In the movie, Conspiracy Theory, Mel Gibson played a whacked out cab driver who was obsessively on guard against the thousand and one conspiracies that big brother was involved in. Turns out, that he really had been the target of government brain washing and that his delusions were actually more real than anyone realized. His hilarious escape from the villain, Patrick Stewart, goes down as one of the great escape scenes of all time. Hey, it was just a movie, there really are no conspiracies that anyone has to worry about.
I remember friends of mine who got saved a few years ago struggling with what it meant to be Christians. They were told that they needed to go to a Sunday service in order to mature as Christians. The conflict for them was that Sunday morning had been a traditionally family oriented time that was a wonderful respite from a very chaotic week. They enjoyed sleeping in and then having a casual brunch with their children, followed up by a walk in the park or some other such inane pleasantry.
Becoming Christians ended up meaning giving up the family time that they had carved out of a busy week and rushing off to church so that they could learn to have a stronger family. When they voiced their concerns over this new set of priorities, long time Christians looked at them with a puzzled look, wondering why they didn’t understand the cost of being a disciple of Jesus. Getting them to change their misguided family value for true Christian values was of the utmost need in their lives. They wouldn’t survive as Christians, if they didn’t embrace this new subculture.
They felt like they were fighting some form of conspiracy against their family. If they protested or questioned at all, they were looked at as either naïve or rebellious youngsters, who didn’t fully comprehend the wonders of knowing Jesus.
In our mad dash to prop up our Christian subculture, is it possible that people outside of church circles are seeing the conspiracy to try to get them into a lifestyle that has no appeal to them whatsoever? Are they asking the question about the emperor’s new clothes and finding that Christianity, as it is projected, has very little substance associated with it. Have they heard the stories of lack of authentic friendships, authoritarian control and self serving spending?
Have they uncovered the conspiracy of their needing to change while the rituals of church should never change?
Is it possible the people are not rejecting Jesus as much as they are rejecting the inward, exclusive cultural dogma of church going Christians?
Is there a conspiracy to keep people out of the kingdom of God in order to prop up cultural church norms?
Likely not. It's just a theory.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
The Church or is it Crutch?
Institutional churches (churches that define themselves by having a pastor and a building) average between 80-125 people. Fewer than 5% of all churches grow beyond the 400 attendance mark. The typical staff to congregation percentage is about 1 staff member per 100 people. The average church has a full time pastor and a part time secretary.
The average church sees very little numerical change year after year. Some churches do experience increase but that usually means that some other church experiences decrease. I called this the “circulation of the saints” in a different blog.
It is estimated that only 1% of all people who have made some form of profession of faith can be found in any church 10 years later.
Churches average about $1,000 per person per year in giving with 80-90% of that amount going to the care of themselves. (salaries, buildings, programs)
For a fuller description of these stats you can go to “The State of the Church: 2006”.
Essentially nothing changes from year to year.
What is incredible to me is that the people in these churches are incredibly gifted. They can raise families, run businesses, acquire degrees, keep a job, excel as entrepreneurs and perform well as high level managers in demanding fields. They are teachers, factory workers, nurses, plumbers, doctors, engineers, lawyers, electricians, researchers, machinists... They are great fathers and mothers and take their roles seriously.
It is amazing to me that we can take this wealth of human experience, put them into a building with a highly trained minister and literally accomplish very little, year after mind numbing year.
Sadly, to suggest, in even the smallest of ways, that these same people could likely do as good a job as is being done, without a pastor and a building, would mean that one is no longer faithful to the teachings of the Bible.
The average church sees very little numerical change year after year. Some churches do experience increase but that usually means that some other church experiences decrease. I called this the “circulation of the saints” in a different blog.
It is estimated that only 1% of all people who have made some form of profession of faith can be found in any church 10 years later.
Churches average about $1,000 per person per year in giving with 80-90% of that amount going to the care of themselves. (salaries, buildings, programs)
For a fuller description of these stats you can go to “The State of the Church: 2006”.
Essentially nothing changes from year to year.
What is incredible to me is that the people in these churches are incredibly gifted. They can raise families, run businesses, acquire degrees, keep a job, excel as entrepreneurs and perform well as high level managers in demanding fields. They are teachers, factory workers, nurses, plumbers, doctors, engineers, lawyers, electricians, researchers, machinists... They are great fathers and mothers and take their roles seriously.
It is amazing to me that we can take this wealth of human experience, put them into a building with a highly trained minister and literally accomplish very little, year after mind numbing year.
Sadly, to suggest, in even the smallest of ways, that these same people could likely do as good a job as is being done, without a pastor and a building, would mean that one is no longer faithful to the teachings of the Bible.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Trust and Faith
Trust and faith are wonderful words. Biblically they have the same meaning. My personal preference in our modern hearing of these words is trust. Faith is sometimes turned into a noun referring to a particular belief system. That seems rather dry and clinical to me. Trust seems more dynamic, almost like it’s a living, breathing exchange between two people.
I remember years ago having my kids stand on the kitchen table and asking them to jump into my arms. Their willingness to trust me to catch them was an overwhelming joy to me. I had to be careful to keep an eye on them after teaching them that lesson, as sometimes they would even jump without my asking.
Some people are desperately trying to have faith in God and are somewhat bewildered as to what it means. They feel its all them and focus on having more faith. That seems like a rather worrisome approach.
I like trust as the way of knowing God. What’s amazing to me in this whole dynamic is not that I trust Him, but that He, with unlimited, unconditional abandonment, throws Himself into my arms.
Why? Because He trusts me.
I remember years ago having my kids stand on the kitchen table and asking them to jump into my arms. Their willingness to trust me to catch them was an overwhelming joy to me. I had to be careful to keep an eye on them after teaching them that lesson, as sometimes they would even jump without my asking.
Some people are desperately trying to have faith in God and are somewhat bewildered as to what it means. They feel its all them and focus on having more faith. That seems like a rather worrisome approach.
I like trust as the way of knowing God. What’s amazing to me in this whole dynamic is not that I trust Him, but that He, with unlimited, unconditional abandonment, throws Himself into my arms.
Why? Because He trusts me.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Cost of Baptisms
Here’s an interesting site detailing all of the numbers regarding religions in the world. The site’s focus is about Christianity and how it is doing.
They had an interesting line that I thought was noteworthy.
61. Cost-effectiveness (cost per baptism, $) …. $349,000.
They had an interesting line that I thought was noteworthy.
61. Cost-effectiveness (cost per baptism, $) …. $349,000.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Paid Clergy: An Act of Separation
As one who has been there and done that, I think there is something lacking when a paycheck is attached to ministry. I am not saying that those who are receiving a salary for ministry are corrupt.
It’s more like a negative symbiotic relationship that is created. I pay you so now I can control you. I’m your leader and therefore I can control you back. In some circles there are poor people living vicariously through their pastor, while he drives his Cadillac.
It would be difficult picturing Jesus accepting a weekly salary for what He was doing.
It also makes giving into either a mindless process where I give in such a way that I don’t know how the money is being used. Or my giving is done in order to pay someone to look after my spiritual well being. I can’t imagine Paul speaking to a slave who has just received salvation, saying to them, “OK, now that I’ve led you into this way of life, you get to pay me for that experience.”
The sad reality is that most money taken in through churches goes into buildings, programs and salaries. Very little, percentage wise, (10-20%) is actually given to those who are truly in need.
Paul was speaking to the elders in the churches of Ephesus telling them how they were to live there life regarding the care of the churches that they were in. This is 4 years after planting the church in Ephesus.
Acts 20:32 (NIV) "Now I commit you to God and to the word of his grace, which can build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified. 33 I have not coveted anyone's silver or gold or clothing. 34 You yourselves know that these hands of mine have supplied my own needs and the needs of my companions. 35 In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: `It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"
This is an established church with established elders. What does Paul instruct them in? He said he worked hard to support himself and those that were with him. He then looks at the elders and says this is what they are to do as well. Get a job and help the weak.
He didn’t say, “Teach the weak, tithing, so they can pay your salary.”
Sadly, what has happened is that when a salary is given there is a separation between clergy and laity. Some ministers desperately fight to feel like normal people not wanting that separation. Some ministers like the separateness. No matter which way it is done, there is definitely a separation when money is exchanged.
One of my deepest regrets when getting paid is that I accepted a salary that was paid, in part, by beautiful people who were in even more desperate need than I could have personally dreamed of. I am not saying that those in need should not be able to enjoy the grace of giving. I am saying that there giving should not have gone to my salary.
I repent of ever having received a salary for ministering the free gift of the gospel that was given to me. I fall on the mercy of God and ask His forgiveness.
It’s more like a negative symbiotic relationship that is created. I pay you so now I can control you. I’m your leader and therefore I can control you back. In some circles there are poor people living vicariously through their pastor, while he drives his Cadillac.
It would be difficult picturing Jesus accepting a weekly salary for what He was doing.
It also makes giving into either a mindless process where I give in such a way that I don’t know how the money is being used. Or my giving is done in order to pay someone to look after my spiritual well being. I can’t imagine Paul speaking to a slave who has just received salvation, saying to them, “OK, now that I’ve led you into this way of life, you get to pay me for that experience.”
