Christianity in the online world

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I was offered to give a talk last Thursday at Christian Focus, at Warwick Uni. As blogging is something I started to take more seriously over the past few months, and because it has become more important in my life, I felt that it would be a good opportunity to personally reflect on how this online-ness fitted in my life. I also thought that, as several initiatives such as notashamedofthegospel.com try to work out ways to use the internet to evangelise, and as viral videos such as this one recently took my facebook wall by storm, it would be good to share these insights with my student friends.

I recorded the talk, most of which you can listen to here, but will outline some of the points below:

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In short, I think that being online changes our life, and in particular our Christian life, in three main ways:

1. Anonymity

The Internet brings the possibility of anonymity. This has its blessings, as it is a safe environment to go to, without the constant fear of losing face or standing: on the Internet, through anonymity, you can ask questions you wouldn’t necessarily dare to ask. Our prayer requests online can become more sincere and personal as the risk of losing face disappears, and as the need to look holy subsides.
It is also a safety net for experiments, such as, for me, this blog when I started it: I did not know where it would lead, but if I failed, I could always start something else and just forget about this blog. This is a luxury in many real-life cases.
Of course, it also is an open door for trolling and abuse, and ill-thought harsh words. And as there is no relationship involved, the receiving of the message is completely dissociated from its broadcasting.

2. Increased choice

This dissociation also happens in real life, when people choose books, or churches: choice happens in real life as well as online. But, online, the pool from which we choose is much wider. A better fit to what we resonate to, is available. The people whose blogs I chose to follow and regularly read tend to post content to which I would say “yes! that makes sense!” than those that would make me go away troubled. Maurillio Amorim recently posted about the illusion of knowing what we want and how, effectively, through giving us more choice, we are denied real influence.
I don’t only choose what I read. I also choose what I write. The capacity to edit is part of that choice.
What this means at the end of the day is that my Internet experience of Christianity is very much me-shaped. I take on what mirror images of me say and believe it to be influence, while I dismiss more easily the bits that I disagree with.

3. Constant fragmentation

This ability to switch off is present everywhere. We have browsers with many tabs (as I’m writing this, I have seven tabs open, and I got distracted by something and now have twelve) and compartmentalise the discrete bits of information into those very short-term placeholders. As such, this information is only affecting us at the surface level, for a very limited part of our identity. Moreover, online, we share information – and the exchange has a tendency to remain at the cognitive level.
Online, we get the illusion of being completely engaged, because we are reachable 24/7, and because we have access to stuff at our own convenience; and, worse, we get interrupted from real life experience by texts/emails/other online elements. That fragmentation is threatening to be pervasive into our own lives.

How have you seen your identity change when online?

Today’s nations

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I find it difficult to understand the word “nation”. The modern world seems to have turned to the individual, rather than the nation, as its cornerstone. It doesn’t help that the way nations are talked about in the Bible shift from a specific group of people, circumscribed geographically, to a much larger meaning, referring to all of God’s people.

Image credit: Suttonhoo reused under CC license

This makes it harder to find talk about nations relevant. It seems distant. When we talk of other nations, we translate it directly into “other countries”, other states, geographically distant, and therefore not tangible, not real to us. How we react to our own country depends heavily on which country we consider as ours.

So I have a tendency to overlook those bits. A tendency to not let those words sink in.

But the malleability of the word “nation” through the Bible makes me think that we should, perhaps, modernise our understanding of it, turning it towards, for once, the individual. Not to celebrate the individual, but to let that individual be transformed through and through.

So now, when I see the word nation, and when it makes sense to do so, I think of the different “nations” within me – of the different parts of my identity which may not all be yet under God, and I take the Great Commission also inwardly: to make disciples of all the nations in me. Re-reading the Psalms under that new light can be challenging (118 in particular).

The Great Commission

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“Winning the brother or sister isn’t – in the perspective of St Antony – a matter of getting them signed up to something, getting them on your side, but opening doors for them to God’s healing. If you open such doors, you ‘win’ God, because you become a place where God ‘happens’ for someone else, where God comes to life for someone in a new and life-giving way – not because you are good and wonderful but because you have allowed the wonder and goodness of God to appear (and you may have no idea how).”

Rowan Williams, Silence and Honey Cakes – The wisdom of the desert, pp. 104-105

The Eleven were sent off to make disciples of all nations. Not converts. Not “Christians”, not in the way the word is seen in today’s secular world.

Disciple-making is not about:

  • simply handing out leaflets or distributing bibles
  • hammering God into every conversation until you get a Yes or ruin a relationship
  • convincing others that our beliefs are true and simply going through a description of sin, penal substitution, grace and salvation.

