Bill’s Musings

I am back. I actually have time to write for my blog. At long last I have finished my Master of Divinity, walked the aisle, had the hood placed on my shoulders and received a nice folder with a letter inside saying that my degree is in the mail.

I spent four years on campus at Briercrest Seminary and the better part of the last two years in ministry while trying to finish the last few requirements for my degree. Six years…it only took six years. It seems to me that I had hoped to do it in three.

In the end, graduation was anticlimactic. It was good to see some old friends and chat with the professors who were so formative in my studies. The pomp of the ceremony, however left me a little cold. It isn’t that the speeches weren’t good, they were.

The problem is that the robes and academic lingo seems out of place when the ministry I was trained for is at best messy. The dignity of doctoral robes and masters hoods is replace by obscurity and dismissal experienced in ministry. The formal language replaced by mono-syllabic expressions.

In some small way, I felt like a soldier coming back from the front, mud caked, blood and soil stained clothes, stumbling onto a parade ground with new recruits all decked out in their dress uniforms standing in tidy lines with polished boots and unloaded weapons. The scene is both comical and borderline tragic.

In fairness, I do know that many of my fellow seminary students have lived and served in the trenches. The same is true of many of the professors. Perhaps that is what made it all the more paradoxical. I don’t a one of those people who would put on their academic garb to feed the poor or visit the sick. I also know that their own journeys have taken them through the messiness of the trenches. That’s what made them particularly good teachers.

Perhaps our academic attire needs to be traded in for sack cloth and ashes, or unadorned “monk” robes. The only problem is that we couldn’t show off our achievements–our glory. That wouldn’t be Biblical would it? There is a humility in Scripture that is largely absent in the pomp of academic graduation.

At the same time, there is something profound in marking passages with extravagance. We do that for birthdays, weddings, and even funerals. Significant life passages were also marked in the life of Israel. There were the yearly festivals, circumcisions, marriages, and later baptisms.

So perhaps there is something Biblical about marking the passage of graduation with pomp…at least as long as it is God who is ultimately glorified. That is not always easy. There is a little narcissism in all of us.

Perhaps the graduation ceremony really is reflective of life in that it says something about us. We need to celebrate passages, but how easy it is to make it all about us. How hard it is to put on the robes and hoods while remembering that it’s all about Jesus. None of it would be possible without Him. For that matter, who would go to seminary if it wasn’t for Jesus.

OK, that just might be an exaggeration, but this guy who can’t even keep up with his blog has entered the world of Facebook. Yes, I did it. I set up a Facebook account. I’ll look into therapy next week.

We live in a fascinating times. It wasn’t that long ago–really it wasn’t–that social networking sites were little more than a coder’s twinkle in the eye. The concept, however is much older.

Fast forwarding past drums and snail mail….when I was in high school I got my amateur radio operators licence. This geeky kid with less than an exciting social life was the prototypical pimply high school computer geek of this age–except I had radio with vacuum tubes and no microprocessor.

Back in those days, even before the advent of computer bulletin boards–because almost no one had a computer yet–back in those dark years of later 1970s I used Morse Code to communicate to fellow amateur radio operators. Yes, Morse Code. If you don’t know what that is, Google it.

In time communications became a vocation. Spending my days fixing communications networks and being a consumer of them too, the idea of playing with radios in my spare time became less attractive. Mind you I also got married and there were many more attractive things to do, not to mention responsibilities.

As the years ticked by, PCs became readily available for the price of a good used car. I bought one. I played around with bulletin boards, but no one I really wanted to talk to used the one I was on, at least not anyone I didn’t see at work. I do recall when thanks to telnet I was able to access crude e-mail on the Internet…but I still didn’t have any one to talk to. Good thing I was married.

Dial up Internet access, now that changed things a little. With that I could easily send e-mails to people I knew who had Internet access–which was almost no one. Back then they were even talking about this weird idea of the world wide web–weird ‘eh.

Fast forward a few years…have things ever changed. My kids have basically grown up in a world where cell phones and instant messaging have “always been there.” I wonder if my youngest would know how to talk to her friends with out texting, messaging, Facebook, twiddle and tweet.

So what has changed? Accessibility.

Thanks to high sales volumes of high tech gadgetry and networks, what was once expensive and complicated has become affordable and usable by most people (at least in my neck of the woods). What was but a dream when I graduated from high school in 1980 has caused a revolution in how we relate to one another.

