The Lord’s Prayer as Political Manifesto

“This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.’

Matthew 6:9-13

Recently a friend posted this question on facebook:

What does it look like when the Kingdom comes “on earth as it is in heaven”?

This is a question Christians often find difficult to answer. In the tradition I hail from (Charismatic/Pentecostal), it usually sends us into speculative reveries about “heaven”, or worse, about bringing the “power” of God into our lives to combat the devil.

But – typical of ancient Jewish rhetorical forms – the question inherently posed is answered by the prayer itself: The “kingdom” (or God’s will) will come “on earth as it is in heaven”:

• When there is daily bread for everyone (v11),
• When the practice of forgiveness routinely breaks the cycle of retribution (v12), and
• When people faithfully do what is right because evil no longer makes sense (v13).

Very simply, Jesus’ prayer evokes a life of goodness for all. Set within the context of a prayer, Jesus names goodness and shows that it springs from an overall posture of reliance upon God.

It helps to know that, like much of what Jesus said, his prayer is an echo of the great eschatological passages in Isaiah like 2:1-5 and 65:17-25. The future hope Jewish prophets spoke of was a redeemed earth, finally free of the evil caused by foolishness and vanity. Look at how Isaiah describes this great end-times hope in Chapter 65:

20 “Never again will there be in it
an infant who lives but a few days,
or an old man who does not live out his years;
the one who dies at a hundred
will be thought a mere child;
the one who fails to reach a hundred
will be considered accursed.
²¹ They will build houses and dwell in them;
they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
²² No longer will they build houses and others live in them,
or plant and others eat.
For as the days of a tree,
so will be the days of my people;
my chosen ones will long enjoy
the work of their hands.
²³ They will not labor in vain,
nor will they bear children doomed to misfortune;
for they will be a people blessed by the LORD,
they and their descendants with them.
²⁴ Before they call I will answer;
while they are still speaking I will hear.
²⁵ The wolf and the lamb will feed together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox,
and dust will be the serpent’s food.
They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,”
says the LORD.

What’s being depicted here is a good life on earth, involving the joy of birth, the blessing of a long life, the dignity of work, the pleasure of eating, and the love of family and community. We see true peace, in the Jewish sense of shalom; completeness.

Now, it is patently obvious to me that these passages (both in Matthew and Isaiah) are about down-to-earth problems and down-to-earth solutions; not earth-bound problems we escape by flying away to an ethereal plane of existence, or “spiritual” problems combatted by the genuflections of a voodoo Christianity. Yet that is often what Christians have in mind when they speak of “heaven” and “the kingdom” and it tends to imprison us in abstract conversations and ridiculous theatrics.

Meanwhile, a couple thousand years later, the earth is still groaning for this good future to become a present reality.

It’s time to grow up. As long as the religious concept of evil remains limited to the personification of a mythical creature and our ability to imagine better possibilities remains limited to a mythical place, we will be forever relegated to the individualized realm of dualistic pietism.

We must follow Christ and the prophets in moving beyond our childish metaphors and concretely name evil for what it really is – starvation, exploitation, exclusion, vengeance, violence, and the like – so we can name goodness for what it really is: equality, provision, peace, and so forth.

Moving toward the reality of such things is extremely difficult, but not impossible. Not only is there is no theological impediment to God’s will being done “on earth as it is in heaven”, it is, in fact, our theological imperative to cooperate with this effort, inaugurated by Christ in earnest over 2000 years ago. It will not happen except through us.

That is what the Lord’s prayer is really about. We don’t pray so God will do something for us, we pray so God will do something to us. We don’t pray to pass responsibility on to an invisible other, we pray for the stuff that will get us off our knees and cause us to roll up our sleeves.

The Lord’s Prayer is the prayer to end all prayers because in it, Jesus not only teaches his disciples how to pray, but how to stop praying.

The Lord’s Prayer is not a protective charm. It’s not about magic, voodoo, or “spiritual mapping.” It’s about naming the concrete goodness of God, discovering a gift of faith for that goodness, and then bringing that goodness into reality by the sheer political will that such a gift empowers.

