Despicable Elitism In The Name Of Christ (March 25, 2007)
In my message on Sunday I said how much I hated the strategy of
targeting socially influential people for conversion to Christ. Those
who reason this way say that if you save a popular person, he'll bring
along others too by the strength of his personality. After the sermon
somebody confirmed to me that that is in fact the strategy of a
well-known college parachurch organization.
It is a sinful strategy. Jesus did not work that way, nor did he
instruct his disciples to do so. And didn't St. James tell us that
favoring people of influence is evil?
My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, "Here's a good seat for you," but say to the poor man, "you stand there" or "Sit on the floor by my feet," have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? James 2:1-4
Some years ago at my former church I received a letter from a
Bible-distribution ministry that said, "We are planning to extend our
work through the interest and cooperation of Christian business and
professional men of influence in your area. To this end we want to
invite a few dedicated Christian men from your congregation to a
dinner meeting - business and professional men who have been
spiritually born again (John 3:3)." The letter gave a list of
"acceptable" men who could be invited (like airline captains) and
unacceptable ones (like retail clerks) who would be excluded. I was
asked to provide contact information for the right kind of men - those
who were both Christian and who enjoyed worldly success.
Instead I severed our church's ties with this organization, asked to
be taken off their mailing list and sent them a letter of rebuke. I
wrote: "Our congregation has honorable men who work as welders,
mechanics, machinists and cable installers...The list of business and
professional people you have asked for would exclude individuals like
St. Paul, a tentmaker, St. Peter, a fisherman, and even our Lord, a
carpenter. Your deliberate restriction of invitations to a certain
class of people is alien to the Spirit of Christ. When Jesus went to a
Pharisee's house on a dinner invitation, even a poor sinner could show
up and give her offering. (Luke 7:36-38)."
Yes, I was ticked off, but righteously so. It seemed to me that an
organization so dedicated to distributing Bibles should have done a
better job of reading the Bible and applying its principles.
Look at the qualifications for church leadership in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1, and you'll see nothing there about how much money a man makes. Look at the people that Jesus and his disciples ministered to, and you will find no regard at all for their social or economic status. In fact, when Jesus selected disciples, he paid no attention to their social or economic status!
The rule for outreach and ministry may be put this way: You qualify to hear the gospel if you are a sinner, and you qualify to lead disciples if you are mature in Christ. Other factors - popularity, influence, money - may matter to the world, but we are not allowed to let them matter to us.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Let The Dissatisfied Go (March 18, 2007)
Some years ago at my former church, an elderly couple, angry that I did not preach a Mother's Day sermon on the second Sunday of May, abruptly left the church. They signaled their displeasure not by expressing concerns to me or defending their actions, but simply by not showing up - and leaving undone their standard Sunday morning duties.
A few weeks later one of our board members asked me, "Have you gone to speak to [I'll call them] the Smiths?" I think I surprised her by saying "No," and letting the "No" hang there to indicate that I had no plans to see them either. I was aware that my predecessor in the pulpit had chased down a similarly malcontented couple back in the 1970s. Later he called it the worst mistake he ever made. He succeeded in getting them to return, but they thorned his side for another 20 years.
I believe it is an under-appreciated feature of Jesus' ministry that he simply let go those who were hostile or indifferent to him. In John 6:66-67, a large number of disciples turned away, and Jesus asked the 12 if they wanted to go too. In Mark 10:22 he let depart a good young man who loved riches too much. In Luke 9:57-62 he practically showed the door to a succession of individuals who placed conditions on their terms of discipleship.
And while much is made of the parable in Luke 15 where the Good Shepherd hunts down a lost sheep, it is important to remember that, in the context, "lost sheep" are the "tax collectors and sinners [who]were all gathering around to hear him " (verse 1) - not the Pharisees who were despising him, or the others scurrying away to avoid his condemnations of sin. In the parable that concludes that chapter (verses 11-31), the Compassionate Father never chases his prodigal son to a faraway land. He just lets him go - and remains ready and eager to receive him back.
