April 29, 2007: Does God Speak Today?
A war of words erupted recently in Christianity Today concerning whether God still speaks to us. In an article titled "My Conversation with God," an anonymous professor of a Christian university wrote about "hearing" God tell him to write a book and donate its royalties to a needy seminary student. Pastor and theologian John Piper responded with "The Morning I Heard God's Voice," where he countered that we hear God every time we read the Bible.
Piper doesn't deny that God gave the professor a special communication. He writes, "What makes me sad about the article is not that it isn't true or didn't happen. What's sad is that it really does give the impression that extra-biblical communication with God is surpassingly wonderful and faith-deepening. All the while, the supremely glorious communication of the living God that personally and powerfully and transformingly explodes in the receptive heart through the Bible everyday is passed over in silence."
Well, Piper has a point that every-day communication from God in the Bible should not be "passed over in silence." God speaks through Scripture, a fact which renders inexcusable our neglect of it. As I conduct a baptism class for young people, one of the things I repeat to them is that they need to start reading the Bible on their own (if they haven't started already). Get the Bible in your bones, and you will know the voice of the Lord.
But in addition to that, could God still speak a word to us and not others, and, contra Piper, would it be a sad thing if we found that extra-biblical communication "surpassingly wonderful and faith-deepening"?
My mother read the Bible countless times, and had it so well in mind that she could spout quips such as a sarcastic dismissal of the jogging fad ("The wicked flee when none pursueth") or a playful resistance to her husband's wake-up call ("A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to rest"). But her knowledge of Scripture and constant dependence on it did not keep her from valuing one "surpassingly wonderful" occasion when God spoke a couple words directly to her.
She was 57. Her husband, my father, had passed away suddenly a couple years before. Having spent 33 years as a homemaker raising 5 children, mom suddenly had to brush up on her office skills, and she managed to find a job as a secretary at Continental Bank in downtown Chicago. Her health was marginal. She was exhausted, and it required more energy than she had to commute on the train and walk 4 blocks each way and work 8 hours. Once while trudging back to the train station on a bitterly cold winter evening she prayed, "Oh Lord, please, deliver me from this job."
And the Lord said to her, "Deliver yourself." She testified later that though the words were not audible, they might as well have been. The message was as clear, simple, stunning and forthright as could be. And she knew it was the Lord.
She put in her notice to quit that job - not knowing where she would find another. But she did find one right away: immediately the Lord provided low-pressure, easy employment nearby working as a maid and cook at the manse of a Catholic parish. That job was as much a Godsend as the message to quit the first one.
Mom was no charismatic. She had little patience for those imaginative and gullible souls who carry on dialogues in their head and label one of the voices "God." The way she put it was, "God speaks, but not in complete sentences." Of course, technically, "Deliver yourself" is a complete sentence, but her idea was that if God is going to say something to us that isn't in the Bible, it will probably be short and sweet and to the point. Something like, "Step to the side" a moment before a piano crashes down from above onto that very spot of the pavement where we had just been standing. I think mom was right.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
April 15, 2007: Missionaries Are Nice
Time Magazine correspondent James Wilde was surprised to discover how much he liked missionaries. After spending time with them while doing field research for the December 27, 1982 cover story, "The New Missionary," he said, "their sense of fulfillment [was] contagious. I have never met a group I liked more."
Wilde's words came back to me when I had lunch recently with some missionaries at Wycliffe Bible Translators' West Chicago office. The graciousness of their interaction with me and with one another left me thinking, "I like these people." I get a similar feeling meeting with fellow pastors. I know that there are some pastors out there who are pompous frauds and showboating egotists, but somehow I have been spared their company. The ministers I have known have all been decent, kind, laughter-loving men.
I hope you get the chance to share fellowship with people who, however imperfect, at least have it in their hearts to serve God. Many of my friends have no choice but to work side-by-side with "the greedy, the immoral, the slanderers, the swindlers" (1 Corinthians 6:9-10) every day, and I know it wearies their souls. I was a guest preacher once at a church where a wealthy executive confided to me that all week long he had to swim with sharks, but that church was a refuge for him where he found people of good will. I could relate because years ago I had a similar experience working in a warehouse. At lunch and break time I'd have to listen to bored, foul-mouthed people talk about their efforts to score drug deals or sleep with their sister-in-law or get filthy drunk. I was happy to get out of there.
The entertainment industry would have you believe that there is joy to be found at the bar, the strip club, the casino, the frat party and Spring Break - but as for the company of grim-faced, pith-helmeted, machete-and-Bible-wielding fundamentalists, run away! Those hyper religious people have no idea how to have a good time. Consider the Eurhythmics' hit song, "Missionary Man":
Don't mess with a missionary man...He's got God on his side
He's got the saints and apostles backing up from behind
Black-eyed looks from those Bible books,
He's a man with a mission, got a serious mind...
The missionary man, he was following me; He said,
"Stop what you're doing, Get down upon your knees,
I've a message for you that you'd better believe, believe, believe..."
