Sometimes I think the philosophy in a lot of congregations is closer to Yoda than Jesus. In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke Skywalker goes to the swamp-planet Degoba to learn the ways of the Force from the ancient Jedi Master Yoda. At one point, frustrated by Luke's failures in his attempts to use the Force, Yoda scolds, "Control! Control! You must learn control!"
Does this sound like the leadership structure of any congregations you know? In some congregations, this could practically be the title of the annual council leadership retreat. Rather than rewarding creativity and initiative, too often our structures squelch new ideas and keep ministry following in the same grooves it has always followed. We laugh at the joke about "We've always done it that way!", but only because we know that the sentiment expressed by those words does in fact drive much of our ministry. Members feel the need to seek permission to do anything, with the presumption often being in favor of continuity with the past rather than faithfulness to our future. Deep down, we fear that if someone isn't in control, there will be anarchy and somehow our congregation will implode and die like a planet hit by the Imperial Death Star.
The irony is, few if any congregations die because of a lack of control. Far more likely is that a congregation will decline or die because of too much control, too little willingness to encourage people to follow the Spirit and too little permission granted for God's people to use their gifts to glorify God. I'm willing to go out on a limb and bet that no congregation ever suffered because the council didn't vote on and approve the menu for the annual luncheon. In far too many of our congregations, however, councils are engaged in just such minutiae rather than in seeking God's vision for the congregation and leading the charge in pursuit of that vision.
In contrast to Yoda, Jesus has a very different perspective. In Matthew 16, Simon confesses Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the living God, and Jesus responds, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it." Built on the rock of Peter's confession, the church will stand! Built on the rock of faith in and obedience to Jesus, not even the gates of Hell can stand against the church! If the gates of Hell, all the forces of sin and evil in the world won't prevail against a church standing firm on that confession, then neither will a little creative chaos now and then. In fact, ever since the creation of the world, God has been at work bringing order out of chaos! We don't need to fear chaos; if anything, we should be more afraid of sacrificing faithfulness and obedience to Jesus in a vain search for unchanging stability and order.
This is what freedom in Christ means for our congregational structures and leadership ethos. We are free to step out in new ways as we follow Christ's calling to be disciples who make disciples. We are free to try new ministries, to do things we've never done before. We're free to throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks, not worrying about the things that don't. We're free to give up control; free, in fact, to give up control, recognizing that control was never supposed to be our primary preoccupation in the first place. Control of the church belongs to Christ, working through the Holy Spirit. Our preoccupation should be with fidelity to our confession of Jesus as Messiah, with conforming our lives to his in radical, self-giving love, and with being open to all of the gifts God has given to the church (not just with the gifts that fit our time and talent sheets or our organizational chart).
Granted, this kind of permission-giving is risky, and a little scary, but our freedom in Christ is also freedom to fail. It's the freedom to lay it all on the line, to risk even the very existence of our congregations, if that's what it takes to be faithful to Christ's calling. We really don't have near as much to lose as we have to gain. After all, if we're committed to faithful followership of Christ, and if the gates of Hell itself won't prevail against the church, then how bad can we really mess it up?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Incurvatus In Se
Martin Luther defined our predicament as humans as homo incurvatus in se, that is, being “humans curved in on” ourselves. In this definition, he was following the great theologian of the early church, Augustine (no surprise, since Luther was himself a member of the Augustinian order). Luther was followed, in turn, by Karl Barth, one of the most prolific and influential theologians of the 20th century. While I disagree with their assertions about the fundamental nature of sin (pride for Augustine and Luther; falsehood, pride and sloth for Barth; personally, I vote for idolatry), I think the metaphor of being curved in on ourselves illustrates some profound truth. Not only are we as humans homo incurvatus in se, but often the congregations made up of humans are examples of ecclesia incurvatus in se, the church curved in on itself.