Technorati Tags: Isaiah, Jesus, Matthew, The Lord's Prayer

Why do homeless people piss us off?

This is a bit of a re-post from an older blog, but news today brought it back to mind: Attacks on homeless will be hate crimes in Florida:

The slaying of the homeless veteran, Daniel Case, on Florida’s west coast is an example of that brutality. Two street gang members were charged with wielding a baseball bat and golf club to beat him while he slept in a lawn chair behind a Bradenton business.

Nearly two years ago I sent out an e-mail to Twoshirts members inviting people to join our efforts to collect food and clothing for homeless teens in Oceanside, Ca, I received this response from a (now former) member:

“they can get jobs like most normal people!! dont send me your bull**** !!!”

Why all the anger?

According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, violence against homeless people are on the rise nationally, and this story in the Detroit News from back then covers the murder of a homeless man by two young teenage boys who were allegedly involved. The motive remains a mystery, and in all fairness, we presume their innocence until they’re proven otherwise.

Still, there were a couple of quotes in the article that struck me. One of the boys mothers believes her son is innocent, partly because, in her words:

“We were homeless once,” Hazard said. “We don’t have much, but I raised him and my other children to respect others. I was a working mother and taught them morals and to be honest.”

I’m sure she did, but perhaps her son saw a bit of himself in the homeless man. Often our anger towards others is rooted in self-rejection and shame. When people represent the worst of us, or by their very presence seem to confirm our greatest fears, we can lash out in anger.

Or perhaps the motive is even more banal. At the time, Michael Stoops, executive director of the Washington, D.C.-based National Coalition for the Homeless, said,

“We think crimes against the homeless should be classified as a hate crime…People feel it is safe to hate and attack the homeless.

Michael Stoops touches on a deep-seated human reality: we often repress the evil inside of us until we have a safe, anonymous target. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all have that inside of us. Wherever the anger and hate comes from, the poor and homeless are practically relegated to the category of non-human in cultures of affluence like ours, and are particularly vulnerable to all manner of attacks, abuses, and crimes.

My wife Jenell and I have been particularly challenged by Jesus’ words: ” Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back” (Luke 6:30), and of course, John the Baptist’s words, “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same” (Luke 3:11). We’ve tried to live these words out in concrete ways. What are some ways you’ve been challenged on this issue?

If you’re looking for ways to help or get involved, check out the Homelessness Resource Center. Or, check out Interfaith Community Services here in North County San Diego and, better yet, get involved by volunteering or even becoming a facebook fan and helping to spread the word.

Technorati Tags: Hate crimes, homeless, Jesus, John the Baptist, Luke, poverty

Love Has Many Stages

Here’s an inspiring and jolting quote:

Love has many stages. The highest level is when you cannot decide whether to love or not love because there is no room for hatred. The love of your neighbors comes naturally in response to obeying Jesus and God. Loving the neighbor is proof that you heart is full of love. When we say neighbors, we mean all of humanity. All people are brothers because we all come from God.

~ Sheik Nabil, The #2 leader in Hezbollah, excerpted from Tea With Hezbollah by Ted Dekker and Carl Medearis

Technorati Tags: Hezbollah, Jesus, Love

Holy Week, Day 6

Today is our final reading before Easter, and much like yesterday’s chapter, today’s is packed with action as Jesus approaches the climactic moment of his earthly ministry. Take time to read through Matthew 27 today and reflect on the questions below:

Questions for Reflection:

1. What scene or character in this chapter do you most identify with? Why?
2. Imagine you were one of Jesus’ disciples, and expected him to be the anointed one who finally overthrew the Roman oppressors and vindicated you and your people. How would this series of events impact you? How might you have made sense of it all?
3. There is a tension that runs throughout Jesus’ ministry between him and his followers: they want him to conquer with power but he typically serves and sacrifices instead – including giving the ultimate sacrifice. That is, Christ’s strength always looked like weakness. How does this tension continue today between Christ and his followers?