All in good fun, of course, but I think those lyrics prove that the Eurhythmics never actually met a missionary man. In reality, missionaries are the nicest people you'll ever meet, and you'd be hard-pressed to find more refreshing company. I agree with James Wilde that (with pastors running a close second!) I never met a group I liked more.
Time Magazine correspondent James Wilde was surprised to discover how much he liked missionaries. After spending time with them while doing field research for the December 27, 1982 cover story, "The New Missionary," he said, "their sense of fulfillment [was] contagious. I have never met a group I liked more."
Wilde's words came back to me when I had lunch recently with some missionaries at Wycliffe Bible Translators' West Chicago office. The graciousness of their interaction with me and with one another left me thinking, "I like these people." I get a similar feeling meeting with fellow pastors. I know that there are some pastors out there who are pompous frauds and showboating egotists, but somehow I have been spared their company. The ministers I have known have all been decent, kind, laughter-loving men.
I hope you get the chance to share fellowship with people who, however imperfect, at least have it in their hearts to serve God. Many of my friends have no choice but to work side-by-side with "the greedy, the immoral, the slanderers, the swindlers" (1 Corinthians 6:9-10) every day, and I know it wearies their souls. I was a guest preacher once at a church where a wealthy executive confided to me that all week long he had to swim with sharks, but that church was a refuge for him where he found people of good will. I could relate because years ago I had a similar experience working in a warehouse. At lunch and break time I'd have to listen to bored, foul-mouthed people talk about their efforts to score drug deals or sleep with their sister-in-law or get filthy drunk. I was happy to get out of there.
The entertainment industry would have you believe that there is joy to be found at the bar, the strip club, the casino, the frat party and Spring Break - but as for the company of grim-faced, pith-helmeted, machete-and-Bible-wielding fundamentalists, run away! Those hyper religious people have no idea how to have a good time. Consider the Eurhythmics' hit song, "Missionary Man":
Don't mess with a missionary man...He's got God on his side
He's got the saints and apostles backing up from behind
Black-eyed looks from those Bible books,
He's a man with a mission, got a serious mind...
The missionary man, he was following me; He said,
"Stop what you're doing, Get down upon your knees,
I've a message for you that you'd better believe, believe, believe..."
All in good fun, of course, but I think those lyrics prove that the Eurhythmics never actually met a missionary man. In reality, missionaries are the nicest people you'll ever meet, and you'd be hard-pressed to find more refreshing company. I agree with James Wilde that (with pastors running a close second!) I never met a group I liked more.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
April 8, 2007: Think Of Others When You Hurt
I think that getting distressed people to think about others is good
counseling.
Years ago I read an account of a man who by God's grace was brought
back from suicidal depression. He mentioned that the person most
helpful to his recovery was a counselor who forced him to think
through the aftermath of the act he had planned. "How would you do
it?" the counselor asked. "With a gun." "Where?" "In my room." "What
time of day?" "I suppose around noon." "Who would be the first to
discover your body?" Pause. "My son." "Describe to me exactly what
your son would see and smell as he opened the door." And so on. In
brutal and sequential detail he was prompted to relate how his act
would affect other people. Now the issue was no longer "me and my
despair" but "others and their well-being."
When I related this story in Sunday School someone with experience in law enforcement confirmed that this is what negotiators do when trying to talk a jumper down from a ledge. They don't talk about the jumper and his predicament. They don't try to persuade him that life isn't so bad and that he really has things to live for after all. Instead they talk about the aftermath of the splat. What will it do to others? I suppose that even if the individual has no family to mourn him, you can still talk about the sound of crunching bone and all the blood on the sidewalk that will sicken and disturb bystanders, including kids. Please, for their sake, don't jump.
Something I think I have learned in talking to people with intractable
problems is that it helps to get them talking about other people. (I
say I think I have learned this helps because, in all honesty, I don't
know squat about counseling, and cannot claim to instruct those who
are skilled at it.) When I used to call a friend who had experienced
an unspeakable tragedy, I disciplined myself for months not to ask the
question, "How are you?" or "How are you doing?" I didn't ask because
I already knew. He was doing awful and was filled with unbearable
sorrow most of the time. So I asked about his wife and kids and
activities, and told him (in a way I hope did not come across as
self-absorbed) what was going on with me. He spoke of his grief, and I was thankful he was willing to do that - but thankful also that personal grief was not the only thing he talked about.
If we can help others by getting them to think about others, perhaps
we can use this method on ourselves to alleviate our gloom as well.
There is a scene in Tender Mercies (great film!) where Robert Duvall
finds himself in terrible grief over a sudden loss. He goes outside
and throws a football around with his young stepson, and that helps.
I think that getting distressed people to think about others is good
counseling.
Years ago I read an account of a man who by God's grace was brought
back from suicidal depression. He mentioned that the person most
helpful to his recovery was a counselor who forced him to think
through the aftermath of the act he had planned. "How would you do
it?" the counselor asked. "With a gun." "Where?" "In my room." "What
time of day?" "I suppose around noon." "Who would be the first to
discover your body?" Pause. "My son." "Describe to me exactly what
your son would see and smell as he opened the door." And so on. In
brutal and sequential detail he was prompted to relate how his act
would affect other people. Now the issue was no longer "me and my
despair" but "others and their well-being."