The sad reality is that most money taken in through churches goes into buildings, programs and salaries. Very little, percentage wise, (10-20%) is actually given to those who are truly in need.
Paul was speaking to the elders in the churches of Ephesus telling them how they were to live there life regarding the care of the churches that they were in. This is 4 years after planting the church in Ephesus.
Acts 20:32 (NIV) "Now I commit you to God and to the word of his grace, which can build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified. 33 I have not coveted anyone's silver or gold or clothing. 34 You yourselves know that these hands of mine have supplied my own needs and the needs of my companions. 35 In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: `It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"
This is an established church with established elders. What does Paul instruct them in? He said he worked hard to support himself and those that were with him. He then looks at the elders and says this is what they are to do as well. Get a job and help the weak.
He didn’t say, “Teach the weak, tithing, so they can pay your salary.”
Sadly, what has happened is that when a salary is given there is a separation between clergy and laity. Some ministers desperately fight to feel like normal people not wanting that separation. Some ministers like the separateness. No matter which way it is done, there is definitely a separation when money is exchanged.
One of my deepest regrets when getting paid is that I accepted a salary that was paid, in part, by beautiful people who were in even more desperate need than I could have personally dreamed of. I am not saying that those in need should not be able to enjoy the grace of giving. I am saying that there giving should not have gone to my salary.
I repent of ever having received a salary for ministering the free gift of the gospel that was given to me. I fall on the mercy of God and ask His forgiveness.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What Did Jesus Teach?
A simple question. It will take you between 6 and 10 hours to read through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Ok, got it. Now let’s move on to higher pursuits, like solving world hunger, equality for all people, justice for all, peace on earth, my trivial pet peeves…
Wait a minute. Let’s go back to the first question. What did Jesus teach?
Listen to what He taught through an excerpt by T. Austin-Sparks.
http://www.austin-sparks.net/english/books/001448.html
"(I would like to send you to your rooms to put your answer down on a piece of paper, and I think it would be very interesting if I were to read out all the answers later on!)
However, the answer is: Himself. He is His own subject. Jesus was always the subject of His own teaching. He related everything to Himself. He said: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life" (John 14:6): "I am the good shepherd" (John 10:14): "I am the bread of life" (John 6:48): "I am the door" (John 10:9): "I am the resurrection, and the life" (John 11:25). He is His own subject. He spoke about many things, but He always related them to Himself. He said very much about His Father, and we may come to see something of what He taught about Him, but He always related the Father to Himself and Himself to the Father. He said: "I and the Father are one" (John 14:9). He spoke much about the Holy Spirit, but He always related Him to Himself. He said much about man, but He always related man to Himself. His own favourite title for Himself was 'Son of man'. He said much about life, but He always related it to Himself and never thought of life apart from Himself. He said much about light, about truth and about power, but always in relation to Himself. He was His own subject of teaching."
Back to my own blundering way of asking questions. If Jesus taught about himself and He is the entire reason for the Bible's existence, why shouldn't our conversations centre on Him?
Wait a minute. Let’s go back to the first question. What did Jesus teach?
Listen to what He taught through an excerpt by T. Austin-Sparks.
http://www.austin-sparks.net/english/books/001448.html
"(I would like to send you to your rooms to put your answer down on a piece of paper, and I think it would be very interesting if I were to read out all the answers later on!)
However, the answer is: Himself. He is His own subject. Jesus was always the subject of His own teaching. He related everything to Himself. He said: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life" (John 14:6): "I am the good shepherd" (John 10:14): "I am the bread of life" (John 6:48): "I am the door" (John 10:9): "I am the resurrection, and the life" (John 11:25). He is His own subject. He spoke about many things, but He always related them to Himself. He said very much about His Father, and we may come to see something of what He taught about Him, but He always related the Father to Himself and Himself to the Father. He said: "I and the Father are one" (John 14:9). He spoke much about the Holy Spirit, but He always related Him to Himself. He said much about man, but He always related man to Himself. His own favourite title for Himself was 'Son of man'. He said much about life, but He always related it to Himself and never thought of life apart from Himself. He said much about light, about truth and about power, but always in relation to Himself. He was His own subject of teaching."
Back to my own blundering way of asking questions. If Jesus taught about himself and He is the entire reason for the Bible's existence, why shouldn't our conversations centre on Him?
The Name Game
Name 1 pastor in the New Testament.
Name 1 evangelist in the N.T.
Name 1 prophet in the N.T.
Name 1 apostle in the N. T.
Name your pastor.
Name your evangelist.
Name your prophet.
Name your apostle.
Many people use Ephesians 4:11 (NIV) It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers”, to prove the office of pastor.
Based on that reasoning, this passage also proves you should be able to name your evangelist, prophet and apostle.
My point is this. We need to be consistent in our approach to the Bible.
If the pastor’s role is the most significant in our modern day churches shouldn’t the New Testament reflect that same significance as well?
Name 1 evangelist in the N.T.
Name 1 prophet in the N.T.
Name 1 apostle in the N. T.
Name your pastor.
Name your evangelist.
Name your prophet.
Name your apostle.
Many people use Ephesians 4:11 (NIV) It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers”, to prove the office of pastor.
Based on that reasoning, this passage also proves you should be able to name your evangelist, prophet and apostle.
My point is this. We need to be consistent in our approach to the Bible.
If the pastor’s role is the most significant in our modern day churches shouldn’t the New Testament reflect that same significance as well?
Monday, April 16, 2007
Organic Church
Has traditional church evolved into its maximum potential? Is there a better way of spending money than theater style seating, 5,000 lumens LCD projectors and state of the art sound systems? How is a local preacher going to compete with the best sermons in the world available through technology? How big of a building is big enough?
Are people being better equipped and better connected because of the improved technologies?
It there a revolution going on that scares the bewilikers out of pastors who make a living off of the gospel?
Is there a new way of being church?
Frank Viola offers one example of this revolution using the term Organic Church. Here is an excerpt:
Organic Church. I’ve been using this term for around fifteen years now. Today it’s become somewhat of a clay word, being molded and shaped to mean a variety of different things by a variety of different people.
T. Austin-Sparks is the man who deserves credit for this term. Here’s his definition:
God's way and law of fullness is that of organic life. In the Divine order, life produces its own organism, whether it be a vegetable, animal, human or spiritual. This means that everything comes from the inside. Function, order and fruit issue from this law of life within. It was solely on this principle that what we have in the New Testament came into being. Organized Christianity has entirely reversed this order.
The phrase, "the organic expression of the church" was a favorite of Sparks’. I’ve yet to find a better phrase to improve upon it.
By "organic church," I mean a non-traditional church that is born out of spiritual life instead of being constructing by human institutions and held together by religious programs. Organic church life is a grass roots experience that is marked by face-to-face community, every-member functioning, open-participatory meetings (opposed to pastor-to-pew services), non-hierarchical leadership, and the centrality and supremacy of Jesus Christ as the functional Leader and Head of the gathering. Put another way, organic church life is the experience of the Body of Christ. In its purest form, it's the fellowship of the Triune God brought to earth and experienced by human beings.
http://www.ptmin.org/newsletter.htm
Neil Cole has authored an interesting book titled “Organic Church”. Here’s an interview in which he discusses what he means by this term.
http://www.the-next-wave-ezine.info/issue83/index.cfm?id=6&ref=COVERSTORY
Are people being better equipped and better connected because of the improved technologies?
It there a revolution going on that scares the bewilikers out of pastors who make a living off of the gospel?
Is there a new way of being church?
Frank Viola offers one example of this revolution using the term Organic Church. Here is an excerpt:
Organic Church. I’ve been using this term for around fifteen years now. Today it’s become somewhat of a clay word, being molded and shaped to mean a variety of different things by a variety of different people.
T. Austin-Sparks is the man who deserves credit for this term. Here’s his definition:
God's way and law of fullness is that of organic life. In the Divine order, life produces its own organism, whether it be a vegetable, animal, human or spiritual. This means that everything comes from the inside. Function, order and fruit issue from this law of life within. It was solely on this principle that what we have in the New Testament came into being. Organized Christianity has entirely reversed this order.
The phrase, "the organic expression of the church" was a favorite of Sparks’. I’ve yet to find a better phrase to improve upon it.
By "organic church," I mean a non-traditional church that is born out of spiritual life instead of being constructing by human institutions and held together by religious programs. Organic church life is a grass roots experience that is marked by face-to-face community, every-member functioning, open-participatory meetings (opposed to pastor-to-pew services), non-hierarchical leadership, and the centrality and supremacy of Jesus Christ as the functional Leader and Head of the gathering. Put another way, organic church life is the experience of the Body of Christ. In its purest form, it's the fellowship of the Triune God brought to earth and experienced by human beings.
http://www.ptmin.org/newsletter.htm
Neil Cole has authored an interesting book titled “Organic Church”. Here’s an interview in which he discusses what he means by this term.
http://www.the-next-wave-ezine.info/issue83/index.cfm?id=6&ref=COVERSTORY
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Pastor: Shepherd or CEO
Pastor is the most overused and ill defined word in the North American church landscape. It is used in settings of small house churches, church plants of fewer than 20 people and in churches of 80,000+. I have even seen it used recently by some big name tel-evangelists, as if it makes them more personal to their unknown viewers.
