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March, 2013

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March 31, 2013 3:20 pm

The Anecdote

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by    in Uncategorized

Next week, I’m preaching for the second time (you can listen to my first go here). And while one would assume that the experience should make it easier and less daunting, it doesn’t. There are many circumstantial reasons for this:

  • a lot less prep time (“only” 2 weeks’ notice this time round)
  • I don’t have the excuse of it being my first time as a safety net
  • The lectionary falls on Acts. Which is great, but it was a lot easier to just go with the message already spelled out in the Epistle last time (using the Gospel passage as a hook into that). This time, the sermon can take a fair amount of directions, and it’s a bit harder to pick one and stick with one.

Crucially, though – I have been given advice. It came in two forms: one was on the back of a conversation (of which, in fairness, I probably only remember the least useful bits!), and was given relatively independently of the passages: that I should pitch the sermon in the context of Easter. Because that’s “where people were going to be”. Probably great advice, the only issue is, I’m not quite sure what that means: after Easter Sunday, should we consider people to be on the road to Emmaus? Or further along the road, with the resurrection properly sunk in? Or should I wait until the Ascension for that*? Should I preach to both Peter and Thomas called Didymus?

anecdote

Photo: THOR, reused under CC license

The Joke, The Anecdote and The Three-Part Structure: the Trinity of sermon-writing?

And as I’m trying to weave the church calendar into the sermon, I’m also reminded of the various pieces of advice that are, seemingly, valid for all sermons. You find them in books on sermon-writing (among which the two David Day ones are very helpful). That there should be a joke, and an anecdote, to pepper the whole tedious business for our yawning congregations. Thankfully, though, the abuses of the practice of The Joke, which ended up unrelated to the sermon, have been put to light and it seems that this is far less common now. I think the same goes for the anecdote.

Writing the sermon, I was scratching my head, trying to think of an anecdote to tell which was fitting to the sermon, but finding I probably do not have any to offer. This was a real block to the writing process. Once I realised that I didn’t need an anecdote as such, I was freed to let the sermon flow.

There is a real risk in giving rules about what sermons should include: that we end up seeing  helpful rules as a compulsory system, and that The Anecdote becomes The Joke: forced, stale, and potentially worse, what people focus on and retain from the sermon. I would even argue that if it does not come naturally into the sermon, that is, without trying to fit one in, then an anecdote is detrimental to the quality of the sermon: it makes it bitty at best, self-contradictory at worst. (But yeah, if it does fit in naturally, then it makes the sermon all the more powerful and relevant!) So maybe there will be one in my sermon, but I don’t aim to include one at all costs.

Dead to rules, alive to the Bible

Despite this, I do believe one of the rules of sermon-writing should be upheld and observed at all times: preach from the text (rather than from a hypothetical point you’re trying to make). That rule can be applied, because it influences the entirety of the sermon, not just one part of it or its structure. And because it directs us to a source, it helps us avoid Bible-hopping.

I thought I had nothing to say about these two passages. Then I started to write, trying  to explain what was happening in either of the passages, and what was surprising. And a mini-structure  for the sermon just appeared. That’s what preaching from the text means: letting it guide you on a journey whose destination you don’t quite know yet.

This complete dependence on Scripture explains why it is so daunting to preach: these are powerful words we are wielding. And I hope I always tackle preaching with that same fear – that I never become blasé about what I’m preaching from. But at the same time, it is incredibly reassuring: because Scripture supports our preaching; and, relying on it, there’s no way to go terribly wrong!

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* That said, I love the church calendar, and love using it. But that’s for another post!

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March 24, 2013 5:39 pm

Value in simplicity

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by    in Liturgy

There are a few modern worship songs which annoy me because all they seem to say is “I’m a Christian” over and over again. Not only are modern worship songs formulaic (and include a lot of woh-ohing), they also feature a lot of repetition. At the other end of the spectrum, most hymns are wordy and can turn into a contest as to who can use the largest amount of words to describe a rather simple thing. Or spend an entire song to ask a question which can be answered with a single word: no.

simplicity

Personally, I tend to favour hymns (whether modern or ancient), because in the variation of lyrics, I can feel their flow and progression towards the resurrection. In that, they play their part in accompanying us in our worship, starting from simple description of facts and progressively including us – a bit like the “This is our story” eucharistic liturgy. That’s how, when they explode into the victory being won, that victory is truly ours.

But the issue with hymns is that they don’t let up. If I don’t know the hymn, I don’t quite have time to take in what I’m saying. The mind and soul are sometimes left trying to catch up with the lips. And by the time they have caught up, the liturgy is about to continue, without much time to actually own what we were singing. The same applies if we sing a song with simple lyrics but a complicated structure, where boredom takes over at the tenth special electric guitar riff.

Halfway between lyrical complexity and musical fanciness, though, there are songs which can only be described as simple. Take the Taize song “Oh Lord, hear my prayer“; or the African song “Hakuna wakaita sa Jesu“, meaning “There’s no one like Jesus”. Both of these have simple lyrics which get repeated – without fancy additions. The repetitive pattern, finally, allows the mind and soul to catch up with the lips, and the statement that there is no one like Jesus becomes truly our statement, rather than a trite, quaint little thing better left for Sunday school.

