De-Fluffing Hope

I worry that we've made 'hope' a fluffy word.

Us Christians have a really good habit of making things fluffy. There's a cheap refrain that echoes in churches: everything will be ok, because we have Jesus. Perhaps I'm being crass, but that's what I am hearing from a number of the teenagers I work with. They see the church being full of people who pretend that they have everything together in their nice happy lives. They see people whose hope is in Jesus, and so everything is magically going to be ok. 

So when those teenagers feel like everything is not ok, they feel like this 'hope' that Christians have is pretty unrealistic and fake. And I agree with them. We are often presenting such a cheap gospel that says believe in Jesus, and everything will work out. After all, Jesus rose again from the dead! We win! Right?

Erik Leafblad wrote an article entitled "God Loses". In it he says that too often we've seen the crucifixion as a means to an end. We jump to the resurrection, where everything is ok. Jesus wins, we win. He suggests that the point of the cross is not just to make resurrection happen, but to join us in our darkness, our pain and join in our cry "God, why have you forsaken me?". 

Both our church youth choirs sang the song "I Believe" on their tours this Summer. Every time it was sung, it moved me to tears. The lyrics come from words that were fond scratched on the walls of a cellar in Cologne, Germany where Jews hid from the Nazis:

I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.

I believe in love, even when I do not feel it. 

I believe in God, even when He is silent.

listen to ‘I Believe - BUMC Jubi Choir’ on Audioboo

 This is hope. It is a gritty, honest hope, that persists even in the midst of piercing pain and darkness. This is the hope that I want our teenagers to know. It is the hope that I want to know. It is honest enough to confess when things suck, and when darkness is winning, yet bold enough to keep believing that life has indeed conquered over death, and resurrection will come to us and to our world. 

Let's stop holding out fluffy faith. Especially to our teenagers who feel hurt, abandoned and worthless. Resurrection will come, but maybe for a while they need to hang out in the darkness of the crucifixion, knowing that they are not alone, and that hope remains, because Jesus is there with them.

May we be vulnerable to confess imperfections, and the presence of darkness,
yet bold and courageous to believe to hope in the God who is making all things new.

Passing Over God

We are so familiar with the gospel story, that we may often miss the many emotions and symbolisms that it contains.

On reading Mark 14 this morning, I was reflecting on Jesus' last meal with his disciples before he is betrayed. They're preparing and celebrating the Passover, when Jesus makes the bold announcement, that one of those present at the table will betray him. The Passover is the meal eaten to remember and celebrate God's liberation of the Israelite people from Egypt, during which the first born children of Egypt were killed but the Lord passed over those whose homes were marked with the blood of the lamb on their doorposts. 

Familiar as we are with the story, we know that Jesus will be executed, his blood will flow, and we come to perceive him as the new Passover lamb. Just as the lamb was a symbol of the liberation of the Israelites, we view Jesus as the fulfilment of that symbol, as God taking up Godself the sins of the the created order. 

Making this connection, we then are not surprised that the betrayal and execution of Jesus happen at Passover. In fact we expect it to be this way. We see it as a positive thing, as ordained timing. God made it happen that way - right?

I wonder if we're missing some brutal irony here. Here at the Passover celebration, with the city filled with the religious elite, and the masses who had come to remember and celebrate God's redeeming action. It may have been perceived as a sacred and holy time, full of religious people, yet in the midst of all this religious action, God is in their midst, and is being readied for execution.

I'm writing from a Christian youth conference where thousands of young people are gathered to join together as a worshipping community. The campus is buzzing with activity and excitement. The hall is packed for worship, and full of energy. We call these "mountain top" experiences for our youth. It's a Passover celebration of sorts. Yet Mark 14 forces me to look closely, and to ask "where is God at work in our midst?". Because the story of the  "Last Supper" reveals to us that not only can religious activity miss God, but it can be active in God's crucifixion. A people celebrating God's past activity, who weren't in tune with what God was doing in the present. It's a damning judgement that may not be limited to the religious leaders in the gospel story. 

We are called to be a people who live not just in memorial to what God has done, but as citizens of a Kingdom which God is continuing to build.

May our eyes and ears be open to the Spirit of God.
May we know that God is both present, and active.
May we not be fooled by or into religious activity void of God's presence,
and may we boldly and courageously live as the Spirit leads.

"Rabbi, I want to see"

Jesus is walking along the road, a blind man lies at the side of the road calling to Jesus for help, Jesus heals him. It's easy to skim the story in Mark 10 as a standard story in one of the many miracle stories in the gospels. But could we be missing something...

Immediately before the story of Bartimaeus' healing (10:46-52), we have a story about 2 of the disciples, James and John (10:35-45). They approach Jesus with a request. 