Biblically it is only translated this way one time (Eph. 4:11), but it has synonyms which include the words: shepherd (Acts 20:28), overseer (1 Pet. 5:2), teacher (1Cor. 12:28), elder (Acts 20:17) and bishop (1 Tim. 3:1).
Jesus himself is described as that great Shepherd (pastor) of the sheep. Heb. 13:20 He is the only one we are to have as our shepherd in a life long relationship .
A pastor’s role is to point people to the great Shepherd, Jesus Christ. It is to free them to know Him. Therefore their role must be personal and temporary. When a pastor is acting more like a CEO or in a long term function of oversight, they are not fulfilling their biblical mandate. Eventually, we are to mature to be peers within the function of eldering and never, at any time, are we to be under anyone but the Lordship of Jesus.
If the elder in your life is not helping you get closer to Jesus in a timely way, then you are being deprived of a vital means of being built up in your life in Christ. If the relationship is not two ways, don’t be deceived into thinking you are being pastored. You may be gaining information but not necessarily transformation.
I recognize that in the wineskins that exist that what I am saying is difficult to hear, never mind be able to have. Nevertheless, our life is to be found in Jesus with each member of His body building each other up. "Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." 1Cor 12:27 (NIV)
Paul functioning as an apostle said it this way,
For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching [were] not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. 1Cor 2:2-5(NKJV)
Once this function has helped you to mature, it is their duty to not create dependency in them through entertaining preaching or teaching. Nor is it to get you involved in organizational structures that serve the institution but are not vital to your relationship with Jesus. Just as their primary purpose is to know the true Shepherd’s voice and follow Him: they are to instill that joy in you as well.
Their motto should be the same as John the Baptist’s, "He (Jesus) must increase, but I [must] decrease. John 3:30 (NKJV)
Biblically it is only translated this way one time (Eph. 4:11), but it has synonyms which include the words: shepherd (Acts 20:28), overseer (1 Pet. 5:2), teacher (1Cor. 12:28), elder (Acts 20:17) and bishop (1 Tim. 3:1).
Jesus himself is described as that great Shepherd (pastor) of the sheep. Heb. 13:20 He is the only one we are to have as our shepherd in a life long relationship .
A pastor’s role is to point people to the great Shepherd, Jesus Christ. It is to free them to know Him. Therefore their role must be personal and temporary. When a pastor is acting more like a CEO or in a long term function of oversight, they are not fulfilling their biblical mandate. Eventually, we are to mature to be peers within the function of eldering and never, at any time, are we to be under anyone but the Lordship of Jesus.
If the elder in your life is not helping you get closer to Jesus in a timely way, then you are being deprived of a vital means of being built up in your life in Christ. If the relationship is not two ways, don’t be deceived into thinking you are being pastored. You may be gaining information but not necessarily transformation.
I recognize that in the wineskins that exist that what I am saying is difficult to hear, never mind be able to have. Nevertheless, our life is to be found in Jesus with each member of His body building each other up. "Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." 1Cor 12:27 (NIV)
Paul functioning as an apostle said it this way,
For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching [were] not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. 1Cor 2:2-5(NKJV)
Once this function has helped you to mature, it is their duty to not create dependency in them through entertaining preaching or teaching. Nor is it to get you involved in organizational structures that serve the institution but are not vital to your relationship with Jesus. Just as their primary purpose is to know the true Shepherd’s voice and follow Him: they are to instill that joy in you as well.
Their motto should be the same as John the Baptist’s, "He (Jesus) must increase, but I [must] decrease. John 3:30 (NKJV)
Friday, April 13, 2007
Working Together: That's Old Fashioned!
Years ago, a co-worker of mine at General Motors told me about getting a house as a wedding present. I shook my head in disbelief. I asked him what strange world he was from. He said he was from a strong, family based, European culture. Apparently getting houses at weddings was not all that unusual; in fact it was pretty well expected.
This was back in the day when 1/3 of my income was going into paying interest to the bank for the privilege of living in our home. $7,000 every year to our friendly, neighborhood banker. I remember my bank manager smiling profusely when I had thanked her for helping us so much to secure our mortgage.
I asked my friend what the catch was for him getting a nice new home, mortgage free. He said, “Oh, later on, when his nieces and nephews grow up and get married, he will be expected to give wedding gifts in the $5-10,000 range.” Now I got it. There’s always a catch.
Those silly, old fashioned Europeans, forcing people to give big gifts at weddings. I merrily continued on my way, paying my $7,000 annual interest payment to my smiling banker.
This was back in the day when 1/3 of my income was going into paying interest to the bank for the privilege of living in our home. $7,000 every year to our friendly, neighborhood banker. I remember my bank manager smiling profusely when I had thanked her for helping us so much to secure our mortgage.
I asked my friend what the catch was for him getting a nice new home, mortgage free. He said, “Oh, later on, when his nieces and nephews grow up and get married, he will be expected to give wedding gifts in the $5-10,000 range.” Now I got it. There’s always a catch.
Those silly, old fashioned Europeans, forcing people to give big gifts at weddings. I merrily continued on my way, paying my $7,000 annual interest payment to my smiling banker.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
My Name is Onesimus 4
(Read part 1, part 2, part 3, first)
I finally did it, I awoke before Paul. I was so excited of what was to unfold today. Paul was going to bring me into his insurrection. All of the coded language surrounding the dead man Jesus would be revealed to me. I busied myself preparing breakfast for Paul and myself.
I can’t believe how satisfied I feel in his presence. I must remember to keep hidden my escape and thievery. I liked Paul so much that I feared I might disappoint him. This unusual man has done something to me with his ready laugh and eyes that fill me with something that fills like a cool drink of water on a blistering day.
As we were eating breakfast, it was all I could do to contain myself from pestering him with questions. Paul is not a man that gets pushed or provoked easily. He seems to have mastered himself in a way that few men know. What are his secrets? How can one be under the potential sentence of death and yet be so content? I want what he has but I still feel I must hide from him.
And then he began talking but in a way I had not expected. It was like he saw me as a real man, neither above me nor at me. His very tone and demeanor made me feel like I was the most special person in all the world to him. He simply began telling me his story.
He told me he was trained in the best of schools and with the best tutors. He was a man who lived by the highest of standards and looked down on others who did not measure up. He told me he was a Roman citizen which I had no idea of, until that very moment. Fear clutched my heart but I quickly pushed it aside. He certainly didn’t act the part of a man with power. He said these things with such few words and yet I know he was not trying to impress me in any way. He simply wanted me to understand what was truly of more importance to him. My ears were straining as I wanted in on the secrets of his heart.
Just as he was about to share what I was so longing to hear, he began to weep. He wanted to speak but words would not come out of his mouth. When he composed himself he confessed to me that he was a murderer of the very ones that he held most dear to his heart. I was shocked because I didn’t think that what he was saying was even remotely possible. He said that in his zeal for his beliefs, he had set out to destroy a group of people who were simply following after the teachings of the dead man, Jesus. I was still confused for I did not expect him to talk about Jesus. I thought those words were just a cover for something much deeper.
Then he told me something that I could not fathom. He said he had met Jesus years after he had been crucified. My head was swimming for I thought that I was to be let in on the secrets of a new kingdom. Instead, I realized I was simply in the presence of a delusional madman. My body was set to get up and that feeling of murder rose up in me, just as it had when I had knocked on his door. A part of me felt like such a fool, but another part wanted to hear more. Why so much talk about a dead man?
Paul looked me in the eye and spoke these words. He said when Jesus had appeared to him that he thought he was the master of his own life. That he knew that God himself must be very pleased with his zeal. And then he added that in that moment with Jesus, that all that he held dear evaporated like a drop of water on a hot rock.
How could such a man throw everything away for an illusion? But then again how could an illusion trap such a learned, clear thinking man? I wanted to understand but I could not comprehend the change in this man before me. I had seen men die, I had seen men make difficult decisions, I had never seen men change. And yet here was a man who had truly changed.
Paul seemed to see my inability to understand and said enough of his talking about himself. He got up and got us more tea. Then he said that the day had just begun and I had much to do for him. I was relieved because I had no words. It was like he knew I was not ready to decide about anything that he was saying. He wasn’t even asking me to respond. I certainly didn’t understand why the things he was saying were so very precious to him. Then Paul let out his hearty laugh, as if he could read my mind, and said that by the end of the day I would understand. I thought, well I have certainly put up with worse, why not carry on with this charade?
I finally did it, I awoke before Paul. I was so excited of what was to unfold today. Paul was going to bring me into his insurrection. All of the coded language surrounding the dead man Jesus would be revealed to me. I busied myself preparing breakfast for Paul and myself.
I can’t believe how satisfied I feel in his presence. I must remember to keep hidden my escape and thievery. I liked Paul so much that I feared I might disappoint him. This unusual man has done something to me with his ready laugh and eyes that fill me with something that fills like a cool drink of water on a blistering day.
As we were eating breakfast, it was all I could do to contain myself from pestering him with questions. Paul is not a man that gets pushed or provoked easily. He seems to have mastered himself in a way that few men know. What are his secrets? How can one be under the potential sentence of death and yet be so content? I want what he has but I still feel I must hide from him.
And then he began talking but in a way I had not expected. It was like he saw me as a real man, neither above me nor at me. His very tone and demeanor made me feel like I was the most special person in all the world to him. He simply began telling me his story.
