Dry Bones Valley

Maybe it's time for "Servant Capitalism"

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 13:45:00 +0000

The concept of "servant leadership" has made something of a buzz for a while now. If you've read leadership material, or even attended customer-service seminars, you've likely heard at least a brief run-down on the concept: You lead by serving. The idea is that you put the needs of those you lead above your own; you count yourself as servant to both those above and those below you on the organizational scale. John Maxwell is pretty big on it, and so are some other well-known "leadership leaders.

It's a good idea, though the servant aspect sometimes gets watered down to "help yourself by helping others"--hardly a servant's idea. The Christian leadership authors (like Maxwell) point to the Gospel of John, to Christ Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and telling them: "And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other's feet" (John 13:14, New Living Translation). There's nothing here that points to gaining an advantage through serving: True service is always about the other, with no thought of myself. Serving isn't "me"; it's not even "us." It's "you." What we used to get in stores: "How can I help you?"

So my thought is that maybe we need to transfer the idea from leadership to capitalism. Maybe it's time for servant capitalism. Not businesses that simply do good to do well, or that try to have a social conscience. Those concepts are not bad but not sufficient. They do not transform a business into something that is wholly other-centered. What I mean is creating a business that is, top-to-bottom, centered on the customer. Not a non-profit business but a for-profit. Not one that justifies unethical behavior by saying: "We have an obligation to our stockholders as well as to our customers." Such a business would make a fair and reasonable profit (my high-school Economics textbooks put that at 3-5% in the 70s).

At heart, the idea is that money--all money--is first and foremost a means of serving. This cuts against the way we see money: It is, in our culture, for security against the future and for pleasure now. Capitalism is a way for me to gain security and pleasure by selling security and pleasure to others. In the end, most Christians and non-Christians think of money in the same way; and we think of business in the same way. We have "God-honoring principles" as rules of how we do business. The business itself, though, comes under the barest of scrutiny. We may ask: Is it immoral? We do not ask: Does it serve God and humanity?

What else would a servant capitalism look like? How would it be different from what we have? Could it work on a large scale? Anyone willing to take a crack at it, feel free to step up to the plate.

Ebooks: Good or bad?

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 02:08:00 +0000

So, within 24 hours, I come across these ebook articles:

From Scot McKnight's Jesus Creed Blog: What do you think of ebooks?
From Wired (via Tools of Change): Steve Jobs' take on ebooks in education
From Cult of Mac (also via Tools of Change): Apple's (presumed) forthcoming plan to take over the ebook market

Yes, it's obvious that ebooks are a big deal. Will they change the way we consume books? Are they good or bad? Will they make us smarter and juice up the educational system or be "Much Ado About Nothing"? Seems everyone has an opinion.

Including me.

Here's the thing: I have a Kindle. I have a laptop. My wife has a smartphone. She uses an iMac both at home and at work. We are, you might say, connected. And I have a basement full of books. Oh, yeah. All kinds of books.

My family is a family of readers. My kids have all read not only Lord of the Rings but also Fahrenheit 451 and Till We Have Faces (the last is my personal all-time favorite fictional work). We are the perfect confluence of geeky and literary. So what do I think of ebooks?

Well...it depends.

Cover via Amazon

I love my Kindle. I figure it has saved me about $45.90 in library fines. Now I can load up on all the public-domain classics I never would have read in two weeks (think Les Miserables and The Brothers Karamazov). I have them, FREE, and FOREVER! Glorious! The Kindle is perfect for this type of content.

On the other hand, that's not where the big discussion lies. The issue is with textbooks, on full-color tablets (i.e., iPads). The e-textbook is the future of publishing, we're told. It'll have all these glorious multimedia links, and social networking for sharing notes, and flat-out gorgeous colors, and it can be updated as soon as a new digital edition is finished, and it will all cost less than the standard print textbook. What's not to like?

Here's my list.

If it can access multimedia files, it can distract me with the temptation of other online content. Anyone who does much web surfing knows how this goes: You check your email, there's a story someone sent you, the sidebar on that story has an interesting title, you check that out...and thirty minutes later you haven't finished your original task of checking your email. Who wants this when studying? This was the one beef I had with online testing and college email in the classes I took this last semester. For those who are easily distracted--or not really inspired with the task at hand--this is a real problem.
A print book still has a better layout than a 10" tablet, or a 7" tablet, or even a 15" laptop. My opened textbooks measure 19" diagonally. I can scan 2 pages at a glance. There's plenty of room for graphics and for marginal notes, as well as highlights. The book is an amazing invention: You turn the pages easily, you scan quickly, you find information at a glance. Simple. I can't do that with my Kindle; I've never had the chance to see whether I can with an iPad. If you own one, you can tell me.
Updatability is oversold. Why do I need to update last year's textbook on, say, the Civil War or the Patristic Fathers? In fact, the deeper you go into a subject, the more you'll tend to spend on the classics in that field. For sciences and for mathematics, of course, this won't hold true. For history, literature, theology, and philosophy, though, new content has to be truly ground-breaking to replace the works we already have; and that kind of content doesn't come on an annual schedule.
Will it really be that much less expensive? That will be up to the publishers. Maybe the percentage of savings will be substantial, since costs for materials of production and for delivery will be low. But will the costs for editing and formatting digital content be less than the costs for editing print pages? For that matter, how much of the price of a paper book is due to the costs for physical production and delivery? Spending 40% less on a text would be attractive; spending 10% less--well, it would be enough of a savings to make me wonder why I'm not saving more.

So count me as a Kindle lover, voracious ebook reader--and cynic where e-textbooks are considered.

Yeah...like this guy. I know, I know....

Life–Grace=0

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Mrs. C has a problem. She is dissatisfied with her church.

I know because she told me so.

It’s not a bad church, really. It’s rather small, in a small town; but Mrs. C has lots of friends there. She’s well respected, and her husband is on the board. Her pastor preaches challenging, Biblical sermons. The church is doctrinally orthodox, evangelical, and contemporary. It ought to be a good place to worship and grow. So what’s the problem?

Mrs. C is dissatisfied because, she feels, her church isn’t deep enough. Not that the sermons aren’t detailed enough, or intellectual enough, or challenging enough—to her, that’s not the depth that’s lacking. It’s something more subtle, and it leaves her dry in her spirit. It’s a lack of grace.

“We teach a mishmash, a hodge-podge,” is the way she put it. “Either God is real and he has done what he says, or the whole thing is a farce. Either God has changed me or he hasn’t. But I don’t get that in the preaching.”

I understand what she means. The way I put it (and she agreed) is that we bullet-point grace but then we detail works. We say God has saved us by the work of his Son—by the death, resurrection and ascension of the Lord of Glory. But we tell people that they have to do a whole list of things, and the work of the Son gets left out.

It isn’t exactly legalism. No one is saying that we have to perform sacrifices and circumcise our sons and keep a kosher table to be saved (that’s what Paul was dealing with when he took on the legalists in the church). But it is something more subtle. The aim is the right aim: to live a Christlike life, in intimacy with God, in fellowship with one another, as servants of God and of each other. What’s missing is not the what but the how. That’s the depth, the grace, that Mrs. C says is missing in her well-meaning pastor’s sermons.

It would be one thing, I said, if your pastor taught the “shalts” and “shalt nots” and said something like this: “We do these things because we are not the same, because we have been sanctified and belong to God, because he has transformed us and put his Spirit into us. We do these things because of whom God has made us to be—a people filled with the Spirit of God. We do these things out of the power of that Spirit.” Yes, she agreed. But that’s not what he’s saying. It becomes: Do, and do, and do. But any doing that doesn’t draw out of Christ Jesus becomes draining. It isn’t the abundant life God promises; it’s an impossible effort that drains me. “Either God has done everything, or God has done nothing,” Mrs. C says. That’s the grace she’s looking for: the grace of a God who says, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” It’s a grace that leads me into rest, not into burnout. It’s a grace that leads to joy at what God has done, not despair at what I can’t measure up to.

Grace and holiness are meant to go hand-in-hand; that’s why Paul told Titus that grace is “training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present world” (Titus 2:11 ESV). You can’t have holiness if you haven’t got grace. Holiness without grace isn’t legalism; but it’s just as futile as legalism, and even less satisfying.

I know Mrs. C’s pastor would be surprised if she were to bare her heart to him as she did to me. The truth is that I think there are a lot of pastors like him. I think our evangelical churches are full of Mrs. Cs desperately waiting to hear a sermon that tells them they are not who they think they are—that they are more than the sum of their failures—that the same power that raised Christ Jesus from the dead is also in them. Because new life stripped of grace is empty.

Technorati Tags: grace,dissatisfaction

Dead Just Ain’t Enough

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 13:37:00 +0000

There’s a striking verse in 1 Corinthians 15, in a section in which the apostle Paul writes about the Resurrection of Christ: “And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is useless; you are still in

Technorati Tags: transformation,identification

your sins” (v. 17, NET Bible). What’s striking, at least to me, is that for a long time I thought and believed as if the death of Christ were the most important thing in his Incarnation and in my experience. I would have said that the death of Christ was what brought us salvation and made us new.