Technorati Tags: Easter, Holy Week, Ikon Community, Jesus, Matthew

Holy Week, Day Four

Today’s reading is a little longer, and introduces us to Jesus’ teachings about the end of the age – a subject we don’t often hear about during the Easter season, but one that is obviously tied to his resurrection. So, read Matthew Chapter 24 and 25 and reflect on the questions below.

Questions for Reflection

1. How would you sum up Chapter 24? What is the main thing Jesus seems to be trying to say?
2. How would you sum up the teaching of the three parables in Chapter 25?
3. Why do you think Jesus might be discussing this during the week leading up to his crucifixion and resurrection?
4. How do you think this subject of the end of the age might be relevant for us today?

Technorati Tags: Easter, Eschatology, Holy Week, Jesus, Matthew, Parables

Holy Week, Day Three

Today read Matthew Chapter 23 and contribute your thoughts to the comments below.

Questions for Reflection

1. What single saying in this long list of “woes” strikes you most or which one best sums up the whole list? Why?
2. If Jesus were to come today and give a modern version of the “woes” for Christians, what kinds of hypocritical behaviors do you think he would be condemning?

Technorati Tags: Easter, Holy Week, Jesus, Matthew

Holy Week, Day Two

Today read Matthew Chapter 22 and Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and contribute your thoughts to the comments below.

Questions for Reflection

1. In this passage Jesus quotes part of the Jewish Shema from Deut 6, the most important prayer practice in Judaism (you can read more about the importance of the Shema here). How do you think reciting Deut 6:4-9 three times daily might affect your thoughts and life positively?
2. How can we know if a religious practice, like reciting the Shema three times daily, is effective for good spiritual formation or if it is merely an empty religious ritual? How are Jesus’ words in Matt 21-22 helpful in making this distinction?

Technorati Tags: Deuteronomy, Holy Week, Ikon Community, Jesus, Matthew, The Shema

After SVS 2010: Matt Croasmun, The Cross, Eucharist, and Imitation in the Gospel of John

Today is our final installment. After SVS 2010 is an extended dialogue with presenters from the first annual Society of Vineyard Scholars conference, held Feb 11-13, 2010. Monday through Friday until March 26th we’ll profile an SVS presenter and dialogue with them around their paper. Click here for a brief intro and link directory of the series. Full text of papers are available to SVS members.
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Matt Croasmun: “The Cross, Eucharist, and Imitation in the Gospel of John”

Abstract
This paper consists of two parts. The first is an exegetical exploration of the “missing Eucharist” narrative and peculiar chronology of the passion narrative in the Gospel of John in a literary-canonical mode. Here, it is shown that the Gospel of John indeed includes a Eucharistic narrative and that this event takes when it does in the Synoptic accounts, though, in John’s chronology, Eucharist happens on the cross, as Jesus eats his food (bringing to completion the work of the One who sent Him) and drinks the cup which He obediently receives at Gethsemane. Using the foot-washing narrative as a lens through which to interpret this displaced Eucharist, the mimetic significance of Jesus’ death and His Eucharist is contrasted with the mnemonic function of Eucharist in the Lucan-Pauline tradition. The second part of the paper considers the systematic coherence afforded Vineyard theology as a whole in emphasizing the mimetic function of Jesus’ death. Here, it is noted that Johannine texts have long served as the source for the Vineyard’s basic mimetic stance towards the ministry of Jesus: that is, the Vineyard reading of the gospels has been a call to Johannine imitation of the Synoptic Jesus. The exclusion of the Cross from this exegetical program is a result of a confusion regarding the inimitable nature of Jesus’ death, understood exclusively as once-for-all atoning sacrifice. Receiving from John a Eucharistic theology that regularly invites us into imitation of Jesus’ obedience to the will of the Father and self-lowering love of others exhibited on the Cross promises to bring greater systematic unity to the Vineyard’s hermeneutical strategy in the gospels and to provide the Cross a more central place in the movement’s theology as a whole.

Q: How did you become interested in your topic?