He told me he was trained in the best of schools and with the best tutors. He was a man who lived by the highest of standards and looked down on others who did not measure up. He told me he was a Roman citizen which I had no idea of, until that very moment. Fear clutched my heart but I quickly pushed it aside. He certainly didn’t act the part of a man with power. He said these things with such few words and yet I know he was not trying to impress me in any way. He simply wanted me to understand what was truly of more importance to him. My ears were straining as I wanted in on the secrets of his heart.
Just as he was about to share what I was so longing to hear, he began to weep. He wanted to speak but words would not come out of his mouth. When he composed himself he confessed to me that he was a murderer of the very ones that he held most dear to his heart. I was shocked because I didn’t think that what he was saying was even remotely possible. He said that in his zeal for his beliefs, he had set out to destroy a group of people who were simply following after the teachings of the dead man, Jesus. I was still confused for I did not expect him to talk about Jesus. I thought those words were just a cover for something much deeper.
Then he told me something that I could not fathom. He said he had met Jesus years after he had been crucified. My head was swimming for I thought that I was to be let in on the secrets of a new kingdom. Instead, I realized I was simply in the presence of a delusional madman. My body was set to get up and that feeling of murder rose up in me, just as it had when I had knocked on his door. A part of me felt like such a fool, but another part wanted to hear more. Why so much talk about a dead man?
Paul looked me in the eye and spoke these words. He said when Jesus had appeared to him that he thought he was the master of his own life. That he knew that God himself must be very pleased with his zeal. And then he added that in that moment with Jesus, that all that he held dear evaporated like a drop of water on a hot rock.
How could such a man throw everything away for an illusion? But then again how could an illusion trap such a learned, clear thinking man? I wanted to understand but I could not comprehend the change in this man before me. I had seen men die, I had seen men make difficult decisions, I had never seen men change. And yet here was a man who had truly changed.
Paul seemed to see my inability to understand and said enough of his talking about himself. He got up and got us more tea. Then he said that the day had just begun and I had much to do for him. I was relieved because I had no words. It was like he knew I was not ready to decide about anything that he was saying. He wasn’t even asking me to respond. I certainly didn’t understand why the things he was saying were so very precious to him. Then Paul let out his hearty laugh, as if he could read my mind, and said that by the end of the day I would understand. I thought, well I have certainly put up with worse, why not carry on with this charade?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
God Told Me 2
This is a follow up to Jamie’s request to flesh out what I mean about blame/shame/pride being associated with the “God Told Me” process.
Charismatics are notorious for over personalizing their relationship with Jesus in ways that are not consistent with God’s word. I have known people who literally ask God what color socks they should be wearing that day and then went throughout the day with mismatching socks. It seems they wanted God to be so intimate with them that they needed to fabricate His voice down to the very minutiae of their lives.
Matthew 25:33-45 is a beautiful passage of a healthy unawareness of God telling them to do anything specific. The righteous simply did what the Bible has already told them through His Word. They are commended for it and yet they seemed fully unaware of how much God had valued their care.
“God Told Me” language sometimes gives the message that unless I am divinely prompted I don’t have to do anything. The problem is that God has spoken through His word and therefore we are mandated to go out of our way to care more. If we care in order to curry favor with God we are missing the point as well.
When people do things from the feeling of “God Told Me” they run the risk of the blame/shame/pride process. If the thing that they were prompted to do actually works they are almost immoveable in their idea that God only leads that way. An example goes something like this. God told me to give someone $167. The person receiving is ecstatic because they needed exactly that amount to pay their electricity bill. The lesson for the giver is sometimes misunderstood to mean, see God shows exactly how to give and I only have to do what He divinely shows me.
It gets even worse if God actually uses someone in areas of divine healing. Pride jumps in almost immediately because obviously they are now individuals who are walking under God’s divine favor. Unless you have seen someone healed through your prayers then you have no voice in their lives. People also cater to those who have been vessels that were used to reveal God miraculously. If God used him in such a spectacular way then who are we to examine what they say? This can have them being treated like “rock stars” with nobody daring to question them.
What about when things don’t work out? The danger here is in blaming others for causing the failure. How does blame show up? A person is sick and the doctor says, without a miracle she will be dead in 24 hours. A prayer group gathers to intercede. Somebody has a strong feeling (God Told Me) that the person will be healed. The group agrees in prayer that it is not this person’s time to die. The person dies. Instead of normal grieving, there are pointing fingers as to who didn’t have enough faith for the miracle. Even the dead person is blamed for not receiving the healing by faith. It just gets crazy and people’s trust in God is diminished through the unknown culprit who lacked enough faith. Obviously the group doesn’t blame God but deep down that thought is there as well.
Shame can also be present in this scenario in that people can think that they were way to unworthy to have had God use them. Instead of maturing they are inward focused about how they will never measure up to being able to hear God’s voice. They may never even acknowledge this feeling, they just slowly wither up.
God uses many ways of speaking to us. I’m not saying that God doesn’t directly intervene in the affairs of mankind. What I am saying is that God has already given us many ways of hearing Him. He speaks to us through our giftings, our personalities, our experience, His creation, others, His Word and world history. Let’s not limit ourselves to the .01% of the time that He actually speaks something to us directly. And let us never make it a demand. When He does speak to you, feel free to test it through all the other ways in which He joyously does speak to His children.
Charismatics are notorious for over personalizing their relationship with Jesus in ways that are not consistent with God’s word. I have known people who literally ask God what color socks they should be wearing that day and then went throughout the day with mismatching socks. It seems they wanted God to be so intimate with them that they needed to fabricate His voice down to the very minutiae of their lives.
Matthew 25:33-45 is a beautiful passage of a healthy unawareness of God telling them to do anything specific. The righteous simply did what the Bible has already told them through His Word. They are commended for it and yet they seemed fully unaware of how much God had valued their care.
“God Told Me” language sometimes gives the message that unless I am divinely prompted I don’t have to do anything. The problem is that God has spoken through His word and therefore we are mandated to go out of our way to care more. If we care in order to curry favor with God we are missing the point as well.
When people do things from the feeling of “God Told Me” they run the risk of the blame/shame/pride process. If the thing that they were prompted to do actually works they are almost immoveable in their idea that God only leads that way. An example goes something like this. God told me to give someone $167. The person receiving is ecstatic because they needed exactly that amount to pay their electricity bill. The lesson for the giver is sometimes misunderstood to mean, see God shows exactly how to give and I only have to do what He divinely shows me.
It gets even worse if God actually uses someone in areas of divine healing. Pride jumps in almost immediately because obviously they are now individuals who are walking under God’s divine favor. Unless you have seen someone healed through your prayers then you have no voice in their lives. People also cater to those who have been vessels that were used to reveal God miraculously. If God used him in such a spectacular way then who are we to examine what they say? This can have them being treated like “rock stars” with nobody daring to question them.
What about when things don’t work out? The danger here is in blaming others for causing the failure. How does blame show up? A person is sick and the doctor says, without a miracle she will be dead in 24 hours. A prayer group gathers to intercede. Somebody has a strong feeling (God Told Me) that the person will be healed. The group agrees in prayer that it is not this person’s time to die. The person dies. Instead of normal grieving, there are pointing fingers as to who didn’t have enough faith for the miracle. Even the dead person is blamed for not receiving the healing by faith. It just gets crazy and people’s trust in God is diminished through the unknown culprit who lacked enough faith. Obviously the group doesn’t blame God but deep down that thought is there as well.
Shame can also be present in this scenario in that people can think that they were way to unworthy to have had God use them. Instead of maturing they are inward focused about how they will never measure up to being able to hear God’s voice. They may never even acknowledge this feeling, they just slowly wither up.
God uses many ways of speaking to us. I’m not saying that God doesn’t directly intervene in the affairs of mankind. What I am saying is that God has already given us many ways of hearing Him. He speaks to us through our giftings, our personalities, our experience, His creation, others, His Word and world history. Let’s not limit ourselves to the .01% of the time that He actually speaks something to us directly. And let us never make it a demand. When He does speak to you, feel free to test it through all the other ways in which He joyously does speak to His children.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
God Told Me
Sounds spiritual, even Godly, right?
Then why do I feel that it shuts down a conversation?
Do those words invite me into their life?
Is there any counsel being asked for? Proverbs 15:22,23
What about when things go wrong: do you feel shame or blame towards God?
What about taking responsibility for our decision making process? Proverbs 16:18
Is not my heart desperately deceitful? Jer. 17:9
Am I bound to decisions because I thought I must be obedient to what “God told me”?
What is the point of the body of Christ, if I only need God to tell me?
Here’s a window (coining Jamie's expression) into something that happened to me years ago. I was 29 years old with a beautiful wife and three of the cutest kids in the universe. I had a great job as a toolmaker at General Motors. I loved God passionately and unreservedly.
I was in a service and felt God speaking to me to go further in my leadership role. I had done everything that could be done within the church system that I was in. The only thing I hadn’t done was become a pastor. So I quit my job, went to Bible College for 4 years and then pastored for the next 8 years.
Do I have to remain bound by what I felt God told me as a young man of 29? My answer is definitely, no. Do I love God less, as I say no? I am slowly breaking free from the blame/shame/pride process that seems to come with “God told me”.