But that’s not what Paul would have said. It’s not what he did say. You could say, if you were a theologian, that I had a very unPauline and incomplete soteriology. Which, being interpreted, means I didn’t understand salvation the way Paul did. My idea of salvation wasn’t big enough.

What was the problem? Where did I go wrong? Here’s one way of putting it: When it came to salvation, I could see a negative but I couldn’t see a positive. I understood the importance of dying with Christ but I missed the part about being risen in Christ. I could understand what I wasn’t, but I was missing out on what I was.

In Christian theology, there’s the concept of identification. It’s basic to our faith, whatever our denomination. In short, it means that “what happened to Christ happened to me (or to us, who confess him as Lord).” I understood this in terms of how God deals with my flesh—the “sinful nature,” as the NIV puts it; the teaching of Watchman Nee was the biggest influence here. I understood that all I once had been had died at the cross in Christ Jesus. This was how God resolved the problem of inherent sin in me. He made me dead; when I confessed faith in Christ, I received that death or entered into it.

But there’s more. Christ Jesus died and rose. Identification means that I also receive from his resurrection, from his glorification, from his place now at the right hand of the Father. There’s more than death here. And there’s more than death in salvation. This is what Paul means when he tells the Christians in Rome that they are to “consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 6:11, ESV). There’s the negative: Sin has no power over me, because I am dead to its pull. There’s the positive: I am alive to God, brought into his Kingdom and able to discern his will. I have been given the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead. I am given power through that Spirit to live a Christ-shaped, Christ-centered and Christ-like life.

Most Christians I’ve known are living life out of the negative. We are fully aware of what we’re doing wrong. We don’t like it. We struggle hard to get out of it. What we miss is that Christ Jesus has taken us out of it already and put us into a new place.

What would a positive life look like for you? What if you knew that the habits and attitudes that keep you from being that person were done away with? How would your life change? Being alive to God means becoming just that person. “Alive to God” means that I respond to God knowing that the roadblocks that keep me from God have all been thrown down.

Hey, I’m back!

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 21:36:00 +0000

Yes, I have returned to the blog!

Okay, so here’s the deal: broken hard drive (Down with Hitachi! Long live Western Digital!). I am happy to say, I replaced it myself via Amazon.com, saving myself a nice chunk of change. Problem is, now I’m re-installing all the software and Vista and Toshiba updates since March 2007. Wow. There are a LOT of them.

So here’s what I’ve learned (it’s what I knew all along, but…oh, well….):

Rule #1: Buy the extended warranty. Of course. The “Longest Warranty You Can Afford” Rule. This holds true for any electronics, from your PC to your HDTV. Unless the price is negligibly low, as in (for instance) your GPX mp3 player(Confession: Toshiba actually gave me the chance to do this, one year after I bought this Satellite; I turned it down, though I’d planned on doing this when I’d first bought the laptop).

Rule #2: Buy a back-up external drive. One dedicated simply to backing up. Then USE it. It doesn’t have to be pricey, or bigger than your system’s hard drive; you could probably find a 250-gb drive on eBay for, what, $50 or $60 now?

Rule #3: Use a USB thumb drive and PortableApps. You can find them at PortableApps.com. When I bought my USB thumb drive for my birthday, on the spur of the moment I installed Portable OpenOffice, Portable Thunderbird and Portable Firefox. Along with Chrome Portable. And, for good measure, OperaUSB. But the smartest thing I did was to download Portable KeePass, the password manager, which means I still have access to all my account passwords—and that, through the portable browsers, I still had access to any site or account that required a password. Such as cNet and the ever-popular Pandora. Also, just for the fun of it, I copied all my documents and most of my mp3s to the thumb drive—with an 8gigabyte drive, I used only 4gb for all this portable goodness.

Rule #4: Get the Windows Install disks with your PC, because they will make life so much easier if (when) you have to replace or re-format your hard drive. Pop ‘em in, choose your “Restore to Factory Default” option or your maker’s equivalent, and let the genius of the OEM take it from there (God bless you, Toshiba!). And, if you’ve conscientiously backed up all your stuff (Remember Rule #3? I didn’t….), restoring files and programs is pretty simple.

Here’s Optional Rule #5: Wubi. Just for the fun of it. Wubi is the Windows Ubuntu Installer. It won’t save your hard drive; won’t prevent crashes; won’t do a thing except painlessly install the Ubuntu OS on your PC, creating a dual-boot system so that you can choose either Windows or Ubuntu at start-up. Wubi is beautiful. Wubi is God’s gift to Open Source. Install it, and mess around with Ubuntu for a few weeks. Give yourself time to learn the basics (yes, there’s a learning curve). If you don’t like it, uninstall the whole thing through the Windows Uninstaller (or better yet, through Revo Uninstaller; there’s both a Free and a Pro version). The nice thing about any dual-boot system is that, should something go wrong with Windows, you’ve got an option.

So, anyway, I’m back. Looking forward to more blogging. Blessings. I love it!

Technorati Tags: tech,wubi

Heading North

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 03:56:00 +0000

Today, Part Two of my birthday present has arrived. This is something I’ve been waiting for since, oh, last September. It’s a highly-coveted gift from two very good friends who surprised me completely with it. It is: North! Or Be Eaten.

Ta-Da!

If, by the way, you wish to purchase it, you may find it here, at the author’s site. Or you may go to your local Christian bookstore and request it there. Try option 2 first, because your local Christian bookstore is probably desperately in need of your business. Try option 1 if you have no local Christian bookstore. If all else fails, well, there’s CBD.

North! is, in case you do not know, Book Two of the Wingfeather Saga (Book One is On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness). These are, well, children’s books—preteens on up. From one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Andrew Peterson, Proprietor of the Rabbit Room—one of my favorite blogs. His site, and his store, are worth checking out.

I first heard of Andrew Peterson after the death of Rich Mullins. Mullins was probably the greatest contemporary Christian songwriter of his decade, and anything I could say about him has already been said over and over again: He wrote beautiful, lyrical songs; his verses were passionate and reasoned; they were grand and intimate at the same time. Mullins was something the world of CCM gets every now and then: A writer who makes his own trail and compels everyone else to follow him. I remember hearing of his death at work, on the local Christian radio station; he died in a car crash about 40 miles from my town.

So when I heard about this guy who was the most original Christian songwriter since Mullins, I had to check him out. I had to dig, too, to hear him. AP has had a few CCM hits, like “Nothing to Say” and “Rise and Shine” and “The Chasing Song,” but most of his music doesn’t get a lot of airplay (I could go off on the Christian radio industry here—K Love, this means you, too—but I won’t—today).

Thankfully, AP has twice played in my area. The last concert was in September ‘08, when his beautiful Resurrection Letters Volume 2 album had just come out. He did the tour “on spec,” with no advance take or guaranteed appearance fees.

That was a special concert for me. It came a few days after one of my daughters had been admitted to a behavioral healthcare institute with clinical depression. I hurt. On the way to the concert, I chatted with the friends who were taking me; I made small talk; and I wondered silently why I was going, and what God was going to do, and whether I could get through the next few weeks, and what my daughter would face.... Anyone who’s been there knows what I thought. I had failed her; she needed help; I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t fix what was wrong. The truth is, I only went to the concert because my wife made me. Wise woman!

It wasn’t the music that made that night good. At least, not the music alone. It was Andrew’s story behind each song on the album. Nothing preachy, nothing heavy; AP’s a pretty low-key person. It was just story after story that reminded me: God is great. God is love. God knows what he’s doing. His hands are gentle even when his voice is thundering. God will keep those I love, because he loves them a thousand times more.

So I’m looking forward to a few days of, well, rather light reading. I’m going to put Adolf Schlatter to the side for a while. I’m heading for adventure with the Igibys and Peet the Sock Man, going north to the Ice Praires just a few steps ahead of the dreaded Fangs of Dang. And if you want to come along, click the link.

(Images of cover of North! Or Be Eaten and of Andrew Peterson are from http://rabbitroom.com)

Technorati Tags: Andrew Peterson,North! Or Be Eaten,Wingfeather

Politic Of Believers, By Believers, For—the People

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 18:56:00 +0000

Here’s what’s wrong with politics in the United States.

Joe Wilson does something outrageous, and it pays off politically. And it isn’t just Joe Wilson. Left and right, politicians know they can make points and score cash off of playing to the extremes.

Why be civil, and have actual give-and-take dialogue, when the real action is on the edges? Rough-and-tumble, no-holds-barred streetfighting gets news, gets money, gets votes. It just doesn’t get things done.