A: Several years ago, before I started Divinity School, I sat in on Harry Attridge’s course on the exegesis of the Fourth Gospel. Harry has substantial interest in the sacramental theology of this text. And, of course, the key problem with thinking about sacraments—especially Eucharist—in John is that there is no institution narrative. So we puzzled over this problem quite a lot in that course and I remember continuing to puzzle over it long after.

Around the same time, I was reading Bill Jackson’s history of the Vineyard church and noted there that the Vineyard had taken some flack for not teaching the Cross as much as the critics would have liked. I suppose it’s a sign of the times, but I’m really interested in the ways that larger narratives frame and in some sense control our theological reflection. So, in thinking about the problem Bill Jackson had highlighted, it occurred to me that perhaps integral to this problem was the Vineyard’s narrative of the Kingdom. Was there something about the way the Vineyard was understanding the Kingdom that left the cross on the sideline? When I went and read the Vineyard Statement of Faith, my suspicions only grew. Eventually, I stumbled upon the possibility that it is the radical imitation of Jesus (which is really the heart of Wimber’s hermeneutic of the gospels) that could provide the “hook” in the Vineyard’s meta-narrative on which to hang a distinctively Vineyard—distinctively “Kingdom”—theology of the cross.

The last piece of the puzzle for me is the methodological approach I’m trying to take in the paper. A mentor and friend of mine gave me Stephen Moore’s God’s Gym to read when I was in Divinity School. Of course, Moore’s conclusions are profoundly troubling—though, I think worth wrestling with. But I found his method of interpretation absolutely exhilarating. It was playful, it was deadly serious at times. It broke down the walls of historical criticism that have always seemed fundamentally out of touch with the ways that actual people of faith read the biblical text and encounter God there. So, I guess I wanted to try my hand at something that might skew toward the “literary” in approach. Interestingly, I was surprised at how little push back I got on this at the SVS conference. I thought for sure some large number of folks would want to skewer me for going right at the fissures in the biblical text, making much of them, and playing out their tensions exclusively in a stubbornly non-historical, literary way. Does this count as “exegesis”? Is “exegesis” a good description of what people of faith are actually after in their encounter with God in the biblical text to begin with?

Q: How do you think your paper is relevant to the Vineyard movement at large?

A: First, on the meta-level, I think the paper is relevant inasmuch as it might serve as a invitation to further reflection on the Kingdom and the Cross. How does the Cross fit into the Vineyard’s narrative of the Kingdom? I think I’ve offered a textual way into something like an answer to this question, but, presumably, there are others.

Second, in terms of the specific answer I offer, I really do think that it’s crucial when we talk about “doing the stuff” to consider Jesus’ death as an integral part of “the stuff” that Jesus was doing. We need to anticipate that imitation of Christ’s rejection, humiliation, and death is an integral part of imitatio Christi. I suggested in broad strokes in my paper that this mostly looks like self-lowering love of others; obviously, there’s so much more to explore there. A necessary caveat to that—the response I should have given to the excellent question posed from the feminist point of view—is that, of course, Jesus’ death is precisely also His exaltation—John uses the pun on Jesus being “lifted up.” So our imitation of Christ in his death is not fundamentally self-destructive; it is our salvation and access to true power and authority.

Q: What do you think might be the practical implications of what you’re exploring?

A: In our church, we’ve changed some of the ways we do communion. First of all, we take communion every week—partly because we want to make sure that the cross is shaping everything we do and are becoming. We receive communion right after the sermon, which has given us the discipline of having to have every talk land us back at the foot of the cross. At the same time, because we do communion every week, we have freedom to let the invitation to the table look radically different from week to week. That’s been a great practice for us. And, certainly, a fair number of communion invitations in our church are invitations to imitate, rather than simply “remember.”

Matt will be available for questions and interaction in the comments below

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Matt Croasmun lives in New Haven, Connecticut and is a PhD student in the Religious Studies Department at Yale University. He is studying New Testament, focusing on mythological language in the Pauline epistles. He has been in the Vineyard for 12 years, serving in worship and youth ministry, and helped to plant the Elm City Vineyard in New Haven where he and his wife Hannah provide senior leadership.

