Am I God's Co-Worker in Sanctification?

Pastor Kevin DeYoung has a great piece on his blog today, dealing with whether sanctification is monergistic (an act of God alone) or synergistic (the result of God and man working together). If you're not familiar with the term sanctification, it refers to the process by which my day-to-day life becomes more holy as I am made more and more like Jesus in thought, word, deed, and heart. Justification refers to the initial declaration by God that I am legally righteous in his sight (which is decidedly a monergistic work of God alone). Glorification refers to the process (after death) by which God finally perfects us and renders us worthy to cohabit with him forever. This is also monergistic.

I, for one, have no problem calling sanctification synergistic. When we think of justification, sanctification, and glorification, it is clear that the beginning of the work of salvation and the end are works of God alone and the part in the middle—which is never quite “complete” as such (since it is finished in glorification)—is where he lets us be a co-worker. It’s like when my son was just learning to walk, and I would pick him up from the ground and place him on the little “bridge” at the playground, then hold his hands as he “walked along,” then put him on the slide at the edge of the bridge, and help him down. No one watching that process would ever think that he had gone down that slide by himself, or that we were equal partners in the slide venture. I picked him up and set his feet on the playground at slide level, I put him down the slide. What little co-working I let him do was not because I needed his help (it would have been easier for me to just carry him myself) but for his benefit and as a privilege to him, so that he could learn a little bit more how to walk. The slide thing was essentially Dad’s doing (and the first and third portion were ALL Dad’s doing), but that little piece in the middle was a co-labor. For a reason.

Why the Internet Is Awesome

The Internet has opened up communication in a billion amazing ways. People who long ago drifted apart are now back in touch. Via social media, people who grew up with you are now chatting with your college profs and your boss, whilst gathered around ironic pictures of you in drag. Worlds are colliding! to quote Castanza.

But that's okay. I like it when worlds collide. However, the Internet is actually a pretty clumsy, crappy place to have a group conversation. For example, imagine that two pastors, two seminary professors, a copywriter, a social worker, an artist, and a windmill salesman (right?) are all in someone's living room during a social event. How would conversation play out? A bunch of little discussions would probably break out around the party, right?

Well, not on the Internet. We've got everyone in the room and now everyone's involved in one conversation. Only in true Seinfeld fashion, George and Elaine are talking about one thing, Kramer is chiming in with non sequiturs, and George is looking at his hairline in the mirror, voicing his panicked concern that it is receding unevenly. And, in this conversation, people keep walking out and walking back in. Some of them are still listening when they step out, while others don't bother to catch up with what they miss and just jump right back in without missing a beat. Oh, and the subject isn't allowed to change. If the first thing someone brought up was the recent dive in the stock market, then that's what we're going with. All night. We might experience some digressions, but someone will bring it back around. Does this sound like a fun conversation? Only if you're watching it from the outside.

Case in point: I recently threw up on my wall a little quote from an article by Kevin DeYoung. Now, I loved the article; I thought it was brilliant. I was just throwing the quote up as my facebook status because I thought it was worded a little goofy and might provide a micro-second of entertainment. Like most people, I throw decontextualized, disembodied quotes on my facebook wall regularly (I usually get about five comments).

Then a couple people responded. A pretty interesting conversation started up, which was less and less about the quote. This confused (maybe even upset) some people. Only on the Internet. In real life, if you and I are talking about baseball, then it leads into the recent heat wave, and before long we're talking about our least favorite brand of pastry, no one is confounded. We roll with it. But not on the Internet.

Just for funsies, read through the below exchange (which actually encompassed more than 100 comments), imagining it taking place with a group of people at a dinner party with the very cast I described above. Let your imagination fill in when people enter and exit, what they're wearing, and what items they may be holding (spoiler alert: someone is holding a banjo). And see if the social media is doing anything to facilitate real communication.

I want you to notice how the subject upon which we quickly land is called the "touchstone issue of our faith" by a decades-long seminary professor. This conversation coulda been a contender, if it had some focus. It could have been exilerating and satisfying in real life. But the Internet likes to ruin such things. Also notice how many times the word "disconnect" is used, which is funny considering A.) the notion of a disconnect was the beginning of the "touchstone issue" discussion, before it got disconnected, and B.) this whole thread is full of epic disconnect.

Disclaimer: I've abbreviated names because I asked no one's permission, and abridged the heck out of everyone's bloated posts (my own included) so you can get the gist of things without getting all TL;DR on me.

"Yes, I do think Mormons, Arminians, Egalitarians, and Dispensationalists are wrong—not equally wrong by any means, but on certain matters wrong nonetheless."—Kevin DeYoung. (So there's that...)

 
TiffCo: This quote gets to the heart of my disconnect with certain aspects of organized faith.

RevZach: How's that?

DrGreek: TiffCo's observation is good. God has given us a perfect bible and imperfect interpreters and commentaries. The real question is whether God will judge us more on our doctrinal statement or how we arrived there and how we hold it.

RevScrib: I'm lost.I have absolutely no idea whether KDY, DrGreek, or RevZach agree with me here, let alone with each other.

Josh: Since these four views do no agree about God, at least three of them must be wrong.

RevZach: Not really; it's easy to be an Arminian, egalitarian dispensatinalist, since these refer to three different categories and aren't mutually exclusive.

DrGreek: You've touched on the "touchstone" issue of our faith ... how do we know and what is the Bible's relationship to knowing? [Makes shameless plug for book he edited]

B-Atch: Like RevScrib, I'm confused. It feels like people are sailing ships past each other.

RevZach: That's cause you and RevScrib are BOUNDED-SET. Ha!

B-Atch: Again, over my head....

RevZach: DrGreek, The book sounds great.

Josh: This whole thing was an advertisement for a book? Do we all get a stipend?

DrRick: Since there are no inspired commentaries, can we add Calvinism to KDY's list?

DrGreek: You are the folks I would love to have in a class to discuss these issues... you are honest about being confused. Keep wrestling with these issues.

RevZach: RICK! How dare you, sir?! BTW, I think we lost TiffCo in the fog.

TiffCo: No, I'm still here. My understanding of God feels like it is beyond language and intellect, much like the analogy of the four blindfolded people feeling different parts of the elephant.

RevZach: I agree that we (the Christian Church, historically) too often act as though we have a near-exhaustive understanding of an infinite God. However, since we believe that Jesus Christ is God in the flesh, in order to be consistent, we must see God as knowable, rather than beyond language and intellect.

RevZach: i.e. when describing a knowable person, one *can* actually be wrong (for example, if someone described me as "thin").

TiffCo: I think we agree more than we disagree, and I appreciate when people's spirit and intellect are in communication.

B-Atch: My real confusion here is: why did RevZach bring up this quote in the first place? DrGreek, I agree with your comments. God will judge your fruit by how much he revealed to each person within the gospel of Christ. Rick, wouldn't adding Calvinism to KDY's list mean that he finds that wrong as well? I'm trying to clear everything up in one comment, since I still feel like everyone's talking past each other.

RevZach: I'm confused as to why you're confused. As far as "clearing everything up in one comment," that's kind of ironic, given the topic.

B-Atch: RevZach, sorry...I spent 40 minutes preparing my last comment, and was out of the loop. It all makes sense now.

DrGreek: I think the question is: how do we think about all the "voices claiming truth" from the same Bible, without falling victim to persuasive people or subjectivism? Since we have diversity of views within the believing community and God has not decreed a way to avoid it, he must have a purpose for it and we need to engage each other with more humility. We need to teach the "how" of handling the Scripture, not just the "what" of systematics.

RevScrib: TiffCo is right about the blind men/elephant analogy. God doesn't hold us accountable for knowledge not available to us. But when the elephant starts talking and telling the blind men about himself, they are accountable for that knowledge.

B-Atch: DrGreek, it sounds like we are on the same page, as you try to guide us through how we make sense of all of the competing doctrines within the various fields in systematics.

Turk: So is DrGreek saying that the Mormon "wrong" is different from the Arminian "wrong?" Is he saying that our faith is a blind faith, invested in a voice we might not really hear and probably don't understand, but trust anyway?

DrGreek: Turk, none of your response applies to what I said. I'm speaking of why one view might be superior to another, rather than assertions of right or wrong. Your question misses the issue of categories; Mormon is not in the same category as Arminian/Calvinist. Mormonism is outside the Christian canon; Arminians are within.I might find the Arminian view inadequate, but am very careful if I call it "wrong."

DrGreek: I would completely reject the idea of blind faith. Faith is not about not-knowing but knowing with conviction.Faith is not blind but full of light.