Where are Christians in all of this? Why are we not, first of all, holding politicians to account for reckless, disrespectful speech? Why are we not calling them out on lies and half-truths? Why are we not guarding our own words and emotions in the debate? Why are we playing this game?

One of the most powerful ways Christians can affect the culture is one of the least-observed: Through gentleness and meekness as we confront sin (as in, “real sin,” not just opposing viewpoints). In order to do that, we need to follow a few simple steps:

Agree on what real sin is. It’s not socialism, or nationalized healthcare (though I think neither is a good idea). Those things are politics. Sin, as the New Testament defines it, includes hatred and anger and pride along with things like adultery, homosexuality, theft, lying, witchcraft.... We need a full and honest definition of sin.
Confess and repent of “over-the-top” rhetoric. God will judge what we say as well as what we do. We can’t cop out with the excuse that our angry words were in the heat of the moment, for the cause.
Make repentance both personal and public. It is personal when it is face-to-face, and New Testament reconciliation is always face-to-face. It isn’t a statement issued to the press, or my people giving a message to your people. It is me coming to you and confessing that I have sinned against you. How would politics change if one politician went to another and said: “I sinned against you in the way I criticized you”? And it is public when the sin is confessed before the nation as sin. If the whole world knows you did it, then the whole world should know that you see you were wrong.
Humbly hold all sides to account for this standard. I believe that if Christians did this one thing especially, we’d change the way politics is done in the nation. We could change the debate from what scores points to what is right and reasonable and effective. The world would see that we are willing to forego partisanship for Christlike conduct. And if we show this, those who hear us will take us seriously even when they disagree.
Pray for all politicians, even when we think their politics is wrong. This is a Biblical must; it’s up there with “Do not lie, do not steal.” Paul ordered churches to put it into practice even for rulers who arrested and beggared the people he told to do it. If Roman Christians could pray for Nero, we can surely pray for our president, whatever his/her political party. And we have to.

Technorati Tags: politics,faith

God of Wrath

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 04:13:00 +0000

“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men….” (Romans 1:18, ESV).

I wrote that I was reading Adolf Schlatter’s commentary on Romans, and I was struck by his handling of this verse. I read his comments a few days ago, and then this morning, separately, read Romans 1 again. In the back of my mind were Schlatter’s comments, and as I read this morning, they made sense.

I used to take this verse, and the rest of the chapter, to mean that God was showing wrath towards humanity. This probably wouldn’t surprise most unbelievers, because they think that’s what “fundamentalist” Christians believe; and when they use the label “fundamentalist” they throw in groups of people who are, in fact, not at all fundamentalists. But the churches I grew up in were gracious bodies led by gracious (and somewhat iconoclastic) pastors. They preached about wrath and hell and God’s final judgment; but this was balanced with preaching about the love of God for all humanity (in high school, I couldn’t figure out why we were stereotyped as Christ-haunted, Bible-thumping killjoys—the people I went to church with weren’t like that).

How has God revealed his wrath? I used to think (like most people) that it was in the “acts of God,” the cataclysms and disasters that rocked the earth with no warning; and in wars and depressions—the man-made catastrophes. I would read these into Romans, as if I were instead reading Revelations—the “Revealing” there was the revealing here. Yet, at the same time, I came up against Jesus’ words to Nicodemus: For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but so that the world might be saved through him. This puts two things at odds: Active judgment vs. active salvation. How can you have both?

The New Testament makes clear that, for the most part, God is not now actively judging the earth—that’s a future event. He is now at work saving rather than condemning humanity. Yet his wrath is also being revealed. What can that mean? If “the day of God’s wrath” is an unknown, future day—if Christ is not condemning, if God is not willing men to perish—if the time for judging the world of its sins has not yet come—then how is God’s wrath being revealed?

Paul, as it turns out, seems to have a somewhat different view of how God’s wrath acts now than I had. First, God’s wrath is shown in that God “gave [humanity] up . . . to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies. . . .” (Rom. 1:24). He further “gave them up to dishonorable passions” (1:26) and “to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done” (1:28). This isn’t just about sexual immorality, though that’s where Paul starts; a debased and dishonorable mind includes covetousness, malice, envy, murder, strife, deceit, slander, gossip, pride, ruthlessness—even disobedience to parents. When God took away his restraining hand and allowed us to wade (not sink; we were choosing to go there) deeper into sin, he revealed his wrath. And men and women received the natural—but also supernatural—fruit of their sins. In letting us have our own way, letting us give free rein to the cruelty and the greed that lurked in us, God was judging the world with a punishment greater than the natural calamities that we call “acts of God.”

But God was also showing his wrath toward unrighteousness in another way. He showed it at the Cross, through the death of his Son. There, God showed what he thinks of unrighteousness. He showed that he hates it; that he will do whatever it takes to get rid of it. The Triune God did not balk at taking sin upon himself (as the Son) so that he might deal it the blow that would kill it. This is the second, and the greatest, way in which God’s wrath was revealed from heaven against unrighteousness. Grace shows what God thinks of sin: He hates it so much that he will do whatever it takes to save us from it. Any message about the wrath of God has to include the Cross as God’s act of wrath; a message that sees God’s wrath only as calamity now, and Hell in the afterlife, is telling only half the story.

Technorati Tags: God,wrath,salvation

You Don’t Own Me (And Vice Versa)

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 03:53:00 +0000

The other day, I picked up my unread copy of Adolf Schlatter’s commentary on the Book of Romans: Romans: The Righteousness of God, translated by Siegfried Schatzmann. It’s apparently hard to get, because when I tried to find a link to the book through either CBD (christianbook.com) or Amazon, I came up with. . . nothing. Out of print, perhaps? Check with Hendrickson Publishers, of Peabody, MA; there might be a spare copy lying around somewhere….

Anyway, I’ve had this commentary for about 6 years, since I read a brief intro to Schlatter’s theology in a class. Last week, I decided the time had come to delve into the book (some things take a little time getting around to….). It’s been a good read, though a bit stilted (this is a translation, after all).

Early on, I came across a little statement Schlatter slips in as he discusses Paul’s reasons for writing to the Roman church: “From the Corinthian letters we gather how earnestly Paul refuted the notion of a Pauline church” (p. 12). This little sentence, slipped in as a little background fact while Schlatter is on his way to his main point, caught my attention because of what it implies about leadership, ministry, and (to a certain degree) ecclesiology.

In my notebook, I wrote this comment:

“This little statement says volumes about the church (local) and the Church (universal), and how we all, leaders and laypeople, are to look at the church/Church. The Corinthian assembly wasn’t Paul’s possession or work or ministry; it was Christ’s alone. Whatever put Paul’s (or Peter’s or Apollos’) own stamp on it was wrong. Whatever was a personal mark of ownership was wrong. This is different from saying: ‘As an apostle, I know that Christ has ordered this; and I hold you to account to do this.’ There is a difference between the owner and the one delegated by the owner.

“No pastor or staff gives a church its form or its message or its mission. The most leaders can do is pass on to the body what Jesus Christ has commanded and what Jesus Christ has brought into being. If we shape the assembly into our own image, we desecrate it. If we proclaim Christ’s ownership of the body, and mean it, then we are trusting him to maintain it.”

It strikes me that a lot of the abuses I’ve seen in churches are simply because leaders think of the churches as theirs. The church is the group of people they are trying to influence in one way or another—for good, of course; that goes without saying. But the pastor’s job is not to make his mark on the body or to leave it imprinted with his stamp. His job is to preach the Gospel, and that means to proclaim Jesus Christ in all his fulness. The only mark that should be left on a body is the imprint of Jesus Christ; and only the Holy Spirit can make that mark.

We all want a sphere of influence. I want people to know my name and to quote me, and to think I’m wise and good. I want the chance to lead—in other words, to make people into me. I want to leave my mark on people. Don’t shake your head at me; I know you do, too. You’re not that different from me. Just as I’d shape you into my own image if I could, so you’d shape me into yours.

What’s the point of ecclesial leadership? All of Christianity—the work of the Cross, the Resurrection, the coming of the Spirit, the infilling of the Spirit, the ordination of the church—is about one thing only: “Those God foreknew, he predestined to be conformed to the likeness of Christ, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.” That’s the point of ecclesial leadership; that’s why there are pastors. If a leader sees anything else as the reason for ministry, that leader is being misled. That Christ be formed in us is why the gospel is preached and why the Spirit is given. Not that we be educated, relevant, influential, prominent, or counter-cultural. Only that Christ be formed in us.

There are plenty of tools for this—prayer, fellowship, the Scriptures—but there is only one agent who does the work. That agent isn’t the pastor, nor is it the believer. People don’t do this, not in others nor in ourselves. People are no more than tools in the hands of the one who does the work. If we look to people to do all this shaping, we’ll fail. If a pastor looks to him/herself to do the work, he/she will fail. Only the Spirit (“the presence of God on the Earth today,” as Gordon Fee wrote) can do the work.