There is a true value in simple songs. And singing a song that just keeps on repeating itself is nothing to shirk from, or to compensate for with fun riffs or drum solo. Leaving enough time for the simple statement to gather momentum and weight, with no distractions or shame, leads (for me) to a deeper form of worship. And I absolutely adore it.

So here’s my suggestion for you: next time you worship, pick a simple song. Or simplify one by using simply the chorus. And sing it over and over again until you feel it is yours. Then finish with a moment of silence.

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March 17, 2013 4:13 pm

Signposts to heaven

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by    in Liturgy

In our church, we use this piece of liturgy (which, apparently, comes from the Iona community):

Make our congregations places of radical discipleship, and signposts to heaven.

signpost

Photo: Lairich Rig, reused under CC License

Radical discipleship means at the same time more and less than what may be ascribed to it. But that’s not what I want to focus on today; it’s the second half: “signposts to heaven“. I only recently realised the depth that this prayer contains. Here are a few thoughts on it:

Signposting means being visible. It means that our congregation needs to be put on a lampstand so that it is visible to others. Simply in being visible, we can be an encouragement to others, in the same way that a signpost on the side of the road can encourage people and let them know they are on the right track, and that the destination in fact exists and is known to the congregation.

Signposting is to somewhere. Far from being an end in itself, the church and the congregational aspect of church life in particular, is only a place to grow. If your going to church is simply part of a stable pattern – if you’re not experiencing growth, then you might just be pausing at the signpost, catching your breath. And the signpost, the congregation, is a safe place to do so, because you will know which way to move from there. But if you’re not expecting growth, then you may be doing it wrong.

Signposts have some information on them. There would be little point in having a signpost with simply a multitude of arrows (if even that!) without anything written on them. Just look at the photo: doesn’t the arrow pointing towards us look odd? Let us be bold in proclaiming the coming of the Kingdom; and (to use another bit of the same piece of liturgy) in expectation that the best is yet to come, be truly Christ-like.

The signposts in the liturgy are to heaven. It means that our congregations should evoke heaven to people: that in our churches, people should be reminded of heaven. That means that God should be visible in the way we live: it’s not just about being nice and spurring each other on to be better people, it’s about becoming, congregationally, Christ-like and allowing Christ to shine through us.

A final thought on this issue: it is a prayer for congregations. It doesn’t go Make us signposts to heaven, although that might also be a good prayer to say. It asks more, and demands less: it asks for unity in individual humility. It asks that together, we make up that signpost for others; and to do that, we all must point in the same direction. But it does not seek our own glorification as individual disciples, or demand that we get an instant revelation of heaven so that we can individually point in the right direction (and usher in those who clearly have had a distorted vision).

One thing’s for sure, next time I say this prayer, it will have taken on a much deeper meaning.

Do you have a prayer you particularly like?

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March 10, 2013 3:16 pm

5 ways we can learn from children

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by    in Guest posts,Lists
This is the first guest post on this blog! It’s written by my friend Dorian. He is a kids worker at a North London church and studying Applied Theology with Moorlands college. In his spare time he enjoys recreational mathematics (don’t we all?), and usually mixes up American and British spelling. If you’d like to contribute a guest post, get in touch at contact@edsslipper.net

Theologians have given lots of different opinions about what Jesus meant when he said “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it“. Most of them have talked about the importance of imitating certain childlike qualities; and interestingly, they usually talk about the importance of imitating the qualities that society of the day finds desirable in a child.

chalkboard

Rather than debating over which child-like qualities Jesus might have been talking about, I suggest actually learning from the children themselves. Here are five ways I’d suggest we can do so:

1. Learning as you teach children.

In order to pass on knowledge, you must first know what you wish to pass on! I’ve found that teaching in Kids church is a great way to to really learn yourself. The preparation needed to speak on a passage in a way that is both meaningful and simple enough for kids to understand is a challenging and rewarding way to learn.

Ok, so technically this isn’t learning directly from children, but it is seeking to learn as you teach. which brings us to:

2. Learning from the questions children ask

A good teacher lets their pupils ask questions, and children are great at asking. Children don’t have as much of a developed world-view as adults, so they are much quicker to notice discrepancies between teachings and actions, and ask questions that adults are afraid to ask.

Check out the story of David and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17: all of Israel was encamped against the Philistine army, but were too terrified to move against them. David, acting as a delivery boy for his brothers spots what’s going on, and asks the question “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” David, the youngest son of Jesse, had seen how the way the Israelite army was behaving, i.e. cowering in fear, was contrary to their belief that God himself went before the army to guarantee their victory.

By their questions children can have a prophetic voice, challenging the practices of the church, and pointing out where teachings don’t match up with actions, often because adults have become desensitized to the message.

Don’t be afraid of the questions children ask, but be willing to be challenged, and be willing to seek answers and learn.

