Tag Archive for Church

Transforming History: Introduction

christian historyI spoke in a previous post about the way our ahistorical perspective of faith has crippled us in our efforts to understand the gospel for our time: we too often don’t remember where we come from, the historical events that formed us, the insights from our great spiritual teachers. So for the next few posts let’s try to reclaim a few of our fathers and mothers in the faith and see what their teachings might have to offer as we seek to determine where God is calling us today. This series will be a bit more academic than is typical on the blog, but hopefully the conversation will push us to a better understanding our our heritage, ourselves, and those places where our communities are in need of restoration.

Before we jump into our teachers, though, let’s first set out a model of transformation.

Too often, when we speak about meaningful transformation in the church we limit ourselves to externals or abstractions: “we need more contemporary songs, programs more friendly to young families, a greater emphasis on social justice, etc.” This is not to suggest that a change in external practices and a focus on abstract values and principals are unnecessary, simply that such discussions are incomplete without a complementary focus on the practical components of worship and the organization of our worshiping communities. Thus, this series will seek to analyze our data in light of three categories: what we will refer to as theology, liturgical practice, and communal organization. We see in these three that the various practices of the church inform and reinforce one another in such a way as to make each component essential for change—our theology informs our liturgical practices, which in turn create our communal organization, which, in time, inform and/or reinforce our theology. And the spiral continues on. Visually it would appear as follows: Screen Shot 2013-05-06 at 9.54.32 PM

The theological would pertain to both analytic arguments concerning doctrine as well as the values and principles directed towards individuals in light of those doctrines; liturgical practice refers to the exercises, rituals, and symbols employed by the faith community when they come together to worship; and communal organization will be used here in reference to the structures, both hierarchical and otherwise which constitute the community in question.

eucharist and priestAs a simple example for our model consider the Catholic doctrine of the unity of all believers. We can see here that the theological principle leads to an emphasis on a singular baptism and Eucharist in which all of the believers participate as unified; and these liturgical practices require a centralized meeting place where such practices may take place, as well as an ordained authority who may insure that they are performed correctly. While obviously oversimplified, it is not difficult to see the helpfulness of our model in accounting for the multiple facets of church life, and one could easily impose our model on other scenarios and find its explanatory power equally helpful: ex. the priesthood of all believers, Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, the work of the Spirit in worship, etc.

For the remainder of our series, we will analyze various figures from the history of Christianity who occupy one or more roles within our model and who might hold insight for us concerning those things which we have forgotten or left behind but which have the potential to bring life back into the church. It should be noted that there are many worthy writers who were not selected for this study as their work and thoughts are better represented in our congregations than the ones included here. The next post will consider Saint John of the Cross.

Keeping the Faith but Losing Hope

81% of all students in seminary do not plan on entering full-time congregational ministry upon completing their education. That’s a startling statistic, but here are a few more:

In their research for the 2011 book You Lost Me, the BARNA group found that when asked to reflect upon their experience in church, 84% of young adults aged 18-29 (who grew up in the church) stated that they had not learned how the Bible applies to their field or area of interest. Of those surveyed, 72% stated that they did not learn how Christians could positively contribute to society; 23% stated that the church did not prepare them for real life; 24% stated that faith was not relevant to their career or interests; 22% said that the church ignores the problems of the real world; 35% agreed with the statement that “Christians are too confident that they know all the answers.” In their national survey of mosaics (18-29 year olds) BARNA found that 36% of these young people agreed with the statement “I don’t feel that I can ask my most pressing life questions in church.”

Clerical-CollarThose interviewed are of my generation. They are my peers, friends, co-workers, and would be a large part of my future church congregation were they still in the pews. But I’m afraid, at times, that I have contracted the same disease  that they have.  It’s not just those leaving the pews who are afraid they can’t ask their most pressing questions in church. In preparation for an upcoming class I am teaching, I have been writing a series called Questions I’m Asking, which focuses on the fears and struggles I have as a soon to be minister  entering service to the church; and over the series I have pestered many of my fellow ministers in training (those not in the 81%) to share their experiences about these same questions.