Technorati Tags: Jesus, John, Matt Croasmun, Society of Vineyard Scholars, SVS, Vineyard Community of Churches

The Worker’s Wages Part 3: The Essence of Ministry

(This is the third part in a six-part series exploring the dynamics of clergy pay in missional churches. See previous installments: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2)

In my last installment I tentatively proposed that the minister’s wage isn’t money, it’s community care. Now, practically speaking that care must manifest as money, or food, or housing (or perhaps other goods and services), but strictly speaking the wage itself isn’t any of these things.

What Kind of Work?
However, understanding the essence of the wage doesn’t get us all the way to understanding how to appropriately convert our care into food and shelter for ministry leaders, or how to appropriately frame our expectations of the kind of work they do (an equally important issue). For that, we’ll need an understanding of what kind of work a ministry leader does. To gain it, we’ll go back to our original passages.

1 Timothy Chapter 5:17-18
Again, we’ll use Paul’s words to Timothy as our starting point:

The elders who direct the affairs of the church well are worthy of double honor, especially those whose work is preaching and teaching. For the Scripture says, “Do not muzzle the ox while it is treading out the grain,” and “The worker deserves his wages.”

Paul is describing the gifts, and we have several passages concerning that topic (Rom 12, 1 Cor 12, 1 Pet 4:10). Indeed, the church is very comfortable talking about the roles of the people according to gifting, and there have been popular movements to identify the role of everyone in the church by gifting because, in a critically important sense, everyone is a minister according to their gifts.

However there is little exploration, that I’m aware of, regarding how the nature of “gift work” may or may not be different than other kinds of work. If it is different, wouldn’t that have some bearing on the “how, why, and what” of wages for those who require compensation? (We’ll have to hold off, for now, on why some ministers are worthy of a wage while others are not.)

Gifts Are Different Than Skills.
It’s my proposition that gifts are significantly different than skills (based largely on the ethnographic work of Marcel Mauss and the thoughts of Lewis Hyde). A skill is a kind of property. You earn it and you own it. Under normal conditions, the skill-worker has mastery over their skills, that is, they control them completely. Therefore, you can reckon compensation for your skills fairly easily. Skills serve best when they are accumulated like capital, and like capital, they affect a kind of return on investment for their owner. Hence, the skilled trades-person accumulates skills as a kind of wealth.

But a gift is not a property. It cannot be earned or purchased, only freely received. Nor can it be mastered because it doesn’t belong to the gift-worker. In fact, gifts, because they are given for the purpose of creating relational ties, must be given away again, and often fade (or rot i.e. Ex 16) when they’re not used-up or shared. They come and go, and are notoriously difficult to control. Because the gift-worker cannot master the gift, they can only be good stewards of what they have been given, while they happen to have it – and to be a good steward specifically means to give it away, leaving the gift-worker in a perpetual state of spiritual poverty.

Therefore, it is also notoriously difficult to reckon the compensation of gift-work, because it’s production cannot be controlled. Often long hours (or days, months, even years) go into waiting and supplicating for true gifts to arrive. Yet once they’re received by the gift-worker, they typically “work” in a frenzy of productivity, giving generously to all who benefit from it, and (in a way curiously distinct from skills) are multiplied in the giving.

(Of course, there is a very important sense in which skill-work and gift-work cooperate, but that is not the important point here. I think we must begin by understanding the prior distinctive essence of ministry as a gift-work, before we can understand how to appropriately re-integrate it with trade skills.)

Let’s return to our other central passage to illustrate gift-work among ministers:

Luke 10:5-7
Let’s start by revisiting Jesus’ instructions, to the 72 disciples:

¹After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place where he was about to go. ²He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. ³Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. ⁴Do not take a purse or bag or sandals; and do not greet anyone on the road.⁵“When you enter a house, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’ ⁶If a man of peace is there, your peace will rest on him; if not, it will return to you. ⁷Stay in that house, eating and drinking whatever they give you, for the worker deserves his wages. Do not move around from house to house.

⁸“When you enter a town and are welcomed, eat what is set before you. ⁹Heal the sick who are there and tell them, ‘The kingdom of God is near you.’