Here’s what Schlatter’s little statement meant for me: In a New Testament church, only God has ownership. A true leader sees this and emphatically rejects any notion that he/she owns the body or shapes the body. Only God shapes the body, in the person of the Holy Spirit who conforms us into the likeness of Christ. Leaders will be tempted to forget this, especially in a culture that thinks leadership is ownership and that ownership is proof of worth. But in God’s kingdom, it’s the humble whom he exalts…the ones who know who the owner is.

Technorati Tags: church,leadership

If You Get My Meaning

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 22:25:00 +0000

A friend called the other day to comment on my post about the Word of Faith movement. He didn’t post the comment; he wanted to talk to me personally. He and I have known each other through thin and thin; and in the Pentecostal “stream,” shall we call it, he’s seen up close, as a congregant and associate pastor, only the Word of Faith school.

By the way, I think this is one reason I’m a bit less bitter than so many ex-WoF folks: I grew up in a true, classical Pentecostal denomination, with a doctrinal statement and a central government that kept the local churches accountable for what they taught and did. The churches that go into the Word of Faith movement, from what I’ve seen, have been bodies in fellowships or in associations and affiliations, or independent churches: Local bodies whose pastors are really subject to no head, though they’ll tell you that “Christ is our head.” What that means in practice is that they can do what they wish and teach what they wish; and if they go off-kilter, no one is there to call them out. That’s a breeding ground for heresy.

My friend brought up one thing I hadn’t mentioned, but had meant to. He thinks (and I do agree) that part of the problem with Pentecostal (by which he really means “Word of Faith”) churches is the unique interpretations of Scripture, bits and pieces ripped out of place and used to buttress any new “revelation” that takes the fancy of the pastor/teacher. These are people who look for the “hidden meaning” of Scripture. What it plainly says isn’t enough; at least, it isn’t enough for them.

My friend thinks all this would be cured by good expository preaching. I think he has a point, up to a point. I strongly believe that one thing the WoF preachers and teachers need to repent of is giving new, out-of-context meaning to Scripture. The Bible says what it says, and the things written in it—all the stories and letters and commandments—had a specific meaning to the people who wrote them.

I once read that the rules for reading the Bible were really simple; ask yourself these questions as you read:

Who is speaking, and to what audience?
What exactly is being said?
What did it mean for them then?
What (if anything) does it mean for me/us now?

The problem is that if we don’t do the third part—understanding what a message meant then, to the people who heard it then—we’ll mess up the fourth part. And sometimes, we go with the “everything in the Bible has meaning” mantra and come up with some really silly scenarios. Because everything in the Bible might very well have meaning; but not all of the meanings are explained.

Case in point: When Elisha healed the dead son of the Shunamite woman (see 2 Kings 4:32-35), he stretched himself on the dead boy’s body and walked around and then stretched himself on the boy’s body again. As the boy came to life, he sneezed seven times. Now what’s that all about? What’s the meaning of those seven sneezes? Why is that in the Bible? Well, it’s in there because…the boy sneezed. That’s all the Bible says. And yet, somewhere, I’ll bet someone has given a message on the Seven Sneezes That Bring Life (try this link for something close—and, by the way, the writer is not Pentecostal). Where God says nothing, maybe we’d best shut up, too, rather than looking for something that isn’t there.

Will expository preaching solve the problem? No. Because the problem isn’t with how we teach; it’s with why we teach. For I have a sneaking suspicion that those folks who come up with new twists to the Gospel are teaching for the wrong reasons. They want fame. They want to justify sin. They want no one over them. They want authority. And one sure way to get all this is to say, “Everything you’ve ever been told before now is wrong. I, and I alone, have the thing you’re seeking. I know the true heart of God.” At the heart of false doctrines lies, not false methodology (as in, the wrong style of preaching), but a false heart. Most Word preachers I’ve heard have made much of the fact that they’ve had little training in theology. They are proud to know so little, and make much of being self-taught (God-taught, they will insist). It’s almost a class-warfare thing. They seem intent on proving something to the rest of the world: I’m as good as you, if not better. That’s a heart issue. It’s a sin issue.

Here’s a sobering warning from James: “Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). We cannot preach to prove something to the world, or to show others up or to lift up ourselves. God will not put up with it. We may not reap the consequences of bad teaching on earth, but we will surely reap them in Heaven—or rather, in Hell.

Technorati Tags: Word of Faith,Bible,hermeneutics

Why Michael Vick doesn't deserve a second chance (and you don't either)

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 15:11:00 +0000

Michael Vick wants a second chance.

Bill Smith doesn't think Vick has earned one.

Everyone knows who Michael Vick is (at least, everyone in the US). Michael Vick is a notorious name now. Has been since 2007, when his Bad Newz Kennels dog-fighting operation was busted.

Bill Smith isn't so well known. He's the founder of Main Line Animal Rescue in Philadelphia, and he's angry that the Philadelphia Eagles have signed a contract with Vick. Sporting News Today quotes Smith as saying: "There are a lot of people out there who deserve second chances more than Michael Vick."

Here's something I'd like Bill Smith to consider—and Michael Vick's critics and defenders as well. Throughout the debate over Vick's reinstatement in the NFL (a reinstatement that still hasn't exactly happened, by the way), you hear "second chances" thrown around a lot, and by both sides. He deserves a second chance; we owe him that. No, he doesn't deserve a second chance; he hasn't earned one. And at the root of the discussion is the idea that a second chance is something you earn, and either Vick has earned one by pleading guilty and enduring prison or he hasn't earned one because, well, he just hasn't.

Here's something to think about: Michael Vick doesn't deserve a second chance. Because, in the end, no one "deserves" a second chance. But everyone needs a second chance.

You don't earn the right to start over. The most you can do is show that you take sincerely the gift of starting over. You can tell God and the world what you've done, how you've failed, where you've been wrong. That's confession. But confession doesn't earn a second chance. It's just being honest about yourself. It sets you up to receive a second chance; after all, if you don't admit you were wrong, how can you start over?

And after confession comes change. It's where you do things differently. You change the people you hang around, if you need to (and Michael Vick seems to have seen that he needs to). You change the way you think about yourself—the lies you tell yourself, that let you cut yourself a break, that let you excuse what you know can't be excused. That doesn't earn you a second chance, either. When you at last do what you know you should have done at first, you may earn someone's trust, but you aren't earning a second chance.

I became a Christian because I needed something I hadn't earned. I needed more than a second chance. I needed to have my past wiped out before God, even though I carry to this day some of the consequences of things past. And because I became a Christian at a very young age, I spent a lot of time failing and confessing and starting over. I needed more than a second chance; I needed scores of new starts, day after day. I didn't earn a single one of them. Nothing I do today wipes out what I did yesterday. Patience with my kids today doesn't erase (from their minds or mine) the hot words I spewed at them yesterday. A gift to my wife today doesn't change a promise I broke to her yesterday. An "I'm sorry—I was wrong" doesn't earn an "I forgive you." But I still need to be forgiven. I need it from God, from my family, from everyone around me. I haven't earned it, but I need it.

It may be a while before Michael Vick earns your trust (and mine, to be honest). I think he's taking the right steps, putting the right people in his life. He's got a ways to go. But as far as earning a second chance, that will never happen. He won't earn that. He needs one, though. He needs one as much as you and I and Bill Smith do. I hope he takes the gift God offers. I hope we see the evidence of it in his life. Just as I hope I see that same evidence in my own life.

What I Wish for the Word of Faith Movement

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 19:28:00 +0000

I've blogged about some elements of the Word of Faith movement at times, so you know that I'm somewhat familiar with it.

Actually, I'm more than "somewhat familiar." I'm "Once bit, twice shy." And that's a problem. It's not an unusual problem; but it's a problem.

The posts that have gotten the most comments have dealt with "prosperity gospel" preaching, or some other aspect of WoF teachings (like, say, ecclesiology—as in "5-fold ministry"). Seems there are a few other folks with burnt fingers out there. You have my sympathies.

A little history here: I was in my mid-20s when a friend invited me to a small country church. It was different from the traditional Pentecostal churches I'd been raised in (by the way, “Pentecostal" does not mean "Word of Faith"). The style of worship was similar, but the preaching had a different slant. There was lots of prophecy, and prayer lines formed after every evening service. The churches I had gone to didn't usually have prayer lines. Altar calls, yes. Not prayer lines.

I stayed in that church. Made friends. Got the chance to preach. Got married. And through a series of setbacks, became disillusioned. When I left after about 10 years, I told my wife that I felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under my life. I would have left Christianity altogether, I said, except that I felt like Peter: "Where else will we go, Lord? Only you have the words of eternal life."

So, like thousands, I've seen the dark side of the Word of Faith message. Some friends from that church have been burned worse than I; one carries wounds to this day, though he's in the ministry himself—as a Baptist, not as a Pentecostal.