This “incurvature” is evident in both the embedded theology and, by extension, the practical life and ministry of many congregations. Our incurvature makes us obsessed with our own sin and salvation and deafens us to all that Christ had to say about living the gospel in this life. We speculate endlessly about who is in and who is out, whether God will forgive this or that person or this or that sin. This speculation is, I believe, born out of the fact that we don’t really trust Christ to redeem us, and so we want to know just exactly where the line is. Because of our worry about our own salvation, we don’t give a thought to the salvation of those around us. Our incurved theology is all about what we hope God will do for us and what we fear God might do to us; there is little thought and less energy expended on what God is calling us to do on behalf of the other.
Our incurved theology leads inevitably to incurved ministry. Our worry over our own salvation makes us oblivious to the spiritual needs of those outside the church. Pastoral ministry is focused on meeting the needs of the congregation, not on carrying the gospel out into the community. Lay ministry is focused on keeping things inside the congregation’s running smoothly, not on leading it out into the world in mission. We’re more concerned with who made a mess in the church kitchen than with the thousands right outside our doors who have not heard the gospel. We boldly proclaim that we want our congregations to grow, but rarely are we willing to make the changes that will require; even more rarely do we think about embodying the gospel for others purely for the other's sake. To be sure, there are exceptions to what I am describing. The vast majority of ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America; my own particular tribe) congregations, however, are indeed curved in on themselves, more concerned with their own well-being, size and budgets than with the huge numbers of people right outside our doors who have never heard that Jesus loves them enough to die for them.
The irony is that the more inward focused a person or a congregation becomes, the less likely it is that things will stay healthy inside that person or that congregation. Like black holes, the ultimate cosmic example of incurvatus in se, people and congregations can become sucking vortexes of anxiety and neediness. Like black holes, such people and congregations absorb light rather than emitting it; like black holes, they can become enormously destructive to those around them (and ultimately to themselves).
So what are we to do? How do we keep ourselves and our congregations from being incurvatus in se? The short answer is, we don’t. As so many of us repeat week after week, “we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.” We cannot free ourselves! The answer to our predicament, the only one who can bend us out, curving us outward in love for each other and for the world, is Christ. As Paul writes in Romans 6,
We cannot transform ourselves, but Christ can. We cannot break our addiction to self-centeredness and self-justification; only when we fully accept our own powerlessness are we prepared to let Christ do what we cannot. Only when we accept our own idolatrous self-absorption can we, as individuals and congregations, find the courage to die to self, trusting that Christ will indeed make us more fully alive to God and to one another in him. It is only by letting go that we can receive; it is only by dying that we can rise; it is only by admitting our slavery to sin and self that we can be made free; it is only by accepting and confessing our incurvature that we can open ourselves to being re-bent by Christ. For that to happen, we must be willing to let our old self die. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer so profoundly put it, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” The same is true for congregations. If we are to live the life Christ offers, a life of freedom and meaning and abiding joy, we must first die to life incurvatus in se. There is no resurrection without crucifixion.
This “incurvature” is evident in both the embedded theology and, by extension, the practical life and ministry of many congregations. Our incurvature makes us obsessed with our own sin and salvation and deafens us to all that Christ had to say about living the gospel in this life. We speculate endlessly about who is in and who is out, whether God will forgive this or that person or this or that sin. This speculation is, I believe, born out of the fact that we don’t really trust Christ to redeem us, and so we want to know just exactly where the line is. Because of our worry about our own salvation, we don’t give a thought to the salvation of those around us. Our incurved theology is all about what we hope God will do for us and what we fear God might do to us; there is little thought and less energy expended on what God is calling us to do on behalf of the other.