What do I do now? I invite my friends deeper into my life that ever before. Interestingly enough, I also feel God’s love more than ever.
A famous comedian, Flip Wilson, of days of yore, had this as his byline, “The devil made me do it.” He was mocking people’s unwillingness to take personal responsibility.
I wonder if we sometimes use the byline, “God told me”, unwittingly as a mechanism to keep others out of our lives. After all, if God told me, who are you to disagree?
Then why do I feel that it shuts down a conversation?
Do those words invite me into their life?
Is there any counsel being asked for? Proverbs 15:22,23
What about when things go wrong: do you feel shame or blame towards God?
What about taking responsibility for our decision making process? Proverbs 16:18
Is not my heart desperately deceitful? Jer. 17:9
Am I bound to decisions because I thought I must be obedient to what “God told me”?
What is the point of the body of Christ, if I only need God to tell me?
Here’s a window (coining Jamie's expression) into something that happened to me years ago. I was 29 years old with a beautiful wife and three of the cutest kids in the universe. I had a great job as a toolmaker at General Motors. I loved God passionately and unreservedly.
I was in a service and felt God speaking to me to go further in my leadership role. I had done everything that could be done within the church system that I was in. The only thing I hadn’t done was become a pastor. So I quit my job, went to Bible College for 4 years and then pastored for the next 8 years.
Do I have to remain bound by what I felt God told me as a young man of 29? My answer is definitely, no. Do I love God less, as I say no? I am slowly breaking free from the blame/shame/pride process that seems to come with “God told me”.
What do I do now? I invite my friends deeper into my life that ever before. Interestingly enough, I also feel God’s love more than ever.
A famous comedian, Flip Wilson, of days of yore, had this as his byline, “The devil made me do it.” He was mocking people’s unwillingness to take personal responsibility.
I wonder if we sometimes use the byline, “God told me”, unwittingly as a mechanism to keep others out of our lives. After all, if God told me, who are you to disagree?
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Where Church Practices Came From
The Church Building – Started by Constantine around 327 AD. The first church buildings were patterned after the Roman basilicas which were modeled after Greek temples.
The Pastor – Ignatius of Antioch around 115 AD. was the predecessor to the modern pastor. Ignatius’ model of one-bishop-rule did not prevail in the churches until the third century. Constantine brought the hierarchal leadership style of the Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans into the church in the fourth century.
Order of Worship – Evolved from Gregory’s Mass in the sixth century to the revisions made by Luther, Calvin, the Puritans, the Free-church tradition, the Methodists, the Frontier-Revivalists and the Pentecostals.
The Sermon – Borrowed from the Greek sophists, who were masters at oratory and rhetoric. John Crysostom (347-407) and Augustine (354-430) popularized the Greco-Roman homily (sermon) and made it a central part of the Christian faith.
The Pulpit – Used by the Christian church as early as 250 AD. It came from the Greek ambo which was a pulpit used by both Greeks and Jews for delivering monologues.
The Choir – Provoked by Constantine’s desire to mimic the professional music used in Roman imperial ceremonies. In the fourth century, the Christians borrowed the choir idea from the choirs used in Greek dramas and Greek temples.
Chapter and Verse – Chapters were added to the New Testament by University of Paris professor Stephen Langton in 1227. Printer Robert Stephanus added verses to the New Testament in 1551.
The Altar Call – Invented by 17th century Methodists and popularized by Charles Finney (1792-1872).
The Pew – Evolved from the 13th through the 18th centuries in England.
Reading Scripture just before the Sermon – Pagan Greek orators, dressed in an orator’s gown, would read a portion from well-known Greek writings, such as Homer prior to an event-drama beginning.
Sunday School – Invented by Robert Raikes from Britain in 1780. Raikes did not found the Sunday School for the purpose of religious instruction. He founded it to teach poor children the basics of education.
The matter of all Protestants going to church on Sunday at 10 or 11 am – This practice came into being through the efforts of Martin Luther who had a hard time getting up early on Sunday mornings because of his alcohol drinking habits on Saturday nights.
Sunday as the Lord’s Day – Invented by Justin Martyr in 100-165 AD. It never had widespread acceptance until well into the 4th and 5th centuries.
http://www.biblehistory.com/The%20Origin%20of%20Sunday%20Worship.html
For more detailed analysis you can read Gene Edward’s book, “Beyond Radical”.
Or just google to your heart's content.
The Pastor – Ignatius of Antioch around 115 AD. was the predecessor to the modern pastor. Ignatius’ model of one-bishop-rule did not prevail in the churches until the third century. Constantine brought the hierarchal leadership style of the Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans into the church in the fourth century.
Order of Worship – Evolved from Gregory’s Mass in the sixth century to the revisions made by Luther, Calvin, the Puritans, the Free-church tradition, the Methodists, the Frontier-Revivalists and the Pentecostals.
The Sermon – Borrowed from the Greek sophists, who were masters at oratory and rhetoric. John Crysostom (347-407) and Augustine (354-430) popularized the Greco-Roman homily (sermon) and made it a central part of the Christian faith.
The Pulpit – Used by the Christian church as early as 250 AD. It came from the Greek ambo which was a pulpit used by both Greeks and Jews for delivering monologues.
The Choir – Provoked by Constantine’s desire to mimic the professional music used in Roman imperial ceremonies. In the fourth century, the Christians borrowed the choir idea from the choirs used in Greek dramas and Greek temples.
Chapter and Verse – Chapters were added to the New Testament by University of Paris professor Stephen Langton in 1227. Printer Robert Stephanus added verses to the New Testament in 1551.
The Altar Call – Invented by 17th century Methodists and popularized by Charles Finney (1792-1872).
The Pew – Evolved from the 13th through the 18th centuries in England.
Reading Scripture just before the Sermon – Pagan Greek orators, dressed in an orator’s gown, would read a portion from well-known Greek writings, such as Homer prior to an event-drama beginning.
Sunday School – Invented by Robert Raikes from Britain in 1780. Raikes did not found the Sunday School for the purpose of religious instruction. He founded it to teach poor children the basics of education.
The matter of all Protestants going to church on Sunday at 10 or 11 am – This practice came into being through the efforts of Martin Luther who had a hard time getting up early on Sunday mornings because of his alcohol drinking habits on Saturday nights.
Sunday as the Lord’s Day – Invented by Justin Martyr in 100-165 AD. It never had widespread acceptance until well into the 4th and 5th centuries.
http://www.biblehistory.com/The%20Origin%20of%20Sunday%20Worship.html
For more detailed analysis you can read Gene Edward’s book, “Beyond Radical”.
Or just google to your heart's content.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
My Name is Onesimus 3
(Read Part 1 and Part 2 first)
What a strange reaction to my heart felt plea. I wanted to say more but they just kept laughing. I knew they were not laughing at me. It was like I had missed out on some fantastic joke. Was I the only one present who could not understand? They saw my bewilderment and yet they laughed and laughed. Tears were streaming down their faces. Paul made his way over to me and wrapped his arms around me. From the very depths of his being he laughed as he hugged me.
Once more I felt an indescribable power even more intense than my first encounter with Paul at his door. I wrapped my arms around Paul and hugged him back, though I knew not why. My mind was realing but inside me something broke forth in laughter. It was just so contagious and yet something deeper, something which I had never experienced in all of my days.
How long were we in such a state, I do not know? And then a quietness swept over our gathering. I couldn’t speak… it was… it was… no words can describe the feeling I felt. One of the men began to sing and then another joined in. I didn’t understand the language. I didn’t need to. It was beautiful. I could bathe in the song of these men. If this was the time of my last breath, I knew I could die a contented man.
And then it was over. Each man hugged passionately and bid farewell. It was too precious to speak.
What was this kingdom that these men were joining forces for? I wanted to join and yet they gave no indication of how or where or when or even why. I so desperately wanted answers but Paul simply directed me to his cot and extinguished the lamps. I do not know whether I slept that night but I do know that I remained in a place of total contentment.
Another day has dawned, how could I have slept so late. Paul saw me stirring and called me to breakfast. He had a wonderful feast of porridge and fruit prepared for us. I should have been ashamed that this man was serving me once more. But even then I could not find the shame. Paul’s eyes twinkled as we enjoyed our meal together.
Paul then asked me if I could do him a favor. He said he had three letters he needed delivered to people around the city. Would I be willing to take them for him. I still did understand what was going on and yet I so wanted to serve this precious man. Of course, I would deliver his letters. Why he trusted me was a question that perplexed my very soul. I knew he was a man who saw beyond the natural. How could he not know that I was such a scoundrel?
My day was full delivering Paul’s letters. When I explained that these were letters from Paul, the people welcomed me with such genuine care. I had never had my stomach so full as they would never let me leave without sharing food with them. They all seemed to have this inner joy but still no one told me why. They talked of the dead man, Jesus, as if he was alive but I knew for sure that he had been crucified.
It confused me somewhat, that they did not talk more of their leader, Paul. Perhaps this was the greater genius of their strange insurrection. They pointed to a dead man as their leader, therefore no one living could be held accountable. No, that couldn’t be it. What were they trying to say?