DrGreek: As to the question of how we know (epistemology), we have to evaluate the nature of our knowing when it comes to theological differences within orthodox Christianity. I know a lot of things that I can't prove, but can assert from a Christian worldview. When we just focus on which camp is "right," we risk missing the Truth due to poorly defined categories.

RevZach: And Turk thought he could just parachute in, drop a whole bunch of snarky questions, and escape through the storm drain.

MissusRevZach: Seriously, did KDY really equate egalitarianism with Mormonism?

RevZach: Knowing KDY, I'm sure that when he said "not equally wrong," he actually meant "not wrong in the same way," but even if he misspoke, I'm glad he did, as it gave birth to this huge theological exchange.

Turk: I thought it was over, and I'd just have to keep my Cat-5 blow to myself, but now I shall prepare a thorough response!

DrGreek: My greatest disappointment about this conversation is that no one has commented about my banjo.

MissusRevZach: Perhaps KDY didn't mean to equate them, but I would think that someone who speaks and writes as often as he does would think about the connotations of putting those things in the same sentence.

B-Atch: Speaking of which, I got to hang out with KDY today. That was fun.

TiffCo: Again, I feel God's presence so strongly, so consistently, that there can be no doubt about what I feel. Beyond that, I know NOTHING. How could I possibly have an opinion about what anybody else claims to know?

RevZach: TiffCo, would you also ask, "How can I have an opinion about what anybody else claims to know," if the claim were 2 + 2 = 4? (not that I'm saying that simple mathematical facts and Christianity are equally self-evident.) If someone says 2 + 2 = 5, can I call them wrong?

TiffCo: I'm picking up what you're layin' down. Honestly, maybe 2+2 sometimes does equal 5. I've never seen it happen, but what I haven't seen would fill two warehouses.

Turk: 2+2=Jesus, dummy.

RevZach: Okay, but you do essentially operate with the assumption that 2+2=4. In fact, every day you bet your life that you know certain things. If you didn't feel a disconnect from math class because they were dogmatic about right answers, why does it apply to the world of faith (remembering that mathematics is, at least potentially, infinite)?

Turk: You are too concerned about immediate gratification, DrGreek. Savor the anticipation.

RevZach:Turk, go ahead and build some suspense. I'm sure the Rev. Dr. Greek, M.Div, ThM, ThD won't be able to sleep tonight, worried sick that four decades of teaching seminary has left him ill-prepared to deal with a PyroManiac...

Turk: Like all the alphabet soupies before him ...

RevZach: "I'm invincible!!!" - The Black Knight

Turk: Your ironic comment misses a lot, as did your take on KDY's statement.

RevZach: I knew I should have spent a decade studying under you instead of all those "alphabet soupies..."

TiffCo: After much thought, I've determined that the disconnect originates with exclusivity of Chrstiainity, as found in John 14:6. (I actually wish this weren't so.)

RevZach: Tiff, I fully acknowledge that that's a tough pill to swallow.

Turk: Oh please -- I have dismantled all of higher education with the phrase "alphabet soupies?" Not any more than you have dismantled orthodox ecclesiology by sarcastically citing another pastor.

Turk: I don't understand how you can read KDY's essay, especially point #5 and think he lacks multiple categories and nuances.

RevZach: I've said at least twice during this conversation that I'm sure KDY did in fact mean "not wrong in the same sense" when he said "not equally wrong." But our discussion has moved rather far away from that little matter by now.

MissusRevZach: TiffCo, I agree that that is a hard passage, although I have found that Biblical exclusivity is actually far more inclusive and all-embracing than most religions. And if there were no exclusive truth claim in Christianity there would be no point in believing any of it at all.

Turk: Moved on? DrGreek's comments began and ended with sentences that contained KDY's last name. TiffCo's beef with exclusivity and DrGreek's comments can't be addressed if we don't agree that both were responding to KDY.

RevZach: So, wait. That was your cat-5 hurricane? And I thought Irene was over-hyped...

B-Atch: This thing is still going on? Holy crap! It was like '64 when I last chimed in. I wish I had some awesome snarky comment to add...

RevZach: Sure, DrGreek made reference to the KDY quote, but those were just a springboard. We're not talking about the biblicism that his article addressed, but the idea of whether and how spiritual truth is truly "knowable" (i.e. in a way that permits us to call others "wrong?")

Turk:If the conversation started out being about KDY's post, and then somehow it became about me, I missed it.

RevZach: Frank, I promise no one's talking about you. You are excused.

Turk: I'm perplexed; the RevZach I know responds with substance, not second-rate condescension.

RevZach: That's it; everyone get out of my house.

Update: Between when I copied/pasted all this into blogger (and started formatting/abridging it) and when I pasted the link into facebook, Turk had offered a kind and sincere apology (accepted and here reciprocated—sorry for the over-the-top snark, Turkish D). But this just adds further weight to my premise. I know Turk for real, not just on the Interwebs, and we've never ended a conversation with a mutual apology. I'm guessing that less than 1% of my "real life" conversations end with me needing to apologize for tone, off-the-cuff comment that went a little below the belt, etc. But on the Internet, I'd say a good 4 or 5% of longish conversations end with me apologizing that I misunderstood someone, trying to explain that they misunderstood me, or trying to backpedal where I'd gone too overboard. I wonder if Skype and the like will eventually become more integrated with social media, blogs, etc., removing these barriers, as we re-gain control over tone, nonverbals, etc.

(A) Moving Forward...

About six weeks ago, I received an e-mail forward from someone I’ve never met, with the subject line “FW: LET'S PUT CHURCH FIRST AGAIN.” Now, I usually don't read e-mail forwards, but that title (despite the author’s defiant refusal to push the caps lock key in order to stop shouting at me) connected with me at the time. You see, I’d been thinking about the very topic quite a bit myself (albeit in lower case), as I always do during the summer months when church activities go on hiatus and church attendance takes a major dip.

Here is the text of the e-mail (grammar and spelling mistakes intact):

When I was growing up (in the 60's and 70's), we went to church EVERY Sunday. We also went to church on Wednesday and whenever the doors were open. The Mom's and Dad's went to Bible Study and the kids went to AWANA and youth fellowship. The teenagers volunteered in the nursery, puppet ministry and youth choir. No one brought their phone to church (because it wouldn't have worked anyways).

Hardly anyone was open on Sundays then. It was a family day for church and for spending time together. Schools did not have tests or sports games or mandatorey events during church time, because they knew if they did no one would come anyways. If the rare occasian came up when some "event" was going on Wednesday night or Sunday morning, we didn't go, we'd already made a commitment to attend church! When we went on vacation (in a station wagon, not on a jet plane), we might miss a Sunday, but we still attended church SOMEWHERE. And when we did, we knew the songs they sang and the Bible they read from, because we used them too!

Today, however....church is an optional feature on any given Sunday. If there is a game on or a big race during church time, people stay home and watch the game. If they were up late the night before, they sleep in and skip church. If they have work to do around the house, its more important than God who told us to rest on the sabbath day. If the weather is nice, they don't go to church so they can go fishing. If the whether is bad, they don't go because it would be a bother to get there. If there is a concert or a card game or a movie or a booster club meeting at the same time as church or prayer club, then it is ALWAYS more important than church. This is the opposite of how things used to be (and how things SHOULD be)!

If we really are CHRISTIANS and we are the BODY OF CHRIST we need to turn this back round! Send this on if you think Christians need to put CHURCH FIRST in their lives once again!

After reading this message, I did not “send it on,” but I did think about it. A lot. Not because it was a well-written masterpiece or even a persuasive argument (appeals to nostalgia and emotion are generally not conducive to either), but because—even though I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s (not the ’60s and ’70s)—I could relate to this trip down memory lane, and I found myself nodding as I read, longing for the Good Old Days™ along with the author of this impassioned piece. And that actually disturbed me a little bit. Because the mindset of those few paragraphs is this: “How can we move backwards?” It assumes that everything was better “back then” and everything is worse now, so our mission is to go back to the future, in a sense.

But should that be the goal? Would the church really be better off if we revived “puppet ministries,” even with the full buy-in of the congregation? Is it necessarily a step in the wrong direction that we don’t all use the KJV as our primary translation? Is there never a time to miss church for a family event or other “secular” commitment? If we were somehow able to successfully roll back the church to the ’60s and ’70s (or even the ’80s and ’90s), would we find ourselves better able to engage the world with the Gospel of Jesus Christ? I would answer no on all counts.

Remember when I coined that clever acronym G.O.D.S. (Good Old Days Syndrome) while preaching through Haggai? (Pretend that you do.) Well, too often the "Good Old Days" do become gods and idols to us, even when our intentions are good. How else do we explain the inclusion of station wagons and jet planes in this piece? What on earth does it have to do with the subject at hand, other than describing a “simpler time” in which the author was more comfortable?