These are future/new ministers of the church. Some of the few who are planning to enter or have recently entered the staff of an existing congregation. I’d like to share some of their thoughts here: empty

“I have not really “gotten anything” out of a church service since I was a little kid. From the time I have been able to follow the logic (attempted) of a sermon and read the words of the songs that we were singing I’ve been asking skeptical questions… If I was not preaching and largely organizing the services altogether, I probably wouldn’t go to a typical congregation. It’s a place that is becoming less and less comfortable for me. How do I worship with others? I don’t know. I struggle with this week in and week out. ”

“I know that it is a serious problem in the faith of the church today. What I don’t know, however, is how to get people to actually care about this. I honestly can’t imagine someone responding to all of this with disagreement; I think it is blatantly obvious that these problems are real. But I also can barely imagine someone giving me more of a response than agreement. I have heard so many “oh yeahs,” seen so many head nods, yet seen no further commitment.”

“Worse than being distracted by the mechanical components of worship, I often find myself angry, or frustrated, or cynical, or apathetic. I hate how individualistic our worship is, I hate how entertainment driven our worship is, I hate how sentimental our worship is, I hate how extemporaneous our worship is, I hate how fad-ish our worship is. But my people worship in this way and I truly believe that many of them connect with God in this way. The thing that really gets confusing is when I get to lead worship. How do I lead worship in a way that honors my commitments about what worship should be, while at the same time honoring the way my people connect with God?”

don't doubt“I am often struck by the lack of corporate acknowledgment of doubt. We spend most of our worship claiming, quite boldly, what we believe and why we believe it. We do not often set aside time as a community to affirm the doubts, fears, and questions of the congregation. Yet, any time that this happens in a group of believers (that I have experienced) there is a sense of relief and people talk about the freeing feeling they have from being able to share such thoughts.”

In some respects, I am writing this as a response to my father’s post “The Oh-Crap Calling.” But I am not writing this as a rebuttal or to offer advice or answers. I don’t really have any answers. And this is a longer post than most of mine, particularly because I really only want to make two points: First, if I may speak for my fellow young ministers, don’t be afraid of us losing our faith.

In so many respects, we desire to be a part of existing churches.

Higher learning and critical study of the Bible have not caused us to lose our faith. Seeing the broken reality of the church, both in our experience and that of our mentors and predecessors, has not caused us to lose our faith; hearing the bitter testimony of ex-ministers and burned out leaders has not caused us to lose our faith. But, secondly, be afraid of us losing our hope: I worry that perhaps we’re losing hope that the church will care about these questions; hope that our doubts and anxiety will be anything but a burden on the church; hope that those questions about the church which direct us into scripture and into prayer will be regarded as relevant by those same communities. I don’t think we’re after an ideal or perfect church. I think we know better than to believe that fads, programs, or new expressions of church will solve the problems we see. Only decades, and perhaps generations, of faithful and patient service is going to begin to generate any momentum or response to some of these questions. We believe this. And we have faith in God and yh’s ability to produce fruit in yh’s church. But this faith is often theoretical. I think that we’re losing hope of finding those communities in which we can confess the inquiries which burden our hearts while still keeping our faith to our calling.

Questions: Jeopardy & Narrative

This is the fifth post in the Questions I’m Asking Series

We have spoken plenty before about narrative so I do not wish to delve too deeply into the issue here. But for the purpose of this post, let us think of a theological narrative as the stories through which we make sense of our identity and purpose in the world; it’s how we make an account of the deep questions of purpose and meaning which come with being part of the people of God. It may help to think of these as similar to W Paul Jones’ Theological Worlds. These narratives do not encompass all of the Christian story, but they help us to get a handle on it. They become the interpretive framework through which we construct our theology, church practice, and community life.

The reason I bring this up is to say that I think that for too long we have expected Christians and converts to intuit a story without really understanding or wrestling with the questions for themselves. We have forced them to play Christian Jeopardy:

“I’ll take obstacles to following God for $400″

“Evolution is a theory you should not research or try to understand…The answer was, ‘What is the way we preserve our doctrine of inspiration and prevent science from eroding our faith?’”

JeopardyThose doctrines and themes from scripture most central to us are repeated and rehearsed without context, without remembering why we value these in the first place. We remember the answers but have forgotten the questions.

I would contend that, while there are other and better formulations of these, most of our narratives can be traced back to five basic questions:

1.What needs to be transformed and why?

2. What are the obstacles to this transformation taking place?

3. Where does this process take place?

4. How does this transformation happen?

5. What is the end result or final product desired?

Let me give you some examples of ways we have constructed narratives from these:

bldgI grew up in churches of Christ and we answered them something like this: (1) The church needs to be transformed back into the body of Christ in the world because it has fallen away from its true purpose (2) The traditions and doctrinal squabbles through our history separate us and prevent this restoration (3) This will take place on the level of the single autonomous congregation (4) A recommitment to the Bible over denominational loyalties and through serious analytic reading of said scripture (5) A reemergence of the first century church.