I finally made it back to Paul near the end of the day. More soup and bread was offered to me but I told Paul I had been too well fed to eat another morsel. He laughed and poured some wine. When would he let me know the secrets of this society? I wanted to ask but somehow the words would not come out of my mouth.
He pointed me to his cot once again and invited me to rest. He said he had one more errand for me to attend to this evening and wanted me to be refreshed. No one ever gave it a thought as to whether I was tired and yet Paul could sense it even before I gave it a thought. Tears flowed down my face as I lay on this strange man’s bed.
When I awoke, we had tea together and Paul told how wonderful it was to have someone to help him with his mission. He gave me instructions to go to a certain part of the city to deliver another letter. What did he mean that I was helping him? My head was confused beyond measure but my heart was full. Off to the house that Paul had directed me to.
What a foolish mission Paul has sent me on. The house is in the richest areas of Rome. Back in Colosse the best homes were not nearly as grand as this one. Why would Paul be so specific about my knocking on the front door? I knew my place was the servants entrance. Nevertheless, if Paul said the front door, then the front door it would be. There was singing going on inside, so much so, that I had to knock three times before someone answered. I said I had a letter from Paul. They quickly had me come in and had me sit in the entrance way. I was sure that they were forming a reply to Paul as I sat listening to such sweet sounding songs of love.
To my surprise a man in costly clothes came and knelt at my feet with a basin and a pitcher. I told him I must get back to Paul. He simply quieted me and washed my feet, just as Paul had done. Was it just two days ago?
He then brought me into this fantastic home. There must have been 50 present and yet they all welcomed me with one voice of acceptance. The man who had washed my feet invited me to sit beside him. A servant girl began to speak without invitation by anyone. She told of her great love for the man, Jesus. It was so simple and yet so stirring. Then a man opened the letter from Paul and began to read.
"I, Paul, just wanted you to know how content I am, knowing of your great love for each other and for your love for our Saviour, Jesus the Christ. My friend, Onesimus, has been such a welcomed addition to my humble residence…"
My name was being spoken in front of this gathering. I didn’t hear the rest of the letter as I was so shocked at the hearing of my name. Did he really call me friend? It was a short letter and then someone prayed for grace to be on their brother, Paul.
The man I was sitting next to, began to speak. He revealed how he had sought after power and possessions with ruthless cruelty. I was now afraid as I realized that this man was of such high rank within Rome, itself. But hadn’t he just washed my feet? Questions, questions, questions. The more I heard, the less I understood.
The man continued with his story of how Paul had talked to him of a kingdom that could not be made by the hands of men. A kingdom of love and power and a sound mind. He said at first he was jealous of Paul’s words because he knew deep inside, that he had nothing like that. He had acquired wealth and fame and yet felt as empty as a stalk of corn after harvest time.
He then said something that jolted me. He said now he was the happiest man on earth because this Jesus who had been crucified, had risen from the dead. This powerful man was declaring that this dead man, Jesus, was alive and had become his king.
All day I had been hearing of a kingdom and a dead man Jesus. Yes, people had been speaking of him as if he was present but I thought that that was just a way of speaking. Now, I was being confronted with something that I knew was impossible. I wanted him to keep speaking but he stopped and passed me some cheese and bread to eat.
What madness was I experiencing? I wanted to join an insurrection. These people wanted to talk about a dead man, being alive. Someone else was speaking but I was truly lost. Singing began again and this quieted me somewhat. And then the thing I had experienced the night before happened again. Someone had begun to laugh, soon after others were laughing as well. I couldn’t help but join in. I had experienced this with a few men the night before but with 50 people it was something else. If this was not the house of such a powerful man, I’m sure they would have been arrested for rioting.
I left to return to Paul with a deep joy but also with a fierce determination to have my questions answered. When I got to Paul’s house, he was writing another letter. He asked me about my evening. I detailed what had taken place. Paul was practically dancing and hugged me again, thanking me for helping him so much. I was trying desperately to form my questions but my mouth would not speak. Paul simply looked at me and said that tomorrow I would understand everything. He blew out the lamps and I laid down in expectation of what, I did not know.
Click here for Part 4.
What a strange reaction to my heart felt plea. I wanted to say more but they just kept laughing. I knew they were not laughing at me. It was like I had missed out on some fantastic joke. Was I the only one present who could not understand? They saw my bewilderment and yet they laughed and laughed. Tears were streaming down their faces. Paul made his way over to me and wrapped his arms around me. From the very depths of his being he laughed as he hugged me.
Once more I felt an indescribable power even more intense than my first encounter with Paul at his door. I wrapped my arms around Paul and hugged him back, though I knew not why. My mind was realing but inside me something broke forth in laughter. It was just so contagious and yet something deeper, something which I had never experienced in all of my days.
How long were we in such a state, I do not know? And then a quietness swept over our gathering. I couldn’t speak… it was… it was… no words can describe the feeling I felt. One of the men began to sing and then another joined in. I didn’t understand the language. I didn’t need to. It was beautiful. I could bathe in the song of these men. If this was the time of my last breath, I knew I could die a contented man.
And then it was over. Each man hugged passionately and bid farewell. It was too precious to speak.
What was this kingdom that these men were joining forces for? I wanted to join and yet they gave no indication of how or where or when or even why. I so desperately wanted answers but Paul simply directed me to his cot and extinguished the lamps. I do not know whether I slept that night but I do know that I remained in a place of total contentment.
Another day has dawned, how could I have slept so late. Paul saw me stirring and called me to breakfast. He had a wonderful feast of porridge and fruit prepared for us. I should have been ashamed that this man was serving me once more. But even then I could not find the shame. Paul’s eyes twinkled as we enjoyed our meal together.
Paul then asked me if I could do him a favor. He said he had three letters he needed delivered to people around the city. Would I be willing to take them for him. I still did understand what was going on and yet I so wanted to serve this precious man. Of course, I would deliver his letters. Why he trusted me was a question that perplexed my very soul. I knew he was a man who saw beyond the natural. How could he not know that I was such a scoundrel?
My day was full delivering Paul’s letters. When I explained that these were letters from Paul, the people welcomed me with such genuine care. I had never had my stomach so full as they would never let me leave without sharing food with them. They all seemed to have this inner joy but still no one told me why. They talked of the dead man, Jesus, as if he was alive but I knew for sure that he had been crucified.
It confused me somewhat, that they did not talk more of their leader, Paul. Perhaps this was the greater genius of their strange insurrection. They pointed to a dead man as their leader, therefore no one living could be held accountable. No, that couldn’t be it. What were they trying to say?
I finally made it back to Paul near the end of the day. More soup and bread was offered to me but I told Paul I had been too well fed to eat another morsel. He laughed and poured some wine. When would he let me know the secrets of this society? I wanted to ask but somehow the words would not come out of my mouth.
He pointed me to his cot once again and invited me to rest. He said he had one more errand for me to attend to this evening and wanted me to be refreshed. No one ever gave it a thought as to whether I was tired and yet Paul could sense it even before I gave it a thought. Tears flowed down my face as I lay on this strange man’s bed.
When I awoke, we had tea together and Paul told how wonderful it was to have someone to help him with his mission. He gave me instructions to go to a certain part of the city to deliver another letter. What did he mean that I was helping him? My head was confused beyond measure but my heart was full. Off to the house that Paul had directed me to.
What a foolish mission Paul has sent me on. The house is in the richest areas of Rome. Back in Colosse the best homes were not nearly as grand as this one. Why would Paul be so specific about my knocking on the front door? I knew my place was the servants entrance. Nevertheless, if Paul said the front door, then the front door it would be. There was singing going on inside, so much so, that I had to knock three times before someone answered. I said I had a letter from Paul. They quickly had me come in and had me sit in the entrance way. I was sure that they were forming a reply to Paul as I sat listening to such sweet sounding songs of love.
To my surprise a man in costly clothes came and knelt at my feet with a basin and a pitcher. I told him I must get back to Paul. He simply quieted me and washed my feet, just as Paul had done. Was it just two days ago?
He then brought me into this fantastic home. There must have been 50 present and yet they all welcomed me with one voice of acceptance. The man who had washed my feet invited me to sit beside him. A servant girl began to speak without invitation by anyone. She told of her great love for the man, Jesus. It was so simple and yet so stirring. Then a man opened the letter from Paul and began to read.
"I, Paul, just wanted you to know how content I am, knowing of your great love for each other and for your love for our Saviour, Jesus the Christ. My friend, Onesimus, has been such a welcomed addition to my humble residence…"
My name was being spoken in front of this gathering. I didn’t hear the rest of the letter as I was so shocked at the hearing of my name. Did he really call me friend? It was a short letter and then someone prayed for grace to be on their brother, Paul.
The man I was sitting next to, began to speak. He revealed how he had sought after power and possessions with ruthless cruelty. I was now afraid as I realized that this man was of such high rank within Rome, itself. But hadn’t he just washed my feet? Questions, questions, questions. The more I heard, the less I understood.
The man continued with his story of how Paul had talked to him of a kingdom that could not be made by the hands of men. A kingdom of love and power and a sound mind. He said at first he was jealous of Paul’s words because he knew deep inside, that he had nothing like that. He had acquired wealth and fame and yet felt as empty as a stalk of corn after harvest time.
He then said something that jolted me. He said now he was the happiest man on earth because this Jesus who had been crucified, had risen from the dead. This powerful man was declaring that this dead man, Jesus, was alive and had become his king.