I do not believe it is wise or biblical to coddle, cajole, woo, placate or pursue the disaffected. Our goal as a church is to assemble a body of believers who want to join together in common cause to serve and worship God. If some leave our fellowship to join another where their spiritual gifts can find better avenues of service - wonderful! Praise God! That is a bittersweet parting we can celebrate with gratitude. But if others stomp out angrily (or drift out lazily)because of personal pique, sin, loss of faith, contempt of God's command to worship - well, cold as this sounds - they are free to go. "If the unbeliever leaves, let him do so" (1 Corinthians 7:15). If the childish person sulks, let him stay in his room until he is ready to join the rest of us.
C. S. Lewis' wonderful fantasy novel The Great Divorce contains scenes where small, petulant souls are outraged to discover that, if they leave heaven, they won't be missed. This galls them. "How can my former loved ones be happy here without me? I'll show them!" they say. But their departure never diminishes the joys of Eternity. The faithful are able to go on praising God without missing a beat.
Some years ago at my former church, an elderly couple, angry that I did not preach a Mother's Day sermon on the second Sunday of May, abruptly left the church. They signaled their displeasure not by expressing concerns to me or defending their actions, but simply by not showing up - and leaving undone their standard Sunday morning duties.
A few weeks later one of our board members asked me, "Have you gone to speak to [I'll call them] the Smiths?" I think I surprised her by saying "No," and letting the "No" hang there to indicate that I had no plans to see them either. I was aware that my predecessor in the pulpit had chased down a similarly malcontented couple back in the 1970s. Later he called it the worst mistake he ever made. He succeeded in getting them to return, but they thorned his side for another 20 years.
I believe it is an under-appreciated feature of Jesus' ministry that he simply let go those who were hostile or indifferent to him. In John 6:66-67, a large number of disciples turned away, and Jesus asked the 12 if they wanted to go too. In Mark 10:22 he let depart a good young man who loved riches too much. In Luke 9:57-62 he practically showed the door to a succession of individuals who placed conditions on their terms of discipleship.
And while much is made of the parable in Luke 15 where the Good Shepherd hunts down a lost sheep, it is important to remember that, in the context, "lost sheep" are the "tax collectors and sinners [who]were all gathering around to hear him " (verse 1) - not the Pharisees who were despising him, or the others scurrying away to avoid his condemnations of sin. In the parable that concludes that chapter (verses 11-31), the Compassionate Father never chases his prodigal son to a faraway land. He just lets him go - and remains ready and eager to receive him back.
I do not believe it is wise or biblical to coddle, cajole, woo, placate or pursue the disaffected. Our goal as a church is to assemble a body of believers who want to join together in common cause to serve and worship God. If some leave our fellowship to join another where their spiritual gifts can find better avenues of service - wonderful! Praise God! That is a bittersweet parting we can celebrate with gratitude. But if others stomp out angrily (or drift out lazily)because of personal pique, sin, loss of faith, contempt of God's command to worship - well, cold as this sounds - they are free to go. "If the unbeliever leaves, let him do so" (1 Corinthians 7:15). If the childish person sulks, let him stay in his room until he is ready to join the rest of us.
C. S. Lewis' wonderful fantasy novel The Great Divorce contains scenes where small, petulant souls are outraged to discover that, if they leave heaven, they won't be missed. This galls them. "How can my former loved ones be happy here without me? I'll show them!" they say. But their departure never diminishes the joys of Eternity. The faithful are able to go on praising God without missing a beat.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Wait Out Your Stupid Inclinations (March 11, 2007)
We are just now reaching the end of suicide season, and I'm glad to see it go. A friend of mine was thinking of taking his life last week. (He's better now.) Last February I conducted the funeral of a teenager who hanged himself. Yesterday the news reported that comedian Richard Jeni ended his life by shooting himself in the head. When such tragedies occur at this time of year I always think back to some
advice that the pastor of my church gave when I was about 10 years old. He said, "Pastors should never take their vacations in January, February or March. Those are the 'suicide months.' That is the time of the year when our emergency care will most likely be needed." He was right. Little did he know that there was a fourth grader listening to his sermon that day who would take to heart his words of wisdom, and who would still be incorporating them into his own pastoral policy more than 30 years later.