It is helpful to know that the gospel of Mark can be broken into 3 movements, the first of which is Jesus' ministry in Galilee, chapters 1-10. It begins with Jesus' baptism, the calling of his first disciples and numerous miracles. The 12 men called to be Jesus' disciples have witnessed and participated in Jesus' ministry. They have seen the Kingdom of God, through the returning of sight to the blind, the feeding of the hungry, and the restoration of dignity to those who had been oppressed and dehumanised. In Jesus, God is making all things new. These 12 men have front row seats to the Kingdom of God, breaking-in before their very eyes. And Jesus is inviting them to join in.

So perhaps they're going to ask what's next? Maybe they've seen a group of people who have been oppressed and outcast, and they want to know what the Kingdom looks like for them? Or they want to be taught some more about what God's Kingdom looks like in Israel? 

Their request: "let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory."

The other 10 disciples weren't best pleased. Why? It could be that they were disgusted at the selfishness of James and John. It's probably just as reasonable to believe that they were just annoyed that they got their first. 

It is then that we have the story of blind Bartimaeus, lying on the side of the road crying out to Jesus. 

Jesus: "What do you want me to do for you?" 

Bartimaeus: "Rabbi, I want to see."

Jesus: "Go, your faith has healed you."

Could it be that Mark's story of Bartimaeus is related to the previous story? That he's gently nudging at something? Actually, maybe it's not all that subtle at all. 

We need our eyes opened. 

The Kingdom of God is unfolding before their very eyes. They've been invited to join Jesus in the Kingdom work of redemption and restoration. And they're still caught up in their own struggle for power and selfish gain. 

Sound familiar? We've been called as citizens of the Kingdom of God.
Too often we're busy building our own. 

Let us refuse to become numb to the Good News,

may we never become satisfied with serving ourselves,

and may our cry always be "Rabbi, I want to see".

Moving from Rigid Faith Formulas to Holistic Human-ness

This post was part of my academic classwork, and therefore the tones doesn't quite fit the tone of my usual posts.

"How do I measure success?"

Compelled by the divine call of the Spirit upon my life to reorient myself towards God, my passion is to lead and nurture young people in their own spiritual journeys. This is the call and commitment of my heart.

It is this question that plagues my mind. How do I know if I’m succeeding? To be sure there’s an element of pride to be wrestled with in this question, but beyond that, there are vital questions for youth ministry. How do we measure success? What constitutes spiritual growth?

For a long time our approaches to youth ministry have been shaped by models such as Fowler’s stages of faith development, which focuses on cognitive development and how an individual’s faith progresses as their ability to think changes. This highlights that what we’ve probably looked to a measure of faith is how well a young person understands and articulates the content of the Gospel. It is a matter of how effectively we transmit the commitments of our beliefs, values and doctrines to young people. 

The authors of The Reciprocating Self, propose a model of understanding what it means to be human, which changes how we might look at faith development. Grounded in Trinitarian theology, they view that the goal of being human is to become fully ‘reciprocating’ selves, able to give and receive love both in terms of the divine and human other. Spiritual growth then is not just in terms of cognitive commitments, but relates to the very human self. It is about becoming more fully who we were created to be in God’s image. 

While proponents of Fowler might argue that we are more fully able to love God and others through cognitive processes and choices, there are studies which link moral development more to processes of social interaction than to cognition. They show the necessity of memory storage in the formation of moral identity, despite the presence of cognitive ability.

They propose that spirituality does not unfold in a linear cognitive process, but it is developed in the interaction of biological, social, cultural and spiritual factors. Faith does not occur in stages, but rather in interactions of a person and context over time. Crucially, they conclude that there is not one path to spiritual maturation.

So how does this help me measure success in my ministry? It liberates me from thinking that there is a key or formula to follow which results in spiritual growth. Instead, it draws me to understanding that the goal of faith is not just a choice, decision or commitment, but rather it is to become fully human, loving God and loving others in reciprocity, in the image of the God who created us. My ministry then is not to call young people down a simple path, but it is to help guide them down the many paths along which they will travel, helping them to become fully human.

I fear not my brokenness

Something in me comes alive when I write. It's like I'm more fully able to explore and express my soul. Lately I've been making use of lots of silence and meditation, allowing my soul to be still and rest. However journalling allows me to connect with Christ in a very unique way. This is my first journal entry in at least 6 months. It's about one of my favourite topics: brokenness.

Life is beautiful, so full of joy, and yet so full of darkness. 

In humanity I see laughter, goodness and love, yet in those very same people I see selfishness, greed, hate and the capability to destroy. I know that I am good, that I am capable of love, building-up others, bestowing hope and joy, but I also know that I am all too capable of manipulating, hurting, ignoring and oppressing. In one instance I bring life, yet in another I bring death. I love purely, but also lust and thirst for self-gratification. I love freely, then place conditions. 