I tend to view the philosophical constructs of “modern” and “postmodern” as descriptive rather than prescriptive. How we define community today is vastly different than how we did just a few decades ago–a mere flicker in the human timeline. Community used to be defined by geography. Live in the same village and you were part of that community, like it or not. Today we create the communities of our liking. All that is required is mutual access to a network. If people subscribe to texting, messaging, or social networking sites, you can be part of their community.

Point in case. Much to my dismay, I had lost touch with almost all of my high school class mates. I moved out of town and became part of other communities. Some stayed in that beautiful valley (it really is beautiful) while others moved on. When my 10th year reunion came up, I couldn’t make it for personal reasons. When my 20th year reunion arrived, business demands prevented me from going. I figured I would probably never reconnect with any one other than the occasional chance meeting…and then along comes Facebook.

I was slow to get on Facebook. My kids were on Facebook, but I stuck with a blog. A few days ago I broke down and subscribed to Facebook. Then it happened. First one old school mate and then another appeared. I confess I have had to work at remembering who some of them are. My Grad Year Book got damaged beyond repair in a flood so I can’t even go back to that to remind myself. How sad.

The beauty of it all is this; I can re-enter a community that apparently remembers me better than I remember them (to my shame). I can do it because in this postmodern world, community is accessible. I look forward to getting reacquainted with people who in a sense I never knew, at least not as adults free of the vagaries of teen age social pressures. May be a better way of stating it would be to say that I used to worry about being “weird,” but now I don’t mind it at all

I’ll end this ramble with two thoughts.

First, it is ironic that I start “high tech” networking with a single key, but now it takes a keyboard full. It took one key to say -.-. –.- -.. . …- .–…  but nine keys to say CQ THIS IS VE7.

The second, is a wee bit of paranoia…what happens when the power goes out. Did you ever consider that our postmodern idealism of community building as enabled by technologies such as Facebook was adding to global warming?  I told you I was weird.

PS – I am still happily married. Even though we live in the same house, we have been known to text each other at home–just to silly. It got really strange though when I left a message on my wife’s Facebook wall.

Not much serious here. Just a little story from a guy wanting to sit on the deck on a warm day and read a good book.

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    Frosty’s his heart melted when he saw the sheriff ride up to the snow fort, its walls crumpling under the mid day sun. The sheriff was a green horn. Just a kid from the south. The sheriff could feel Frosty’s icy glare, like a ice crystals blown by a howling north wind. A lesser man would have slipped and fallen, but not the intrepid sheriff with a warm heart and a laugh that could melt the heart of the coldest gal in town. Frosty’s time was up. He had a ball while it lasted.

     Frosty’s feet felt frozen to the ground. He couldn’t move. For a moment he thought he was sweating. Then he realized he was melting.

     “What do you want sheriff Spring?” The chill in Frosty’s voice was fading fast.

     “Frosty, the folks of this fine town have had enough of you. They’re tired you abusing them so you can have a fat account in the snow bank. They’re tired of hiding in there homes. They’re tired of your icy grip. ”

     “And what are you going to do about it Sheriff?” Frosty did his best to sound calm and cool.

     “Frosty, either ride out of town or you’ll be down the creek with out a paddle.” Frosty glanced down at the puddle by his feet…no he wasn’t that scared…yet.  

     Sheriff spring noticed the puddle too. “Are you cold or just shaking in your boots.”

     “You don’t scare me sheriff.” There was a lingering chill in Frosty’s voice.

     “The folks in town want you gone. Either head north or feel your life trickle away, one drip at a time.”

     “Are you threatening me Sheriff? Just wait until the heat of summer and you will all be paying big bucks for snow cones, blizzards and iced tea.”

     “Nice try Frosty, but it wouldn’t work. Your days are numbered. You’re getting old. You’re not as tall as you used to be. You’re getting soft.”

     “Who are you calling soft Sheriff. You’re just a green twig of a man. Why don’t you just leave.”

     “Oh, I plan to leave, leaf that is.”

     “What are you going to do, pun me to death…or are you packing heat?”

     “No frosty, I’ll save the bullets and let the mid day sun do that. Say, isn’t sweat running down you face. Right, cool guys like you don’t sweat.” 

     “Yeah I’m cool and your not. All you have to offer the town is mud and flowers. What kind of sheriff are you anyway. You break me up Spring.”

     “You’re melting Frosty. You’re the one making the mess. It’s time for you and your flakey friends to get out of town.”

     “Yeah, well maybe I’ll go, but I’ll be back.”

     “Not so fast snow man. Why don’t you just run off now.”

     Frosty’s fear was getting the better of him. His legs were feeling watery. His heart melted. He began to droop as his strength flowed out of him. Soon he would be snow more.