Be aware of your own mental and spiritual fluctuations. Sometimes the only thing you need to do to get through a bad spell is to wait it out. I'm all for counseling and therapy and medication and everything for those who need it, but I'm also convinced that the placebo of mere patience is, for some, the greatest drug of all. Do you feel bad? Just wait. It's still March. April will be better - it always is. Let reason govern passion, and hold on just a little longer.
The other day my son saw me reviewing some sermon notes, and I explained to him what I was doing. "I wrote this around 2 AM," I said, "and I need to make sure it's still ok." Sometimes what appears to be a compelling insight in the predawn hours is in fact unpreachable nonsense, but I can't really know that till I've had a good night's
sleep and can look at it with the fresh eyes of the day. Everything about us fluctuates (or, for some of us, careens wildly). Who among us has so steady a disposition that he cannot look back on some emotions he felt or words he spoke (or sermons he wrote!) and wonder, "What was I thinking?"
Maybe we weren't thinking too well because it was simply the wrong time of the day or month or year. Be patient, and wait out your down or irrational cycle. And please don't do anything stupid in January, February or March. Wait till April, when, if you're like a lot of people, you will probably be less stupid.
We are just now reaching the end of suicide season, and I'm glad to see it go. A friend of mine was thinking of taking his life last week. (He's better now.) Last February I conducted the funeral of a teenager who hanged himself. Yesterday the news reported that comedian Richard Jeni ended his life by shooting himself in the head. When such tragedies occur at this time of year I always think back to some
advice that the pastor of my church gave when I was about 10 years old. He said, "Pastors should never take their vacations in January, February or March. Those are the 'suicide months.' That is the time of the year when our emergency care will most likely be needed." He was right. Little did he know that there was a fourth grader listening to his sermon that day who would take to heart his words of wisdom, and who would still be incorporating them into his own pastoral policy more than 30 years later.
Be aware of your own mental and spiritual fluctuations. Sometimes the only thing you need to do to get through a bad spell is to wait it out. I'm all for counseling and therapy and medication and everything for those who need it, but I'm also convinced that the placebo of mere patience is, for some, the greatest drug of all. Do you feel bad? Just wait. It's still March. April will be better - it always is. Let reason govern passion, and hold on just a little longer.
The other day my son saw me reviewing some sermon notes, and I explained to him what I was doing. "I wrote this around 2 AM," I said, "and I need to make sure it's still ok." Sometimes what appears to be a compelling insight in the predawn hours is in fact unpreachable nonsense, but I can't really know that till I've had a good night's
sleep and can look at it with the fresh eyes of the day. Everything about us fluctuates (or, for some of us, careens wildly). Who among us has so steady a disposition that he cannot look back on some emotions he felt or words he spoke (or sermons he wrote!) and wonder, "What was I thinking?"
Maybe we weren't thinking too well because it was simply the wrong time of the day or month or year. Be patient, and wait out your down or irrational cycle. And please don't do anything stupid in January, February or March. Wait till April, when, if you're like a lot of people, you will probably be less stupid.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Terminal Narcissism (March 4, 2007)
I wonder if narcissists can get better.
The other day in correspondence with a friend I wrote, "There is a joy
that consists of nothing more than pleasing someone else, and I am
sorry for those who cannot feel it." I wonder if certain people can
learn to feel it, be made or taught or shamed into feeling it.
There is such a thing as acquired love. Certain things we just like or
dislike from the get-go: I like General Tso's chicken and icicles at
Starved Rock and a no-holds-barred abstract argument; you like fried
squid and the Auto Show and polite small talk. Neither of us made the
effort to delight in our separate pleasures - the joys of them came
ready-made. But have you never learned to like something that once
held no attraction? I know that I learned to like soccer only as an
adult. And though I did not like coffee when I began drinking it as a
child, by now it has become my elixir of the dawn.