But I see the possibilities in the Word of Faith message. I wish the critics of the message could see that. I wish, for that matter, that most "Faith" preachers could see the possibilities. Not financial possibilities. That's where the message is, at the least, erroneous if not downright heretical (are you reading this, Paula White?). Twisting the Gospel into a message and a means of profit is simply fleshly, and it goes against the Gospel. You know--as in, "the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches." And touting a "special offering" or "special gift" as a means of entry into the presence of God (as I once heard the aforementioned P. White do) means that we don't really trust in Christ alone as our Priest, though Scripture plainly tells us that it is through Christ, and Christ alone, that we come into the presence of God.

But here's what I see: The Word of Faith message, if it were rightly and biblically applied, would be one of the greatest tools for transformation (both personal and corporate) in history. It returns us to a confession of the Scriptures, emphasizing the importance of the spoken word to believers.

This might seem silly or superstitious; the idea that we speak things into being, the twist that Word-of-Faith folks put on confessions, is frankly heretical. In the New Testament, the “confession of faith” is not on “speaking forth that which is not” but rather on speaking forth our faith in Jesus Christ. Confession brings salvation, not riches or healing or blessing. Any confession that is me-centered is heretical. Confession is meant to declare who Jesus is, and faith is about receiving what Jesus has provided.

Here’s my prescription:

Repent of the greed. There’s no other word for turning the promises of the New Testament into selfish “gimme” prayers.
Repent of the individualistic focus. In the Old and New Testaments, blessing is by and large corporate and not individual. Even the “blessing of Abraham” is corporate: It’s for an entire nation that will come from him, and the New Testament shows that nation is the gathering of people who confess Christ as Lord.
Make confession about Christ, and emphasize transformation. We are not who we once were, and the Word of Faith people have a better grasp of this than the Reformed folks do (though I think the Orthodox, with their emphasis on theosis, might have a better grasp yet). I mean that Reformed theology says, in effect, that God plays something of a word-game. We are righteous because God declares us righteous; yet, in fact, we sin because we are still sinners. This leads to the slogan that we’re “sinners saved by grace.” The truth is that we are former sinners transformed into saints by the Spirit who lives in us. We have taken on a new nature, not just a new label (yes, this is an over-simplification, but I hope it makes the point).
Stop excusing liars. If Apostle X and Prophet Y and Bishop Z have dynamic ministries but live large on the Gospel, they are hirelings and are fleecing the flock. It does not matter what gifts they display or how many folks say they've been healed or "touched" at so-and-so's meetings. "Word" people need to hold "Word" leaders to account for holy living. Jesus himself told the parable: "Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do mighty works in your name?" His reply: "I never knew you. Depart from me, you workers of lawlessness" (Matthew 7:22, 23).

I love what the Word of Faith movement could be. I love the idea of a proclamation of the Gospel that leads to uncompromising, transformed lives—of people filled with the power of God's Spirit who can turn the world upside down for God. What if God's people turned into a "can-do" people who saw their mission not as getting rich but as living holy lives, and discipling the whole world?

Technorati Tags: Word of Faith,prosperity,heresy

This One's for You, Mr. Letterman

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 02:38:00 +0000

I don't flatter myself that David Letterman reads my blog, knows my name, or cares for my thoughts. That doesn't matter. David Letterman crossed the line with his Bristol/Willow Palin joke and he doesn't get it. What's worse, apparently half of America doesn't get it either.

The joke is well-known, and so is Letterman's sort-of apology. Here's the joke Letterman told: “Sarah Palin went to a Yankees game yesterday. There was one awkward moment during the seventh-inning stretch: her daughter was knocked up by Alex Rodriguez.” The Chicago Tribune's The Swamp blog discussed his apology, giving it in full in italics at the end of a long and useless article. It's useless because it frankly misses the most important point. So, for that matter, do most of the slanted comments. If you want a good take on the state of fair play and give-and-take and respect for opposing views, read the comments. If you can stomach them, you've done better than I did.

I know a father with a teen-age daughter whose life is a train wreck. The choices this young girl has made have devastated her parents. Those choices may yet ruin her life. Her father tells me he goes to work fearful of a call from home, wondering what bad news he'll hear and how he'll handle it. He tells me every poor decision he's made, thinking he's at fault for his daughter's choices and wondering what he can do to rescue her. And in the end, the worst thing is that he can't do a single thing. His conclusion? He's failed her.

If you were to point out that her choices are her own, he'd say yes, they are. Of course he knows that. But still, he worries. What if she becomes pregnant? Drops out of school? Runs away and ends up on the streets? And he dreads.

How in the world did it become morally defensible to use this as fodder for comedy?

Bristol Palin isn't on the streets. Does that make it okay? Her mother is a public figure. Does that make it okay? Her mother is even a (gasp!) Republican. Does that make it okay?

In the end, Mr. Letterman, you made a nasty joke about a young girl who chose to have sex with her boyfriend--a choice that carried a consequence. Not just the consequence of a baby. There's also the consequence of broken intimacy with someone who will, after all, not be her life partner. There's the consequence of pain in her family. Mr. Letterman, what gives you the right to make a joke of all this? Why do you not understand: It was not a bad joke just because you got the wrong Palin, or because you had to explain it. It was a bad joke because it mocked a family's hardest trial. It used one of the most gut-wrenching events a mother, father, and daughter will ever endure--used that for a laugh.

No one should ever be treated that way. Preach if you want; sermonize; moralize. Don't ridicule. If you want to make light of your own pain, go ahead. Hands off the other person's pain. I'm not asking you to have a heart; just a sense of decency. And for all the Letterman fans: Don't you dare try to defend the indefensible. He was wrong. Period.

Technorati Tags: Letterman,Palin

Prayer and Things

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Tue, 19 May 2009 01:50:00 +0000

A friend asked me to write a few paragraphs for a book he's self-publishing. The book is about the transforming power of prayer. I have to admit that I wondered why he wanted me to do this. Maybe because I'm the only aspiring writer he knows, and have the best grammar...because I'm surely no expert on prayer.

Of course, why would I let that stop me?

But prayer...the transforming power of prayer? "Prayer changes things." That was the first thing I wrote, in quotes, as something I'd heard again and again. It's something all Christians believe, officially. In practice, though, maybe we don't. In practice, it might be more like "things change prayer."

I started to write about this and to point out that the New Testament believers knew better--that prayer really does change circumstances, that God really works miracles when people pray. But I began to think about what underlies prayer that transforms. Not faith, or at least not only faith. As important as faith is, faith alone doesn't make our prayers "work." There has to be something else that accompanies faith.

"If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, you will ask what you will and it shall be given you."

Jesus said that the night before his death. It was in a long discourse in which he opened his heart to his disciples, preparing them for his death and preparing them to wait for the Holy Spirit. It's intriguing that, as he is getting ready to leave, he tells them, and us, to "abide" in him. That means, in part, keeping his words in us. It means keeping his commands. It means loving Jesus.

It's the Father himself who has put us into this union. We didn't go up to heaven and work out a deal; the Godhead has come in the person of the Son and enacted a covenant with us, a covenant that God made and maintains. In fact, the New Covenant gives another piece to the puzzle of "abiding." Specifically, this is the New Covenant:

I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, "Know the Lord," because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more. (Hebrews 8:10b-12, quoting Jeremiah 31:31-34)

In this covenant, it's God who starts all the action. He dictates the terms and he puts and he writes; he forgives; and he remembers no more. We receive his actions--his laws in our minds and on our hearts. He puts something into us and we are changed because of that. All Jesus commands is that we remain with God's laws in our minds and our hearts, knowing God and sure of his forgiveness. That's "abiding."

And then we will pray prayers that change things.

The key to prayer that transforms is knowing that we ourselves have been transformed. I know this for a fact. See, I fail a lot. I don't really have a high opinion of myself most days. I snap at the kids. I growl at my wife. I grumble at work. I do these things over and over again, and then wonder: Have I really been changed? And my prayers are weak and pathetic.

But then there are the times (I wish they were more frequent!) when I think: All of this, my God, you have forgiven. You have taken this away and put something new into me. You have changed me by putting your words and your laws into me. Then I pray differently: humbly, joyfully, expectantly.

When prayer is the fruit, or the proof, of performance, then things (my performance) change prayer. When prayer is the fruit of God's transformation, then prayer changes things.

Solomon, Oh, Solomon

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 14:03:00 +0000

Somewhere today I heard a man talking about Solomon, king of Israel after David. You know the story: Wisest of men, leading Israel to riches and peace, 700 wives and 300 concubines, the builder of the Temple and, in the end, apostate king. "The difference between Solomon and David," this man said, "is that David had a passion for God and Solomon didn't."

I'm not sure the difference between them is that simple. But the man had a point: Solomon, as he grew older, became distracted and turned from God. In the end, so far as anyone can tell, he died unrepentant, his heart cold towards God and the people of his kingdom.