Now, I can’t speak for all other traditions and denominations, but here are a few more of the ways I see these being answered:

“We need more spirit-filled worship so let’s play more popular songs with more professional musicians and try to push people to really embrace the spirit’s presence. That will revitalize the church.”

“There is so much injustice in the world and it isn’t going to be solved in a church building. We should be out in the streets protesting and working for equality and social justice. Then we will really be in the Kingdom of God.”

“We live in a secularist nation that doesn’t follow God’s law. We need to vote for those who represent our faith and beliefs so that the Government will work towards a more moral and Christian nation-state.”

“We are all so isolated and need community. The small atmosphere of the organic-house churches will solve the lack of relationship and the power abuses we feel in the institution and create the kind of intimacy where we can really experience Kingdom-community.”

dl-storyteller-b1You see what I mean? These narratives, reductive though they may be, are the foundation of our theology, our church practices, and our community life. These stories we tell shape us. And I wonder how responsible we have been with our questions. Perhaps it is time for more dialogue, a recognition of our mistakes but also of the goodness of diversity. Is there any narrative that is appropriate for all places and all times? Are our’s appropriate for this one? Is it possible to coexist and co-labor with other Christians who have a different narrative? How do we go about determining the answers?

I don’t have the answers, but I don’t think we’re going to find them without asking the questions.

The follow up to this post is Bible and Narrative.

Questions: The Man Behind the Curtain

This is the third post in the Questions I’m Asking series.

credible hulkIn my last post I spoke about the difficulty to cultivate more than faith as an intellectual exercise, and I have written posts previously about my difficulty in worship services, but I would like to return to the subject of worship for this post and discuss what I believe is a major problem among my peers as we go into ministry: I do not know how to worship, so I worry about my spiritual health.

I don’t do worship well. I don’t “get anything out of it.” And before you dismiss this though as another, “it’s not about getting something out of it;” “God is worthy of our worship;” “you’re over-thinking it” rant, please hear me out. I’ve spent the better part of my life observing the planning and orchestrating of worship. I’ve spent the last four years studying scripture and preaching. I know how “Church” is “done;”  and  I can’t turn my hyper-analysis off during worship. I’ve seen the man behind the curtain and I can’t un-see him. This is a typical worship service for me:

pay-no-attention-to-that-man-behind-the-curtainOpening song- “Throw back hymn to get everyone’s attention”

Communion Thoughts- “We asked this family to go up together, nice touch.”

Short-term missions group shares: “Heart-felt but paternalistic

Lights go down for emotional song- “Check”

Sermon- “The preacher spent a lot of time crafting that line;” “good word play;” “odd use of that passage.”

Closing song- “We should have been more careful picking this song, the message totally clashes with the sermon.”

I don’t generally get around to worshiping, because I cannot stop analyzing. To a certain degree this is my usual insecurity about emotionalism and my need to distance myself through irony. But I don’t think the solution to my problem is just to “let go” and put my heart into it. This isn’t simply a product of my schooling, this has been my whole life.

And I don’t think I am the only minister who can’t worship. These words come from a friend and recent graduate who is reflecting on his first year of church ministry:

water-in-desert-pic-754528My drive to be right about everything, my argumentative nature, and my arrogance are melting away, albeit slowly. They are being replaced with a desire to listen, a desire for peaceful interaction, and above all a desire to have a spiritual connection with God. This really is the first time in my life that I have wanted to be a spiritual person. I have always been so intellectually driven and intellectually connected with Christianity, the bible, and God. I have always wanted to preach, teach, just be heard in my opinions and rationales. Now, however, I mostly just want to sit down and be silent with God. People always talk about hearing the voice of God, and for my whole life I have thought that was the most stupid thing ever. Now I yearn to hear that voice.

odd man outI want to hear that voice too, and I don’t mean in personal disciplines: It’s not my prayer life I am worried about; I have a disciplined and fruitful prayer life; and it isn’t that I can’t be silent before God when I am by myself. My problem isn’t private. My issue is very much public. How do you hear God’s voice in the Church? Because my problem is with the people of God. I can’t sing, I can’t pray, I can’t hear the word of God, because I do not know how to worship with the people of God.

How do you remain connected to the people of God,  when you don’t know how to worship with the people of God?