3. Listening to their faith

Children often have a simple, yet powerful faith that adults can learn from. Check out 2 Kings 5. A important general was plagued by leprosy, and it was the passing comment of his wife’s Israelite servant girl that eventually led to his healing. This girl’s simple faith statement: “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy” was listened to and acted upon, which ended up influencing the fate of entire nations, and bringing this general to know the Lord.

Children aren’t afraid to say what they know to be true. Neither should we be.

4. Learn from their mistakes

The Bible frequently calls believers in Christ “children of God”, and in a lot of ways our behaviour toward God is very childish.

One time when I was working in an orphanage, two girls had been taken out of their families and placed in our care. They had been in the children’s home for a very short time, when one night, during a thunderstorm they ran away. Thankfully the next morning they were found, though shivering cold and soaked to the bone.

I was quick to judge these girls, wondering why on earth they would run away from a place of safety and protection, into the darkness and a town they didn’t know, and during a thunderstorm no less! But the more I reflected on this incident, the more I began to see my relationship with God in a new light. How many times have I run away from Him, seeking my own way rather than the safety and protection He provides? These girls showed me how important it is to trust God, even when I don’t know what’s going on, and reminded me to repent for the times I have tried to live life by my own rules rather than His.

5. Learn from how children receive grace

The flip side of the story I just told, is how the two girls came accept the orphanage as their home. Even though they messed up big-time when they ran away, they realized that they were forgiven, and then sought with open arms to receive all the orphanage gave them. An adult who has been given a meal would want to repay this, either with money at restaurant, or by a gift or with reciprocity if invited round to a friend’s for dinner. But children usually aren’t able to repay what is given to them.

We could never repay our parents, or whoever in our childhood were the important adult figures were, for all the time effort and love they poured into raising us. And we could never repay our heavenly Father for the gifts he has lavished on us, especially not Jesus’ sacrifice for us. Instead, we are asked to freely receive his abundant grace, and live as best we can to the way he taught us. Children can show us how to accept a gift freely given.

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If you want to know what Jesus meant we he said we should receive the Kingdom of God like a child, then I encourage you to spend time with children! Volunteering to help with Kid’s Church (or Sunday School, Kidz Klub, or whatever it’s called at your church) is one really great way to grow in your faith. Just remember that as much as you go to teach and serve, you also go to learn how to receive God’s Kingdom as a child.

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March 3, 2013 4:42 pm

Drinking coffee: evangelism revisited

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by    in Uncategorized

A while back, I took practical steps to stop a heresy. Someone in America was claiming that coffee was superior to tea. This heresy was just too much to take. So I took it upon myself to send this lost soul some tea.

coffee

Original photo: LoboStudioHamburg, in the public domain

I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself a tea specialist. I’m definitely not the kind of person who refuses tea that was made in a mug – although I do squirm when I see the teabag soaking in cold milk before the hot water is added. So, naturally, I asked for advice from my friends. They had great suggestions – some I knew really well and I had available at home; some other I had to go and buy; a special blend was provided by a friend of mine; and some blends were definitely out of my reach (Irish breakfast is a surprisingly hard blend to find).

All that I was able to do, I did. I even gave detailed instructions about acceptable amounts of milk; ignored the purist in me and mentioned some people actually put sugar in their tea (I know, right?). But in spite of my efforts, I could not ensure that: the tea would get drunk, much less that it would be drunk properly. Sure enough, I received a message from my friend later telling me that he didn’t quite like it as much with cream. Cream. (Dramatic pause). As it turns out, this was a slip of the tongue (or so I’ve been told); and my friend now likes tea while still preferring coffee.

The thing is: I didn’t simply want to grow the ranks of the tea-drinkers in our great war against the heretics. Quite frankly, I don’t care how many people tick the “I prefer tea” box in the next census (that SO should be a question); or how much tea is being consumed in the world (as long as there’s some for me). But when I see people who are missing out on the greatness of tea, I am saddened – especially when those people are my friends.

But here’s where it becomes more interesting: after I had offered to send tea, I was offered some coffee in return. Which I gratefully accepted. After all, it is only (a) fair, and (b) through seeing things from the other side that I can relate with the Lost. From the other side of the caffeinated evangelism, I got to realise a few things:

  • the first time you drink coffee, it is going to be a weird drink.
  • if the person offering you coffee is a specialist, you’re going to expect a perfect cup instantly.
  • it’s not worth wasting your time if you’re not going to do it properly. There’s no point in receiving coffee if you’re not going to try it; or if you’re going to judge it all on the first cup.
  • coffee is definitely not tea. We really, really, really need to save the Lost ;-)

I am far from having finished the coffee I have received; so this view might change. Not very likely, but my love of tea might grow stronger from the whole experience!

To my readers: are you a tea or a coffee person?

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Unlike my previous dubious metaphor post, this one is pretty transparent (I think). But there’s  a lot of stuff in here which barely scratches the surface of evangelism. What *one* thing do you take away from it?

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