While prompted by a frustration that I fully understand, I think the above e-mail forward raises the wrong questions. Instead of wringing our hands about the direction the world has taken (and its unfortunate effects on the Church) and asking how we might rewind, we ought to be asking how we can stake out a vital and effective ministry as the Church of Jesus Christ in the world and the times in which we live. How can we best play the hand we’ve been dealt?

The reality is that people’s lives are fuller, busier, and less simple than they were in the past. The way people look at time and priorities is different than it was in the past. Denying those realities is no kind of strategy. And firing off finger-waggy, we-verus-they, guilt-trip-inducing e-mail forwards is no help either. No, dealing with the reality means asking each other and asking ourselves, “In the midst of all the time commitments and all the different aspects of my life pulling me in every direction, how high of a priority is worshiping God with a body of believers, receiving Christ together, and serving in his Kingdom?”

I don’t think any Christian intentionally chooses to put Christ and his Church on the back burner; it just happens gradually. It’s not (as the man or woman who penned the above diatribe suggests) that people choose to make Church last in their lives or that they sit down and number all of their priorities and write a notation next to the word church: “Skip this if inconvenient.” People are overloaded today—mentally, emotionally, time-wise, financially, and in every other way. If the Church adds to that overload (and if the Church makes it easy to slip away unnoticed), then people will gradually find it slipping down the list of priorities. Before long, the new habit is to come every six weeks, and then not at all. Some may even find it difficult or awkward to come back once they’ve fallen out of the habit.

That is exactly why my church is planning a Back to Church Sunday on September 25. This is the time of year when we re-start all sorts of activities—new classes, new projects, new schedules, new sports seasons, new TV shows. As the summer comes to a close, people get the urge to get back into the swing of things. What better time could there be to come back to church and re-commit to making the Body of Christ a priority in your life? If you're a member at Judson, there will be information arriving in your mailbox shortly about this special Sunday, but for now, I just ask you to pin down that morning on your calendar and plan to be here for worship and fellowship that day. You won’t regret it.

If you don't live near the capital city, I encourage you to go back to church all the same. Despite what George Barna tries to tell you, you can't do this disciple of Jesus thing on your own. That's why, from the very beginning, Christians have gathered together in ordered bodies (marked by the preaching of the Word, the proper adminstering of the sacraments, and church discipline) for the apostles' teaching, the breaking of bread, fellowship, worship, and prayer. If you belong to Jesus, then you belong in church on the Lord's Day.

Or are you too busy flying around in your jet plane, talking on your cell phone, and sleeping in?

Let’s move forward together as the Body of Christ, with his cross at the center of our lives.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Pastor Zach

Speculative Faith

I had the honor of filling the Friday guest post slot at Speculative Faith today. Click here to read my article, Harry Potter, Bob the Tomato, and Genre, in which I try and subtly pimp my book 42 Months Dry and explore the weird lines-in-the-sand, which (heh...sandwich) Christians tend to draw when it comes to inventive fiction.
 

God's Simple Perfection Wins.

 
Last night, I travelled west (you know, the way of Horatio Alger and Davy Crockett, the Donner party...) back to my old stomping ground in Grand Rapids for a book signing-slash-lecture-slash-Q&A for my friend and favorite once-seminary professor, Dr. Michael Wittmer. He is promoting his latest book, Christ Alone: An Evangelical Response to Rob Bell’s Love Wins.

Although at least two other books have come out to answer Rev. Bell, I would point out that Wittmer’s was first. And, having read it, I don’t really see the need for any others. The book is uncompromising in its approach to the Gospel, and yet still respectful and gracious in that trademark-Wittmer way that once made Brian McLaren get misty-eyed.

We’ve got him surrounded...

I’m afraid that our attention span today is so short that, when Justin Taylor single-handedly propelled Bell’s book to #1 on Amazon before it even came out, many assumed it would all blow over too quickly to warrant a written response (beyond a tsunami of angry blog responses, most of which came from people who had just seen the teaser trailer). In fact, as the second and third responses to Love Wins have recently been released to little fanfare, many have more or less ignored them, since the media storm has basically played itself out. But as of this writing, Love Wins is still in the top 200 on Amazon. And, while it’s old news on the cutting edge blogs and no longer on the cover of Time Magazine, Bell’s book is just making its way into homes and libraries in smaller towns.

I wish I had a recording of Dr. Wittmer’s presentation from last night (maybe he’ll grace us with a link to the text in the comments section), but since I don’t, allow me to again commend to you the book Christ Alone, and to paraphrase Dr. Wittmer’s introduction (minus all the Taylor Swift stuff), which was itself worth the hour drive to the six-one-six.

One of the issues that Rob brings up in Love Wins is the question: how can a finite being ever do anything to deserve infinite punishment. Our lives span a finite amount of time and we have finite capacities, so how can hell go on and on and on forever?

But he fails to take into account whom we have offended. Everyone recognizes how important this is. If you walk outside tonight and slap a mosquito, no one cares. But if you pull the legs off of frogs just for fun, we start to worry. If you torture puppies, we call the authorities [tasteless joke about cats redacted]. If you kill another person, we put you in jail for life, or maybe give you the electric chair. Who you attack matters.

And we have all offended God himself with our sin, and attacked Him in order to kill (as the old hymn reminds us, we were spiritually present with the crowd who shouted “Crucify!”) an infinite and eternal being, and therefore deserve to be punished accordingly.

Like I said, that’s a paraphrase, but you get the picture. Dr. Wittmer flawlessly exposes the contradictions, hidden premises, and unbiblical teachings of Love Wins in a way that comes off positively, focused entirely on giving glory to God for the true Gospel of salvation, in which God’s holiness and love are not set at odds, but in which all of God’s perfections are one.
 

What Ted said. (About what Mark said.)

 
Sick of whiny people whining about awesome people? There's a little catharsis wrapped up in Big T's latest post.
 

Ecumenical Evanglism?!

Do me a favor and skim the Michigan Historical Marker to the left, which you can find outside a beautiful old church building in the happening Old Town district of Lansing, Michigan. I want to point out three phrases: “The First Presbyterian Church,” “prominent Methodist,” and “Gospel Preaching.” If you know anything about the history and family tree of Protestant denominations, you know that Methodists and Presbyterians are quite separated by doctrine and tradition. Methodism is very much Arminian, while Presbyterians have historically embraced the doctrine of election. And yet, here we read about a prominent Methodist providing land for a Presbyterian church under the condition that this church provide Old Town (then Lower Town) with Gospel preaching.

If my church (read: the congregation under my care) had one of those historical markers (which we could almost certainly procure, but haven’t because they cost thousands of dollars and serve as something of a pair of shackles, limiting what you can do with your “historic site”), it would tell a similar story:

Judson Baptist was the first church founded in South Lansing (which was, at the time, south of Lansing), an area that was booming with Oldsmobile employees and seeing new workers daily being added to the budding neighborhoods and farmers who had been working the land for generations. A group of several dozen women first started a non-denominational Sunday school program for the children of South Lansing, whom they feared would otherwise have no means of hearing the Gospel. In 1925, a Presbyterian man organized this effort in an old schoolhouse. Over the next few years, Presbyterian, Congregational, Baptist, and Methodist churches worked to support this outreach, eventually adding preaching for adults in the afternoon. Progress was very slow.

In late 1928, a representative of the Michigan Baptist Convention offered assistance in establishing a church proper, and the group unanimously accepted the offer. By 1931 (right smack in the middle of the depression), they had laid the cornerstone for the building where Judson Memorial Baptist Church still worships every week.

So, not only did we bring Methodists and Presbyterians together, but also Congregationalists and two different Baptist churches! The name for this sort of activity is “Ecumenical Evangelism,” and for some reason this has become a four-letter word in many of the circles in which I travel and operate. For example, a while back, I was looking into using the services of www.sermonaudio.com to host the growing collection of sermons we offer online. However, I found that I could not check the box of the site’s Articles of Faith, which listed rejection of ecumenical evangelism right along side the virgin birth of Our Lord and the atonement. (This proved providential, as the free services of www.archive.org are a better match for us, anyway.) Some of the major Calvinistic “coalition” and “alliance” type groups also have similar principles worked into their core beliefs and statements of faith.

Now, I acknowledge the slipperiness of this term: “ecumenical” can mean (and, today, often does mean) “spanning all religions,” in which case ecumenical evangelism becomes a complete oxymoron, as Mormons, Christians, Muslims, and Hindus could never cooperate in their efforts to proselytize or even to proclaim good news any more specific than “Some sort of God or gods love you, so be nice to each other.” If I encountered such “evangelism,” after I finished scratching my head, I would join in condemning it.

