Archive for the author ·

Pierre

·...

May 19, 2013 1:35 pm

Being a Christ-like Space Invader

1 comment
by    in Guest posts
This guest post has been written by my good friend Joe, who is currently studying ancient history, and is prayer secretary for Warwick Christian Union. He has already published Minecraft-based fiction; and is a great metaphor for the Trinity (but that’s for another post). If you’d like to write a guest post, send me an email at guestpost@edsslipper.net!

A couple of mornings a week I head off to my local pool for a swim. Generally these sessions are quite relaxing; I meander up and down quite happily … except for one thing. Space Invader. This is the title I have (probably quite unfairly) ascribed to one of my fellow swimmers. The reasons for this are two fold:

  1. She has rather dangly arms and legs.
  2. She consistently collides with me, getting in my way, no matter how far I move over in the pool to escape.

spaceinvader

Photo: theyuped, under CC License.

As Christians, I feel it is very easy to slip into being a Space Invader in the way we share our faith. I do this on occasion. I enter my kitchen and just as one of my housemates says something like “Oh Jesus” and I manage to butt in with some glib comment like “That’s the guy!” Cue my cheesy grin and their momentary stare at me as if I’m some kind of alien before they turn away and get on with their conversation. Somehow in those moments I’ve become as annoying to them as Space Invader is to me, because I was intentionally thrusting my faith in the way of their normal activity. Paul warns us about these situations. He talks about being careful “that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak.” If us invading other people’s space with our faith becomes a stumbling block to their coming into relationship with Christ, then this probably isn’t the best way of evangelising.

However I feel I have to stop here with criticism of approaching people with our faith before I become heretical. You see, Jesus was possibly the greatest Space Invader of all time.

Throughout the gospels, again and again, Jesus’ beliefs get in people’s way. Whether confrontationally when he encounters the Pharisees, whom he publicly decries as hypocrites;  or lovingly when he stills Martha’s busyness, Jesus regularly gets in the way. The difference with my Space Invasion, though, is that, in Jesus’ case, people’s lives were regularly changed. So, what is the difference?

Jesus does it with care for the person in mind.

With some examples (like that of Martha) it is easy enough to see how he acts out of love. When he encounters the Samaritan woman at the well, he doesn’t shout at her and condemn her for her sins, but instead gently teaches her about a God who loves her greatly. Even with the Pharisees, his love for them is visible. When Jesus is on the cross, he cries out to God to forgive those who have put him there, including the Pharisees. In every confrontation and encounter Jesus deeply cares about the person whose space he is invading.

And this, I guess, is the key. If we do have to be space invaders for God, it is so much better to be the Jesus kind, the kind who works on deeply loving the person before they open their mouth. And to do that, we need to listen to them and care about what they are saying. That being said, it is a challenge to do so, something I can definitely say from experience as one who is still struggling to love a certain lady who gets in my way at the pool…

tags: ,
1 comment...
May 12, 2013 1:51 pm

The Mysterious Switch – and seven lessons therefrom

no comments
by    in Lists

In the chaplaincy, where I spend most of my time, there is a switch that does absolutely nothing. As far as we know. Well, it does switch the state of things from order to chaos and vice-versa; but it doesn’t turn on any lights.

switch

The other day, someone came around to fix it. After aeons of it not doing anything. The excitement was maximal. It wasn’t just fixed. It was replaced. And as the electrician came and replaced it with a brand new switch, we could see it was, indeed, wired. It was going somewhere. The excitement! As soon as the electrician was done, we tried the switch. And nothing happened. Someone then asked the electrician what the switch does (most of us wouldn’t dare). He had no clue – it had just been reported that the casing was broken.

1. Mystery is sometimes a better thing than purpose. Everyone in the chaplaincy community knows about the mysterious switch; and that event was described as one of the most exciting things that happened in the chaplaincy in a long time. Someone even came to the chaplaincy especially to see the new switch and brought friends with him! In more basic terms, that switch had become part of our local culture, something that unites us. So I’m glad that the magic hasn’t been destroyed and the switch found out to be just an old light switch.

2. The middle ground satisfies no one but is a precarious equilibrium that most will strive to keep. The old switch could, if you were careful, be balanced between Chaos and Order. While there are factions in the chaplaincy which defend vigorously that the switch should remain in their position of choice, only one person manages to balance the switch in the middle. And whenever it was balanced, it would remain balanced, even though it made no sense (what’s the midpoint between Chaos and Order?). Now that position is no longer tenable; as sometimes the middle ground is no longer tenable for the Church of England. But ridiculous though it may look now, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good position when it was tenable.