This is classic gift-work, with several prominent features of gift-exchange occurring:

1. The Gift Is Transient: The disciples can only give away what Christ has first given them, namely peace, power, and kingdom. Again, these gifts are not a property to be held as capital. They must be given in order to multiply, so the ministers, although they are givers, remain as dependent as those to whom they give.

2. The Gift Requires Personal “Poverty”: The disciples go with nothing, demonstrating the “poverty” of gift-work, because receiving the gift first requires the emptiness of poverty, prayer, and sacrifice. This is congruent with 1 Tim 5 and echoed in the Beatitudes.

3. The Gift Provides Community “Wealth”: The hosts are sustained by the gift and the ministers live off the reciprocity typical of gift-exchange. They give what they have and are, in return, given gifts of food, hospitality, shelter, etc. This kind of return, as distinct from payment, is a way of demonstrating the communal abundance of the gift-economy through the multiplication of the gift as it is passed from one empty hand to another.

4. The Gift is Fertile: Characteristic of other gift-cultures, we have an illustration of an agricultural motif (v2). The enthnographic data from such societies shows that the cycle of planting and harvesting becomes significant as an embodiment of the economic gift-cycle, with it’s dependence on the ultimate giver (God or the gods), its sowing and reaping reciprocity, its abundant multiplication via fertility, and its sustenance. All are images of “the gift” at work.

5. The Git is Consumed: The 72 ministers literally feed off of the abundance of the gift. In this way they are not only consuming the multiplied abundance of the gift, they are also literally consuming the return gift of sacrifice made by their hosts.

This last two observations, I think, connect this passage with the function of the priests of the Old Testament, who eat of the meat sacrifices brought to the temple and burn the grain sacrifices (Lev 6). By eating the gift/sacrifice the minister/priest is simultaneously included in the sacramental community and demonstrating the role of God in the gift-cycle by returning a portion of the sacrifice to God (burning accomplishes this same latter function, though with an emphasis on faith-dependence rather than sustenance). Ethnographic data depicts this same eating/burning practices in the religious rituals of other gift-cultures, for example in the Maori tribe (eating of sacrifice by the priest) and the North American Native practice of Potlatch (burning of excess wealth).

There are many other passages I could connect to this theme, but this is a blog not a book : )

I think there are also, obviously, very strong Paschal tones here as well, reaching backward toward passover and forward toward Eucharist. But that is not directly tied to the subject of leadership vocation and wage, so we’d better leave those explorations for another time, and perhaps for a better commenter (I’m looking at you Geoff).

So, what are your thoughts? Do you agree with the characterization of a minister’s work as essentially gift-work, rather than skill-work (or property-work)? If so, does it matter? Are there implications to be explored, particularly for post-Christendom missional leadership with regards to how we treat vocational leadership?

Technorati Tags: 1 Timothy, Christianity, clergy, Jesus, Leadership, Luke, Paid Clergy, Paul, The Gift

Why The Bible Is Insufficient For Mission

“Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32)

For about seven months last year I worked as a project manager, creating branding strategies and building websites for non-profits and social enterprises. The business was built around code-writers, SEO engineers, and content writers, most of whom were basically the postmodern equivalent of pagans. They all knew my ministry background, which made for some really interesting interactions. One of the things I discovered there was how much I enjoy pagans.

So fun.

The owner, a Christian, brought in a local pastor to act as a “corporate chaplain.” He’s a great guy – young, warm, and very approachable. He has a Bachelors in Bible or music, I think, from a Christian college. He’d come by every Wednesday and chat it up with people.

So painful.

When our chaplain was introduced to the staff there was an awkward moment that basically determined his future there. After briefly introducing him, the owner turned the meeting over to the new chaplain. He very sensitively articulated his open availability to anyone who “just needed to talk” through any kinds of issues; depression, grief, anger, etc. He was there to listen and help. Everything would be confidential. Then he looked to the staff,

“Any questions?” he asked. People sort of looked around the room for a moment until one young woman raised her hand.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, “Do you have any actual training for this sort of thing, like a psychology degree or grief counseling courses or something?”