This reminds me of Jesus' parable of the man sowing seed in his field. Some seed fell on ground where there were thorns and weeds, and when that seed began to sprout the thorns entangled themselves around the grain, choking it out so that there was no fruit from that seed. This, Jesus said, represents the person who hears the gospel and receives it; but the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke out the gospel.

I think about this as I grow older. I think about this because I wonder how many of us are slowly, and all unawares, turning into Solomons. We have kingdoms now, and alliances, and comforts and blessings. We want to keep those things going on into the future. We have a place for God, just as Solomon had a temple for God. We aren't tearing down the temple; we're just kind of ignoring it. We have other concerns now--retirement, paying off the mortgage, getting the kids through college.

You don't need to be wealthy to be deceived by wealth. You just need to put your hope in wealth. We show this when we think that all our problems would be solved with a bigger paycheck, or by winning the lottery, or by someone leaving us a few hundred thousand dollars as an inheritance. Money can give us what we want. Money can provide the toys that make life worth living. Money can ease the stress we face day by day.

Most people I know look for two things in life: we want security and we want to enjoy the fruit of that security. We use our faith as a tool to gain what we want. Not only the Word of Faith people--those "prosperity gospel" preachers--do this. In everyday living, we all throw our time and thought and strength into seeking these things. What a contrast to "Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

Technorati Tags: Christianity,prosperity,gospel

Making Light of It: Pierce Pettis

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 04:55:00 +0000

Some time ago, I first heard the voice and songs of folk singer Pierce Pettis through Paste Magazine's pasteradio free mp3 download site. The site has changed now, and I can't find the artists listed whose works I downloaded then: Claire Holley, Ryan Long, Harrod and Funck, Over The Rhine, Innocence Mission. . . . These are not-quite-mainstream artists whose work is cutting-edge lyrically, and who are worth looking up. But the one who most impressed me was Pettis.

I haven't had the chance to hear much of his music. For one thing, the local Wal-Mart just doesn't carry a lot of his kind of thing, the lyrical folk music that oddballs like me love but that doesn't sell gold. For another, I just don't have the spare $20 to grab any album I like every few weeks. Then I found Pandora, an internet music site that lets the user set up personal radio stations based on specific artists. Now I have Pandora stations featuring Steve Delopoulos (of Burlap to Cashmere), Phil Keaggy, Todd Agnew, Daniel Amos, Glenn Kaiser, and. . . Pierce Pettis (Can't wait to add some Maggie Becker into the mix).

Because Pandora doesn't stream the whole album at one time (instead it streams the featured artist and others like him), I haven't heard all of Pettis' songs from his album Making Light of It. But there are two songs I'd downloaded from Paste: "Miriam" and "Absalom, Absalom." If you follow the link to the album, you can hear clips from these songs and the rest of the album. If you follow the Pandora link, you can register and set up your own stations, including (I hope) a Pierce Pettis station for your own.

Here's what captured me about Pettis: He's the perfect mix of voice, instrument, and lyric. He weaves faith into his songs without being preachy; he shares deep sentiment in plain, simple words; he sings real life. "Miriam" is a good example of what he can do with a song: Taking someone we think we know (the virgin Mary) and showing her for who she really is (Miriam, a Jewish girl). This is like good exegesis in a song: You get people to look deeper than they have to find what they've skipped over and missed because "we already know that one."

I hope to get the chance to hear more of Pettis, maybe even to buy a whole album (or you could send me one this Christmas. . .). In the meantime, check his music out for yourself. For that matter, check out the other artists I mentioned. You'll know what I like, and you'll find (I hope) new and intriguing music.

No Place For Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 23:02:00 +0000

This is going to be something of a more personal post than any other, and one in which I can't help but leave myself open to some criticism. Nevertheless, taking a deep breath, I plunge in with an illustration; several, actually.

My family was at church this last Sunday, previewing worship clips the church will use in this summer's Vacation Bible School. There were two clips, bouncy melodies about worshiping and praising God--not what I'd call memorable, but after two or three nights I'd probably catch on to them. The singers were a kids' ensemble, and a minute into the second clip something struck me: There are no boys. The ensemble members are all girls.

Okay, no big deal. Typically, more girls than boys go to church. Why not? After all, there are more girls than boys in the US now anyway. I myself am the one boy of three children; I have one son out of four children; our best friends have three girls and no boys; my wife grew up with one brother and one sister. Girls outnumber boys in my world now.

But I watched this video and wondered: What is my son going to take from this? That church is for smiling, perky, bouncy girls and not much of a place for rowdy, roaring, rough-and-tumble boys? After all, when you get down to it, the whole church service tends to be something women relate to better than men. There's not a lot of action; the typical evangelical service is usually a monologue, a shortened and less-formal version of a college lecture. At least Jesus told stories--some of them quite violent, all of them fitting into the real world.

About a year ago I came across a book with the intriguing title Why Men Hate Going to Church.
Gotta love the cover:

Murrow's book stirred some controversy, but I found myself with him far more often than against him. I want my son, and the troubled young men I'm coming across, to know that there is a place for them in the church. I want them to know that church isn't a Girls Only (or Mostly) hide-out that neuters any male who comes into its doors. And unfortunately a lot of men are beginning to think that way.

This is strange, when you realize that the main point of the New Testament is that a new kingdom has invaded the world. A mighty Sovereign has claimed the world as His and is taking it through warfare. Granted, it's a new kind of warfare; no one in the new kingdom is ever told to wield a sword against other men. Still, it's warfare. It calls for men to be disciplined and committed to our Captain. It calls for us to endure hardship not just with patience but with exuberant praise. It calls for us to leave the places where we feel safe and to batter down the gates of Satan's own stronghold. It calls for us to take a sword against demons, wield a shield against burning darts flung from Hell itself. This is a gospel for men.

Men want to be challenged. Men want leaders who will stop pampering them and who will tell them: "Be on guard. Be strong. Play the man. Hold your place in the line of battle, and don't back down." Most of all, men in the thick of battle need to be told over and over: "The battle is not your own. Your God has won the victory." We need to hear it again and again because the real battle isn't the romantic thing we thought it would be. People get weary in the front lines. People get wounded. People back down in fear.

God has won the victory. That's the key message that leads us to victory in every part of the Christian life. It leads us to holiness, to worship, to service. It leads us to overcome the enemy in our communities, our families, ourselves. God has won the victory. So we fight on.

In a sense, yes, the church really isn't a place for boys. It's a place for men. And a place where boys can be turned into men.

Cookie-Cutter Fallout

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 03:27:00 +0000

Last night, I ran into a friend I'd not seen in several years. The last I knew, he was doing well and had recently married. Three years later, the picture has changed.

My friend has Asperger's syndrome, something we know a bit about because our youngest daughter has it also. Asperger's is on the autism scale and those who deal with it are, to put it bluntly, socially clueless. These people have limited (sometimes very limited) capability for social interaction. They are not stupid; my friend is much smarter than I. They just do not get the nonverbal aspects of communication--the facial clues, body language, emotional clues we all pick up on. They prefer to be alone; my wife has read that Asperger syndrome is the one disability that goes away when the person is by himself.

My friend also spent several years in a church that left a bad mark on him. It was a Calvinist congregation and its members were all, it seems, cut from the same cloth. I say this because both of these factors (the Calvinist doctrine and the conformity) hurt my friend. He doesn't play life safe; he's a born adventurer. The folks at his church just didn't get him, didn't know how to relate to him or how to accept him for what he was. And he, with some serious issues that he faced again and again, began to wonder if he were one of the damned, one of those outside the elect. No atonement for him, it seems.

You have to understand something about my friend: I would entrust my life to him. I don't say that lightly. I would put my life in his hands knowing full well that he would guard it as best he could. I don't understand everything about him but I know that he is honest with me and has let me see things in him that few, if any, others have seen. You can't have that kind of openness with someone else and not love that person.

I wish I were better at accepting people as they are. I wish I loved each one I met perfectly, even when that one is not like me--even when that one is a reprehensible flagrant sinner. That's how Jesus loved; that was one of the things he was criticized for. In the case of my friend, I've been able to do this where others haven't. I wish they saw him for what he is and not for what they want him to be.

Why has Christianity come to mean conformity to someone other than Christ? Why do we think He is so small that I and I alone express Him, and all that is not like me is not like Him?

Many wounded believers I've met have felt that pressure to conform to a certain image of faith. I've done it too. I remember the time 20 years ago when, while cleaning a church with some friends, I plopped in a Petra cassette. The pastor came out of his office and politely let me know that I couldn't put that cassette in the church's tape deck. I never let him know about my Rez Band tapes. . . and I guarded parts of my personality from him. I didn't feel free to let him know that Fahrenheit 451, for example, was one of my favorite books; that I re-read The Lord of the Rings about every 18 months and was interested in philosophy and hated fishing (back then, that is). I reflected back for him the image of himself that he wanted to see in me. That was safe. That won approval and the chance to minister in his church.

