Asking the Right Question

Recently, the district on which I pastor held a "Pastor's Forum" meeting with one of the General Superintendents who help lead the entire Wesleyan Church. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the denomination - explore our dreams for its future, the barriers we face and the ways in which it might need to be reshaped and/or reorganized. We spent several hours discussing these things and, for the most part, they were beneficial hours.

There was one comment, though, that threw me for a loop. When the discussion reached the topic of ordination requirements, one of the pastors suggested that there should be a conversion litmus test for ordination - that if a candidate has not personally led at least 10 people to Christ in the last year, he or she cannot be ordained. That way we can prevent the denomination from ordaining "ineffective" leaders.

On the surface, this might seem like a decent idea. After all, isn't the whole point of ministry to convert non-Christians into Christians? That being the case, doesn't it make sense not to ordain people who do not have a track record of success in that area?

At the time the suggestion was made, I was uncomfortable with it. Since I wasn't entirely sure why, though, I kept my mouth shut. I know that I have always had an issue with using statistics as the only measure of a minister's success, as statistics only measure part (and a very small part, at that) of a pastor's vocation. As my second and final ordination interview approaches rapidly, I find myself growing more and more uncomfortable with the idea of an ordination litmus test.

I think that I discovered the reason it makes me so uncomfortable this morning. As I was perusing through my collection of Henri Nouwen books in search of a comment for this week's sermon, I ran across the following statement in Nouwen's book on Christian leadership, In the Name of Jesus:

"The question is not: How many people take you seriously? How much are you going to accomplish? Can you show some results? But: Are you in love with Jesus?"

Are you in love with Jesus? That - in my mind - is a much more important issue for ordination than whether or not a candidate has led "x" number of people to say the Sinner's Prayer. You don't have to love Jesus to use the Evange-cube or to walk someone down the Roman's Road or to give someone a tract. You don't have to love Jesus to call someone a sinner and demand that they repent. You don't have to love Jesus to be a good public speaker. You don't have to love Jesus to grow a "church." All of those things can - and have - been done by people who are not really in love with Jesus.

Being in love with Jesus encompasses all of that and so much more. If you're in love with Jesus, you care for his people. Rather than just giving them a tract, you offer them food, water, a hug, your friendship. Rather than just calling them a sinner and demanding repentance, you show them grace and help them see God's love. Rather than settling for being a good public speaker, you become someone for whom sermons take second place to actions. Rather than worrying only about whether your congregation is larger this year than last, you worry about whether or not your congregation is more in love with Jesus this year than last.

This is why, "Are you in love with Jesus?" is a better question, a better test for Christians than how many people they led to Christ or invited to church or whatever other statistical tool you want to use. I know you can't put a number to "Are you in love with Jesus?" But perhaps that, too, is a strength. Perhaps the time has come for the church to remember that this Jesus thing is not a system which can be measured and analyzed, but a movement that is fluid and constantly changing.

The Bible in 40 Days: Some Final Observations

NOTE: Long post alert. You have been warned.

After spending the last 40 days reading through the entire Bible, I figured I should "debrief" a little bit...take a little time to explore the key things I learned from the exercise.

The "Preferential Option for the Poor" is Real

More than any other, the idea that kept popping up - at least once every day in one form or another - was that God has a special concern for the poor. From the first book to the last, the call of God is for those who seek to follow Him to intentionally act in favor of the poor, the oppressed, the widow, the immigrant, etc. In other words, we have a responsibility to take care of the outcasts and the people that society might ignore.

While this isn't "big" news in and of itself, what was big news for me was the emphasis placed on this care for the outcasts. Much of the Law spoke of it. When the prophets pronounced judgment on the people of Israel, it was often because of their systematic oppression of the poor more even than their other offenses. When you get to the New Testament, Jesus identifies this kind of care as the fruits by which His followers will be known. The sheep are distinguished from the goats based on their actions in favor of the poor.

The way I see it as I read it is that God places more emphasis on our actions in favor of the outcasts than he does on our acts of worship. Feeding the hungry is more important than singing hymns. Standing up for the immigrant is more important than taking communion. Visiting prisoners takes precedence over Bible studies. Do you see where I'm going with this?

I mean, I always knew that taking care of the outcasts was important. But I never realized that their importance is greater even than the ritualized acts of worship that we do every week. It may sound "wrong" to say that God places a higher priority on standing up for the weak and poor than he does on singing, preaching or even taking communion; and certainly there will be those that think I'm wrong or that I'm misreading. I challenge you, if you feel that way to read through the Bible from cover to cover and then tell me I'm wrong.

As for me, I've come to the conclusion that the Catholic theologians were right - God has a preferential option for the poor.

God is a Merciful God

Even in the worst case scenarios presented by the prophets - scenarios of doom and destruction and death - there always seems to be talk of a remnant, of a group of the people of Israel who would be saved. God never seems to completely give up on people. There always seems to be room for one who shows repentance - even to the end of Revelation there will be opportunities for repentance.

What does this mean for the way I live my life as a follower of Christ?

There was a famous theologian (I've always heard Karl Barth, but am not sure if he's the one) who once said that anyone who has not flirted with the idea of universalism (everyone goes to heaven) has never really tried to come to grips with the immensity of God's grace. Now, I am not a universalist. Nor do I believe that the Bible teaches universalism. However, the Bible does clearly teach that God's mercy and grace extends far, far beyond anything our human minds can comprehend.

So I have to live my life looking at other people through the eyes of grace. I cannot look at someone and say, "you are damned." God's grace is greater than my mind can comprehend. I must learn to live under the aegis of a God who is more merciful than judgmental. This is not to say that God will not judge, only that I am unable to determine when or how or the extent of that judgment.

Uncomfortable Atonement

There seems to be a trend among scholars and theologians to distance themselves and Christian thought from the "penal substitution" theory of atonement (that is, that the death of Jesus on the cross was a necessary substitute for the death required for our sins). It makes us uncomfortable to think that way and we don't like to picture God in that way...so we come up with different theories.

Yet when I read through the Bible - especially the book of Hebrews - I cannot escape the idea that Jesus' death was a necessary sacrifice to atone for my sins. There may be more to the atonement than substitution, but I don't see how we can be faithful to Scripture and say that no part of the cross was a blood sacrifice to cover the debt of guilt for our sins.

'Tis a Mystery

The final thing that I learned is that there is a lot of Scripture that I do not understand. And perhaps I am not meant to. One of the primary downsides of "modernity" was the assumption that humans are intended to understand anything and everything about the world. If we didn't understand it now, progress would inevitably lead us to the place where we would grasp it. It was the mantra of modernity - progress, progress, progress.

The joy of postmodernity - to me - is that there has been a recapturing of mystery. The Bible is not a science book or a history book. It is a story of God and his relationship with humans - and as there is in any story, it is full of mystery. Which is a good thing.