All day I had been hearing of a kingdom and a dead man Jesus. Yes, people had been speaking of him as if he was present but I thought that that was just a way of speaking. Now, I was being confronted with something that I knew was impossible. I wanted him to keep speaking but he stopped and passed me some cheese and bread to eat.
What madness was I experiencing? I wanted to join an insurrection. These people wanted to talk about a dead man, being alive. Someone else was speaking but I was truly lost. Singing began again and this quieted me somewhat. And then the thing I had experienced the night before happened again. Someone had begun to laugh, soon after others were laughing as well. I couldn’t help but join in. I had experienced this with a few men the night before but with 50 people it was something else. If this was not the house of such a powerful man, I’m sure they would have been arrested for rioting.
I left to return to Paul with a deep joy but also with a fierce determination to have my questions answered. When I got to Paul’s house, he was writing another letter. He asked me about my evening. I detailed what had taken place. Paul was practically dancing and hugged me again, thanking me for helping him so much. I was trying desperately to form my questions but my mouth would not speak. Paul simply looked at me and said that tomorrow I would understand everything. He blew out the lamps and I laid down in expectation of what, I did not know.
Click here for Part 4.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
My Name is Onesimus. 2
(read part 1 first)
I so desperately wanted to plunge my knife into his breast but the look in his eyes caught me in a way I cannot describe. What I saw shocked me. I expected rage, anger, fear…I was not prepared for what I saw. I had not prepared myself for this. I saw…no I experienced, love, bursting forth from his eyes. He reached out his hand and took my knife. He was such a little man and yet I yielded like a little child.
He reached up and put his arm around my shoulder and guided me into his house. It was like I was in a trance. He had me sit down and then went away. I couldn’t move. He came back quickly with a pitcher and basin and knelt down to wash my feet. My mouth was open but I could not speak. As he washed my feet he was asking me if I had come a long way. I nodded. He then took me into his tiny kitchen and began to pour out soup and bread. He said his wine was not the finest but what was his, was mine to enjoy.
Tears rolled down my face. I thought I had heard a horrible lie but now I knew that this man truly believed in a different kingdom. He said eat and although I really was starving, I only wanted what this man had. What kind of power did he possess? I thought he was weak because he was arrested. Now, I wanted to join his ranks of insurrectionists. I prayed that he would allow me to join with him in his plans for this new kingdom.
When I finally was able to speak, I asked him bluntly if he was the leader of some new rebellion? He laughed uproariously at my question. He said he would let me know everything in the proper time. When I finished eating, he asked if I was well and where I was staying. I couldn’t answer, but simply hung my head. He said he needed some things from the market and asked if I would be willing to get them for him.
He must know I am a slave and yet he did not command me to do this. Instead he took out a coin and gave it to me to go to market for him. How could he trust me with his money? He knew I had come to kill him and now he trusted me with money. He hadn’t even asked me why I sought his life.
This was the strangest day I had ever experienced. Here I was, a runaway slave, bent on murder, being handed a coin, from a man that should be dead. What else could I do? I took the coin and went to the market.
While there, something gripped my heart and told me to run as far away as possible. I knew I couldn’t kill this man but he still did not know who I was. The thought passed as quickly as it came and I returned to Paul with the goods.
By this time another person had joined Paul in his house and they were laughing when I returned. I’m sure he had told him of how I had come to kill him. I was afraid once more and my feet wanted to flee. Instead I handed my bundle to Paul and he invited me to sit with them. The newcomer introduced himself and I was even more dismayed, for he was a citizen of Rome. After stating this, he got up and got some wine for all of us. What magic was going on here?
Paul asked for news from abroad and was delighted that many were joining with him in his cause. They didn’t ignore me nor did they fling questions at me that I dared not answer. I continued to watch but most of what was being said was incomprehensible to me.
The man, Jason, got up to leave, for he had business to attend to. He said he would return tonight with others. He gave Paul a hug and then he shook my hand. I had never shaken hands with a Roman citizen in my life. Did he not understand my place?
Paul then beckoned me back to the kitchen for more soup and some of the fare that I had bought today. When I had my fill, he directed to me to a cot in the back corner of the room. He said he had letters to write and wanted me to simply rest.
I slept like a child without a care in the world. When I awoke it was evening and others had joined Paul once again. Paul introduced me as his new found friend and the others gave me warm acceptance.
I sat and listened as they talked with great excitement. I heard the word kingdom repeated several times but I did not hear words of war. Instead they talked of a man from some backward country, called Judea. They said his name, Jesus. Was this the leader of the rebellion? No, of course not, they said he had been crucified.
They asked Paul more things about Jesus and he told stories that were obviously fairytales. But, now I understood. Paul was using this man’s supposed miraculous life to launch his own campaign. What a genius. He was using a dead man’s name to build his own band of followers.
I could stand it no longer and I burst out that I wanted join them in their insurrection. There was silence for a moment and then laughter burst forth.
Click here for Part 3.
I so desperately wanted to plunge my knife into his breast but the look in his eyes caught me in a way I cannot describe. What I saw shocked me. I expected rage, anger, fear…I was not prepared for what I saw. I had not prepared myself for this. I saw…no I experienced, love, bursting forth from his eyes. He reached out his hand and took my knife. He was such a little man and yet I yielded like a little child.
He reached up and put his arm around my shoulder and guided me into his house. It was like I was in a trance. He had me sit down and then went away. I couldn’t move. He came back quickly with a pitcher and basin and knelt down to wash my feet. My mouth was open but I could not speak. As he washed my feet he was asking me if I had come a long way. I nodded. He then took me into his tiny kitchen and began to pour out soup and bread. He said his wine was not the finest but what was his, was mine to enjoy.
Tears rolled down my face. I thought I had heard a horrible lie but now I knew that this man truly believed in a different kingdom. He said eat and although I really was starving, I only wanted what this man had. What kind of power did he possess? I thought he was weak because he was arrested. Now, I wanted to join his ranks of insurrectionists. I prayed that he would allow me to join with him in his plans for this new kingdom.
When I finally was able to speak, I asked him bluntly if he was the leader of some new rebellion? He laughed uproariously at my question. He said he would let me know everything in the proper time. When I finished eating, he asked if I was well and where I was staying. I couldn’t answer, but simply hung my head. He said he needed some things from the market and asked if I would be willing to get them for him.
He must know I am a slave and yet he did not command me to do this. Instead he took out a coin and gave it to me to go to market for him. How could he trust me with his money? He knew I had come to kill him and now he trusted me with money. He hadn’t even asked me why I sought his life.
This was the strangest day I had ever experienced. Here I was, a runaway slave, bent on murder, being handed a coin, from a man that should be dead. What else could I do? I took the coin and went to the market.
While there, something gripped my heart and told me to run as far away as possible. I knew I couldn’t kill this man but he still did not know who I was. The thought passed as quickly as it came and I returned to Paul with the goods.
By this time another person had joined Paul in his house and they were laughing when I returned. I’m sure he had told him of how I had come to kill him. I was afraid once more and my feet wanted to flee. Instead I handed my bundle to Paul and he invited me to sit with them. The newcomer introduced himself and I was even more dismayed, for he was a citizen of Rome. After stating this, he got up and got some wine for all of us. What magic was going on here?
Paul asked for news from abroad and was delighted that many were joining with him in his cause. They didn’t ignore me nor did they fling questions at me that I dared not answer. I continued to watch but most of what was being said was incomprehensible to me.
The man, Jason, got up to leave, for he had business to attend to. He said he would return tonight with others. He gave Paul a hug and then he shook my hand. I had never shaken hands with a Roman citizen in my life. Did he not understand my place?
Paul then beckoned me back to the kitchen for more soup and some of the fare that I had bought today. When I had my fill, he directed to me to a cot in the back corner of the room. He said he had letters to write and wanted me to simply rest.
I slept like a child without a care in the world. When I awoke it was evening and others had joined Paul once again. Paul introduced me as his new found friend and the others gave me warm acceptance.
I sat and listened as they talked with great excitement. I heard the word kingdom repeated several times but I did not hear words of war. Instead they talked of a man from some backward country, called Judea. They said his name, Jesus. Was this the leader of the rebellion? No, of course not, they said he had been crucified.
They asked Paul more things about Jesus and he told stories that were obviously fairytales. But, now I understood. Paul was using this man’s supposed miraculous life to launch his own campaign. What a genius. He was using a dead man’s name to build his own band of followers.
I could stand it no longer and I burst out that I wanted join them in their insurrection. There was silence for a moment and then laughter burst forth.
Click here for Part 3.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
My name is Onesimus.
My name is Onesimus. A peculiar name but famous nonetheless. The year is 62 A.D. and I feel I must tell this story. It is strange for me to even write, for you see, I was born into the hellish life of slavery.
My master’s name was Philemon and his wife was Apphia. The truth be told, they were not the worst of the slave owners. As long as our duties were performed satisfactorily, we were in no danger of anything more than to be completely ignored. Philemon did at times have a temper and when I chose to rise up against his rule; let’s just say I carry in my body the consequences.
I was burdened with the reality that I had no hope for a different future. Many of my friends had reconciled themselves to this reality and had come to a semblance of peace. But somehow, inside of me, I thought that I was meant for more. Nothing in my world allowed me to think this way and yet I hungered.