I am good, yet I am also wretched. 

Yet I fear not the darkness. Curse and resent it, yes. Mourn and long for freedom from it, of course. But fear it I don't when I stand in Christ. I fear not that it devalues me, for in Christ I am a son being transformed and changed. I know that my hope is not I, but Christ. I know that as Christ lives in me, I am being renewed. I know that though we often find ourselves in the darkness and hurt of the cross, that there is victory, life and resurrection. I feel it now, I experience it daily, yet at the same time it still seems so far off. There are days when I feel like a resurrected liberated man, and days when I feel like I am under the weight of all my sin, living in darkness.

But whether at the cross or at the empty tomb, it is not I, but Christ that is my hope. 

I long for the day when I, and all of creation experience fully the resurrection life. Until then, I confess daily my sinfulness. I face my brokenness, not dismissing it, but bringing it before Christ, knowing that we are beloved children who have all of His love, struggling each day to give ourselves fully in return.

I am a broken, sinful man. Far from being a judgement of condemnation, it helps me more fully understand who I am and why. 

Tonight I fell on my ass

I decided I needed to take a walk. So I walked around the church grounds where I live, and sat on the bleachers at the sports field. With Bon Iver's beautiful music in my ears, I sat and watched the sky. 

I saw one of the longest shooting stars I've ever seen. It struck me that I hadn't taken the time to look at the sky in a long time. I've never sat still enough, to just gaze at the beauty of the night sky. I had the urge to lie down on the grass and just watch, but I was wearing a white shirt and didn't want to get it dirty. 

I found a football in the middle of the field, and I began shooting at the goals. After a couple of sublime finishes, I lined myself up for a shot, and as I connected with the ball, my feet gave way beneath me in the soft ground, and I landed on my ass. 

It was 10:30pm, it was dark, and there was no-one else around, though I still had a quick look to make sure. Feeling a little embarrassed for myself, I quickly began to get up when I realised that since I was on the ground already, I should just lie there. And so I did. 

I lay and gazed at the night sky for 15 minutes. 

How seldom we allow ourselves the freedom to be still, and rest. We feel the constant need to be busy, to entertain ourselves, to be productive. We find tasks to keep ourselves from having nothing to do. We aimless wonder on Facebook looking for something to provide interest. 

Anything to avoid being alone.

I'm 23 and single, and honestly, despite many great friends, at times I feel immensely lonely. Sometimes I'll do anything to avoid facing that loneliness.

Tonight, as I lay in the middle of the field, I experienced a deep peace. A place to rest, and be alone, loneliness and brokenness embraced, rather than hidden or avoided. 

Sometimes it takes me to fall on my ass to take the space and silence, to just be at peace, to rest, and to be present, taking in the goodness of life, good music, the stars, the gentle breeze. And perhaps in the stillness, hear the whispers of my own heart, and the voice of another. 

"I want to leave a memory"

It was our Wednesday night Bible Study with a small group our Middleschool students, and we were looking at Jesus' final prayer before his crucifixion in John 17. We were sharing what our final pray would be like. Among some fairly standard answers, one of our girls said something so profound. "I want to have had an impact on people".

This 13 year old girl recognises something that many adults still don't get. Most adults "just want their kids to be happy". Now of course it's not wrong to want your kids to be happy, but it portrays the mindset of our world: the goal is happiness. 

I want to be happy. I want to have joy, to laugh, to experience life in all its fullness. But life in all its fullness also recognises the darkness that exists. It recognises that we can't and won't always be happy. It recognises that while we may be experiencing joy, others experience hurt, sometimes even as a result of our joy.

I'm not ok with living a life centred on myself, and my own happiness. And nor is this Middleschooler. We want to leave an impact on our world, that others will have been blessed because of us. Living that kind of life requires us to scrap that fluffy, self-centred mindset of personal mindset, to see our life as having more meaning than satisfying our own happiness. 

It reminds me of a beautiful song by JJ Heller, "When I Leave" from her album "Only Love Remains". Click here to listen.

Am I too busy chasing a temporary fortune
That my priorities get lost along the road
The seasons bring their moments
They linger for an instant
They never wait for you to pay the debts you owe

When I leave I want to leave a memory filled with love
The kind you don’t forget
When I go I want to be known
As one who lived with no regrets

If life is like a flower
Am I doing all that’s in my power
To leave a fragrance behind
It’s time to count my blessings
Forget about my savings account for a while

I want them to say
What a glorious day
She had so much to gain
But she gave it away
And I want them to see something different in me
And that I’m going to be free

Some glad morning when this life is over
I’ll fly away
To a home on God’s celestial shore
I’ll fly away
When I leave I want to leave a memory...