And of course, that’s not what we do, not what we want to do. What we aspire to do is to build relationships with the people we talk to and, indeed, “open doors for them to God’s healing”. We want to restore that actual relationship with God, through us. And that has to be relational, so it’s not simply about getting more people to reach the same decision as you. But then…

  • why do we judge the success of an evangelistic event by the number of people who “became Christians” there and then?
  • why is the heart of visible evangelism event-based? (talks, debates, books, street evangelism, …)

And much, much more importantly… what are our motives when we pray for people to “become Christians”?

Get your inheritance

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Callings can be daunting, regardless of how difficult or easy they seem to fulfil.

Fear has a role to play: a feeling of not being capable of doing what seems to be expected of us. A feeling of unworthiness or inadequacy can also stop us in our tracks. At the root of these two lies, fundamentally, a misconception that we have to do it alone. Seen like that, the seeming humility turns into pride; and it is the same pride that leads us to stall, to refuse the callings.

In reluctantly answering our callings, we miss out, because we take on an attitude of spiritual procrastination – and end up not receiving the prize because we do not claim it. The same goes for our gifts – we often shy away from putting them to use and from reaping the rewards from God.

“How long will you put off going in to take possession of the land, which the Lord, the God of your fathers, has given you?” (Joshua 18:3, ESV)

Of course, our inheritance is more than simply the specific gifts we may have. As Christians, we enjoy the freedom from the shackles of sin and the peace of God. But our inheritance also includes these spiritual gifts, and we need to take possession of them.

What are your gifts? Which spiritual lands have been given you as an inheritance? And how are you working that fertile ground?

Opening the can of worms

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Worm drawing by Maija, re-used under CC license

After 20 posts, this blog is finally taking shape. But the header I gave it, “About predestination and smaller matters” remains an empty promise.

Or does it? Predestination is one of those things that are so central to a worldview that it tints most of the things I say. The very fact that I’m writing this blog as a way to, hopefully, impact some people’s lives, betrays in itself some of my views on the topic. I’m sure there is a link with predestination in every post that I made*.

But there is a reason why I never tackled it openly, and, at the risk of disappointing some of my readers, why I won’t here either. The opposition between predestination and free will is just that: an opposition. Yes, it matters for our understanding of prayer, of salvation and of many other important and relevant issues – but in and of itself, it is a quarrel of the mind.

It is divisive and brings nothing to the table. Worse, it detracts from the issues that are relevant and can be used deliberately to not address issues which are not of the mind. 2 Timothy 3:7 talks of people “always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth.”

Predestination is not the only debate to fall into the trap of grabbing the mind but not the soul. Six-day creationism, same-sex marriage – it can go from the distant past to the practically relevant. I have had a tendency to always grapple with “deep” or controversial issues which bear little relation with anything but my intellect, simply because I enjoy debate. So in a way, this blog is also written to me, as a reminder that, sometimes, the can of worms is best left closed.

I need to qualify this. There are times when the deep questions come to the surface, itching at you. To me, that’s how the fascination with predestination came about – after wondering whether something I had prayed for had set in motion a sequence of painful events, and after wondering how my prayer was fitting with God’s plans or not. Then, my soul and my heart were searching for answers about that big issue. But later, both my soul and my heart’s longings had been satisfied, though my intellect was still given free rein. That’s when it became unhealthy.

So don’t shove big issues under the carpet because they are big, divisive issues. Just make sure that it’s not just your mind that motivates you to seek those answers.

* In fact, to celebrate going past 1,000 views, and in a shameless attempt to get you to read past posts, here’s a competition to win a book. Email me links to predestination you find in this blog; the prize for the most tenuous/hilarious link is Rowan William’s Silence and Honey Cakes, which is a really amazing read! (Competition ends 30th April)

What does it mean… presence?

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It is easy to talk about God’s presence. I’ve heard it said many times that “the presence of God” or of the Holy Spirit was with us.

Until I heard a sermon about a month ago, though, I only took it at face value: God is in this place, He is ordaining what is being done, He is inspiring us. All three do hark back to God’s presence, yes, but in a way which does not do justice to the importance of God’s presence.

Photo credit: Mauro Cateb, under CC license.

As I’m starting to write this, though, I realise it is impossible to describe it theoretically, or with words. For, in fact, God’s presence depends on us – on our own response. Old Testament occurences of the word “presence” usually come hand in hand with our response. Talking of “God’s presence” as a mere indication of His physical, geographical location, independently of us, would be tantamount to saying that sometimes, He isn’t there.