3. To outsiders, that mystery will make us look like a bunch of lunatics. Actually, you probably think that we are a bunch of lunatics (and, yes, don’t worry, I have exaggerated the importance of the switch). When the repairs were taking place, we just stopped in our tracks. And got excited for the rest of the afternoon. So that the electrician must’ve wondered what we had spiked our tea with. While it’s fine to have our own culture and in-jokes, we must be careful that these aren’t off-putting to others. And we must also remain that our own quirks will look bizarre to others before we judge other people’s behaviours!

4. Often, our jobs lead us to do illogical things. And we don’t notice, we don’t ask. We just do it. There’s the electrician who repaired a switch he didn’t know the purpose of; the person who requested that repair to be carried out too. In cases like this, it’s only a matter of wasted resources, and is of rather little consequence, other than making us look foolish. But sometimes, the consequences reach far beyond this. Refusing to help someone who hasn’t the right form; following directives that dictate you throw away food that simply doesn’t look its best – these are far more damaging. Think before you blindly obey.

5. A switch that appears to do nothing *will* be flicked. Seriously. Try this. Or this.

6. We repair and maintain things which have outgrown their purpose. Yes, tradition is nice and comforting and worth preserving for its own sake. But we need to be careful not to keep on doing things just for their own sake, at the risk of losing the purpose for which we did them in the first place.

7. The tiniest nudge will lead people to investigate; but that nudge is necessary. The switch had been accepted as the useless switch for a while now; but when it was fiddled with, renewed investigation to find out what it did was carried out – trying to find broken lamps, thinking of historical evidence, etc. To no avail, though :-(

If you were in the chaplaincy before my time, what does the switch to the right of the cupboard do?

tags: , ,
No comment?
May 5, 2013 4:37 pm

Ruckus

no comments
by    in Leadership

Ruckus: it’s a friendly word. Fills the mouth nicely, rolls right off the tongue. Sounds oddly Northern, which makes it obviously better. It sounds pleasant.

The problem is, what it means is far from pleasant. It means commotion (1). But it trivialises that commotion too. It makes it look like it’s much a do about, ultimately nothing. It focuses the attention on the actual disruption, and away from what gets people to cause the ruckus.

boston-tea

Picture in the public domain – source: Wikimedia

Imagine those headlines on a church bulletin:

  • the new floral arrangement caused a ruckus.
  • ruckus after the sofa is moved to another area of the chaplaincy.
  • choir leads ruckus after they are asked to sing Shine, Jesus shine and Be thou my vision in 4:4.

Laughable, right? How about this, then:

  • slight wording change leads to massive ruckus in Christianity.

History has taught us that the ruckus, in this case, was far bigger than in any of the previous cases. The filioque clause, the addition of one single word (!) to the Nicene Creed, led to the first significant schism in the history of the Church. But what makes this different to the other cases, other than the scale of the consequences? What makes the rejection of this one word – or, not to take sides in the debate, the desperate clinging on to it – less ridiculous than the dispute over the time signature of Be thou my vision?

The answer is simple: it just means that we look past the cause. It is widely commented that the schism was the culmination of tensions running far deeper. This does not detract the importance of the actual point as to whether the Spirit also proceeds from the Son; but it makes that point – from a human perspective – the symptom of a pastoral crisis, not just an argued point where one side is right and the other just has to accept it and move on.

The new floral arrangement may not be important in itself, but the change that it represents might be for some parishioners, because it may represent the end of an era and the start of something that is both scary and daunting. The movement of the sofa might be mistakenly read as a rejection. Some of them we may not understand: I sure can’t think why people wouldn’t want to sing Shine Jesus shine, even if it’s been played every single week before. But for these, our pastoral duty is to read into these situations, to probe and to listen (rather than making up our own interpretation!), and, yes, sometimes, to give in and wait before putting in a new floral arrangement. Because, even though it is nothing more than a symptom, when you run a temperature, you try to keep it down as well as trying to get rid of whatever’s causing the temperature.

Now, not every dispute is a ruckus. There are some things which are just plain wrong (like, for instance, offering coffee after church). But I’m sure that most are just that: so here’s two things I’d like you to take away from this.

  • Don’t be quick to dismiss a ruckus as over-the-top. That counts whether you’re in a position of leadership or not. Listen, support, and love as much as you can, and try to see behind the symptom.
  • Don’t cause a ruckus. Make sure that what you’re angry about is actually what you’re angry about. And then seek support.