Our incurved theology leads inevitably to incurved ministry. Our worry over our own salvation makes us oblivious to the spiritual needs of those outside the church. Pastoral ministry is focused on meeting the needs of the congregation, not on carrying the gospel out into the community. Lay ministry is focused on keeping things inside the congregation’s running smoothly, not on leading it out into the world in mission. We’re more concerned with who made a mess in the church kitchen than with the thousands right outside our doors who have not heard the gospel. We boldly proclaim that we want our congregations to grow, but rarely are we willing to make the changes that will require; even more rarely do we think about embodying the gospel for others purely for the other's sake. To be sure, there are exceptions to what I am describing. The vast majority of ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America; my own particular tribe) congregations, however, are indeed curved in on themselves, more concerned with their own well-being, size and budgets than with the huge numbers of people right outside our doors who have never heard that Jesus loves them enough to die for them.
The irony is that the more inward focused a person or a congregation becomes, the less likely it is that things will stay healthy inside that person or that congregation. Like black holes, the ultimate cosmic example of incurvatus in se, people and congregations can become sucking vortexes of anxiety and neediness. Like black holes, such people and congregations absorb light rather than emitting it; like black holes, they can become enormously destructive to those around them (and ultimately to themselves).
So what are we to do? How do we keep ourselves and our congregations from being incurvatus in se? The short answer is, we don’t. As so many of us repeat week after week, “we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.” We cannot free ourselves! The answer to our predicament, the only one who can bend us out, curving us outward in love for each other and for the world, is Christ. As Paul writes in Romans 6,
“We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is freed from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 6:6-11)
We cannot transform ourselves, but Christ can. We cannot break our addiction to self-centeredness and self-justification; only when we fully accept our own powerlessness are we prepared to let Christ do what we cannot. Only when we accept our own idolatrous self-absorption can we, as individuals and congregations, find the courage to die to self, trusting that Christ will indeed make us more fully alive to God and to one another in him. It is only by letting go that we can receive; it is only by dying that we can rise; it is only by admitting our slavery to sin and self that we can be made free; it is only by accepting and confessing our incurvature that we can open ourselves to being re-bent by Christ. For that to happen, we must be willing to let our old self die. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer so profoundly put it, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” The same is true for congregations. If we are to live the life Christ offers, a life of freedom and meaning and abiding joy, we must first die to life incurvatus in se. There is no resurrection without crucifixion.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Free Theology
I can't help but note the two-fold vanity of creating a blog. Either I recognize that my blog will be like most of the 110 million other blogs out there and will be read by no one, which makes the act of writing it vain in the futile sense; or I think that my blog will somehow be different from tens of millions of other blogs, which makes it vain in the sense of self-conceit. Either way, it seems somewhat ridiculous, but hey, it's far from the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, so why not?
So just what is "Free Theology"? (And no, it's not a reference to the obvious point that no one would actually pay to read this.) It is a theology that starts from the foundation of our freedom in Christ. As Paul writes in Galatians 5, "For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." (Galatians 5:1) We have been set free! Free from slavery to sin. Free from despair and the dominion of death. Free from selfishness and self-justification. Free from all the things that separate us from God. Moreover, our freedom is not just freedom from, it is also freedom for and freedom to. It is freedom for lives of love and service to God and neighbor. Freedom for mission and service and discipleship and ever-deepening communion with God. It is the freedom to be vulnerable, to admit our sins and our flaws and our failings, to trust God loves us anyway and is at work making us holy through the work of the Spirit. It is the freedom to love unconditionally, to serve passionately, to take risks and fall down and fail, knowing that God loves us and can use our frailties and failures just as surely as our triumphs. It is the freedom to hold fast to the treasures of two thousand years of the life of the church while at the same time being open to discovering what new thing the Holy Spirit is doing today. It is, above all, freedom from fear, born of a faith that nothing in all the universe can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And, that, I suppose, is why I'm bothering to write a blog. As I look across the church today, I see an awful lot of fear. I see a lot of faithful pastors and laypeople, working their guts out and wondering why their churches are still shrinking and their kids are wandering away. I see congregations hunkering down, hoping they can survive, when God calls us to thrive. I see people who want to share their faith, but are afraid they don't have the right words or that someone will think they're a whacko or a religious nut. I see congregational leaders who honestly want to engage in mission but are afraid that doing things to share the gospel in their communities or welcome newcomers will upset too many of their members. I see congregations edging towards slow death, afraid to stay as they are but even more afraid to change. I see people afraid to let acquaintances or co-workers know that they are Christians because too often in our society Christianity has come to be associated with bigotry and intolerance and a rigid moralistic judgmentalism that looks more like the Pharisees than the Messiah. Fear is rampant in the church today, and we were destined for more than that.
