Are you a shoes off church?

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The other day, a friend came over to watch a film. As he got in, he saw a shoe rack, and naturally took off his shoes. Our house doesn’t operate a shoes off policy, but seeing all these led him to, naturally, take his shoes off.

Every place has its own set of rules as to what is acceptable or not. And that’s fine – Biblical, even. But if we’re trying to be welcoming to people wherever they are, we have to also let them feel that they can be themselves. That they can, if they wish to, keep their shoes on – within the limitations we have had to put in place for everyone to be able to enjoy church and fellowship. To do that, we need to make sure that we don’t look like a sanitised, sterile place, where mud is to be kept out at all cost.

That means that churches and chaplaincies alike have to be places where people are comfortable with the more personal aspects of sin, and visibly so. And for that to happen, it means that those at the top should show themselves as people who sometimes struggle (without, of course, exalting sin!) and that the congregation should do the same (without, of course, turning the competition for who’s the holiest into a competition for who’s the most sinful!)

That is important in order to be welcoming – in order to offer people a place where they can embark on their own process of sanctification from the place that they are at, rather than having to double their own efforts to catch up with the rest of the congregation in order to come fully into the church. In order for their whole persons, sins, warts and all, to embark on that process of sanctification, rather than leaving that muddy shoe on the doorstep.

It is also important even for someone like me who already feels welcome in the church or the chaplaincy, because if I leave that muddy shoe on the doorstep and then pray for forgiveness, am washed clean, and then go back out the doors of the church, I will put that muddy shoe back on. Only by taking full stock of my own sin can I feel the liberation of redemption. And I can’t do that if I’ve left my sin at the door of the church – whether willingly or not.

But it feels like, although we know we can come with our muddy shoes, and that anyone is welcome to come and worship, regardless of where they’re at – although we know this really well, we are complacent in how we make that known to others. Our first message should not be “You are forgiven”; it should be “Come as you are.” The exhilarating feeling of forgiveness can only come afterwards.

What are you doing to reassure people they can keep their shoes on, regardless of how muddy they are?

It’s all about the key change(s)!

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There’s a great piece of liturgy we’ve been using all summer for communion. The response is always the same and goes:

“This is our song. Hosanna in the highest.”

Unusually, though, the call changes (subtly) halfway through the liturgy. It goes from “This is his story” to “This is our story”.  The moment it changes is after the description of the Last Supper – where, through communion, we are invited to the body of Christ. We make the story ours in accepting that invitation.

Photo: Tim Geers, under CC license

In keeping with the musical imagery of the prayer, I’ll call that evolution a key change. And key changes are everywhere in our lives, and they are good:

  1. key changes are exciting! (yes they are. They are most definitely NOT cheesy).
  2. the melody stays the same. The new creation is redeemed and freed from sin, but is the same human being with the same gifts and the same interests. We sound different, but we remain the same.
  3. key changes are usually up, but sometimes down. What feels like losing ground sometimes is the best way to progress.
  4. key changes very rarely happen to a single part. If the vocals change key, but not the band, there will be clashes. So don’t do it alone: involve others with you. At the Last Supper, Jesus did not break the bread and drink the wine on his own. It was done, not just for, but also with a community. This, indeed, became our story.
  5. it is easier for a choir to go into a key change if they are led into it by a soloist or a single note on the piano. Leaders, your role is to help these key changes happen. But don’t feel like you have to drag the key change for a whole verse – leave it on one note and just see who follows: sometimes, it is enough!
  6. key changes happen at pivotal moments. It’s rare to change keys mid-verse (though it happens). Learn to identify opportunities for growth.
  7. it’s not worth changing key for the sake of changing key. There are some songs with 13 key changes, but they are rare. If you change key too much, or push yourself too much, you may find you break your voice. Take it slowly, and warm up!

Revvers: spot the songs I was thinking of.
Everyone else:
add your own thoughts :-)

The conundrum of seeking forgiveness

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Forgiveness is at the heart of much Christian practice. