Prayer As Engagement, Not Escape

I’ve always imagined when I’m praying that my spirit is transferred up to the throne room of God in that moment. That while my body is kneeling beside my bed or driving in my car, my spirit is raptured into the holy of holies, into the presence of God…who is there, but not necessarily here. 

For several years now, however, I’ve been increasingly convinced that the biblical idea of “Kingdom of Heaven” is a very this worldly reality. That the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus in this world means that the Kingdom of Heaven is not elsewhere, but present and active here. 

It’s funny how paradigm shifts tend to take a while to apply.

The implications of the hereness of the Kingdom of Heaven immediately convinced me that a place called Heaven is not the ultimate goal of the Christian life. But up until recently my imagination in prayer still took me up to a remote, distant, heavenly throne room.

Reading this morning in the Sermon on the Mount (Jesus’ most explicit delineation of the Kingdom of Heaven!), I saw the error of my praying ways. Jesus prays for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

The implication here is that prayer, like church gatherings, aren’t mini Christian vacations into heaven. They are not temporary forays into the next life or another world. Prayer, like church gatherings, are a full engagement with this world. Prayer takes place within and for this world. It does not long for a time to escape, it is an expression of a soul already fully engage in God’s redemptive purposes for this world. I love how Eugene Peterson says it, “Prayer is not an escape from what is going on around us. It is gutsy participation in every earthly detail.”

If heaven is God’s throne, then earth is his footstool. And I can pray at His footstool because that’s where God’s feet touch our ground.

Isn’t it Ironic? Don’t You Think?

As I reflect on the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, I’m reminded that the larger theme of the section within which Luke places this parable is that of great reversals that occur between this life and the next. In particular, the great reversal of, in this life, the rich “receiving good things” and the poor “receiving bad things,” while in the next life the rich “are in agony” and the poor “are comforted.” (Luke 16:25)

The theme, so glaring in this parable, was actually subtly hinted at in the parable of the Shrewd Manager, where the message was, if you, in welcome to the poor, leverage your social status in this life, in the eschatological future, when your social status/wealth mean nothing, the poor will welcome you into eternal bliss.

This is what makes the Shrewd Manager so shrewd.

And this is exactly what makes the Rich Man in this parable foolish.

The two parables/characters are sort of foils or contrasts to one another. I love how my friend Caleb said it in yesterday’s comment section, “This rich man had a great chance during his time on earth to “make friends” with Lazarus by means of his wealth, resulting in the rich man’s being “welcomed into the eternal homes” by Lazarus. Instead, it appears he merely squandered his wealth on himself, leaving Lazarus only the crumbs.”

In the Rich Man and Lazarus, the Rich Man fails to act shrewdly (gain the friendship of Lazarus) with his worldly wealth by leaving the sick, poor, and crippled Lazarus at his very gates. He watches this man day after day get eaten alive by dogs. He watches this man’s life slip away.

And he does nothing about it.

Therefore, when the day comes that they both find themselves in the afterlife, Lazarus is unable to help the Rich Man.

Isn’t it ironic that in life, the Rich Man was able to help Lazarus if he was only willing to show hospitality, but in the next life, Lazarus is unable to help the Rich Man, even if he wanted, because of the Rich Man’s refusal of hospitality while he was living? 

Isn’t it ironic that the gate protecting the Rich Man from outsiders was the very gate that held the possibility of opening to welcome Lazarus to life, but now, the chasm that separates the two men has no possibility of being closed to welcome the Rich Man to life?

Friends, in this life, we have gate, after gate, after gate that creates potential relationships of welcome and humanization. In this life, that gate can remain closed or it can remain open. It’s really our choice now, but it will not be our choice in the next life. Welcome now equates to being welcomed then. That’s the irony of it all. 

Musings on the Message #6: The Nature of Preaching: Holistic and Exegetical

Christian preaching finds its sole authority, foundation, and energy from the text of Scripture. The New York Times, the latest celebrity trend, and the next political agenda have a supplementary, but not preeminent, space within Christian preaching. In modern preaching these things have been reversed, making the latest trends the subject of preaching instead of Scripture.

Christian preaching uses the text of Scripture in two ways. First, it uses the entirety of the Bible. This comment is specifically about those who use the NT exclusively and never venture into to OT. Not only does this often lead to heresy (see Marcion), but it also leads to a lack of understanding of the NT because one cannot understand the symbolism, metaphors, and subtleties of the NT because they are so deeply ingrained in the OT. So truly Christian preaching is not exclusively grounded in the NT. The preaching must venture into the other 2/3 of redemptive history as a necessary background to understanding the God of Israel revealed in Jesus Christ.

Second, Christian preaching is decidedly exegetical. The preacher does not go to the text as a springboard for what s/he already wanted to say. The preacher begins with the text of Scripture, itself, examining the structure, the word usages, the nuances of the grammar, and the genre of the book being studied. This is a spiritual discipline that needs to be recovered in the modern pastorate.

Topical preaching has its place (I use it!), but all good theology and practice are grounded in fully developed hermeneutical and exegetical discipline. In fact, I think I could make a pretty good case that even topical preaching ought to be primarily exegetical.

I suppose the strength with which I say this is grounded in the fact that I’ve heard too many sermons piecemeal scripture, citing texts out of their contexts in order to support some pre-established opinion, agenda, or topic. This kind of preaching does an injustice to the Scriptures, to our hearers, and, of course, the God who breathed the text. Too few of us do the exegetical work necessary to preach truly great sermons.

 

Musings on the Message #5: Revelation and Accessibility

 

Preaching is fundamentally about revealing the person of God in a way that is accessible to the audience. In the modern context preaching has been reduced to jokes, therapy, and self-help. While some of these may naturally occur in a sermon, they are not the telos of Christian preaching. Christian preaching begins and ends with the proclamation of the God who spoke creation into existence and in the incarnation makes himself accessible to that which he created.

This too is an extension of the Trinitarian nature of preaching. In the Trinity, both the Son and the Spirit reveal that their purpose is not to point to themselves but to point to the Father. In every role they take on in creation and redemption, their intention is to point to the Father. Indeed, they are the self-revelation of the Father. They are how He is known. It is necessary, therefore, to see Christian preaching and the preacher as primarily concerned with revealing the Father.  Preaching that fails to point to the Father’s creative and redemptive purposes or His very character as revealed through the Son and the Spirit, is not truly Christian preaching at all. Self-help and therapy are not the primary agenda of preaching; God and His gospel are the sole subject (and object) of Christian preaching.

But preaching that fails to embody the incarnation, to show how accessible God is, also fails. I’m often struck be the frequency with which preachers like to use language, quotes, and ideas that go over their audience’s head. There’s certainly something to be said for asking your people to reach a little – after all, we’re not in the business of spoon feeding spirituality.

But the question has to be asked, “Is this word, quote, or idea so far beyond my audience that it will more distract than attract them from God?”  Because at the end of the day, a sermon that reveals God cannot be inaccessible to the audience. Accessibility is part and parcel of revelation. Accessibility doesn’t always mean the sermon has to appeal to the lowest common denominator or sit on the bottom shelf. But it must not be so over the audience’s head that only a select few can intellectually attain to it. Would that not be homiletical Gnosticism at its worst?

Leap of Faith

Tonight my kids were taking turns standing on a chair in our living room. One after the other they jumped out of the chair and into my arms.

At first, there was some trepidation. They jumped only if my hands were just a few inches from them.

But slowly I moved my hands back and by the end they were both freely jumping out of the chair into my arms, simply trusting that their daddy would be there to catch them.

Even when Tommy was hesitant and scared, Phoebe started yelling for him, “You can do it! Daddy will catch you!”

I hope it’s not trite, but I couldn’t help but think spiritual thoughts in those few moments.

I mean, is this not the leap of faith Christ has called us to – slowly and increasingly learning to trust him by trying out the strength of his hands over, and over, and over?

And is this not a great picture of the way he has called us to leap – encouraging one another through our fears and trials?

I want my kids to grow up trusting that when they leap and when they fall, their daddy will be there to catch them.

I want my kids to grow up believing that the best way to take a leap of faith is in the presence of a community of people that are saying, “You can do it! Daddy will catch you!”

I’m not yet the trusting son my Father wants me to be. And I am not yet the encouraging community my Father wants me to be.

But one day, after I jump the little jumps over, and over, and over, and hear the shouts of encouragement over, and over, and over, I will be a son conformed to the image of the Son. A son taking a dangerous and beautiful leap into his Father’s arms, and encouraging others to take the leap of faith into his strong arms, too.

Musings on the Message #3: The Greatest Story Ever Told

Despite what many of us have been taught, preaching is primarily narratival.

By “Narratival” I do not mean that preaching is primarily about story telling or great illustrations – beneficial as those tools might be. What I mean here is that Christian preaching that seeks to be faithful to the witness of Scripture must not abstract principles from the Scriptures and redemptive history. The Triune God did not give us abstracted rules and logical syllogisms. The Triune God gave us a story of creation, brokenness, law, redemption, cross, resurrection, ascension, and eschaton. Trinitarian preaching places the listeners and the preacher within the story of God’s redemptive work in the world, emphasizing the work of God, lifting up the person of God, and exalting the cross of Christ above all humanity.

Christian preaching proclaims this narrative of redemptive history as an alternative narrative to every other allegiance demanding story in our fallen world. Christian preaching does not proclaim the narrative of nationalism, the story of psychology, or the myth of modernity. Our story is not the story of the nations; it is the story of the Triune God made flesh in the cruciform Messiah who has come to reconcile the entire cosmos to the divine order first established in His creation (Gen. 1-2, Eph. 1:10).

Finally, it should be noted that Narratival Christian preaching emphasizes the contemporary church as a participants in and extensions of salvation history, as opposed to either being mere observers of redemptive history, the climax of salvation history, or the leftovers of salvation history. The narrative of redemption did not die with the apostles – it continues in us. But while we are participants, it does it find its ultimate fulfillment in those of us in the postmodern age (in this, the residue of Modernity seems to still influence our assumptions).  Contemporary Christian preaching needs to recover a sense of the continuation of God’s saving purposes in our day. It needs to recover a sense of the contemporary church as participants in God’s grand narrative. God still speaks today and Christian preaching proclaims that present word.

For the details of narratival presentations (and, yes, preaching is a presentation) check out this fantastic book by Nancy Duarte.

And what I’d really like is for JR Forasteros to write a piece on how Duarte’s book and sermonizing come together.

A Radical Review: The Really Good, Pt. 2

Takes the Hard Words of Jesus Seriously:

On a number of occasions, Platt points out that too frequently we take the hard words of Jesus and explain them away, rub off their sharp edges, and make them palatable to modern ears (i.e. the story of Jesus telling the Rich Young Ruler to give away all his possessions). Platt does a good job of criticizing such interpretive moves that make it easier, rather than harder, to be a disciple of Jesus. I find that Calvinsits, often more than Arminians, are willing to embrace these hard words. I can’t really explain why. But in this matter, I wish we were more like the Calvinists.

 

Holiness is Defined by What We Do, Not By What We Avoid Doing:

Typical of most young pastors and Christians, Platt is fed up with the Christian life being primarily defined in terms of legalistic rules about what we shouldn’t do. When we define the Christian life this way, we reduce holiness and Christian living to avoidance of sin (or what looks like sin) instead of the active pursuit of God. Contrary to this legalistic view of spiritual growth and holiness, Platt rightly maintains that genuine discipleship involves propelling Christians into the world, not the avoidance of the world (105). A Christianity which tries to keep itself pure by avoiding the world or pretending bad things don’t exist is a Christianity that will quickly find itself irrelevant, isolated, and obsolete. Holiness should be defined by what we do in the world and for the world, not by how good a job we do avoiding the world.

 

Platt Spoke Favorably of John Wesley:

This may not seem like that big of a deal to most people, but Platt is overtly (if you know what you’re looking for) a 5-Point Calvinist. Calvinists are not always fond of speaking well of Arminians, and John Wesley is very much Prince Arminian. Platt says nothing about Wesley’s theology, but on page 128 he tells a wonderful and challenging story of Wesley’s deep and profound passion for making sure that everyone had their basic needs met. Wesley was making, in today’s terms, about $120,000 a year, but he was living as if he was only making about $20,000 so that he could give the rest away to the poor. This was actually a consistent theme through Wesley’s life. He died with mere pocket change in his possession because he had given it all away.  I’m deeply appreciative of Platt bringing that information to the fore in his book. It made me proud of my Methodist heritage!

 

Receive the Spirit? What Spirit? Huh?

Reading through the book of Galatians the other day, I came across this interesting question Paul asks in 3:2:

I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard?

Now, Paul’s larger concern here is that this church not be deceived into thinking their salvation or sanctification has anything to do with obedience to the law. They did not enter covenant with Jesus Christ, nor are they sustained in that covenant, because they were/are circumcised.

But the thing that caught my attention in this question has little to do with that larger theological discussion he’s having. Rather, it’s the one he’s NOT having…the one he’s assuming…the one even the Galatians are assuming: That the Spirit’s activity and dwelling among the Galatian church is an objective reality.

When Paul asks this question about the Spirit, his assumption is that the answer will come back unanimously, “by believing what we heard.”

In other words, both Paul and the Galatians are assuming the objective reality of the Spirit in their midst. It is so objective that it is assumed.

This is quite the contrast to the present day church. If someone were to ask the American church, “Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard?” we would probably say, “Receive the Spirit? What Spirit? Huh?”

I’m not sure that I have anything theologically profound to say here. I’m in awe of the Spirit’s obvious manifestation to the Galatian church and Paul. And I feel a bit of sorrow that such a manifestation is not nearly as objective in my life…and that so many of us would feel the same way I do.

I would like to be clear here, though. I DON’T think the seeming lack of objective movement by the Spirit in our midst is because we don’t believe the gospel as much as the Galatians did. In fact, quite the contrary, Paul’s problem with the Galatians here is that they don’t believe it like they should…they’ve abandoned it. And yet, even in the midst of it, he can still appeal to the objective reality of the Spirit in their midst.

So why does it seem so different with us? Is the Spirit an objective reality in your life? Your church?

A Prayer I Wrote for My Nephew’s Funeral

Father of love,

As we, the family and loved ones of Bradyn, gather to remember him and say our goodbyes, we do so in unrelenting mourning and sorrow. We are confused and hurt, desperate and empty. We ask questions that seem to have no answers. And we long for comfort in the midst of this chaos.

So we turn to You in our piercing grief. We turn to You trusting that Bradyn is not only with You, but that he is more alive now than he has ever been. We despair and mourn for our loss, but we also know that this is not our final goodbye, for someday we will see him again in Your presence as we worship You together with him.

By raising from the dead, Your Son Jesus announced to our broken and desperate world that even though our lives our fragile, another kingdom awaits where death does not reign, where tears are wiped away, and where love never has to say goodbye.

So, Father, we look to You now as One who once lost Your own Son. We look to you as One who knows the sting of our anguish and weeps with us. But we also look to You as the only One who can heal our hurting hearts. We mourn deeply. But we mourn in hope.

Like Us, Like Him: Christmas Eve Sermon

Here’s my Christmas Eve sermon from Matthew 1:18-25. http://www.mylhumc.net/502652.ihtml

The sermon should be on top of the player’s list, but if not, click on the tab that says, ‘speakers,’ click on my name (Tom Fuerst) and it’s the sermon titled, Like Us, Like Him.