I originally posted this on my church web site. I thought I would x-post it here in my personal blog.

One of the occupational hazards of being a pastor is the impulse to give answers to people’s questions…even the ones they don’t ask. I am, however, becoming increasingly convinced that questions are far more valuable than answers. Let me explain.

The more I learn from the Scriptures, the more questions I have. Although the questions become deeper, sometimes the questions raised are “simple” ones. It isn’t that the Scriptures don’t provide answers. The issue is, what kind of answers do we seek?

An answer that raises no questions, acknowledges no questions or even doubt, is a dead end. There is no where to go to dig deeper, grow in understanding and perhaps even correcting error. On the other hand, answers that raise new questions promote deeper understanding, open the door for fresh dialogue and yes, even correction. This means of course that there are in a sense, no answers, only new questions.

Some may find this endless line of questioning troublesome, but I don’t. It is through the questions that we gain understanding. We grow in our knowledge of the Scriptures, of Theology, of God Himself as we dig deeper, asking new questions. We stagnate when we merely accept answers with no further questions. Our life as Christians becomes stale when we quit asking questions.

My own journey with Christ began not with answers, but with questions. I asked a couple of Christian friends a question. They tried to answer it, but realized that the answer they had was inadequate. That lead us to embark on a journey of questions together and the rest is history. By the way, I haven’t found the answer to the question.

I have wondered from time to time what life would have been like before Adam and Eve had knowledge of good and evil.

Genesis 3:5  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

The idea of “good” vs. “evil” requires a dualism, the belief in two opposing principles. It seems at times that one does not have to look far to see vestiges of this assumed dualism in nature. We live in a world of opposites…or do we?

Consider the colors red and green. They are opposites on the color wheel, red being on of the three primary colors and green being a mix of the yellow and blue, the other primaries. The artist, however does not think of red and green as opposites, rather they are considered complements. Place complementary colors next to each other and they stand out. They complement each other. They are unique since the perfect complement of red will have no red in it. Interestingly, if you mix perfect complements, the vibrant colors are reduced to gray, even black.

Male and female complement each other because they are different, but one is not lesser. They are not opposites, rather complementary varieties of the same thing. Colors of humanity if you will.  We could speak of the weather in a similar way. Rain and sun complement each other, sustaining life. All of one or all of the other is devastating. Even as a tulip bulb needs the cold before it will grow in the spring, but it needs warmth to grow. Summer and winter complement each other, sustaining life through the seasons. This is the harmony of creation.

Speaking of creation, the book of Genesis tell us, “And God saw that it is good.”  Creation is good.

If creation is good, what is evil? Allow me to suggest an artistic metaphor. When that which is complementary is mixed together, it looses vibrancy. A new thing has not been created. The rich harmony has merely been reduced to a colorless mess.

The presumption of evil is the judgement that what God has created in perfect harmony is not good. Evil is to presume to judge God. Who are we to judge our creator? Who are we to presume to know what is good and what is evil…as if such a thing intrinsically exists. We can only truly know good, for that is all that God created, but it is only in creation as God intended that we can know it.

The problem, however is that we have messed with the color harmony of creation. It is only by scraping off the palette and loading on fresh paint that the vibrancy of creation can be restored. This is the reconciling work of Jesus Christ. This is redemption. This is the new creation.

I have been thinking about words lately. Specifically the words that make up our typical Christian parlance. Words like “worship”, “saved” or phrases like “personal relationship” (isn’t “personal relationship” something of an oxymoron?). We use these words freely in Christian settings, but do we really know what they mean?

I have this growing unease that we have become far more familiar with these terms than we have with the Biblical concepts behind them.

For instance, does our common use of the word “worship” reflect the Biblical concepts of worship? Does singing music that stirs a pleasant reverent emotional state equal Biblical worship? Jesus spoke of worshipping “in spirit and in truth.” Is there a connection between pleasant feelings and worshipping in spirit and in truth? The picture gets even fuzzier when we consider OT worship. (I am foregoing an excursus into the original languages here even though if adds fuel to my unease, but  this post is on “words” not the specifics of the theological implications of the “words.”) The bottom line is this, can the majority of Christians offer a definition of worship that would stand up to the test of being Biblical?

(I concede here that even the term “Biblical” is problematic.)

How about “saved”. Saved from what? Saved for what? It seems that saved has become a coded way of saying things like justified, reconciled and redeemed. That is fine if we understand what is behind the short fomr term “saved,” but again, how well is it understood?