When I related this story in Sunday School someone with experience in law enforcement confirmed that this is what negotiators do when trying to talk a jumper down from a ledge. They don't talk about the jumper and his predicament. They don't try to persuade him that life isn't so bad and that he really has things to live for after all. Instead they talk about the aftermath of the splat. What will it do to others? I suppose that even if the individual has no family to mourn him, you can still talk about the sound of crunching bone and all the blood on the sidewalk that will sicken and disturb bystanders, including kids. Please, for their sake, don't jump.
Something I think I have learned in talking to people with intractable
problems is that it helps to get them talking about other people. (I
say I think I have learned this helps because, in all honesty, I don't
know squat about counseling, and cannot claim to instruct those who
are skilled at it.) When I used to call a friend who had experienced
an unspeakable tragedy, I disciplined myself for months not to ask the
question, "How are you?" or "How are you doing?" I didn't ask because
I already knew. He was doing awful and was filled with unbearable
sorrow most of the time. So I asked about his wife and kids and
activities, and told him (in a way I hope did not come across as
self-absorbed) what was going on with me. He spoke of his grief, and I was thankful he was willing to do that - but thankful also that personal grief was not the only thing he talked about.
If we can help others by getting them to think about others, perhaps
we can use this method on ourselves to alleviate our gloom as well.
There is a scene in Tender Mercies (great film!) where Robert Duvall
finds himself in terrible grief over a sudden loss. He goes outside
and throws a football around with his young stepson, and that helps.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Singing Faithfulness To The Love Of Your Life (April 1, 2007)
My son Ben was surprised that I liked Ben Gibbard's I Will Follow You
Into The Dark, because the song clearly is sung from the perspective
of an atheist. But it is not the atheism that I like - it is the
promise of faithfulness till death. Gibbard sings to his own
accompaniment on an acoustic guitar:
Love of mine, some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
No afterlife, just a barren black nothingness for Gibbard and his
beloved - but at least he promises to be there when she leaves, and
that could be 60 years from now! Presumably he plans to be there for
the intervening years as well. That is good. Not enough Christians
understand the meaning of "till death do us part." If the song
reflects Gibbard's true intent, and, resisting the temptations of
musical stardom, he remains a faithful companion to one woman until
she dies in a nursing home, then, despite his atheism, he will have
done well.
It seems like poor Gibbard had a bad experience with religion when he
was young. He sings,
In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue, as she told me
"Son, fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
My experience in school was very different. As far as I know, I never
had a Christian teacher - abusive or kindly - but I did have an
English teacher who labored hard to turn me and my classmates into
existentialists. It was a wearisome campaign on the part of an
otherwise outstanding instructor, and my recollection of it has
inspired me just now to work out some alternate lyrics to Gibbard's
tune:
In public school, dismal as Pagan rule
I got my spirit bruised by a skeptic in black
He told me too, that I should read Camus
And learn life is meaningless
So I never went back
When limbo and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the lights on their "Go Away" signs
When Jesus stands beside you
As your soul departs
You'll still be joined unto my heart
Ok, it is not very good yet - this is still a work in progress! But it seems to me that, if an atheist can sing life-long commitment to his beloved in the context of existential gloom, surely we can do the same in the context of divine hope.
My son Ben was surprised that I liked Ben Gibbard's I Will Follow You
Into The Dark, because the song clearly is sung from the perspective
of an atheist. But it is not the atheism that I like - it is the
promise of faithfulness till death. Gibbard sings to his own
accompaniment on an acoustic guitar:
Love of mine, some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
No afterlife, just a barren black nothingness for Gibbard and his
beloved - but at least he promises to be there when she leaves, and
that could be 60 years from now! Presumably he plans to be there for
the intervening years as well. That is good. Not enough Christians
understand the meaning of "till death do us part." If the song
reflects Gibbard's true intent, and, resisting the temptations of
musical stardom, he remains a faithful companion to one woman until
she dies in a nursing home, then, despite his atheism, he will have
done well.
It seems like poor Gibbard had a bad experience with religion when he
was young. He sings,
In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue, as she told me
"Son, fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
My experience in school was very different. As far as I know, I never
had a Christian teacher - abusive or kindly - but I did have an
English teacher who labored hard to turn me and my classmates into
existentialists. It was a wearisome campaign on the part of an
otherwise outstanding instructor, and my recollection of it has
inspired me just now to work out some alternate lyrics to Gibbard's
tune:
In public school, dismal as Pagan rule
I got my spirit bruised by a skeptic in black
He told me too, that I should read Camus
And learn life is meaningless
So I never went back
When limbo and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the lights on their "Go Away" signs
When Jesus stands beside you
As your soul departs
You'll still be joined unto my heart
Ok, it is not very good yet - this is still a work in progress! But it seems to me that, if an atheist can sing life-long commitment to his beloved in the context of existential gloom, surely we can do the same in the context of divine hope.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)