I read a good post on William Willimon's blog. Check out the link at the bottom of the page to view this post. The title is Maintance of Mission? I would like to share with you just a couple of points that he makes.
"The maintenance congregation seeks to avoid conflict at any cost (but rarely succeeds). The mission congregation understands that conflict is the price of progress, and is willing to pay the price. It understands that it cannot take everyone with it. This causes some grief, but it does not keep it from doing what needs to be done."
"The leadership style of the maintenance congregation is primarily managerial, where leaders try to keep everything in order and running smoothly. The leadership style in a mission congregation is primarily transformational, casting a vision of what can be, and marching off the map in order to bring the vision into reality."
I guess I would ask if we are a maintenance congregation or a mission congregation? In his blog he has 12 points that contrast the maintenance and mission congregation. This is good reading and offers, I believe, food for thought.
Just some things to think about along the way.
Bob
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Dwelling in the House of the Lord
I just finished reading an article by Dallas Willard on Evangelism. I say article, it is really an interview with Willard that took place over several weeks and covered various topics. I found the following comments both interesting and insightful.
The Psalmist in Psalm 23 makes as his last statement, "I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Clearly this is his ultimate goal. It is life with his shepherd that prepares him for the present as well as, the final stage of life. It is all about learning to live in the kingdom of God. It is the Lord who provides for his every need. It is the Lord who give and sustains life. It is the Lord who protects, nurtures and nourishes him.
The health of the body is found in its connection to and dependence upon the Lord, who is both shepherd and Lord. We are now dwelling in the house of the Lord. But even more we are the house in which the Lord himself dwells. Which prompts the question of how ought we to live?
Dallas Willard comments upon living in the kingdom of God.
Do you see "a life interactive with God" in Psalm 23?
How do you view companionship and a working relationship with God?
What is God doing in His kingdom today?
What is he doing with you?
How can the church become a training center for life?
Just some things to think about along the way.
Bob
"The primary function of the church is not evangelism, but to be a place for the dwelling of God on earth. This requires that people grow and receive God and occupy their place with God. That would have a natural effect of evangelism. What we want is not just evangelism that makes converts. We want disciples...and if you are intent on making disciples and keep on that track, evangelism will take care of itself." He goes on to say, "Of course, understanding that evangelism is a natural function of a healthy Body doesn't preclude specific efforts. But the role of the community would be a primary factor in this. Many people will be drawn in without any special strategy but simply by the health of the people."
The Psalmist in Psalm 23 makes as his last statement, "I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Clearly this is his ultimate goal. It is life with his shepherd that prepares him for the present as well as, the final stage of life. It is all about learning to live in the kingdom of God. It is the Lord who provides for his every need. It is the Lord who give and sustains life. It is the Lord who protects, nurtures and nourishes him.
The health of the body is found in its connection to and dependence upon the Lord, who is both shepherd and Lord. We are now dwelling in the house of the Lord. But even more we are the house in which the Lord himself dwells. Which prompts the question of how ought we to live?
Dallas Willard comments upon living in the kingdom of God.
"God's intent was to have a kingdom in which we are significantly involved. That is the eternal as well as the temporal plan. Every human being, wherever they may be, is given the opportunity to enter into a companionship, a working relationship with God. The kingdom of God is what God is doing. And his plan was that he would be doing many things with us." "Churches that took seriously the kingdom of God would look a lot like training centers--training centers for life, a life interactive with God."
Do you see "a life interactive with God" in Psalm 23?
How do you view companionship and a working relationship with God?
What is God doing in His kingdom today?
What is he doing with you?
How can the church become a training center for life?
Just some things to think about along the way.
Bob
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Silent Friday #1
Each of the evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke & John) share with us the events of a day we know as “Good Friday.” However, each of them shares it from their own unique point of view. It is important for us to view this pivotal event from all these different angles. They are different witnesses of the same event but each sees these events from their unique perspective and then shares that testimony with all of us. In Luke, the Jesus on the cross is the same gentle and forgiving person in death that he is in life. In Luke Jesus on Good Friday is proactive in requesting pardon for the guilty. He seeks God’s pardon for those who have beaten, shamefully treated and crucified him. With his dying breath he commits his spirit into the hands of a loving father. The Jesus we discover in Luke’s account is the magnificent martyr. The wonderful witness. The gracious victim.
