The direction of our life…

Where are we headed? What is our goal? These are questions I have asked myself a lot recently. Since leaving Africa I have been forced to deconstruct my understanding of Christian life and ministry. The paradigm I had subsumed from the particular stream through which I returned to faith no longer provided satisfactory answers for the questions of life. That system had goals toward which I had striven and it provided benchmarks for measurement of forward progress. And therein lay the rub. For it became overwhelmingly clear to me that the entire notion of “forward progress” laying beneath the paradigm was somehow un-Christian at its core.

In Philippians 2:5–8, Paul urges Christians to adopt Jesus’ mindset in order to faithfully live the Christian life:

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

The Christian life—the life to which we are called and born anew to fulfill—is a life which demands a reorientation of all our goals and purposes. It is not a life to be lived for ourselves. It is not a life in which we pursue our own plans, agendas or goals, which (honestly) are set as much by the spirit of the age as by ourselves. Rather it is a life to be lived like Jesus lived. And Jesus’ life began with an intentional surrender of his rights, privileges and abilities. He emptied himself. He chose not to pursue paths of money, power or prestige, but completely abandoned Himself to God and became a servant. And Paul encourages all of us to do the same as Jesus. Selah!

Now the more I meditate on Philippians 2:5–8, the more I am struck by its inescapable call to a path of downward mobility. Jesus did not seek to ‘make something of himself.’ He sought the lowest position. He had the right to money, renown, worship and power. But he surrendered it all so that we might live. Jesus’ surrender, or kenosis (from the Greek), is echoed in another verse in 2 Corinthians: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). Christ surrendered his riches—he became poor—so that others might become rich.

In other words, the manner of life lived by Christ was downwardly mobile. He went from being rich to being poor; from a place of power, to that of an abused, ill-used servant. He pursued neither wealth, position nor power, but people, and He trusted Himself and his needs to God. And it is this example of Jesus’ life that we are called on to imitate. We are to pursue downward mobility, not upward advancement. We are called to be servants, not leaders, even as our Lord, the King of all Creation, suffered service while deserving praise.

Which brings us back to my questions: Where are we headed? What is our goal? In the years since leaving Africa, I have had to admit (and repent!) that during my initial ten years of ministry, I was primarily interested in creating an organization that would affirm my personal worth and provide a means of support for myself and my family. I was building a business which measured success (effectiveness) in terms of numbers and money. This was the paradigm that I had learned, and sadly, I never questioned it. It wasn’t something explicitly taught, but it was implicitly modeled. One expected to start small, but we knew that with faithfulness and anointing growth would come, and that growth would be manifested by increases in itinerary, congregation size, offerings, and mailing lists. This made ministry fit the path of upwards mobility. But in truth, that path fits the paradigm of business, not Christian ministry or Christian life! Business measures growth by increase, while Christ measures growth by surrender and letting go.

These last eight years have been more difficult for me and my family than I hope any of you can—or will—ever imagine. Nonetheless, I am increasingly thankful that God frustrated my efforts back then and brought those pursuits to a halt. For what is one called into ministry for, if not to give up one’s very life—one’s time, talent and treasure—for the benefit of others? Most assuredly ministry is not about creating organizations or income streams to take care of ministers or their families! But the sad truth is that the North American church has swallowed a business paradigm hook, line and sinker. And its ministers and ministries are evaluated using the tools of business—the balance sheet, income statement, head-counts and customer surveys.

Success in the Christian life cannot be measured by the yardsticks employed by the world—particularly that part of the world that is devoted solely to the acquisition of power and money. I write that, not as some “bitter missionary” or jealous preacher or frustrated job-seeker, but as one caught in the crucible himself, struggling to find the next step to take in life and ministry while wrestling against the temptations to money, power and position. Not to mention dealing with the expectations and demands of those closest to us, and the guilt and fear that attacks from within, wondering if we had ever really considered what it meant to surrender to the call of God.

Obviously in this area, as in all things, we search for the via media, knowing that it is at the extremes that error flourishes. The laborer is worthy of his hire, and those taught should communicate of their substance with those who teach. And yet we must be tempered by God’s word: Let this mind be in us. The ministerial call is not to things that are bigger, better or newer. It is not an upwards call to fame and fortune but downwards to humility, sacrifice and obedience. So we might just have to restrict our vision; perhaps we must over-emphasize the dramatic, difficult call of downward mobility. Lord knows it is not heard throughout many of the corridors of contemporary Christianity! And yet it sits at the very heart of the gospel itself.

I cannot help but wonder if it is possible to understand anything of Christ and the ministry of the Spirit as long as we do not understand—and implement—this part of Christ’s life. So let us ask one another—what is the direction of our lives? And think: before any one can expect to ascend, they must first be willing to descend. Selah.

An encouragement…

The uncertainty in my life these days has lead me into all sorts of wrong thinking. Truth be told I struggle with anxiety and fear daily, worried that the path I have chosen and the decisions I have made have led me to a dead end in life. It is easy to slip into a place where the enemy wreaks havoc with our own otherwise healthy self-doubt. If we are not careful, we can descend into a self-conception that falls far from the mark of how our Father sees us.

So it was a delight to be led to these closing verses of Psalm 52 in this morning’s quiet:

But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God;
I trust in the mercy of God forever and ever.

I will praise You forever,
Because You have done it;
And in the presence of Your saints
I will wait on Your name, for it is good.

At the end of the day our only hope is to see ourselves as God sees us. There is no good in us that merits our exaltation; no merit that deserves recognition or reward from God. It doesn’t take rocket science to see that, its just reality. But rather than beating ourselves down, why not chose to see ourselves from God’s point of view?

I like that picture of the olive tree. It grows in the driest, rockiest, most barren places. It endures great heat and drought. And it can suffer great violence during harvest: in the past at least, the tree was beaten with rods to make the olives drop! And yet the tree flourishes year after year, supplying food, income and shade. It does this because it is deeply rooted. The time of drought and dryness is a good thing, for it forces the roots down deep into an on-going source of life.

Like a green olive tree… I too can and will trust in the mercy of God forever and ever. And I will endeavor to not despise this rocky arid wilderness, but sink my roots in deeper. It may not look like much is happening on the outside. But inside, my life is being strengthened as I tap into God Himself.

Be of good cheer. Let us find out how God sees us and hold to that vision for our life. For our hope and destiny is in Him alone.

An amusing thought…

I found this (hat-tip to http://vocatio-obscura.blogspot.com/) and took the brief test. And here I had always thought I was more in the mold of Tertullian!

You’re St. Melito of Sardis! You have a great love of history and liturgy. You’re attached to the traditions of the ancients, yet you recognize that the old world — great as it was — is passing away. You are loyal to the customs of your family, though you do not hesitate to call family members to account for their sins. Find out which Church Father you are at The Way of the Fathers!

A chance meeting…

I came across an old friend the other day, the poetry of T. S. Eliot. I first wondered how it would hold up over time. That which spoke so vibrantly to me in my twenties often rings foreign and lifeless today. And yet here was this, which captured something of the situation in which I currently find myself. It is from the Four Quartets, #2, “East Coker”:

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l’entre deux guerres
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate—but there is no competition—
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older

The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated

Of dead and living. Not the intense moment

Isolated, with no before and after,

But a lifetime burning in every moment

And not the lifetime of one man only

But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.

There is a time for the evening under starlight,

A time for the evening under lamplight

(The evening with the photograph album).

Love is most nearly itself

When here and now cease to matter.

Old men ought to be explorers

Here or there does not matter

We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets, 1943; http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/coker.html