 

For Our Consideration: Why Thich Nhat Hanh is a better Christian than I am

Thich-Nhat-Hanh

This addition comes from one of my favorite teachers and writers, zen master Thich Nhat Hanh. I wonder how Christians would be perceived if we considered his advice on listening to our enemies:

“We have wrong perceptions concerning ourselves and the other person, and that is the foundation for conflict and war and violence. We should be able to say like this: ‘Dear friend, dear people, I know that you suffer a lot. I have not understood enough of your difficulties and suffering. It is not our intention to make you suffer more, it is the opposite. So please tell us about your suffering and your difficulties. I am eager to learn to understand.’ It has to start with loving speech. If we are honest and true, they will open their heart and tell us. And then we practice compassionate and deep listening.”

In a culture where Christians have so much access to media and are so often hateful in our message to those we consider our enemies, what would it mean to listen and ask them to teach us understanding? How could Christians use their influence in the media to spread peace instead of fear? How could Christians change their consumption of media to help shape their view of the world? What if we formed our treatment of homosexuals, Muslims, conservatives, liberals, feminists–and all other parties with whom we are so quick to engage in conflict–out of the kind of respect that Nhat Hanh advocates here?

Could we actually listen to “our enemies” without inserting correction or argument? Perhaps we might actually be perceived as ministers of reconciliation. Perhaps we might see that our Buddhist friend might teach us to look more like Jesus. We will never know if we don’t try.

For our consideration:

For Our Consideration: Scroobius Pip, Letter From God

Hopefully this series will become a weekly gig, because I have a perpetual interest in the way that cultures (specifically my own) perceive Christianity. I have written in previous posts about miscommunication and the way that we in the church have an uphill battle ahead of us if we expect to meaningfully reach the millennial generation; so I wish to offer up some of the contemporary cultural reflections which might help us to better understand ourselves. Many of these are by non-christians. They lack objectivity and some may seem mildly offensive, but it is my hope that we as Christians might take into consideration the ways we are being perceived and, in doing so, might be better equipped to represent Christ in the world.

So for our consideration:

 

 

Directed yet Holistic pt. 2

This is the fourth post in the Philosophy of Formation series and the part two of the Directed/Holistic post.

The first directive concerned modern psychology and science. Our second and third directives (anti-paternalism and social responsibility) become more imperative as the world, and particularly the Majority-world church, becomes increasingly globalized. The traditional paradigm of formation in the west, especially as it applies to missions, often creates a paternalistic relationship between teacher and student: one has knowledge, spiritual maturity, and resources (be they monetary, managerial or regarding labor), and the other receives. If we are critical, we will see that Spiritual Paternalism, Knowledge Paternalism, and Resource Paternalism dominate the landscape of missional and cross-cultural formation. As disciples interested in formation, we must hold ourselves to this maxim: Do not do things for people that they can do for themselves. While such a standard may seem harsh, upon critical consideration, I think we will find it is necessary. In order to do so, however, we must ask some very basic questions about the purpose and nature of formation and some existential ones about what it is to be human. 

Paulo Freire contends that formation primarily concerns itself with the problem of humanization. He says, “within history, we see that both humanization and dehumanization are possibilities for a person as an uncompleted being conscious of their incompletion;” and we often see the social structures of a given culture become an extension of this struggle. Humanization requires a teleologically oriented aesthetic, ethical, and intellectual maturation; and, for the Christian, that telos is to be formed into the image of Christ. But to what end is traditional education or formation devoted? For much of history it has not been the telos of completed persons/societies.

Freire calls the traditional western system of education the banking system. As you read his description of the banking system, try replacing the word teacher with the word Church or Americans. I think we will see that his criticism is worthy of the church’s consideration:

(a) the teacher teaches and the students are taught;

(b) the teacher knows everything and the students know nothing;

(c) the teacher thinks and the students are thought about;

(d) the teacher talks and the students listen—meekly;

(e) the teacher disciplines and the students are disciplined…;

(h) the teacher chooses the program content, and the students (who are not consulted) adapt to it;

(i) the teacher confuses the authority of knowledge with his or her own professional authority, which she and he sets in opposition to the freedom of the students;

(j) the teacher is the Subject of the learning process, while the pupils are mere objects.

Freire goes on to assert that in this banking system, “the more students work at storing the deposits entrusted to them, the less they develop the critical consciousness which would result from their intervention in the world as transformers of that world.” He concludes that “the more completely they accept the passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is and to the fragmented view of reality deposited in them.”