I can't help but wonder about the ways I try to force people into my own mold. What I long for is a place where I can be free to express who I am, grow into maturity, and love without holding back. But am I as willing to give that as I am longing to get it?

The Start of Something Big? Or "Here We Go Again"?

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 28 May 2008 00:15:00 +0000

My friend Mr. K thinks it is time for a new reformation, or at least a new denomination.

Mr. K is quite serious (he wants me to be the theologian).

Mr. K, to give you some background, is an ordained minister with a missions-oriented ministry based in Central Illinois. Mr. K has had experience with a Pentecostal denomination and with a Pentecostal fellowship of affiliated churches. When he began to pursue ministry, he was, shall we say, bounced around for a few years, pigeon-holed into children's ministry, and led on by a couple of pastors. He was, in fact, ordained only when he told his then-senior pastor that he was leaving the church he served as associate pastor because he had been asked to lead a small and unique church start-up in Urbana, IL.

Mr. K told me about a chat he'd had during that time with another pastor who'd become a mentor to him. The subject was ordination, and the mentor asked: "Do you tithe?" Mr. K, rather surprised, said that he did. "Then he's not going to let you go," the mentor said. His point was blunt: Mr. K tithed, he filled in for the senior pastor, he made the senior pastor look good. He fit a niche for the senior pastor. "So why would he let you go?"

This is the background that has led K to think we need another denomination, if not a new reformation. It's not a reformation of doctrine so much as of ecclesiology. A new structure to the church that makes for real community, in which the people of God share a common life. Less hierarchy (perhaps none at all!), a form of mutual submission among pastors, a place for each man and woman to use his or her unique gifts for the body of Christ. And a place for all the offices of the New Testament church: apostle, prophet, evangelist as well as pastor/teacher.

My own take on the church is not that far from his. I think the church has become an organization and not an organism. The structures of denominations, associations, and local bodies need to be re-examined and changed. I'm not sure that a single structure that is meant to be a model for every assembly, from now till the Second Coming, is the answer. But our ecclesiology needs a real re-thinking.

So the question is: Do we need to do this through a new denomination? Or would yet another denomination lead to repeating the same error somewhere down the road, oh say a couple centuries from now? As our mutual friend Mr. J has said to K and to me: "Why not work within the fellowship we're a part of?" Why start something new? Wouldn't it be better to change what already exists?

The thing is, in the experience of the three of us, the fellowship we're a part of has not been exactly helpful. In part, that's because we're a "special needs" group: 3 guys who have full-time jobs and can't rush off to conferences and gatherings and networking meetings. And maybe we're the future of the church--trained but non-professional leadership--but the present isn't treating us well.

Still, the question needs to be asked: Why start something new? Is this (unintentionally) a "give me my ball 'cause I'm going home" thing? Or is it a legitimate answer to a problem that's cutting through all evangelicalism today?

Politics, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Wed, 21 May 2008 23:52:00 +0000

In this political year, the divide between parties is showing up in the divide among believers--especially evangelical believers. This year more than any in the past two decades, there is a rift between evangelicals. The rift has been a long time coming. It's getting a lot of attention in the media, both secular and Christian. The secular press seems to be playing the story as a "cultural shift" away from "the Religious Right" and towards a more moderate (hopefully liberal?) evangelicalism. But in fact the rift is the fruit of dissatisfied believers who want to live out the Gospel more fully.

I've wondered in the last two national elections if I were the only one who saw my votes as "the lesser of two evils." I've cringed at Bible-thumping crusaders who have made Americanism an integral part of their faith. I hear them proclaim that God has a plan for America and wonder: Is there any country He does not have a plan for? I hear the rhetoric about reclaiming America for God and wonder what exactly that means. Is it a moral vision? A moral nation is not a righteous nation. And when I hear them talk about persecution of American believers, I look through the latest news from Voice of the Martyrs.

But the rhetoric from the left is just as wrong-headed. It's an anything-goes, "Judge-not" kind of love that hasn't a hint of holiness, except in poverty issues. Even there, the solution isn't to bring the poor into your home for a banquet; it's increasing government programs. This is a poor substitute for the Gospel, but a nice dodge. It lets a man feel good about meeting the needs of the poor without ever actually meeting the poor themselves. It wants government to play the role of the church but in an inoffensively secular way.

There are so many things about this that are wrong. I have been left wondering where the complete men and women are, the ones who want to follow the Gospel in all its fulness. These would be the ones who proclaim Jesus as Savior of the world, as righteous Son of God with something to say about every part of our lives: how we spend our money, whom we go to bed with, how we dress, what we say of or to those we disagree with and how we say it. . . . Such people would be looking for a way to show love without compromising the holiness of the Gospel. Some aspects of their lives would be "conservative" and some would be "liberal."

You can see this as the expected norm in the New Testament church. The apostles taught believers to give to the poor among them and to have nothing to do with believers who lived immoral lives. If a brother were taken in a fault and refused to repent, he was to be expelled from the congregation.

All this might go to explain why I've begun to take the Anabaptist view of politics, at least to some degree. Political involvement has been a thing that divides and distracts us. We are not the people of God; we are Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal. We do not define ourselves fully by Scripture but more by the bits and parts that our sub-culture finds acceptable. Politics changes faith. Do we stand for America, for a better future, for a transformed culture, or for the Kingdom of God? Are we first and foremost believers in Jesus Christ or partisans of one or the other party?

Politics and the Death of the Church

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sun, 27 Jan 2008 23:27:00 +0000

Super Tuesday is coming fast, and the political season is in full bloom. Everyone's telling everyone else how to vote and why, and this year marks something different from the past in one respect: There's a real contest on for the evangelical vote. Some of this is due to the Iraq war, some due to disillusionment with Republican policies, and some is simply a sea-change brought about by the emergent movement. The last is the most important, because the Iraq war will come to an end in time (perhaps a long time) and Republican policies will change in response to the electorate. The emergent church, though, is going to have long-lasting effects because it is, for better and for worse, reflecting change in America's culture. I don't mean to air grievances with the emergent scene; I just want to blog on politics for a bit.

I've come to wonder lately if the Anabaptists, in turning their backs on the politics and the governments of their day, might have been taking the right and "Christian" approach to politics. Just saying this will get a lot of heat from activists on left and right who will tell me that this is turning away from the Church's activist mission to change the culture and to establish the Kingdom of God in the earth. Both sides whole-heartedly and heatedly think we need to engage the political culture of the nation and of the world.

Problem is, we're not engaging the political culture. We're marrying it.

If we were engaging the political culture, we wouldn't be taking sides. We wouldn't split ourselves into Religious Right and Religious Left. We wouldn't hold political allegiance closer to our hearts than the Name of Jesus Christ or the unity that the Holy Spirit gives and that we are commanded to maintain. We would call even our political heroes to account when they sin. We would keep in mind the difference between the Kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world.

But we don't.

We take sides. We choose a party. We pick and choose from the Scriptures to justify ourselves--there's as much "proof-texting" by liberals as by conservatives. What we choose has more to do with what pulls on our emotions than with what the Bible really says. And we make excuses when someone on "our" side clearly violates the Word of God.

To quote J.P. Moreland, "If one approaches Jesus with either a democratic or republican agenda, Jesus will turn out to be just a big Ted Kennedy or Bill Frist in the sky!" This makes Jesus just another false god--remaking God into the image of man. God is not what He is but what we feel comfortable with.

At the root of the problem is this: We think more in terms of the Old Testament state than of the New Testament Church. The Old Testament is full of laws for setting up a government and living under that government as a state. The New Testament isn't about a state. There are no kings anointed to rule except Jesus. There are no covenants except one, that God Himself will make and keep: "I will put my laws into their minds and write them on their hearts, and I will be their God. . . . I will be merciful towards their iniquities, and I will remember their sin no more." The New Testament just doesn't tell us how to set up a civil government. Constitutional monarchy? Republic? Dictatorship? Big government? Small government? We're left on our own. Which leaves me to wonder: Does God care about that as much as we do? Maybe His priorities lie elsewhere.

Technorati Tags: politics,religion,church/state

The Shack: Pilgrim's Progress 21st-Century Style?

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 17:41:00 +0000

I just finished reading William Young's The Shack. If you haven't heard of this book, you're going to. A number of highly-regarded writers are endorsing it; Eugene Peterson, author of The Message Bible, compares it to Pilgrim's Progress: "It's that good," Peterson writes in his endorsement. When someone of Peterson's stature says that about a book, the book becomes worthy of attention. And The Shack (published by Windblown Media) is certainly worth your time.

(Cover image, copyrighted by Windblown Media)

Briefly, The Shack is the story of Mackenzie Allan Phillips, married father of 5 children whose youngest daughter is abducted and murdered by a serial killer. About 3 and a half years after her still-unsolved murder, Mack finds a letter from "Papa"--God--inviting Mack to meet God at a tumble-down wilderness shack where Missy's blood-stained dress was found. Out of both anger and cynical curiosity, Mack ends up waiting for God at the shack.