But the meaning of “ecumenical” in the Christian church, has historically referred more often to that which pertains to the entire Church universal (e.g. the First Ecumenical Council). In that sense, I would argue that ecumenical evangelism is nothing short of the most efficient and Christ-honoring way of carrying out the Great Commission. If churches and denominations can avoid duplicating efforts, many more can be reached. Christians—true Christians— of all stripes can proclaim together the basic message of salvation by God’s grace, by the blood of Christ, through faith in Him. We can together proclaim repentance and the forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name, calling sinners to repent, to confess with their lips that Jesus Christ is Lord, and to believe in their hearts that God has raised Him from the dead. Sadly, this type of “ecumenical evangelism” is often what is meant when websites, churches, and para-church organizations call ecumenical evangelism a slippery slope, an affront to the Gospel, an abomination, etc.

And yet the rolls of Judson Baptist Church are filled with the names of Christians who may never have heard the Gospel preached if it weren’t for that slippery slope. As are the rolls of North Presbyterian Church, which recently moved out of the Old Town building (left) and merged with Westminster Presbyterian. The Michigan Historic Site in question is now the home of the primarily African-American (yet diverse) congregation called Epicenter of Worship, pastored by Sean Holland and his wife Tayana. I’ve met Sean several times, heard him preach, and regularly check out the church’s video blog, which is always filled with solid Bible teaching. Also of note is that Epicenter (which, until recently, met in the building of First Baptist, downtown) shares part of their facility with the Resurrection Life East Church, a charismatic-ish congregation with unofficial ties to the mega-church in Grandville. If you're getting confused trying to keep all this straight: good.

That’s right, I don’t sweat it when the labels and brand names within the body of Christ get blurred and blurry. I acknowledge that any kind of ecumenism or Church unity always carries with it potential dangers. But so does a spirit of exclusivity and ultra-separation. And I’ll face the dangers of the former—and reap its blessings—rather than build up walls and hunker down any day.

I’m sorry I can't sign your Articles of Faith; my view of the Church of Christ as bigger, wider, and more diverse than my own little corner of the Kingdom won't let me.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

Damnable Prayers, Spoken or Implied

In Mark 9, a man encountered Jesus’ power to heal and restore, and responded by bursting out,

“Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!”

What a beautiful, succinct, and honest prayer: I have some faith, Lord, but give me more. Squeeze out the pockets of darkness with your light, and help me to cultivate a living, vibrant belief in you. Yeah, those six little words (just five words in the original Greek) are pregnant with theological and personal meaning.

And, yet, it’s not enough for us today, is it? Today, we say, “Lord, help me embrace my unbelief.” Because acknowledging that you do believe is not “authentic” enough for today’s spiritual climate. Just like it’s now uncouth to claim that you know with certainty anything at all about God (even those things that God’s Word tells us with certainty). There’s a new standard for faith gaining momentum, and it is unfaith. In the last few years, pastors have even begun regularly stating and over-stating the shaky and tenuous nature of their own belief from the pulpit. (“Sure, I’m a pastor, but most of the time I wonder if there’s any God at all.”)

Lord, help me embrace my unbelief.

But that’s not the only update we’ve made to the Bible's picture of faith and how we live it out. Along with sacramentalizing a lack of belief, we’ve also baptized a lack of preparation. In describing the cost involved in following Him as Lord, Jesus said, “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’” (Luke 14:28-30, esv). This is wisdom. In approaching matters of faith, we should inventory, prepare, and consider whether we will be able to follow a particular enterprise through to the end. The book of Proverbs also echoes this sentiment consistently.

But that’s not enough for us today either, is it? The new mark of faith is to rush headfirst into any endeavor, only to find ourselves unprepared, under-committed, and ultimately unwilling. Then, we say to God, “This is your work, God, so you better do something about it. Bless my impulsiveness and lack of wisdom.” And later, when we tell the story to other Christians, this is painted as stepping out “in faith.” Counting the cost is out, running up a tab and then pinning it on Daddy to bail us out with a miracle is in.

If you’ve been at my church the last couple of Sundays, you know why I’m mulling over this stuff right now. It’s because, two Sundays ago, I prayed my own foolish prayer. The gist of it was, “Lord, bless my foolishness,” but it more specifically went something like: “Well, Lord, I feel like I can barely walk into the sanctuary, but it’s about time for the sermon. So you’d better give me the strength to power through.” I don’t know that I even prayed that prayer as such (i.e. I didn’t “speak it in my mind”), but it was implied.

Of course, halfway through the sermon (if you can call it that), I mumbled something about coyotes and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little miffed with the Good Lord for failing to answer my prayer. After all, didn’t it show a ton of faith and perseverance for me to throw wisdom to the winds and step up to the pulpit anyway? Wasn’t it a laudable thing to undertake a sacred duty—proclaiming God’s Holy Word—when I was completely ill-equipped to do it at the moment? In retrospect, those are pretty stupid questions. But at the time, I was operating in the categories of the “new and improved faith,” the kind of “faith” that doesn’t count the cost, but over-commits and leaves God in the awkward position of being expected to bless my foolishness.

Ultimately, I was expecting special treatment from God—an exemption from the principles of biblical wisdom—simply because I was me, or maybe because I’m on his payroll. Either way, these are principles native to the kingdom of this age, not the Kingdom of God.

Now, let me clarify. When I call this idea “new,” I mean that it’s currently experiencing a resurgence; strictly speaking, it’s anything but new. The Scriptures are full of people throwing up foolish prayers and making foolish vows to God. Remember in Jeremiah 21, when King Zedekiah asked God to set his holiness aside, overlook the sins of the people, and give them victory against Nebuchadnezzar? (Translation: “Lord, bless our sin and hardheartedness.”) Or the men who swore an oath to God that they would not eat until they had orchestrated the death of Paul? (Translation: “Lord, bless our hate because we’ve dressed it up as piety.”)

Church history has its own damnable prayers. St. Augustine (before he had the “St.”) famously prayed for some time, “Lord, make me chaste . . . but not yet!” (Translation: “Lord, bless my carnality because I have big plans to be righteous later on.”) And even after the Reformation, some über-righteous church leaders told William Carey not to go overseas, bringing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the precious peoples of India and beyond, because “If God wants to save the savages, he will do it without your help.” (Translation: “Lord, bless our laziness, callousness, and xenophobia, even as you make our wallets fatter.”)

The modern church continues this legacy of foolish, misplaced prayers. Big-name Christian singers and preachers, caught in compromising positions, more often publicly pronounce that they need not repent; after all, they prayed for God to “release them” from this commandment or that, and he answered in the affirmative! And even local churches, whether implicitly or explicitly, pray God’s blessings upon tactics, motives, unions, and behaviors that are clearly counter to God’s revealed Word. And yet, by the current reckoning, this just shows lots of faith and a “big view” of God’s grace.

I imagine most of these people knew their prayers were foolish as they uttered them. I sure did as I began trying to sputter my way through one of the most difficult texts I’ve ever preached, even while my vision swam. But if we know it’s foolish, why do we pray at all? Why not just leave God out of the equation, as many have, and “do what thou wilt?” I think it’s the same reason people clamor to surround themselves with false teachers who will say whatever their itching ears want to hear (2 Timothy 4:3): because, in the flesh, we want a false assurance that God is okay with our sin and foolishness, the he is in fact in favor of them and will bless them, rather than to hear God’s Word proclaimed as it is, convicting us and driving us to the cross, where we will repent, be forgiven, and be changed.

At the end of the day, praying a lot (even from motives that look super-spiritual) is no guarantor of true godliness. Selfish and misguided prayers are offered up by millions of people every day. The question is: what are we praying for, in what spirit, and especially, are we submitting the content and spirit of our prayers to God’s Word? Or are we asking God to give us our own little loophole in light of our special circumstances and our years of faithful service?

May our sanctification lead us down a path toward the former kind of prayer. May we pray, “Lord, break my pride, humble my spirit, banish my fear, convict me of sin, guide me into true wisdom, and continue to renew me day by day.” And when we fall into selfish prayer (or when we fall to the ground as a result), let us be open to the Holy Spirit, prompting us to repent and to give ourselves anew to the God of Scripture.

Soli Deo Gloria,
     Pastor Zach

Jesus, Tractor Beams, and Disintegration Rays

I’m back like John Travolta in ’96! I have been neglecting my poor blog lately, I know, but I’ll make up for it with a double-header today and tomorrow.

First up, a topic that was spawned from the Rick Warren/John Piper Interview. If you aren’t familiar with the background, John Piper last year invited Warren to speak at the Desiring God conference, and then a bunch of heresy-hunter types launched a veritable tweetgasm of charges and condemnations against Piper, 2nd-degree-separation-style.

