratic process, they seem to fall with a resounding thud on the side of the ‘left’ and are far, far too critical of those, and the positions of those, on the ‘right’. This seriously, seriously impedes the flow of the book and the validity of their argument.

So the other day I was out at the Half-Price Book Store browsing, touching, wallowing in the beautiful shelves of books all lined neatly inside the building when I came across Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw. I literally cannot put this book down. What is amazing to me is that many of the things they are writing, and were fortunate enough to have published, are things that I was saying in the pulpit for the last several years–especially things about God doing bigger things with smaller people, or doing better things with worser things, etc. (See also my series 90 Days with Scripture.)

I love the idea that God is not, in any way, shape, form or otherwise, dependent upon the power structures of the political machines (or machinations) of this world to bring about his vision for what this world is, should be, and was supposed to be. I’m anxious to see what Claiborne and Haw do with Jesus; I hope I’m not disappointed.

So here’s something I read just today and find intriguing and worthy of a reprint here.

We wave the banner for Jesus and not for Rome, the United States of America, or any other nation or empire that vies for our allegiance.

But it wasn’t as if Jesus, in using such language, wanted Rome’s power or wanted to gain a foothold in the culture wars of his time. He didn’t want to climb Caesar’s throne. This political language doesn’t harmonize with the contemporary church project of ‘reclaiming America for God.’ Precisely the opposite: Jesus was urging his followers to be the unique, peculiar, and set-apart people that began with Abraham. He didn’t pray for the world in order to make governments more religious; he called Israel to be the light of the world–to abandon the way of the world and cultivate an alternative society in the shell of the old, not merely to be a better version of the kingdom of the world. (71)

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that much of my life has been spent in pursuit of the wrong idea when it comes to allegiance–I think of all those times when I ‘pledged allegiance to the flag’ or went to the ballot box to vote someone into power or stood to sing the ‘national anthem.’ After all, it is my civic and American duty to vote and any real American must do those things. (There’s not a little sarcasm there, but hey, some habits are hard to break.)

Just so there’s no mistaking my intentions here, I’m not displeased that I was born in America (although, to be sure, I was actually born in Japan). All I’m saying is that I agree with Claiborne and Haw that winning America back for God is certainly not, in any biblical sense, the point of Scripture or Jesus. And the church must resist the temptation to project that onto Jesus’ agenda: “It wasn’t long, though, before the Hebrew people were tempted to be like those other nations and wanted a human king, one they could see and touch and worship. With growing fear of neighboring empires like Assyria and Babylon, they succumbed to the empty dream of domination” (33). We must resist the temptation to make Jesus’ work anything that closely resembles what we think matters. Furthermore, we must resist the temptation to use those power structures that Jesus exposed and destroyed on the cross.

I only hope that Claiborne and Haw don’t conclude that the best way to accomplish what they are suggesting, and what I agree with, is through the political systems or through important and powerful people. I so hope they don’t conclude for a liberal agenda as opposed to a conservative agenda as if the former is somehow a righteous version of God’s plan and the latter is merely a bloated, ‘friendlier’ version of Babylon. I hope they realize that both agendas are opposed to the Kingdom of Christ because both stand only for their own survival and perpetuation.

“God is not moody or capricious; He knows no seasons of change. He has a single relentless stance toward us: He loves us. He is the only God man has ever heard of who loves sinners. False gods–the gods of human manufacturing–despise sinners, but the Father of Jesus loves all, no matter what they do.”

-Brennan Manning

Lately I have found it difficult to pray. Could be that many of us have this similar experience at times. When that happens, I don’t think God suddenly gets worried or that he loses sleep. I think he’s patient. I’m glad for His patience because I certainly have none.

A recent post concerning Rich Mullins caused me to break out my worn copy of Mullins’ The Jesus Record and listen to the beautiful lyrics and music that Mullins composed shortly before his death. In the midst of some whining (my own) that I never quite hear from God as much as some others seem to, the lyrics to one of the songs stood out to me and I heard His voice loudly.

Mullins had a brilliant way of reminding the pilgrim to just pay attention to beauty, to be completely honest with the one from whom we can hide nothing, and to cry and pray and cry and pray until you have nothing left to cry and pray. I lamented to some friends, just last night, that I never thought God could feel so far away. Then, these:

Rich Mullins
You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I’m so scared, I’m holding my breath
While You’re up there just playing hard to get
You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that’s not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don’t see the blood that’s running in Your sweat
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You’re up there just playing hard to get?
And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can’t see what’s ahead
And we can not get free of what we’ve left behind
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can’t see how You’re leading me unless You’ve led me here
Where I’m lost enough to let myself be led
And so You’ve been here all along I guess
It’s just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

(Rich Mullins, Hard to Get, from the Jesus Record, my emphasis)

These lyrics came along at the right time. I’m glad that when I can’t pray my own words, there are the words of others that I can pray. I’m glad when I can’t pray, or won’t, that the Spirit never quits; that Jesus never stops interceding.

I came across this in my reading time today. I think you will be blessed.