The latest one to trouble me is the phrase “personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” I have been a Christian long enough to know what this means…at least what it means to me.  Is it strictly speaking Biblical, or is it a derivative concept?  The Pharisees had a relationship with Jesus, albeit rather acrimonious.  So what does “relationship” mean?

Those of you who know me reasonably well will understand that I am not simply stirring the pot or questioning the basics of the Christian faith. I am also not implying a lack of intellect on the part of Christians, far from it. If anything, it is academia that is responsible for pumping out a steady stream of words and phrases that mean something to someone. All I am doing here is stepping back and asking foundational questions.

When words or phrases become overly familiar, we risk teaching the terms rather than the foundational concepts that stand behind the terms. What is worse is that we risk unintentionally creating a Christianity that is divorced from what Jesus taught and the Apostles provided a witness to.

The real and present danger is that of idolatry. If our common knowledge and faith is divorced from its foundations, we have a religion of our own making. Words do matter. What they mean matters even more. If postmodernity has taught us anything, it is that we ought not to presume the meaning of words, especially those with eternal consequences. 

If you haven’t read the previous posting, I would encourage you to do so. If nothing else, this one may not make sense unless you do…and yes I hear the question “do any of them make sense?”

First, keep in mind with the questions I pose here, that I am asking these on a deep level. It isn’t that I don’t know the common or popular answers to these questions. I do, however, believe that sometimes we need to slip beneath the surface to reacquaint ourselves with the foundations of the Christian faith, and in particular, the foundations of ministry.

…

To carry on from the last post…what is it that I bring to the local church? What do I bring as a pastor? What does it mean to be a pastor?

In the later part of the first century, the Apostle John appointed Polycarp the Bishop of Smyrna. Like his teacher, Polycarp took on the battle against Gnosticism in the church.

Polycarp was also a notable leader in the early church who offers pastors today a cautionary word of advice. In a letter to the Church in Philippi (likely written a century after the Apostle Paul’s letter) he wrote, “I am greatly grieved for Valens, who was once a presbyter among you, because he so little understands the place that was given him in the Church” (Polycarp’s letter to the Phillipians 11:1).

What is the place that was given to Valens? What is the place that has been given to me? Valen’s downfall was covetousness. What do I covet? What struggles do I face? What “rights,” expectations and desires must I joyfully set aside for the sake of the Church? Do I understand what it means to be “the pastor”?

These are not trite questions. The place of the pastor is within the church community. It is the place where who the pastor is will speak far louder than what he says. It is the place of being who God intends us to be.

It would seem to me that who I am, being who God intends me to be, is vastly more important than my ability to preach or do the “tasks” of ministry. Not that preaching and other tasks of ministry are not important, they are, but they must grow out of being who God intends me to be.

In other words, my place in the church is one of being who God intends me to be in the community that is the local church. My “place” is that of a shepherd and teacher built on a foundation of being conformed to the image of Jesus Christ.

It seems simple enough, yet God is persistently working on conforming me to the image of Jesus Christ. I’m not a finished work. Sometimes the “working” is not as pleasant as I would like, but I am thankful for it. I find Paul’s words to Phillippians comforting and encouraging.  “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

Yes I will get to my post on lament, but for now another timely comment on life.

Those who know me reasonably well have probably heard me express my suspicion of the way the term “community” is often used in Christian circles–or at least my perception of how the term is used.

My concern is that community is often seen as being about relationship. (For those of you who think I have lost my mind here, please hear me out). The problem as I see it is that “relationship” is an abstract concept. Community, which is also an abstract concept, defined by another abstract concept such as “relationship” is  abstract to the point of meaninglessness.

If you have read my blog you will have picked up that I am very interested in the notion of “being.” In this context, I speak of concrete individuals in the church you are “being” who and what God has intended them to be.

Collectively, they form a local church, a microcosm of the Church. This concrete group of people who are “being” what God intended them to be forms a concrete community of particular people in particular relationships with one another, being what God intended them to be as a community.

“Being” what God intended us to be is founded upon Jesus Christ, the Son of God. There is nothing abstract about “being.” The nature of these relationships is not abstract, for it too is founded upon “being,” thus Jesus Christ. The nature of the specific community is not abstract, since it too is founded upon “being.”

It is this kind of “community” that you can enter into and experience the grace, love, mercy, kindness, wisdom, caring and wholeness of Jesus Christ. I have entered this kind of community.

I have come in as a “pastor” only to find that I am the one who is being ministered to. I have entered a community of “being.” It is both humbling and invigorating. It isn’t about me. It is about Christ in us. It isn’t about what I bring to the church. It is about me “being” who I am in Jesus Christ in communion with others who are “being” who they are in Jesus Christ.