To quote Paul again, "For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him." (Romans 8:15-17) We are God's beloved children and joint heirs with Christ! We have been given a spirit of adoption so that we may be free from fear! Through the cross of Jesus Christ, we have been named children of God, and it is Almighty God who holds us close, soothes our fears and give us the promise that, even though it might not be easy or comfortable or safe, it will be okay. We've been set free in Christ, and nothing will ever separate us from him. Whatever else happens, however badly we fail, however the sharing of our faith is received, whatever the results of the risks we take to engage in the mission Christ calls the church to, no matter what, it will be okay. That's free theology: theology built on the foundation of our freedom in Christ and our adoption as beloved children of God.
So just what is "Free Theology"? (And no, it's not a reference to the obvious point that no one would actually pay to read this.) It is a theology that starts from the foundation of our freedom in Christ. As Paul writes in Galatians 5, "For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." (Galatians 5:1) We have been set free! Free from slavery to sin. Free from despair and the dominion of death. Free from selfishness and self-justification. Free from all the things that separate us from God. Moreover, our freedom is not just freedom from, it is also freedom for and freedom to. It is freedom for lives of love and service to God and neighbor. Freedom for mission and service and discipleship and ever-deepening communion with God. It is the freedom to be vulnerable, to admit our sins and our flaws and our failings, to trust God loves us anyway and is at work making us holy through the work of the Spirit. It is the freedom to love unconditionally, to serve passionately, to take risks and fall down and fail, knowing that God loves us and can use our frailties and failures just as surely as our triumphs. It is the freedom to hold fast to the treasures of two thousand years of the life of the church while at the same time being open to discovering what new thing the Holy Spirit is doing today. It is, above all, freedom from fear, born of a faith that nothing in all the universe can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And, that, I suppose, is why I'm bothering to write a blog. As I look across the church today, I see an awful lot of fear. I see a lot of faithful pastors and laypeople, working their guts out and wondering why their churches are still shrinking and their kids are wandering away. I see congregations hunkering down, hoping they can survive, when God calls us to thrive. I see people who want to share their faith, but are afraid they don't have the right words or that someone will think they're a whacko or a religious nut. I see congregational leaders who honestly want to engage in mission but are afraid that doing things to share the gospel in their communities or welcome newcomers will upset too many of their members. I see congregations edging towards slow death, afraid to stay as they are but even more afraid to change. I see people afraid to let acquaintances or co-workers know that they are Christians because too often in our society Christianity has come to be associated with bigotry and intolerance and a rigid moralistic judgmentalism that looks more like the Pharisees than the Messiah. Fear is rampant in the church today, and we were destined for more than that.
To quote Paul again, "For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him." (Romans 8:15-17) We are God's beloved children and joint heirs with Christ! We have been given a spirit of adoption so that we may be free from fear! Through the cross of Jesus Christ, we have been named children of God, and it is Almighty God who holds us close, soothes our fears and give us the promise that, even though it might not be easy or comfortable or safe, it will be okay. We've been set free in Christ, and nothing will ever separate us from him. Whatever else happens, however badly we fail, however the sharing of our faith is received, whatever the results of the risks we take to engage in the mission Christ calls the church to, no matter what, it will be okay. That's free theology: theology built on the foundation of our freedom in Christ and our adoption as beloved children of God.
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