Jesus begs for the forgiveness of those who have beaten him and nailed him to a cross. I am compelled, at this point, to ask of myself the following question. Could I do this even for those who have not treated me as brutally as Jesus was treated? The fact that he does this freely without any need to be asked is even more amazing from a human point of view. That this conversation is between him and his father is demonstrated in his statements ("Father, forgive them they don’t know what they are doing.” In addition “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”). This conversation is somewhat muted by the events transpiring around him: First, by the sounds of soldiers cursing and laughing as they gamble for his clothes. Second, the crowd’s shouts and scream as they mock him. Third, by the hollow ring of the hammer as it strikes nails and the sound of the nails piercing skin and wood. Fourth, by his friends and loved ones weeping and crying a few huddled together at the scene. Fifth, by the others hiding behind locked doors or standing at a distance trembling in fear. Here in this frozen moment of time, this “Good Friday,” we are all blindsided by the unfathomable forgiveness and the amazing grace of God.
Those around, even though they are not listening, are in reality (to borrow a phrase from Fred Craddock) “overhearing the gospel.” In a dramatic and glorious way we are “blindsided” by the love and mercy of God. This is seen in the reaction of the Roman centurion and the crowd.
In Luke’s narrative, if you permit me to say, all of us are also, eavesdropping on (overhearing) a private conversation. It is in fact, a one-sided conversation between a son and his father. Jesus is talking about all of us but not too us. However, we are far from innocent by-standers. As the recipients and beneficiaries of his request we become embroiled, engaged and participants in the gospel story. In this instance, the gospel message is overt, objective and visible in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. It is also covert, subtle and auditory in the conversation of Jesus with his father. In the latter it slips up on us and jumps us from behind. It is as if the gospel slips in the back door and takes us by surprise. We are blindsided by the unconditional love of Jesus, even in this obscene event (crucifixion). Jesus slips up on us and hits us with the punch line; “Father, forgive them…” and finally the shout with his last breath, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit…” We have become accustom with Jesus’ preaching and teaching to this typical and familiar style. Those standing by overheard the gospel in a moving and dramatic way but it was not until they heard the punch line that it became evident and they respond. “This was a righteous man…” and “They go away beating their breast…”
We wait anxiously for the answer to thunder from heaven. We watch with eager anticipation for the heavens to open and angels to descend. We expectantly await the heavenly host with trumpets blaring and armed with fiery swords in hand to rush to his rescue. We overhear the conversation and wait. No thunder is heard, no angels appear, and nothing disturbs the silence, as time seems to stand still. As we overhear the conversation, it is like listening in on one side of a phone conversation. We hear the words of Jesus but only silence from God. Still we wait. This too is the gospel. It is Friday and on Friday God is silent. We are left with uncertainty and questions. Waiting and longing for an answer only to be greeted with an oppressive silence. Someone tell me once again why they call this “Good Friday?” The silence of Friday is deafening but we have become accustom to the “sounds of silence.”
One cannot help but wonder if the human Jesus longed for just a whisper in his ear. The quiet reassuring voice of a loving father in this circumstance would bolster his confidence. The knowledge of his presence could make a world of difference. Do you remember what it was like to know your father was near by? The feel of his prickly whiskers on your cheek, the scent of after shave as he held your head on his shoulder and he gently whispered “I love you” in your ear. The aroma of your father fresh in your nostrils reminds you that you are safe in his arms. You feel his strength and you are reassured and confident in his presence. In this knowledge, our hope is restored, but for Jesus there is no shoulder, and no soft whisper only silence.
We wonder aloud, if God could answer with a voice from heaven at his baptism and the cry from heaven on that holy mountain where he was transfigured before his disciples. Then, why is it that when Jesus was on the cross there is no, word not even a sigh? All we hear is simply the mournful cry of a man alone, in pain, helpless and lost. The woeful cry of a deserted soul, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” However, this is another conversation, a part of Matthew’s Good Friday story and I choose to save this discussion for another time. Now we are overhearing the conversation of Jesus and his father found in Luke’s Gospel. Even no answer can be an answer but, it’s Crucifixion Friday and on this Friday God is silent. We wait in silence for the answer. This too is another story for another time. That is the story of resurrection Sunday when God shouts in triumph and we sing a song of victory. It is not the story of Silent Friday.