Do I bring something? Yes, I bring what one man in Christ can bring.  Do I receive something? Yes, I receive what many men and women in Christ offer. That is the blessing of fellowship in Jesus Christ.

I have been working on a post on lament for a while, but that will wait for another day. This is not a lament, it is grieving a passage.

I sat out on the deck this afternoon to eat my lunch. It was one of those perfect, but rare summer days in southern Saskatchewan when the breeze was light, the sun warm, but not too hot. Scattered clouds drifting by, rising and falling in a cotton-ball ballet…at least for those who slow down to watch.

In a few weeks, assuming our plans come to pass, we will have left our home in Caronport in southern Saskatchewan for the city of Edmonton. City life is not unfamiliar to us. After all, we spent over 18 years in the Vancouver area.

We are going to pastor a delightful church. It is what I have spent the last four years preparing to do. It is where our hearts are. It is what we are called too. We are anxious to be there. We want to be there. It is, however, at a cost.

I will miss the quietness of the open, uncluttered prairie. As I sit in my office, I have the same view as from my deck. It is peaceful…at least when the weather is like this.

I will miss the resident flock of chickadees that congregate at my bird feeder. They are an interesting group. When ever I fill the feeder, soon one will appear. Finding it full, it will fly up to a high perch and call relentlessly until the rest of the flock appears like a biker club riding into town.

Then there are the sparrows, swallows, finches, and redpolls. Of course I will miss working in my office to song of the meadowlark, the master of the prairie aria. 

I will not miss being so exposed to the winter blizzards or the vulnerability of living in a mobile home when the summer skies unleash their fury, lightning dancing from angry clouds, rain and hail…not to mention the threat of tornadoes. I have reminded my self often that this mobile home has seen far more prairie storms than I and it is still here. Oh yeah, I wouldn’t miss the mud and pot holes masquerading as craters.

I will miss seeing the Northern Lights from my bed room window, un-encumbered by city lights. I will miss the quiet. I will miss this place we have called home for four years.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new chapter. We will leave behind some memories best forgotten and hopefully take with us those we ought not forget. There are many precious memories too that I trust will live on in our kids long after we are gone. For now, we go to make new memories.

I often just scan the foreword and other such preamble in books. Every so often, however, in my eye catches something. In this case it was George Barna’s foreword to Carson Pue’s Mentoring Leaders.[1]

In the Foreword, Barna writes, “There are three critical elements that make a book appealing to me…the messenger must be trustworthy…the message must be trustworthy…[and] the message must be helpful to the reader” (p. 9). At first glance it seemed reasonable, but as I reflected on it I began to question it.

On the first point,”the messenger must be trustworthy,” I have little to quibble with. After all, if I see a pharmacist reaching for a book on pharmacopoeia by Snake-oil Huckster Bob, I might be inclined to go somewhere else to get medication advice. Even here I must say that some shadow of doubt crosses my mind. On what basis do I determine the trustworthiness of the author?

On the second point, “the message must be trustworthy,” more questions are raised. Certainly if I am going to recommend a book to someone I want to be confident in the veracity of the message inked on the pages.  Barna, however, makes a statement here that makes me a little uncomfortable. “The information must fit the known facts” (p. 9).

I do agree with his premise in terms of the more obvious things. After all, I am unlikely to consider a message trustworthy if it suggests that the secret to long life is skydiving without a parachute. To be a little more esoteric, however, I am post modern enough to question the overarching validity of the statement.

I’ll keep my question here to the more obvious, how do I know what the “facts” are. Understand that I am concerned here with the epistemological question not the ontological question of truth. In other words, the question of how do I know, not is there something to know.

If I merely read that which reinforces what I already “know,” will I learn anything new?

On the third point, “the message must be helpful to the reader,” Barna adds,

Time is too short to waste on useless information or inapplicable theories. The message should therefore be timely, practical, and beneficial (p 9).

My artsy, non-utilitarian, “it isn’t just about function,” right brain leaning, moderately post modern brain starts spewing smoke and gears on this one. Would a painting be painted in a world that thought this way? What symphonies written or performed? While Barna was writing about selecting books to read, it reflects an attitude of modernity that troubles me (this may or may not reflect Barna’s philosophy in all matters).

Allowing me to put on my pastoral hat for a moment, with such an approach, would be ever read the Psalms, or–gasp–the Song of Solomon? Is there any room left for what we do not know? Is there any room left for experiencing that which has no timely, practical benefit, like a flower beside the path?

Did God create creation to be “timely, practical and beneficial”?