I posted the video of the interview on my Facebook wall, encouraging hardcore critics of Rick Warren to watch it if they hadn’t. What followed was one of those meaty meta-conversations that make Facebook worthwhile, largely between me and my friends E. Stephen Burnett and Frank Turk (aside: Turk has an excellent article on the subject on TeamPyro today). Neither of these guys is a knee-jerk reactionary or a tiny-tent neo-gnostic Calvinist, which is what made it interesting.

We disagreed on the subject of whether Rev. Warren was being entirely forthcoming in the interview, but in the process, we began discussing a fascinating question, which I formed this way:

How close to Dort do you have to be before you’re allowed to carry out ministry unmolested by the Truly Reformed?

Turk answered, in true Turk fashion, “You cannot be too close to Dort. It’s like the Theological Starbase Batcave.” Yet the question remains: how far does one have to drift before the starbase begins a sequence of either tractor-beaming him in, or blowing him to smithereens?

Are we New Calvinists supposed to despise Billy Graham? (I sure don’t!) If so, is it just old, quasi-universalist Billy or young, Finneyistic altar-call Billy too? Do we tolerate and cooperate with Methodist pastors at the local level, but then launch missiles when a preacher with run-of-the-mill Arminian theology and methods gets “big enough” to have a national platform?

Do we trust any other traditions to maintain their own star bases and determine when their own ships have strayed too far?

This is probaly really optimistic, given the fact that I haven’t blogged in like a month, but...[waaait for it]...DISCUSS.

And check back tomorrow for reflections on last Sunday, when I passed out and fell to the chancel like a sack of potatoes halfway through my sermon.
 

An Hour Early, A Moment Too Late

I like church. Which I suppose makes sense, being that I’m a pastor and all. When I realized that our Holy Week schedule this year included four services at four different churches in the course of four days, I was jazzed.

It’s no secret that I also love ecumenical worship, and the variety in this year’s Holy Week services was very wide: a somewhat informal communion and hand-washing service at Mt. Hope Presbyterian, a kind of mosaic of different traditions at the Good Friday noon service, Tenebrae at Christ United Methodist, and of course, Easter morning at Judson, where we did what we do best—immersed a believer in the baptistery, shook the sanctuary with choir and instrumental numbers, read a bunch of Scripture, and sat through a half-hour sermon (okay, maybe a tad longer). Oh, and that was all after a potluck full of doughnuts, bacon and sausage; a Baptist-er day I cannot imagine, and it was certainly one the best Holy Weeks I’ve ever experienced.

That’s not to say the week went completely smoothly for me. When planning services with two different groups that include ten congregations from five denominations, wires can get crossed. There were a couple of small miscommunications along the way, but my biggest goof actually turned out to be a blessing.

On Friday morning, I pulled on my favorite watch (a gift from my wife), and was surprised to see that I hadn’t yet “sprung it forward.” So, of course, I took care of that and headed off to church. There, I gave my sermon a couple passes through and was surprised to see that it was already time to head to Christ Community for the pre-service holy huddle with the other pastors.

I was the first pastor to arrive, so I got my mic and did a sound check, then gave myself yet another little tour of the place (those huge old church buildings are especially majestic to those who don’t have to pay to heat them). Then, I noticed that it was quarter to, so I headed to the pastor’s office. I was still the only other pastor to have arrived. A little put out, I said, “The service starts in fifteen minutes. Where is everybody?”

“The service starts in an hour and fifteen minutes, Zach,” was his response.

That will teach me to try and decipher Roman numerals before I’ve had my first cup of coffee. Or maybe I had just confused the little hand with the big hand. Either way, the word sheepish would tidily sum up how I felt. I said I was going to go grab another cup of coffee from Biggby (which I obviously needed) and get out of the pastor’s hair, but he told me to just have a seat and make myself at home. And so I did, and got to spend an hour chatting with a pastor who I’ve grown to greatly respect over the past two or three years.

The chance to absorb some wisdom from older/wiser/more experienced pastors is a treat and a treasure to me. I found out ten years ago that coming right out with, “So, what is the most important piece of advice you can give a young pastor?” just flusters, creates all sorts of pressure and expectations, and usually results in some super-spiritual, somewhat-vague pithyism. Instead, I just like to get people talking about what they’ve done, what they’ve learned, and what they would do if they had it to do again.

And what I heard on Good Friday was that, if this pastor could go back thirty-five yeas and give himself some advice, one thing he would tell his younger self would be to emphasize putting your church in your will. Now, that might sound crass and shallow and less-than-spiritual at first (which is probably why he didn’t do it as a young man), but it’s actually as spiritual as encouraging Bible study, evangelism, or diaconal ministries within the church. In fact, it is encouraging all those things, because all of those things require funds and all of those things require a church to continue existing—to continue doing ministry—even through difficult times.

At my church,, we’ve recently seen the impact it can have when someone chooses to bless her church even after death, while she’s reigning with Christ and awaiting the resurrection. But seriously: what pastor would ever want to bring that up? Luckily, my colleague did and so now I really don’t have to .(I think he’d want me to tell you that everyone, whether 35 or 95, should have a will, and that members remembering their church in their wills can be the difference between a church folding or flourishing through difficult times; wow, I’m glad I didn’t have to say all that.)

There are a number of topics that are similarly awkward or a big downer to bring up, but incredibly important. Many of them have to do with death. Others have to do with what comes after death.

It’s coming up on the time of year when I start preparing for a week as camp pastor up at Lake Louise. I’ve been going up there since I was a squirrely little boy, and I’ve sat at hundreds of campfires there, singing the same songs, looking at the same lake, and hearing the same kind of testimonies. And yet, one of them stands out against all the rest.

When I was maybe fifteen, I remember one of the female counselors (a young lady named Natalie, who had just finished her freshman year at Judson College) breaking down and crying as she told us about her neighbor—let’s call her Judy. She and Judy (who was in her thirties) had been pretty good friends. Judy was an unbeliever, and Natalie had always wanted to share her faith with her, but had never gotten up the nerve, or perhaps the “right” opportunity had never fallen into her lap.

Then, the summer before Natalie headed off to college, Judy began asking her why she was going to that religious school. “After all,” Judy said, “you could have gotten in to State or Michigan or any number of good private schools. Why did you choose that one?” Natalie immediately saw the open door to proclaim the Truth of the Gospel. I’m going there because my faith is so important to me, she wanted to say, because Jesus saved me from hell and I want to become a better disciple even while I’m studying and preparing for a career. Can I tell you about Jesus?

But Natalie didn’t say that. She gave Judy some lame answer about how her aunt had gone there, how they had a good tennis team, and how she’d always wanted to live near Chicago. Judy had kept probing about why Natalie had chosen “that school,” giving her five or six more wide open opportunities to open wide the doors of salvation. But she never did. She’d decided after the first encounter that she needed a year of schooling under her belt—some classes about evangelism, some spiritual maturity, some stories from the halls of the Christian college—before she could grab the bull by the horns.

But Judy died in a car crash that April. And Natalie was begging all of us high school kids not to let those opportunities go by, even if they feel awkward, even if they’re easy to justify putting off. You may not get another chance if you drop this one.

That’s the kind of story I don’t usually tell. Emotional blackmail and manipulation are not my bag, but it might be worth remembering once in a while that—while we occasionally arrive an hour early and have more time than we needed (and that’s a blessing!), more often we hear of people having less time than they had counted on. And whether we’re talking about evangelism, getting that will together, getting that degree, or finally getting back on that Bible reading plan, there’s something to be said for grabbing the opportunity in the only moment you’re guaranteed—this one—and wrestling it to the ground.

So what have you been avoiding? What have you been putting off? Maybe now’s the time to do it. Maybe this is the last opportunity you’ll have. Or maybe it’s not, but either way . . . perhaps some prayer, some wisdom from the Scriptures, and some godly counsel will lead you to do something now that will have effects even beyond your life on this earth.

Soli Deo Gloria,

         Pastor Zach

Code of Ethics

No, this isn’t Lenten Experiment #2, although Code of Ethics was a pretty great band in the early nineties . This is about an actual code of ethics . . .  
 

My computers died recently. That's right, I used the plural; both my home and church PCs went the way of all flesh pretty much back-to-back. I had backed up everything from my home computer. The stuff from my study is apparently gone forever. (A moment of silence, please.)

While re-loading and re-organizing my data on my new computer, I found myself flipping mindlessly through some old files, mostly papers from college and seminary. Some were painful to read, others surprisingly articulate. If you've ever spent a couple hours going through old files, you know how fun it can be to discover something you'd completely forgotten. This happened for me with the below “Code of Ethics,” written near the end of my Ministerial Ethics class in 2004.