—

Fun fact about the word ruckus: even though it sounds like raucous and means something quite as disruptive/noisy/unpleasant; the two words are unrelated! In fact, ruckus comes from ruction and rumpus. And Northern though it sounds, it appears to be an American word. Which is the perfect opportunity to say hello to my friends and readers in the colonies ;-)

tags: , , ,
No comment?
April 28, 2013 3:50 pm

Marriable

2 comments
by    in Leadership

Believe it or not, that’s the title of an infamous book, which describes all the insider knowledge of relationships. At the risk of disappointing some of you, this post is not a detailed critique of a book which lists, among its female roles, “eating pickles”; and which has a chapter titled “Don’t marry your best friend unless you’re gay”. What I want to focus on, is that the authors went to the lengths of coining the word “marriable”. A ridiculous word, but why?

able

Because it suggests two things: firstly, that some people just cannot be married regardless of whether they might want to; and secondly, that once people have applied all the recommendations coming from the  book, there’s nothing more they can do; and everything that fails to happen is somebody else’s fault.

Let’s face it: the target population of Marriable (which is, incredibly, a serious book) is people who don’t wish to become marriable. They wish to become married.

It’s easy enough to notice it in such a ridiculous example; but anyone in a position of leadership is guilty of the same sin. How many of these words have you used recently?

  • understandable
  • transferable
  • applicable
  • usable
  • likeable
  • accessible

And I’m sure there’s many more. If you write your sermon so that it is understandable, or applicable, you’re stopping shy of your real aim. Rather, you should write it so that it is understood, and so that it is applied. Otherwise, you will find it easy to write independently of your congregation; and when no change happens after you have preached, the cop-out of “they just weren’t listening” is far, far too easy.

Be bold, and plan boldly.

To you who don’t think you are in a position of leadership, you’re not off the hook. Firstly, you are wrong: you are in a position of leadership, to some of your friends at least; but you may not be planning that leadership. Secondly, you are at the receiving end of these sermons. And if you start assessing a sermon in terms of its applicability, but not attempting to apply it yourself, you are not benefiting from it to its full extent.

Let’s get rid of the “-able” suffix. What word are you eliminating?

tags: , , , , ,
2 comments!
April 21, 2013 3:25 pm

When they don’t get it

1 comment
by    in Leadership

I’m studying education. I know there is a world of difference between what is to be taught (the curriculum, of sorts), what is taught (what you think you’re saying) and what is learnt (what people  keep from it).

mindthegap

Photo: zimpenfish, reused under CC license

From what I hear, the discrepancy between the latter two is something that preachers experience. A lot. The stories of people going up to the preacher telling them: “I loved that part about how we should not tithe if we don’t feel like it. God loves a cheerful giver indeed”, when the sermon was explaining why we should be cheerful about giving. Or “I  loved how you explained how Catholics are heretics”, when you were actually trying to explain they weren’t.

These discrepancies are often frustrating. As pastors, teachers of sorts, we have a responsibility to make sure that we communicate efficiently, and a responsibility to ensure that what we are trying to say is heard. When that doesn’t happen, we may feel like we have failed. But that view is one I wish to challenge, because it puts the preacher as the sole mediator of the Word: it suggests that everything that the congregation will hear will need to have been pre-digested by the leadership team.

Last Sunday, someone came to me to talk about my sermon from the week before, telling me about how it connected with his experience and that he felt that the person in the pulpit was actually understanding how they were feeling. “Great!”, I thought, a bit full of myself. And then he went on to describe the specifics of his situation, which was as far removed as what I had in mind when writing the sermon as possible! I was talking about fear of the unknown, he was talking about repeated stress.

Should I take this as a sign that my sermon was a failure? Quite the opposite. I take it as a positive sign: a sign that my sermon was aligned with the Word enough that it could just gently guide people to and through the passage, but crucially, that it was the passage that did all the work. The Bible is greater than all of us. That’s why we read it more than just the once, and that’s why we connect to it in different ways; and, for preachers, that’s why we shouldn’t aim to possess it, or to box it in.

To put it in a different way, it is the gap between Scripture and the congregation’s lives that needs to be closed; in priority over the gap between the preacher and the congregation. The gap between what is to be taught and what is learnt; in priority over the gap between what is taught and what is learnt. Of course, the two often work together; but if someone in the congregation is brought closer to the Word through a different path than us, let us still rejoice over it rather than try to bring them back to our way! As long, of course, as they do connect with the ultimate Truth (which may not be the case in the examples given at the start…)

And it feels great! Because through that, we are reminded that, on the one hand, the transformative or exhortative power does not come from us, so that we as preachers may feel anxious about nothing; and that on the other hand, what we’re saying matters and connects with people!

What’s your experience of people not getting it?

tags: , , , , ,
1 comment...
« Newer Posts
Older Posts »