There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, ‘Why on our hearts, and not in them?’ The rabbi answered, ‘Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.’

I’ll spare you the source so that you won’t miss or dismiss the point. Have a nice weekend everyone.

jerry

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In full awareness that some of our readers despise truth when it comes from the mouths of those with whom they find no fellowship, I publish this beautiful paragraph from the pen of Anne Lamott:

[Rahab] did it [hid the Israelites spies under flax on her roof in defiance of the king's orders] because she was desperate, and so she listened to her heart. In my experience, there is a lot to be said for desperation–not exactly a bright side, but something expressed in words for which ‘God’ could be considered an acronym: gifts of desperation. The main gift is a willingness to give up the conviction that you are right, and that God things so, too, and hates the people who are driving you crazy….Something told Rahab that if she aligned herself with the people who had been brought so far by faith, she would be safe as well. This gave her the radical conviction that she should be cared for. Rahab believed that God was trying to get her attention, and she listened.

–Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, 20, 21

Today God got my attention.

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In a rather ironic twist, one of the writers at the Christian ? Network has posted a quote and called attention to our mission statement here at .info. I, for one, am pleased that the writers of C?N are finally recognizing what we have been saying all along.

So here’s the quote by J Gresham Machen posted by Stephen Macasil:

[W]hat is the trouble with the visible Church? What is the reason for its obvious weakness? There are perhaps many causes of weakness. But one cause is perfectly plain–the Church of today has been unfaithful to her Lord by admitting great companies of non-Christian persons, not only into her membership, but into her teaching agencies. It is indeed inevitable that some persons who are not truly Christian shall find their way into the visible Church; fallible men cannot discern the heart, and many a profession of faith which seems to be genuine may really be false. But it is not this kind of error to which we now refer. What is now meant is not the admission of individuals whose confessions of faith may not be sincere, but the admission of great companies of persons who have never made any really adequate confession of faith at all and whose entire attitude toward the gospel is the very reverse of the Christian attitude. Such persons, moreover, have been admitted not merely to the membership, but to the ministry of the Church, and to an increasing extent have been allowed to dominate its councils and determine its teaching. The greatest menace to the Christian Church today comes not from the enemies outside, but from the enemies within; it comes from the presence within the Church of a type of faith and practice that is anti-Christian to the core.

I am sure and certain that I speak for all of us here at CRN.info when I say, “Amen.”

By the way, all emphases in the above quote belong to Macasil. Thanks Stephen for posting this and for plugging us. I am glad you guys are coming around to see our point of view!

We’ve been talking about a number of important issues the last few days. I’m glad we have. It is important, no matter how much we disagree, to continue to dialogue with one another. Irony sharpens iron they say.

So we continue to talk and converse with folks from all corners of the haunted church because we recognize that it matters not where truth comes from if it is truth and, to be sure, we never know what sort of strange vessel the Lord may use to interrogate us, strip us naked, or beat us to a pulp. Lately, for one reason or another, the Lord has been using a class I am taking on Diversity in Educational Settings to strip me naked and expose my inherent, deliberate flaws.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling being the minority. Anyhow.

I’m reading a book that I recommended to a friend. I think some of my recent experiences with the church have left me not a little angry, hurt, and confused and the book is most helpful for exposing those things and working towards forgiveness and wholeness. I’m trying to get along with God right now even if it seems that he is rather content to get along without me. Churches are strange creatures. That book is Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey–a book I highly recommend if you have ever had issues with the church, with any church, or with the people who make up the church. Today’s thought comes from Yancey’s pen:

I have had to forgive the church, much as a person from a dysfunctional family forgives mistakes made by parents and siblings. An irrepressible optimist, G.K. Chesterton proved helpful in that process too. ‘The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried,’ he said.

[...]

For this reason, when people tell me their horror stories of growing up in a repressive church environment, I feel no need to defend the actions of the church. The church of my own childhood, as well as that of my present and my future, comprises deeply flawed human beings struggling toward an unattainable ideal. We admit that we will never reach our ideal in this life, a distinctive the church claims that most other human institutions try to deny. Along with Chesterton, I’ve had to take my place among those who acknowledge that we are what is wrong with the world. What is my snobbishness toward my childhood church, for instance, but an inverted form of the harsh judgment it showed me? Whenever faith seems an entitlement, or a measuring rod, we cast our lots with the Pharisees and grace softly slips away. (58, 58-59)

And so he says.

This is the lesson that I want (and need!) to continue learning every day if I am going to be a receiver and giver of grace. I also think this is one of those reasons why God continues to break us down, strip us naked, beat us up, tear us apart, and generally render us completely undone. God has no ability to work on people who are already put together, but those who are ripped to shreds–there is where the true miracle of Christianity is: He takes those shreds and weaves the tiny fibers back together until we are readable again.

You can’t make out a story when the book is torn asunder and the pages are scattered in mud. But when the pages are healed, put in order, and bound again to the spine–ah, then the complete story can be read.

And it makes sense.

Grace and peace.