When I came candidating at Judson, I gave the search committee a slightly modified version of this document, but mostly it was intended for my own benefit. Having been in full-time ministry for the better part of a decade, there are some items that I would nuance if I were writing this document today, but for the most part, it represents the kind of uncompromising principles that Scripture demands. As I read it through, I see a couple areas I need to work on (as well as a few with which I've struggled in the past and, with God's help, recovered). All in all, I was glad to have this document brought back to my attention. I intend to update it and post if somewhere in my office.

Do you have a code of ethics for your professional, personal, and family life? When I was a youth minister, I used to rip off some famous conference speaker's line and pretend it was my own (I didn't have a code of ethics back then), telling the teens that they should “decide in the cool of the afternoon what they were going to do in the heat of the night.” Of course, I was referring to partying, sex, alcohol—that sort of thing, but it could be applied to a shady business deal, missing a little league game, or talking a customer into a financing plan he or she can't afford. I encourage you to take some time soon—using Scripture and your own goals and values—to prayerfully lay out a code of ethics, and to give copies to some people in your life who can hold you accountable. It certainly won't make you perfect, but like Job who made a covenant with his eyes or the Nazarites who kept their vows to the glory of God, it pays to decide in the cool of the afternoon what you will do in the heat of the moment—whether in the board room, the bedroom, or the classroom. And I've found that having something succinct down in black and white helps to keep me from pulling a fast one on myself.

Code of Ministerial Ethics


Ministry

• I will strive to maintain an attitude of servant-leadership. I will always remember that I have given up any life of self-fulfillment or self-seeking in order to serve God by serving my congregation. I will think of them in love and lead them with gentleness. I will avoid extreme forms of leadership, being neither dictatorial nor easily manipulated. I will serve my congregation by helping them grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus.
  
• I will balance preaching, teaching, discipleship, evangelism, and other duties. I will do my best to fulfill all facets of my job description. I will not put an undue amount of time and energy into any individual facet to the exclusion of the others. Still, I will recognize that my primary role is that of preacher/teacher and will give it the appropriate emphasis. I will never knowingly misuse a text to fit my agenda in preaching. I will strive to always exegete, not “intro-gete” the Holy Scripture, paying careful attention to the original language, historical and cultural context, etc.
  
• I will maintain a heightened professional sense of confidentiality. I will never break the confidence of a counselee, colleague, or parishioner unless they plan to harm themselves or others. I will never use a counseling session or church conflict experience as a sermon illustration.
  
• I will respect the traditions of the church I am serving. I will seriously pray and seek wise counsel when considering changes to an existing tradition in the church. When such a change does take place, I will do my best to implement it gently and lovingly, understanding that traditions are important to people and often serve as aids to worshiping God.
  
• I will not use my status as a minister to my personal advantage. I will not use the pastorate as a tool to gain deals, freebies, or preferential treatment. Nor will I use my pulpit or position to advocate particular political parties or positions. To do so would be to trivialize my call to Gospel ministry.
  
• I will not show favoritism in dealing with my congregation. Recognizing that I will undoubtedly develop closer relationships with some church members than with others, I will not allow my ministry to be corrupted through the exchange of favors, preferential treatment of friends, etc. in the context of church business and ministry.
  
• I will cooperate with other Christian churches and denominations as much as possible. I will teach my congregation about the vastness of the Kingdom of God through joint worship, service, and fellowship with other Christian churches. I will not attempt to recruit members from other Christian churches.
  
• I will take on additional responsibilities (beyond my role as pastor) only if I can fulfill them without a negative effect on my ministry. Pastors are in a unique position to be salt and light to the community. I will always consider carefully my motives in taking on such additional roles and make certain that I have the time and energy to carry them out.
  
• When I leave a church, I will do it for the right reasons and will not come back without the consent of the new minister. Although churches are usually happy to see a former pastor, I will bear in mind that, in order for my successors to be effective, they need to develop relationships with their people without competition from former leaders. I will always seek God through serious prayer to ensure that I never consider leaving a church for purely monetary or status-related reasons.

Personal

• I will not use my ministry as an excuse to neglect my own physical, mental, and emotional needs. In order to be a good steward of my body and in order to be the most effective minister possible, I must take care of my own needs as a fallible human. I recognize that there will be a temptation to become a “martyr” for my ministry by ignoring personal needs. I will overcome this temptation, God being my helper. I will regularly exercise my body, maintain a healthy diet, and get adequate sleep in order to remain physically fit. I will allow myself to forget about ministry pressures and responsibilities for set periods of time to keep myself from mental and emotional overload. I will make wise use of advanced planning on a calendar or planning device to secure the time needed for these activities.
  
• I will continually seek God in order to grow in faith and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ through personal study, prayer, and continued education. I may be tempted to neglect my own spiritual development because of the demands of helping my congregation with theirs. I will never stop studying God’s word, seeking His will through prayer, developing my theology, and enjoying personal times of worship. I will take part in seminars, conferences, and classes that will help me in my personal spiritual formation as well as those that will help me as a pastor and leader. I recognize that all Christians are called to a lifetime of continued maturing in faith.
  
• I will respect the Fourth Commandment by devoting one day out of seven to rest, reflection, and prayer. Although I may always be on call for emergencies, I will make every effort to rest regularly. In addition to weekly rest, I will try to have regular retreats both with family (vacation) and alone (sabbatical, study).
  
• I will honor God with the way I conduct my finances. As good stewards of the gifts God has blessed me with, my wife and I will always live within our means and cheerfully give the Lord a tithe of our income.
  
• I will pursue friendships outside of the congregation I serve. In order to maintain a healthy personal life and avoid burnout, I will maintain friendships with some people outside of my church and denomination. These friendships may or may not be evangelism opportunities, but evangelism will not be their only goal.
  
• I will not take advantage of the freedom afforded by a career in ministry. I recognize that although a career in ministry offers some flexibility and less direct supervision than most, ministers are more accountable to God and man. I will not take advantage of this flexibility and fall into the sin of laziness. If I do, I will confess it immediately and seek God’s help in correcting it.
  
• I will remain humble in any successes, reminding myself that it is ultimately not my ministry, but God’s. I will continually pray for God to strengthen me against the pride that can plague ministers. Should I find that I am becoming prideful, I will ask God to break me of my pride, knowing that He will do so.
  
• I will avoid inappropriate conversation and gossip. As a minister, I will be privy to information that should not be shared in casual conversation. I will decide before the fact what I will and will not discuss with others, based on the factors involved.
  
• I will take part in a clergy accountability group. Because a cord of three strands cannot be broken, I will seek out a group of at least two other ministers for the purpose of accountability, mutual edification, and encouragement.
  
• I will not be alone with a woman to whom I am not related. (Except eldery women, shut-ins, etc.) Because Satan gains footholds through such indiscretions, no matter how trivial they seem, I am committed to avoiding all such situations in order to remain above reproach and maintain my reputation. I will never counsel a woman alone unless others are present in the vicinity and able to see us at all times.

Family

• I will always recognize that my first commitment is to my family. Because a man must first have his own house in order to be eligible for ministry, I will always make my family my first priority. I will do whatever I can to keep my ministry from becoming a source of conflict within my family. I will block out, in advance, regular times devoted exclusively to my wife (and any future children) and protect these times from sources of competition.
  
• I will not use my vocation as an excuse to impose unrealistic expectations on my family. I will communicate to my church that my family is a normal family and must be allowed to operate as such.
  
• I will respect my wife’s gifts and talents. I will not look to my family as an easy way to fill a position or need within the church unless they are gifted in that area of ministry and feel a call to it. Should we have children, I will not communicate to them any expectation that they will go into professional ministry unless they are called by God.
  
• I will secure permission from family members before using them in sermon illustrations. Because the pastor’s family should not be expected to always open every detail of their lives up to the church, I will be very judicious about my use of family situations as sermon illustrations.
  
• I will maintain a healthy boundary between “work” and “home.” Although a minister can never (and should never) completely separate his personal life from his “work life,” I will respect my family's needs and develop boundaries with the church as to when I am available and when I am unavailable, save true emergencies.
  
• I will maintain an open and honest relationship with my wife. I will not hide personal and pastoral failings from my wife. If I violate an area of my personal or family ethical code, I will tell her immediately.

Lenten Experiment #1: Fireproof

 
If you read my last post, you know about my five-month Lent commitment. I've been trying to enjoy some things that my snarkiness would not have permitted before Ash Wednesday. I bought a three-disc set of super-old-school Michael W. Smith CDs, which I've been enjoying with no little nostalgia. I've been avoiding the online Rob Bell dust-up. All was going well. But then I decided to up the ante.