“Well, no,” he said, “but like all of you I’ve lived life and as a pastor I have good experience helping people with…”

It really didn’t matter what came out of his mouth after that. He was done. Being a pastor meant nothing to them because as far as they’re concerned the Bible has little or no bearing on the actual knowledge required to help people deal with psychological pathologies. There are professionals for that. The chaplain is a great guy, but he has an impossible task if he relies solely on his credentials as a pastor.

This is the dominant cultural we enter as post-Christian missionaries. We cannot rely on an inherent respect for Christianity as a body of actual knowledge (a major point Willard makes in Knowing Christ Today). The Bible is generally seen as a collection of opinions – most of them hopelessly archaic.

That’s why it’s pointless to keep using Reformation debates as a distillery for producing the gospel we offer. Those are Christendom debates. Nobody in post-Christendom cares about the difference between Calvinism and Arminianism. Nobody really cares what you believe about Hell or the nuances of God’s sovereignty (unless it gives them a convenient excuse to dismiss you), because most of them don’t believe in Hell or a sovereign God in the Calvinist sense, and they couldn’t care less what a book of ancient opinions has to say about it, except from maybe an historical-literary perspective (and as T.S Eliot said, to take the bible seriously as literature is a sure sign that you don’t take it seriously at all). None of them cares about a grace vs. works debate because, quite frankly, despite what Reformed preachers and theologians say, nobody outside the church is trying to earn their way into heaven. Hard-core Reformed folks have an absurd habit of turning every human thought into Pelagianism because that’s what must be done to justify an archaic theological construct. If your orthodoxy depends entirely on a particular kind of heresy then your first task is to convert the world to your heresy before you can convert them to your gospel.

You have to condition people to care about this stuff. For most regular folks who don’t believe in Christ, seeing churches and Christians stake out rabid territory on these topics is like watching two Phrenologists fight for customers by arguing the finer tenets of their trade.

For people who haven’t been doctrinally conditioned yet, all they really care about is this: are you competent to help me solve my problems. If you’re a mechanic, can you really fix my car? If you’re a teacher, can you help me understand something in such a way that my life is better equipped to deal with the actual reality in which I live?

Who in Christianity today, has consistently demonstrated they possess a body of knowledge which produces people who actually resemble Christ himself? I’m not asking who is the most articulate preacher, or the most venerated scholar, or who leads the biggest church, or who writes the best books. Those accomplishments may constitute competency in leadership, logic, prose or marketing, but not necessarily competence in Christlikeness.

So, merely pointing to what the Bible says or being able to articulate the nuances of a theology are largely useless skills for a post-Christian missionary. That’s not the kind of knowledge people want or need. And yet, one of the curiosities of a dying Christendom is that entrenched factions are getting increasingly louder and more shrill about these very issues as they fight over a dwindling market share. The huge missiological problem that results from such public bickering is that it actually undermines our claims of authority in the very kind of knowledge people desperately do want and need – and which our grasp of the Bible is supposed to foster.

Ironically, then, the Bible alone is insufficient for this task. We can’t keep pointing to it and shrugging our shoulders as if to say, “Hey, I’m not the one who said it, He did.” We have to take responsibility for actually becoming competent practitioners of the vocation to which we have been called through the person we claim to have found within those sacred pages. This is why Jesus’ comments about the truth “setting us free” came not after a discourse on education or theological savvy, but after an exhortation to follow him obediently.

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:31-32)

Knowing and following Christ is the knowledge that liberates because it actually brings us closer to the Kingdom reality of God in which we live, much like a mechanic’s knowledge liberates us by fixing our car.

Who then, like Paul, is willing to look the world in the eye and say, “Imitate me. I know how to be like Christ,” (1 Cor 11:1) and then go out and prove it? Whoever does will have no trouble being taken seriously.

Technorati Tags: Bible, character, Christianity, Christlikeness, Dallas Willard, Jesus, Knowledge, Paul, Pelagianism, Reformed, T.S. Eliot