Bob
Jesus begs for the forgiveness of those who have beaten him and nailed him to a cross. I am compelled, at this point, to ask of myself the following question. Could I do this even for those who have not treated me as brutally as Jesus was treated? The fact that he does this freely without any need to be asked is even more amazing from a human point of view. That this conversation is between him and his father is demonstrated in his statements ("Father, forgive them they don’t know what they are doing.” In addition “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”). This conversation is somewhat muted by the events transpiring around him: First, by the sounds of soldiers cursing and laughing as they gamble for his clothes. Second, the crowd’s shouts and scream as they mock him. Third, by the hollow ring of the hammer as it strikes nails and the sound of the nails piercing skin and wood. Fourth, by his friends and loved ones weeping and crying a few huddled together at the scene. Fifth, by the others hiding behind locked doors or standing at a distance trembling in fear. Here in this frozen moment of time, this “Good Friday,” we are all blindsided by the unfathomable forgiveness and the amazing grace of God.
Those around, even though they are not listening, are in reality (to borrow a phrase from Fred Craddock) “overhearing the gospel.” In a dramatic and glorious way we are “blindsided” by the love and mercy of God. This is seen in the reaction of the Roman centurion and the crowd.
“Surely this was a righteous man. When all the people who had gathered to witness this sight saw what took place, they beat their breast and went away” (Luke 23:47b & 48).Craddock uses the phrase (“overhearing the gospel”) to describe a style of preaching. He also uses the phrase “indirect communication” for this form of preaching. It is a narrative format, engaging form and accurate way to communicate the essence of the gospel. This is also quite often the way we encounter the gospel.
In Luke’s narrative, if you permit me to say, all of us are also, eavesdropping on (overhearing) a private conversation. It is in fact, a one-sided conversation between a son and his father. Jesus is talking about all of us but not too us. However, we are far from innocent by-standers. As the recipients and beneficiaries of his request we become embroiled, engaged and participants in the gospel story. In this instance, the gospel message is overt, objective and visible in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. It is also covert, subtle and auditory in the conversation of Jesus with his father. In the latter it slips up on us and jumps us from behind. It is as if the gospel slips in the back door and takes us by surprise. We are blindsided by the unconditional love of Jesus, even in this obscene event (crucifixion). Jesus slips up on us and hits us with the punch line; “Father, forgive them…” and finally the shout with his last breath, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit…” We have become accustom with Jesus’ preaching and teaching to this typical and familiar style. Those standing by overheard the gospel in a moving and dramatic way but it was not until they heard the punch line that it became evident and they respond. “This was a righteous man…” and “They go away beating their breast…”
We wait anxiously for the answer to thunder from heaven. We watch with eager anticipation for the heavens to open and angels to descend. We expectantly await the heavenly host with trumpets blaring and armed with fiery swords in hand to rush to his rescue. We overhear the conversation and wait. No thunder is heard, no angels appear, and nothing disturbs the silence, as time seems to stand still. As we overhear the conversation, it is like listening in on one side of a phone conversation. We hear the words of Jesus but only silence from God. Still we wait. This too is the gospel. It is Friday and on Friday God is silent. We are left with uncertainty and questions. Waiting and longing for an answer only to be greeted with an oppressive silence. Someone tell me once again why they call this “Good Friday?” The silence of Friday is deafening but we have become accustom to the “sounds of silence.”
One cannot help but wonder if the human Jesus longed for just a whisper in his ear. The quiet reassuring voice of a loving father in this circumstance would bolster his confidence. The knowledge of his presence could make a world of difference. Do you remember what it was like to know your father was near by? The feel of his prickly whiskers on your cheek, the scent of after shave as he held your head on his shoulder and he gently whispered “I love you” in your ear. The aroma of your father fresh in your nostrils reminds you that you are safe in his arms. You feel his strength and you are reassured and confident in his presence. In this knowledge, our hope is restored, but for Jesus there is no shoulder, and no soft whisper only silence.
We wonder aloud, if God could answer with a voice from heaven at his baptism and the cry from heaven on that holy mountain where he was transfigured before his disciples. Then, why is it that when Jesus was on the cross there is no, word not even a sigh? All we hear is simply the mournful cry of a man alone, in pain, helpless and lost. The woeful cry of a deserted soul, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” However, this is another conversation, a part of Matthew’s Good Friday story and I choose to save this discussion for another time. Now we are overhearing the conversation of Jesus and his father found in Luke’s Gospel. Even no answer can be an answer but, it’s Crucifixion Friday and on this Friday God is silent. We wait in silence for the answer. This too is another story for another time. That is the story of resurrection Sunday when God shouts in triumph and we sing a song of victory. It is not the story of Silent Friday.
Bob
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