A fellow slave came rushing to meet me one day, with the strangest expression on his face. He had just come back from Laodicea, a city 5 miles north of Colosse. I had never ventured from Colosse and was always anxious to hear news of the outside world.
He told me a strange story of a man, who went by the name of Paul. He had been speaking a message about a new kingdom, in the city of Ephesus, which was just 4 days journey west of Colosse. I thought he must be an insane man to proclaim any kingdom, when just the word itself could leave one dead just for the mentioning of it. And then he told me something else; this madman said, that in this kingdom there was neither slave nor free.
He had to rush off for his master and he left me with this unfathomable news. A kingdom where there was neither slave nor free? Those words haunted me. I would lie awake at night trying to imagine such a place. If I had ever dreamed, those words went beyond my wildest expectations. Every command that came from Philemon were now daggers to my very soul. It was now unbearable to live this life of nothingness. I didn’t believe that such a kingdom existed, but oh, how I longed for such a thing.
I had been raised knowing that if it is too good to be true, then for sure it is. I was going mad with hope that could not be had. What could I do? I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Those few words had changed me forever. I must find this man who had dared to say such words. If they were true, I would join his army that he must have been gathering for his insurrection. If they were not true, I would kill him with my bare hands for giving me such a false hope.
I was willing to die to find out the truth and so I escaped from my master. So one day I just started walking and did not return. I had never been outside the city. I was ecstatic with joy while at the same time found myself cowering in the shadows whenever a person came near.
Getting to Ephesus was no easy feat for a runaway such as me. Upon getting there I asked about a man named Paul. I was directed to some people who knew of this man. They scared me with their openness. I dared not get into much conversation with them for fear that they would know what manner of man I was. They told me the saddest story of the man whom I sought. They heard he had been taken as a prisoner to Rome itself.
My dreams were crushed. He was just a man with some foolish notions. There was no insurrection to join. I could never return to my master. I had tasted something too rich to allow myself to return, never mind the price I would pay for having run off. I was now the walking dead. No future, no past to return to, a present that had nothing but fear. I determined then and there that I would travel to Rome to kill this man who had spread such false hope. I would die knowing that I had at least done something that mattered.
My heart was racing as I neared the most glorious city known to man, Rome. At least in my pseudo-freedom I could say I had experienced what many of my compatriots would never know. It was a glorious time for me, even though I had no money and was literally starving. My sustenance came from my burning desire to snuff out this hollow stalk of a man named Paul.
How I would find him, I did not know. I began asking about Paul and was surprised that he was well known in a city of such grandeur. I heard he was under house arrest. I was a little taken aback by this, as I knew he was an insurrectionist with ideas that Caesar would not tolerate for a half a heart beat. But what an opportunity for my plan to work.
It was simple enough to steal a knife from one of the many open kitchens and now to finish my task. I found Paul’s house in a modest part of Rome. I had a description of him but did not see him come out of his house. I noticed people coming and going from his residence and always with the biggest smiles on their faces. What a deceiver this man was. Did no one realize how cruel he was, giving hope, when there really was no hope?
I made up my mind to rest one more night and in the morning the deed would be done and I would be finished with this cursed man.
As I approached his door I prayed that he would be alone and no one would be there to intervene. I knocked and sure enough it was Paul standing in front of me. He seemed almost harmless with a crooked nose and balding head. He casually asked me if he could help me. My blood was coursing through my veins, my hands were trembling but I would not be denied. I could not speak as I pulled out my knife. I must finish my task. Paul looked at the knife and then he looked into my eyes.
Click here for Part 2.
My master’s name was Philemon and his wife was Apphia. The truth be told, they were not the worst of the slave owners. As long as our duties were performed satisfactorily, we were in no danger of anything more than to be completely ignored. Philemon did at times have a temper and when I chose to rise up against his rule; let’s just say I carry in my body the consequences.
I was burdened with the reality that I had no hope for a different future. Many of my friends had reconciled themselves to this reality and had come to a semblance of peace. But somehow, inside of me, I thought that I was meant for more. Nothing in my world allowed me to think this way and yet I hungered.
A fellow slave came rushing to meet me one day, with the strangest expression on his face. He had just come back from Laodicea, a city 5 miles north of Colosse. I had never ventured from Colosse and was always anxious to hear news of the outside world.
He told me a strange story of a man, who went by the name of Paul. He had been speaking a message about a new kingdom, in the city of Ephesus, which was just 4 days journey west of Colosse. I thought he must be an insane man to proclaim any kingdom, when just the word itself could leave one dead just for the mentioning of it. And then he told me something else; this madman said, that in this kingdom there was neither slave nor free.
He had to rush off for his master and he left me with this unfathomable news. A kingdom where there was neither slave nor free? Those words haunted me. I would lie awake at night trying to imagine such a place. If I had ever dreamed, those words went beyond my wildest expectations. Every command that came from Philemon were now daggers to my very soul. It was now unbearable to live this life of nothingness. I didn’t believe that such a kingdom existed, but oh, how I longed for such a thing.
I had been raised knowing that if it is too good to be true, then for sure it is. I was going mad with hope that could not be had. What could I do? I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Those few words had changed me forever. I must find this man who had dared to say such words. If they were true, I would join his army that he must have been gathering for his insurrection. If they were not true, I would kill him with my bare hands for giving me such a false hope.
I was willing to die to find out the truth and so I escaped from my master. So one day I just started walking and did not return. I had never been outside the city. I was ecstatic with joy while at the same time found myself cowering in the shadows whenever a person came near.
Getting to Ephesus was no easy feat for a runaway such as me. Upon getting there I asked about a man named Paul. I was directed to some people who knew of this man. They scared me with their openness. I dared not get into much conversation with them for fear that they would know what manner of man I was. They told me the saddest story of the man whom I sought. They heard he had been taken as a prisoner to Rome itself.
My dreams were crushed. He was just a man with some foolish notions. There was no insurrection to join. I could never return to my master. I had tasted something too rich to allow myself to return, never mind the price I would pay for having run off. I was now the walking dead. No future, no past to return to, a present that had nothing but fear. I determined then and there that I would travel to Rome to kill this man who had spread such false hope. I would die knowing that I had at least done something that mattered.
My heart was racing as I neared the most glorious city known to man, Rome. At least in my pseudo-freedom I could say I had experienced what many of my compatriots would never know. It was a glorious time for me, even though I had no money and was literally starving. My sustenance came from my burning desire to snuff out this hollow stalk of a man named Paul.
How I would find him, I did not know. I began asking about Paul and was surprised that he was well known in a city of such grandeur. I heard he was under house arrest. I was a little taken aback by this, as I knew he was an insurrectionist with ideas that Caesar would not tolerate for a half a heart beat. But what an opportunity for my plan to work.
It was simple enough to steal a knife from one of the many open kitchens and now to finish my task. I found Paul’s house in a modest part of Rome. I had a description of him but did not see him come out of his house. I noticed people coming and going from his residence and always with the biggest smiles on their faces. What a deceiver this man was. Did no one realize how cruel he was, giving hope, when there really was no hope?
I made up my mind to rest one more night and in the morning the deed would be done and I would be finished with this cursed man.
As I approached his door I prayed that he would be alone and no one would be there to intervene. I knocked and sure enough it was Paul standing in front of me. He seemed almost harmless with a crooked nose and balding head. He casually asked me if he could help me. My blood was coursing through my veins, my hands were trembling but I would not be denied. I could not speak as I pulled out my knife. I must finish my task. Paul looked at the knife and then he looked into my eyes.
Click here for Part 2.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Time to Build
Eccl 3:1 (NIV) There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ...3b a time to tear down and a time to build,
As you may or may not have noticed I have been doing a fair bit of tearing down. It was never my intention to hurt anyone personally and if I have done so I am very sorry. This post is not to justify but perhaps give a point of understanding.
I felt a freedom to express my heart through my past blogs in order to understand some things that were jumbled up on the inside. I have this deep sense that we aren't always given a chance to express ourselves because we don't do it exactly right, all the time. But until we express ourselves it stays jumbled up inside. That's kind of what I've been doing. I was definitely in the tear down mode.
But then something happened that I can't fully explain. The Lord gave me something. He didn't tell me to stop. He just gave me something more precious. I think I will enter into the time to build phase. Please be patient. The construction site has been levelled and with the Lord's help I hope I can build something that reflects my love for Him.
God ain't finished with me, yet!
As you may or may not have noticed I have been doing a fair bit of tearing down. It was never my intention to hurt anyone personally and if I have done so I am very sorry. This post is not to justify but perhaps give a point of understanding.
I felt a freedom to express my heart through my past blogs in order to understand some things that were jumbled up on the inside. I have this deep sense that we aren't always given a chance to express ourselves because we don't do it exactly right, all the time. But until we express ourselves it stays jumbled up inside. That's kind of what I've been doing. I was definitely in the tear down mode.
But then something happened that I can't fully explain. The Lord gave me something. He didn't tell me to stop. He just gave me something more precious. I think I will enter into the time to build phase. Please be patient. The construction site has been levelled and with the Lord's help I hope I can build something that reflects my love for Him.
God ain't finished with me, yet!
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