So in order to write about God’s presence, I need to talk about how I feel it. To me, it is a deeply rooted knowledge that He is with me – that I can pray and He will listen. It does not always mean receiving divine inspiration or ordination; it is not always supernatural. But it is like having a housemate in the house, next door, with the knowledge that if I want a cup of tea, he’ll be there to have one with me; with the knowledge that if something is wrong with me, he will look after me. Ultimately, God’s presence is here whenever I turn to Him and remind myself that He loves me.

That’s important:

  • because God’s presence is everywhere, everywhen. A couple of years ago, as I went through a rough patch, I wanted to be left alone. I fled from God’s presence, in a way. But even during those few lonely months, I knew God was just a stone’s throw away.
  • but its benefits depend on us and our response. Even though God knows our every thoughts, we can still shy away from His presence. Knowing that makes it easier to tune to it.
  • because expectations of the supernatural to always happen in “God’s presence” makes us miss much of God’s presence.
  • because it puts God’s love right back at the centre of prayer, which is the pure expression of God’s love.
  • because it helps us understand Jesus’s plight when He cries out to God “why have you forsaken me?”

How do you feel God’s presence?

What other expressions have a deeper meaning than meets the eye?

A few thoughts about Lent

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Lent is just over. This period is associated with disciplines, generally giving up something like chocolate, caffeine, facebook…

My Lenten observances started off as in-jokes, generally involving France. This year, though, I couldn’t think of anything humorous to give up, so tried on a more “serious” Lenten discipline.

And over the course of this year’s Lent, I picked up a few things:

1. Lent is about yourself.
There are probably some heresy points in that statement, but I believe that when you embark on a Lenten discipline, it is not for the glory of God. It is about self-denial, or self-imposed discipline – in short, about yourself.
Some disciplines, like taking on a more intensive prayer routine, can be beneficial to your faith; but a simple discipline is, in its own right, not related to God: by being more disciplined, you are not made more acceptable in His sight.

What this means, practically, is that you can fail. Nibble on the odd bit of chocolate, make the odd innuendo, etc. But that failing to observe your discipline should not lead you to question your acceptance by God, or make you feel more unworthy. Nor should your success make you feel worthier.
So why do churches encourage Lent?

2. It is a great way to uncover and break free of addictions

When I’m addicted to something, I tend to pretend I’m in control and the addiction does not exist.
Giving up, say, innuendo for Lent, and realising how hard it is to change that behaviour highlights areas where, sometimes, sin has a hold over you*.

But I have found this Lent that it became easier to observe the discipline the further I went into Lent.
For that reason, I would encourage anyone observing a Lenten discipline they find difficult to keep up with to also keep it on Sundays.

3. It does make you look forward to Easter!

Probably not in the right way, though ;)

4. Finally, Lent is not just about giving stuff up.

Giving up being French for Lent may seem ridiculous. Okay, it is ridiculous. But the way it worked was, we had a Lentmug, where we’d put 20p at every failure to observe the disciplines we had taken on. The money would then go towards a charity.
Lent is about giving as much as it is about self-denial. What you give up sometimes leads to savings; and those savings can then be given.
That’s the spirit behind some initiatives like The Lent Experiment, where rather than giving stuff up, you are given every day two acts of kindness to choose from. I’ve tried to do it a few times, but always end up discouraged because I failed to look it up every day or just didn’t get around to it.
What have you learned this Lent?

* I call it sin because it has a hold over you. We should no longer be slaves to any of our passions (see Col 3:5)

Tensions

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Picture a tug-of-war. A rope that’s being pulled by both ends. One word describes that situation: tension.

Image credit: Andy Beercroft, re-used under CC license

And we’re often in a similar situation, where we have to choose between two opposing things. Where we’re being pulled in one direction by comfort and habit, and in the other by a calling. This can take many forms – being friendly vs challenging someone; living in sin vs dealing with it; etc. But at the root of it, where there is a tension, it is because there is a hidden, but deep knowledge of what should be done. There is always a sin vs calling dichotomy.

That tension feels natural.

It isn’t. Sin is not natural, and while we do live in a fallen world, sin should have no hold over us.

That tension can be dangerous.

You can snap. Regardless of the direction you snap in – whether it is towards the “healthy” calling, or towards the ways of habit – it will be ugly.
If the snapping causes you to go back to sin, the loss is obvious. If it causes you to abandon your past ways, there will be parts of yourself – for instance, old friends, old hobbies – that will stay behind: a chunk of the rope entirely in the hands of the sin team.

It can also be helpful.

It can lead you to explore different areas of your faith. It can highlight areas of your life that are holding you back. Thanks to that tension, you can grow stronger in your faith and give over more to God.

What you shouldn’t do:

Add more hands to what you see as the “healthy” side. This only increases the risk of snapping.
Simply forget the tension exists/has existed. For one thing, there are probably others who live with similar tensions to yours. Knowing where you are/have been and being open about it helps build real relationships and will help those with similar tensions. And while tension can be helpful, it is only so when you are conscious it exists.
Moan about the tension. Like I said, there are ways in which that tension can be helpful. But by just talking about how difficult it is to deal with that tension, you’re not actually dealing with it.

What you can do:

Talk to someone about it – not to justify your tension, but rather to make it into something that is not inevitable – something that is tangible and which you can work on.
Realise the tension isn’t natural, and welcome God to remove those hands that are pulling the “sinful” side. There is something quite powerful in the Lord’s prayer there: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil“.

Self-worth, hospitality and evangelism

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Today, when hearing about church action and church hospitality in the student context, something along those lines came up:

“When they come to a Christian circle, students find people who are genuinely interested in who they are”

My first reaction was “that’s great!” And true enough, without that, there can be no real relationship. No connection – and therefore no discipleship. I even blogged about the importance of relationship over argument-based evangelism some time ago.

In the context of today’s talk, though, it got me thinking that we’re considering “genuine interest” as something others are looking for – a magnet for lonely students*. But what if you have low self-esteem and feel your life is basically a succession of failures? Would you want people to be interested in that?
For instance: I’m a PhD student. People sometimes ask me what I’m working on. It is a question I dreaded – and yet people were only trying to be nice by asking it. The reason I dreaded that was that I felt my research was (a) boring (but that can be overcome by people who show genuine interest) and (b) completely worthless (methodological nitpicking). It is the famous impostor syndrome. This happened to me, and yet I don’t see myself as a particularly insecure person. It can genuinely happen to anyone, and not just about worklife. To people in that situation, regardless of how genuine interest is, it is scary.

In other words, the question I’m asking is where does genuine interest turn into scrutiny – not in your own eyes, but in the eyes of the person you’re trying to welcome?

Self-worth issues within Christianity can be seen as “covered by grace”: we’re not worthy anyway, but then, none of us are, not even “to gather the crumbs under God’s table”. No, we’re not deserving of God’s love – and it’s quite healthy to remember that. But it does not mean we are not worthy of each other’s love. Yet I would assume (and I’m saying that without any qualification on the topic, so please do correct me if I’m wrong) that for people already struggling with self-worth, that particular message will echo in a very strong way, and ultimately be harmful both to the person’s health and to their access to the Gospel.

So how do we make sure that, when we’re trying to build up a relationship, it stops short of unwelcome scrutiny or does not bring about undesirable feelings of worthlessness?

*ok, that’s a caricature, and the interest is genuine. But there’s a reason why we mention it when we talk about outreach…

10 reasons why leading people is like making a pot of tea

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Image credit: Phoenix Han, reused under CC license

1. Different blends suit different people. Do not assume what worked with someone will also work with someone else!

2. When you’re making a teapot, you make it both for others and for yourself. In the same way, your leadership style needs to be suitable both to your personality and to the personality of those you follow.

3. Different blends suit different times of the day and different moods. Even when you know people’s tastes, you won’t start off their day with a Lapsang Souchong*. In the same way, be sensitive of people’s personal struggles, joys and adapt your message so that your love and care shine through.

4. A dash of milk does make a cuppa better – but ultimately, you’re not in control of how your guests will take your tea. In the same way, people may take your leadership in the way you intended, or change it (for better or for worse). Respect that!

5. Rinsing the pot with hot water (and warming it at the same time) makes the tea a lot better. Leadership is not something you do on a whim. It is much better when it’s not improvised.

6. Making and drinking tea is a pretext to sharing a good time with others. In the same way, leading people is not an end in itself, but only worth it inasmuch as it challenges and changes people you ultimately care for.

7. Patience is key, or else you’ll find your leadership very weak. Let your ideas brew enough for people to be changed, and challenged by your leadership. But don’t let them brew for so long your message becomes bitter!

8. Once it’s ready, don’t put off giving it to your guests. Tea is best hot. People won’t drink cold tea. In the same way, people won’t follow a message that’s no longer relevant to them – regardless of how carefully and lovingly it’s been prepared!

9. Some people will prefer coffee. You’ll always find heretics who won’t welcome your leadership.

10. Letting tea go to waste is sacrilege. So just don’t. In the same way, don’t let your leadership skills go to waste. Respond to God’s calling.

*why you would ever make Lapsang Souchong is beyond my understanding, but ah well…