Of course, no duty requires a person to like soccer or coffee - unless
perhaps he lives in Latin America or is raised by Swedes. But duty
does require us to learn the joy of selflessness. What I'm wondering
now is whether narcissists are as incapable of experiencing this
pleasure as autistics are of delighting in social play.
In the Chicago Tribune's "Ask Amy" column recently a husband complained about his wife: "[S]he says that she needs time away from us. She leaves for work at 6 a.m. and returns at 6 p.m. Then she takes two classes each week to further her education. On Fridays she has been stopping by a lounge for a couple of drinks...I pick the boys up after work, make supper; lunches, do homework with them...Now she tells me that she wants to go to a gym four times per week after work...".
Life has equipped me with certain sympathies. As I read the words of this frustrated "single dad," I felt as though all the blood was draining out of my body.
Amy suggested to the man that he and his wife get counseling, and I thought, "Oh Amy, Amy. Come on. Narcissists like this poor man's wife don't go to counseling. They just do what makes them happy, and since counseling won't do that for them, they won't go. Or if they go, they'll attend a session or two and say, 'That counselor is a jerk!'"
So what would I say to the man? Something like, "God be with you. You are married to a narcissist who stands a snowball's chance in hell of getting better. Be strong and courageous. Determine to be the best father you can be to your boys."
I cannot cure the narcissist in your life, but I can preach a word of exhortation to you who read these words. Teach yourself, if you lack it now, the joy of pleasing someone else. There is joy in it, trust me, real joy - a natural high for some, an acquired taste for others. If you are not a terminal narcissist, you will know exactly what I mean.
I wonder if narcissists can get better.
The other day in correspondence with a friend I wrote, "There is a joy
that consists of nothing more than pleasing someone else, and I am
sorry for those who cannot feel it." I wonder if certain people can
learn to feel it, be made or taught or shamed into feeling it.
There is such a thing as acquired love. Certain things we just like or
dislike from the get-go: I like General Tso's chicken and icicles at
Starved Rock and a no-holds-barred abstract argument; you like fried
squid and the Auto Show and polite small talk. Neither of us made the
effort to delight in our separate pleasures - the joys of them came
ready-made. But have you never learned to like something that once
held no attraction? I know that I learned to like soccer only as an
adult. And though I did not like coffee when I began drinking it as a
child, by now it has become my elixir of the dawn.
Of course, no duty requires a person to like soccer or coffee - unless
perhaps he lives in Latin America or is raised by Swedes. But duty
does require us to learn the joy of selflessness. What I'm wondering
now is whether narcissists are as incapable of experiencing this
pleasure as autistics are of delighting in social play.
In the Chicago Tribune's "Ask Amy" column recently a husband complained about his wife: "[S]he says that she needs time away from us. She leaves for work at 6 a.m. and returns at 6 p.m. Then she takes two classes each week to further her education. On Fridays she has been stopping by a lounge for a couple of drinks...I pick the boys up after work, make supper; lunches, do homework with them...Now she tells me that she wants to go to a gym four times per week after work...".
Life has equipped me with certain sympathies. As I read the words of this frustrated "single dad," I felt as though all the blood was draining out of my body.
Amy suggested to the man that he and his wife get counseling, and I thought, "Oh Amy, Amy. Come on. Narcissists like this poor man's wife don't go to counseling. They just do what makes them happy, and since counseling won't do that for them, they won't go. Or if they go, they'll attend a session or two and say, 'That counselor is a jerk!'"
So what would I say to the man? Something like, "God be with you. You are married to a narcissist who stands a snowball's chance in hell of getting better. Be strong and courageous. Determine to be the best father you can be to your boys."
I cannot cure the narcissist in your life, but I can preach a word of exhortation to you who read these words. Teach yourself, if you lack it now, the joy of pleasing someone else. There is joy in it, trust me, real joy - a natural high for some, an acquired taste for others. If you are not a terminal narcissist, you will know exactly what I mean.
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