Like the banking model, our models of education and formation “bring with them the marks of their origin: their prejudices and their deformations, which include a lack of confidence in the [learner’s] ability to think, to want, and to know.” Freire contends that the ones in authority in this model run the risk of falling into a type of “false generosity,” what we would call paternalism, as “they talk about the [learner], but they do not trust them; and trusting the [learner] is the indispensable precondition for revolutionary change.” 

As we consider a philosophy of formation in a world with a Southern global majority, and one that is industrializing and recovering from decades of oppression and violence, how will we employ the directive of anti-paternalism?  What do we risk helping to create (or reinstitute) if we do not? Does formation not have a responsibility to help create more humane societies as well as individuals? Can we really help initiate the Kingdom into the world if we don’t trust disciples and nationals to think critically and use resources for themselves?

Philosophy of Formation: Grounded yet Progressive

This is the second post in the Philosophy of Formation series.

Progressive yet Grounded

In periods of transition there is a tendency, particularly for the church, to plant our hopes either fully in a remnant of past culture or in future progress and to then demonize the other. Such a dichotomized approach to formation will not suffice in the new philosophy. The doctrines and creeds of the past seek to answer questions that are no longer primary, based on authority which is no longer considered credible. We cannot deny that we owe our predecessors a great debt, but we do not honor them by seeking to live as if we were still in their world. Phyllis Tickle describes this experience well, saying

“The Reformation’s cry of sola scripture was accompanied and supported by the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers. The computer, opening up as it does, the whole of humankind’s bank of collective information, enables the priesthood of all believers in ways the Reformation could never have imagined. It also, however, opens up all that information to anybody, but without the traditional restraints of vetting or jurying…It even opens up with equal élan the world’s bank of dis-information. To the extent that faith can be formed or dissuaded by the contents of the minds as well as those of the heart, then such license has huge implication for the Great Emergence and for what it will decide to do about factuality in the wiki world.”

The future of formation faces many similar issues and it will take serious discernment to determine the best means of adapting to this new world and new circumstances. However, I believe that disciples lack the innate maturity to operate in the center of culture on their own. “The next Christians must beware,” Gabe Lyons warns, “that operating in the center of the world requires a deeps anchoring in Christ, a grounding that’s achieved only through means unbecoming to most.” He prescribes the value of being “grounded, not distracted,” stating that “the next Christians know that if they aren’t disciplined, they risk sacrificing the greater work God may want to accomplish through them.”

In our haste to adapt to the emerging world we must not leave behind the disciplines and liturgies that are so formative to discipleship: fasting, lectio divina, contemplative prayer, radical simplicity, and the other spiritual practices of monasticism and the Christian life. In our haste to learn how we might teach the next generation we cannot risk losing the teachers of the generations who came before us. St. John of the Cross, Augustine, St. Teresa of Avila, Dietrich Bonheoffer, John Calvin, Thomas a Kempis, and the other great disciples in the church whose teachings are preserved must always be a model for those who seek to be formed into the way of Christ. The doctrines and creeds may require updating and contextualizing, or even doing away with; but it would be foolish to lose those most valuable teachings and practices that help to ground us in Christ.

A Philosophy of Formation: Introduction

In their research for the 2011 book You Lost Me, the BARNA group found that when asked to reflect upon their experience in church, 84% of young adults aged 18-29 (who grew up in the church) stated that they had not learned how the Bible applies to their field or area of interest. Of those surveyed, 72% stated that they did not learn how Christians could positively contribute to society; 23% stated that the church did not prepare them for real life; 24% stated that faith was not relevant to their career or interests; 22% said that the church ignores the problems of the real world; 35% agreed with the statement that “Christians are too confident that they know all the answers;” 25% identified Christianity as anti-science. In their national survey of mosaics (18-29 year olds) BARNA found that 36% of these young people agreed with the statement “I don’t feel that I can ask my most pressing life questions in church.”

The following is a direct quote from the 2012 Texas GOP Report of Platform Committee, approved by Governor Rick Perry (the bolded emphasis is added):

“Early Childhood Development – We believe that parents are best suited to train their children in their early development and oppose mandatory pre-school and Kindergarten.  We urge Congress to repeal government-sponsored programs that deal with early childhood development.