Let's get some things out of the way first. No, the book isn't perfect. It's always a risky thing to speak for God or to defend Him. Whatever you make Him to be is bound to be less than He is. That's the danger of a "graven image": mistaking the image or icon for the real thing.

On the other hand, the narrative gives good reason for things we take as. . . unorthodox. And, of course, icons (unlike idols) were not meant to be worshipped or taken as deptictions of the real thing. An icon was meant to be a seed for meditation. The Shack is just that.

A theologian would say that the book emphasizes the immanence of God over the transcendence of God. But, of course, that's the point: Is God near? How could He be near, or be good, or understand our pain as He claims to, and not do something about it--not stop it? Why doesn't He simply show up? Why didn't He show up then?

You may think you know where all this is going; Christian writers and philosophers have dealt with these questions for centuries. We've had lots of answers thrown at us, in books and sermons. The power of The Shack lies in the way it makes its points. The story goes deeper--much deeper--than the average sermon.

This book is littered with gems to pick up and tuck away. One look likely won't show them for their full worth. The Shack is worth pulling out and reading again, and handing out to friends. It has the power to change the way you view life and God, and to challenge you to something deeper than what we have made Christianity to be.

So: Is it The Pilgrim's Progress for this generation? In a way, yes; but it reminds me more of C.S. Lewis' The Pilgrim's Regress. Like that book, this one peels back our layers of objections to God, our fear and distrust of Him. It's not so much about the full journey, first step to last, as about how and why we make the journey. Call it a mid-course correction. When you're off-track, that's just what you need.

Refractions: Refractions 26: The Epistle of van Gogh

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 13:50:00 +0000

This entry links to the Refractions blog of artist Makoto Fujimura:

Refractions: Refractions 26: The Epistle of van Gogh

Refractions 26 is Fujimura's entry on insights he gained from the Morgan Library exhibit of Van Gogh's letters to Emile Bernard. Fujimura, a highly-regarded artist whose parents were born in Japan, has posted a lengthy but thoughtful entry that covers Van Gogh's art and faith, especially shown through "Starry Night" (probably Van Gogh's most popular and recognizable work). What's interesting to me is that Fujimura fleshes out the basic picture of Van Gogh with a few details about his intellect and culture: that, for instance, Van Gogh spoke and wrote in five languages, daily read from Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ in its original Latin, and was rejected from the pastorate by the Dutch Reformed Church because he was not well educated.

Fujimura relates Van Gogh's literary and linguistic skills to his artistic ability. Van Gogh was keenly interested in not only his own but other cultures and was strongly influenced (like several Impressionist artists) by Japanese woodblock art. Would he have been so artistically and visually aware in a less literary culture? How does reading affect a culture's art? How does it affect the way a culture thinks and works? (An aside: Neil Postman's Amusing Ourselves to Death is one of the best books on this theme.)

So here's a thought: Why are Christians, who should be the most literary people on the planet, so poor in the visual arts? We've got the kitsch of Thomas Kincade and the sometimes-preachy illustrations of Ron DiCianni (whose art I really like in spite of its drawbacks). But when I read the sections of Scripture in which God's prophets see visions of the Holy One on His throne, I see majesty, awe and holiness displayed in a way that brings the prophet (and me as the reader) to his (to my) knees in humility, repentance and worship. We can do this in our writing and music, but how can we develop a sense of the presence of God in the visual arts? And why aren't we trying harder to do so?

God is Good, All the Time. . . Unfortunately

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 22:23:00 +0000

I wrote in my Dec. 29 post that Larry Crabb's book had gotten me to think about the goodness of God. We easily, in the comfort of a good worship service, respond to the pastor's line "God is good" with the refrain, "All the time." When he says, "All the time," then on cue we answer: "God is good." And this is true. But not in the way we mean, or want it to be true.

If I say, "God is good," what do I mean? And when God says He is good, what does He mean? Are we on the same page? Are we talking about the same thing? Frankly, a close reading of the Bible makes it plain that we are not. Because the God of the Bible isn't always what I think of as good.

And yet, God is good--all the time. He is good because He never lies, not about Himself nor about what we are like. He is good because He always forgives the one who repents, no matter how heinous or despicable that person's deeds. He is good because He is merciful in equal measure to all who come to Him. He is good because He is always faithful to His words and to His character, and because He will not endure evil. . . not even in His Church. Especially not in His Church. This is what it means to say that God is good all the time: That He never varies from this.

Whatever is good reflects the character of God. This means truthfulness even when it puts me in a bad light, and forgiveness and mercy when I would rather wound in turn the one who wounded me, and keeping my word no matter what it may cost me.

What do I count as good? Getting what I want is good. Being safe is good. Being wealthy is good. It's good to be sought out as a wise man, to be called "gifted" and "anointed." In other words, when we get down to it, selfishness is good. Christlikeness is painful and therefore is not good. Not that I would actually say this. But it describes the way I think and live.

In The Chronicles of Narnia, one thing is said of Aslan again and again: "He's not a tame lion." Or, as Mr. Beaver puts it: "Of course He's not safe. But He's good." So I have a choice between safety and the goodness of God. Not always, of course; sometimes they are the same thing. But in a fallen world, God does not promise to keep me safe in the way I wish He would. He only promises to make me like His Son. In all things, God works for the good--not for the comfort--of those who love Him.

In our hearts, there's something that responds to that. There's something that wants to throw off the fear of true goodness and where it may lead; there's something that wants to follow no matter what the danger, no matter the cost. That something is the Spirit of God, Who impels us to follow Christ. We are ready to let God look into our hearts, show us the root of our fear, and put it to death. The truth is, we know that we won't be safe in being safe. We are only safe in Christ.

Homecoming--Sort Of. . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Dunbar) — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 23:08:00 +0000

I had an unusual experience last Sunday, and here's the background: As I said before, my family has left the church we'd attended for lo, these many years, and where I was a deacon, elder, teacher and associate pastor. Friends had asked us to start a house church. That's been a bit of a fizzle, so we decided to visit some churches in our town.

Last Sunday, we went to my boyhood church. I was a bit anxious; I'm not looking for a "church home." Though it had been over 20 years since I was last a member there, I have great respect for the pastor (who has served there about 25 or 30 years). And showing up for a hit-and-run visit--well, that can hurt a pastor. I know; I've been on the other side of that one.

What I saw was a church of mostly elderly people--a congregation of 24, not including their five visitors that morning. They were sweet, kind people who were clearly glad to see us; but I thought of the days when an attendance of fifty or less meant it was the evening service. The pews had been re-arranged; about a third of them had been removed. I saw a few people I recognized and more whom I did not. I wondered where the folks I'd known had gone.

This church had never been packed; at its best it had run just under 80, but the members I'd known had been faithful. They'd come to this church for years and over half were 3-time-a-weekers, meaning that they came Sunday a.m., p.m., and midweek. But those folks are mostly gone; and their kids aren't here either, except for one whom I saw, one of four sisters. None of her sisters are out of the area; and none of them were there. Nor were her parents, who still live in this town.

After church, this woman talked with me--just chit-chat--while my wife talked with the pastor's wife. I really wanted to ask: "What's happened to this church? Where did all the people go?" I missed the way the place had been when I was a boy. I missed the faces. I missed the fire.

As I said, I have great respect for the pastor. His wife is also a thoughtful, caring woman. The people who are there now seem to be sincere, caring. . . but their church is declining. I felt a pang of regret over a body that gave me a foundation and my first training in Christ.

When I talked of this to my wife, she reminded me of something I'd read this last year, that a pastor's most influential and effective years in a church were usually between his fifth and tenth years; ministry effectiveness wanes noticeably after fifteen years. The average pastor, at that point, has become stale not so much in his relationship with God as in his style of ministry. And pastors become concerned more with maintaining than with leading.

How many churches in the nation are in decline because their leaders can't, or won't, see the need for a fresh approach to ministry--for fresh goals, fresh stories and fresh ways of talking? This isn't a question I can ask without turning it on myself. I hope to be one of those leaders some day. Will I recognize a stale style in myself?

Pastors are taught that a fresh relationship with God will solve all the problems; a pastor with a fresh walk with God will be refreshed and refined in vision by the Spirit. But is there a role for the local assembly to play in this? Does a pastor have an obligation to let himself be evaluated by the body he serves, or at least by trustworthy and known leaders in the body? If a pastor relies on the Spirit of God, but not on the body God provides, for refinement and refreshing, is he really leaning on the Spirit of God? If we close ourselves off from God's people, how open are we really to God?

We tell the folks in the pews that they need each other. Jesus left a community of faith. Yet many pastors ignore the same need in themselves. Is this right? Does the command to "submit to one another" extend in some way to leaders, or only to the led?

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