That's right...Fireproof: The Christian Movie.

Who ordered the charred awesome?

Now, I've watched Fireproof before, but it was with smirk firmly affixed. Not this time. You may be thinking, “But Pastor Zach, why wouldn't you build up to a movie produced by a church, starring church members? Why not start with an incredible movie like Amazing Grace or Luther? Then move on to straight-to-video fare featuring big-name stars of the '80s and '90s? Then, once you're all warmed up, tackle the likes of Fireproof?”

Simple: Kirk Cameron is a guilty pleasure of mine.

Yeah, I wish I could rapture away every copy of the Left Behind movies, and I get a little uneasy when I see Mr. Cameron holding a banana, preparing to defend the Christian faith. But the guy is awesome anyway. Google “Camp Firefly” for an example of how awesome he is.

So, how was watching Fireproof with my new attitude? Rough. Rough-ish, anyway. Until I realized that, cast almost entirely with church members, this film should be held more to the standard of a church play than a Hollywood production. With that standard in place, the film is downright impressive. And then you've got Kirm Cameron, who is actually pretty Pesci as a firefighter in this movie.

Highlights:

• Kirk Cameron is at his best here. Now, it might be the fact that he's surrounded entirely by amateurs, but I think it's something more than that. He's very convincing in his frustration and anger with his wife. I really think, given the whole recent '80s-stars-making-a-comeback phenomenon, if it weren't for his outspoken faith, Cameron would be playing roles in “real” movies these days. I'm not suggesting that he'd have gone directly from Growing Pains to $20 million dollar paychecks and leading man roles (although DeCaprio did just that), but compromising his faith could certainly have helped his career from a human perspective.
  
  Fun fact: Cameron flew in his wife, Chelsea Noble (who is a professional actress, begging the question: why didn't she play the leading lady) and dressed her up as his on-screen wife for the sillhouetted kissing scene at the end. He's taken a lot of flack for this principle, but it just makes him even more awesome in my mind.
  
  
• Erin Bethea, who plays Kirk Cameron's wife, is pretty darn good. I understand she's the pastor's daughter at the church that put this movie out, and also played a role in Facing the Giants. I also understand that her acting has improved greatly between the two films. Good for her.
  
  
• The scenes in the firehouse are pretty funny. Especially the stuff with Wayne and Terrell.
  
  
• The Love Dare concept itself is great. I really don't think I've encounterd any other marriage “tool” so distinctly Christian. Even amidst the awful acting from Kirk Cameron's on-screen father, I was rooting for the dare to work from the get go.
  
  
• Alluminum bat vs. PC = best scene in the movie! When tempted to fall back into Internet porn after getting saved, Caleb (Cameron) brings the computer outside and beats it down, Office Space style. I was watching this with my wife and mother-in-law, who commented, “That's a little excessive,” to which I replied, “Not as excessive as cutting off your hand or plucking out your eye!”

The Movie's Message:

When this flick came out in 2008, I remember reading a lot of Reformed bloggers trashing it for being too Law-based. I just don't see it. First of all, what's wrong with the Law? If we're really not antinomians, we recognize the need for imperatives (rooted in the indicative of the Gospel, which this film does just fine). Others complained that all the marriage problems sorted themselves out too easily. Huh?!If cooking a candlelight dinner for your wife and having her look you in the eye and say, “I don't love you,“ or leaving her a dozen roses and a note only to have her leave you divorce papers is “easy,” then I need to re-visit the basic definitions of the terms involved.

I think there were basically three great messages in this film:

1. “Don't follow your heart. Your heart can be deceived. You've got to lead your heart.” Best line in the movie. And a message greatly missing from many pulpits.

2. The kind of love described in I Corinthians 13 is not nearly so neat, cute, and fluffy as we try to make it. Watching someone keep no record of wrongs, forgive unconditionally (70 x 7), and return good for evil again and again is downright painful. But, in the end, reminds us what kind of love should mark a Christian’s life.

3. Sin should not be toyed with. It should be beaten to death with a baseball bat. Rap music optional.
 

When Killing Pets Gets Fun

 
or

Why Lent Will Last Five Months

This is going to be huge, people. And by that, I mostly mean that it’s going to be really long, but I also mean that—in the context of my little life and ministry—it may prove rather significant. Or not.

Back story: My wife and I went to a John Reuben concert last Friday at the beautiful State Theatre in my home town of Bay City, Michigan. Of course, it was incredible, as Mr. Zappin is one of the best showmen working today and knows how to ramp up the energy in a crowd with no effort at all. His music is also snappy.

Man, the camera on my cell phone sucks...

Now, I used to be the first guy in the mosh pit and the last guy out, but since about 2003, I'd rather sit and enjoy the performance. I hate it when I have to stand up at a concert in order to see. I mean, you pay for a seat, right? So, I was pleased to find a couple spots in the balcony with a great view of the stage. Add to that the dirt-cheap popcorn, Raisinets, and Mt. Dew from the snack bar and I was in concert heaven. An up-and-coming regional group called the Matt Moore Band opened up; they were great, and I’m sure they’ll be hitting the national scene soon.

Understand that Pastor Zach has been to a lot of concerts. From 1994-1996, I was a deejay at a Christian music station (89.1 FM, WTRK the ROCK), and the benefits package consisted of free trips to pretty much every Christian concert in the area. The summer months were the busiest, when I went to at least one concert a week, usually more. I saw a lot of merch tables and intentional branding. I heard a lot of rather Finneyistic altar calls. I could fill volumes with the raspy pseudo-theological musings that I heard from A, B, and C-list Christian singers.

And I loved it.

Shortly after leaving that gig, I became a youth pastor. i.e., lots more concerts, lots more merch, lots more “talks”. With my graduation from college, my marriage, and the birth of my son, that sort of thing has gone by the wayside, as I suppose it should.

But attending this concert just down the road from where I used to spin CDs was a bizarre, deja-vu-ish experience. Although for different reasons (back stage pass, manning the radio station’s booth, keeping an eye on squirrely youth group members, etc.), I often watched those many former concerts from a detached distance as well, occasionaly while munching on green room goodies. Add in the fact that the place was 90% youth group kids, and I felt a bit as if I had travelled back in time to re-experience the sort of live-music-induced, uber-positive vibes that I rarely encounter these days.

And, man, was this show—in every way—postive! Reuben led the crowd in singing Happy Birthday to an elated 8th grade girl near the front. He “opened the mic to any other emcees in the building,” an exercise which netted three eleven-year-old kids who called themselves Triple Beat and a painfully dorky forty-five year old dad who filled his embarrassing my kids quota for the next decade. Through all this, Reuben remained steadfastly amped and upbeat. There was no hint of bitterness that he used to play venues ten times bigger (perhaps he still does); he poured himself into that show like he would have if there were fifty thousand people present. My hat is off to the man.

So what does this have to do with Lent? (Or killing pets?) Well, in the after-glow of this event, I decided what I would give up for Lent this year (cue Fundie joke about giving up “popish traditions”). It’s actually quite fitting, given the nostalgic turn of the night, as my devotional life was completely wound up in my concert-going, raspy-spiritual-talk-hearing, T-shirt-slogan, high-pressure-invitation-witnessing life during my deejay days.

So here it is: I’m giving up spiritual negativity. Seriously.

What does this mean? Well, it resists being described succinctly. For starters, it means I won’t be listening to certain podcasts or regularly reading certain blogs—the ones dedicated to exposing the false teachings of everyone everywhere and slaying heretics with a fiery sword, the ones that often (literally) make a game out of spotting and crushing error. It means I won’t be writing those kinds of blog posts myself. It means skipping the semi-regular portion of my sermon where I show how wrong “certain preachers” (always unnamed) are in their interpretation of this or that text. It means I’ll resist the urge to go off on Christian music, movies, and T-shirts for being so trite, stupid, and embarrassing . . . even when they are.

What does it not mean? Well, I’m not losing my Gen X sarcastic sense of humor, for starters. I’m not bailing on writing my chapters for Beauty and the Mark of the Beast (which almost immediately stopped being a critique of anything and started just being a goofy literary cartoon).I’m not setting aside the use of the Law in my preaching or my evangelism. I’m not shirking my responsibility to discernment in my pastoral ministry (i.e., if someone asks me about a given teaching or teacher, I will respond biblically and truthfully; ibid if a prominent false teaching begins to affect my congregation and must be dealt with . . . I just won’t be searching and destroying heresies like Dog the Bounty Hunter).