Knowledge-Based Education – We oppose the teaching of Higher Order Thinking Skills (HOTS) (values clarification), critical thinking skills and similar programs that are simply a relabeling of Outcome-Based Education (OBE) (mastery learning) which focus on behavior modification and have the purpose of challenging the student’s fixed beliefs and undermining parental authority.”

The evidence from both church and state seems to suggest that our philosophy of both spiritual and intellectual formation over the last generation, in many respects, has failed; and the future of formation does not always look promising. We, the “Post-moderns,” “Generation Y,” “Millennials,” (call us what you will) have passed through almost our entire formal education and the indicators of its success are few and, as we will address later, often troubling. In formation, as in so many spheres, we find ourselves reexamining the questions once taken for granted: What is the purpose of education and formation? How do we form individuals and society for the future without losing the treasures of our past? How should we incorporate contemporary science and psychology in formation? What impact will formation have on the shape of our society, our government, and our economic systems? What influence should it have? How would we create a new pedagogy? How would we assess it? What is true? What is valuable?

I am convinced, though, that we (particularly we Christians) need a new philosophy of education and formation: one that is not married to outdated and paternalistic notions of reality, but one which is not divorced from the history and various cultures of the world—one that is no longer grounded in a Western-Anglo-Male centric conception of truth, beauty, or virtue, and which is not separated from the realities of poverty, post-Christendom, and the contemporary sciences. In the following posts, I would like to suggest a few of the principles which such a philosophy must consider.  Let us discuss, here, two areas of “generosity” which I believe that those involved in the formation of the future (be it evangelism, teaching, spiritual mentoring, or just Christians interacting with nonbelievers and one another), and particularly those who do so cross-culturally, must incarnate if we are to be successful in truly helping to form one another into the image of Christ.

Look Both Ways

I have grown up in a tradition which seeks to restore the first-century church. As a naturally inquisitive child I had all sorts of issues with this endeavor: why do we have a building; why do we read the New Testament and not read the Old Testament Apocrapha; why are we so preoccupied with the state; etc. However, I cannot help but appreciate the value we placed in scripture over “church doctrine” (a sometimes futile but always commendable pursuit) and the sincerity with which we sought to be genuine disciples like those who first began this life “followship.” I believe it is important to find value in our origins of faith; but I do not think we should do so uncritically. So I would like to raise some questions for those of us from conservative traditions, particularly churches of Christ, to consider:First century Church

1. Let’s confess our heritageour desire to “restore the first-century church” is noble; but we are not immune to our own origins. The conflicts and doctrines from which we emerged have formed us to such an extent that we cannot hope to shed their influence nor, do I think, should we deny their continuing effects. We are the children of the enlightenment, we are rooted in a view of the world which elevates the status of the West (especially the United States) and of Anglo-males. But our heritage does not pick up at the end of the first century. The church has grown and adapted in so many ways (both beautiful and disturbing at times); and as long as we deny where we’ve come from we can never confess where we’ve been or discern where we’re going.

2.Let’s remember our teachers: I have found that when my peers want to incorporate the wisdom of “ancient Christians” they first look to C.S. Lewis. I am not a hater of Lewis; I have found him to be insightful and appropriate to his own time. However, our students are increasingly divorced from the great teachers of the church: Augustine, St. John of the Cross, St. Benedict, St. Teresa, St. Catherine, the desert fathers and mothers, Martin Luther, John Calvin, William Carey, etc. We have pretended that the Enlightenment and the Bible are all we have; but, by separating ourselves from the history of the church, we have cut ourselves off from some of our most valuable teachers. Reflection on scripture and discipleship did not begin with us or in the modern age, nor did we perfect it. We need to acknowledge this and reestablish a seat at the table for our predecessors; our young people need their wisdom and guidance.

3. We need to learn where to look: In my experience, when we wanted to settle a matter of dispute we looked to the past: Appropriate gender roles? Look to creation and the society in which scripture was composed; Most effective evangelism? Look to our apologists from the 19th and 20th centuries; Correct manner of worship? do what they were doing in the first century; Best incarnation of leadership or Church? Let’s look like we did like at our most successful. If we will look critically, though, I think we will see why we are becoming increasingly irrelevant. God is not only restoring the world, yh is making something totally new.

I am absolutely convinced that when we want to discern what God is doing in the world, though it is crucial that we look backwards to our FULL heritage, ultimately we must look forward. We should always be asking, “What does God want the world to look like when yh is finished?” And I believe that, while we have much from our history we could stand to reclaim, in the end God is calling us to be a new creation.

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