And most imporantly, I’m not changing my mind about the legitimacy or importance of contending for the Faith once for all handed down to the saints, calling spiritual error what it is, and comparing what people say in God’s name to what God actually said in His Word. Yes, I am aware that a lot of what Paul, John, James, and even Jesus wrote/said could potentially be branded “spiritual negativity.” I am aware that the same people who throw around the terms “heresy hunter” and “doctrine cop” in a derisive way would probably be horrified if they read the Church Fathers.

But here’s the thing: for Jesus and his apostles, contending against wolves was not the main event. Preaching the Gospel was. Dealing with false teachers and creeping error was an unfortunate necessity. I’m afraid that, for many today, it’s not the fishing but the hunting that really gets them going. I can see myself very slowly trending in that direction. And that is not good.

Let me put it this way: my childhood cat, Clifford (who was with the family for 21 years) was recently given to a nice family who lives on a farm. In other words, he was driven to the vet, where he was given an injection of something deadly, and Clifford stopped living. I’m thankful that there are people willing to do that job; it needed to be done, as the poor old thing could no longer even find his way to his food bowl without help. It’s a necessary task, but probably the biggest downer in the day of any vet. But what if Dr. So-and-so started to like putting down animals? What if he never killed anything that wasn’t specifically brought in for that purpose, but he started deriving great pleasure from making the injections and watching the animals die? Wouldn’t that concern you? Shouldn't it concern him?

Or maybe a better analogy is the flyer I received at the church last week for a company that comes in and “cleans up” after a death, violent crime, or suicide. These people viewed it as a ministry, caring for families when they were at their weakest and couldn't deal with the grizzly reminders in the drapes or the rug. And God bless them for it. But what if one of those guys started to like the blood and guts? What if he reached the point where his favorite thing to do was to pick pieces of skull and brain off of a linoleum floor?

In neither case would society be worse off, I suppose, (grizzly jobs need to be done), but that individual would be headed down a decidedly jacked up, unhealthy road. And while the church might perhaps benefit from even the most blood-thirsty heretic hound, I don’t think it’s good for them (the hounds themselves) when they relish the kill like that.

Am I changing my theology because of a corny experience in a big room full of youth group kids? Nah, I’m not changing my theology at all. I just want another chance to be that guy who could listen to Geoff Moore talk about his “quiet time” or pop in a “Christian movie”—not without discernment, but more expecting that God might speak through it than suspecting that it’s a conduit of deadly error. This is, I believe, a needed repreive for me—a safeguard in my sanctification. And I’m not trying to tell you that I received some revelation through the mouth of John Reuben or the kids of Triple Beat. This was good old fashioned Providence at its best.

So why will Lent last five months? Because the forty days of Lent are really incidental to this whole thing, and I don’t think forty days is a long enough detox period. Perhaps I was already thinking of Brian McLaren's recently concluded self-imposed five year moratorium on discussing homosexuality. Five years may be over-committing. Five months, I can handle. And why bring up McLaren? Because the hardcore ODM guys who will undoubtedly see this as some sort of swipe at them will be horribly scandalized by the dropping of BM's name.

And Lent hasn’t started yet.

For the record, of course McLaren’s books are full of rank heresy (especially his last one) and are dangerous to the Church at large. But, for the next five months, the Church at large will have to do without me on counter-offensive.

If you’re still with me, then you’re a true-blue reader of this blog. I’ll still be writing during the next five months, still determined to know nothing among you but Christ and Him crucified. Nothing at all, not even heretics and them humiliated.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Zach

What About Bob?

 

So, in this former post, I described in very general terms a man who claimed to be a Christian. I told you that he wanted your sincere opinion—recognizing that only God really knows who his elect are—as to whether or not Bob fits the bill.

Seventeen people weighed in, and one cyber-troll used the meta as a forum for taking cheap shots at the one and only Frank Turk¹. Of the useful comments, there was a wide range of perspectives represented.

• Several people were concerned by the fact that he felt the need to ask. If he was unsure of his faith, that might be a point of concern, they said. Turns out Bob was just asking so that we could have this discussion.

• Rachel over-thought the heck out of it, but warmed my heart and convicted me by viewing this hypothetical scenario as an opportunity to bring glory to God. (Sadly, I sometimes find myself doing the opposite, and viewing real opportunities to share God’s love as academic exercises.)
  
• Pastor Kit deemed Bob Chalcedon-compliant (assuming that he truly believes what he says he believes).
  
• Αναστασία wondered why baptism had not come up in his summary. Others wondered why church membership was not part of the equation. Still, these were generally hopeful that Bob is a true Christian.
  
• Ruth wrote, “Bob believes and has confessed that Jesus is the Son of God. We are saved through faith by God's grace. Isn't it that simple?” and cited Ephesians 2:8-9.
  
• Brad systematically laid out Bob’s affirmation of basic Christian doctrine, his acceptance of the Gospel, his desire to know God, his apparent penitance, and the fact that he is “testing his election.” He concluded, “I can comfortably say that Bob shows signs that he has been regenerated via the spirit.”
  

This is more or less what I expected. And my basic plan for the follow-up post was to agree that Bob seems to be a Christian . . . and then to give additional details for several possible Bobs, all of which could fit with the information given us by Bob himself—at least from Bob’s perspective:

• Bob is a hard-core fundamentalist who thinks everyone who uses real wine for the Eucharist (and everyone who uses the word Eucharist) is going to hell.
  
• Bob “loves Jesus, but not the Church.” He never gathers together with other believers, thinks of his relationship with God in purely vertical, individualistic terms, has not been baptized, and never receives the Lord’s Supper.
  
• Bob is a faithful Roman Catholic who attends mass twice a week.
  
• Bob is a homosexual, who lives with his partner (who also describes his own faith in similar terms).
  
• Bob is actual Rick Warren. He’s been working undercover at your workplace.
  
• Bob is a universalist. (How timely.)

Despite Otternam’s suspicion that he was being “played by some technicality,” my real aim was to spark thought (and maybe conversation) about how we define a brother or sister in Christ. And, while it’s an easy copout to just say, “Only God knows his/her heart,” Scripture tells us how to deal with believers and unbelievers, true brothers and false, in a way that assumes we can make some distinction. It is an important discussion to have. And I’ve noticed that people usually have one set of criteria when dealing in generalities, and an entirely different (and more fluid) set when dealing with specific people. I am no exception. My list of essentials can tend to grow or shrink depending on the situation.

I know I’m not alone here, because I’ve seen many other Christians doing the same thing. You might even be mentally adjusting your list now, based on the above Bobs.

SO...

1. Are we over-simplifying the marks of a true disciple when we quote Romans 10:9 or Ephesians 2:8-10 removed from their epistolary homes, thus making for a very big and diverse tent?

or

2. Do we tend to selectively add non-essentials to the requirements for a disciple in order to keep certain people out, because they make us uncomfortable or challenge our own cultural-religious presuppositions?

or

3. Something else entirely?

That’s what I was going to write, but then a friend of mine re-tweeted that post and I got another wave of answers, which were far less certain about Bob’s salvation (even without the above fill-in-the-blank specifics). They wanted to hear the word “repentance,” rather than talk of “feeling bad” or “being sorry.” They wondered about fruit in this man’s life. I might sum up their collective reservations by quoting a guy name Daniel (whose animated avatar I could not stop staring at): “ Tares believe that the truths are true, and that they are saved - not because they have repented of their rebellion and are trusting God to save them, but because they have been fortified in (and by) an incomplete (and therefore false) gospel.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that these “Turkish” responses throw a wrench into the works of my planned follow-up, but I’m not sure of the full ramifications of said wrench.

Let’s sort this all out together, shall we?


------------------------
Footnotes
¹ This is sort of a roadshow that makes its way around the reformed blogosphere; it feels a little bit like Cool Hand Luke, but, being more like Drago than Dragline, I don't think Turk’s ever going to get tired of knocking him back down.

Is Bob a Christian?

Bob comes up to you at work while you’re enjoying your turkey sandwich and swiss cake roll. He asks for a moment of your time. Bob knows you’re involved at your church and he’s seen you carrying that big Bible around, so he wants your opinion on something: is he a Christian? He knows that only God can distinguish wheat from chaff and that only God knows the heart and all that stuff; he just wants your best guess.

Without pausing to take a breath, he gives you this information:

• Bob believes in a triune God and that Jesus Christ is God and man.
  
  
• Bob believes that Jesus died on a cross and rose again from the dead.
  
  
• Bob believes that, as a result of Jesus’ death and resurrection, he (Bob) will be able to stand before the Father on the last day.
  
  
• Bob tries to live a godly life according to the Scriptures, but knows that he continues to sin, which grieves him.

So here’s the question:
do you need any more information before you give Bob your assessment?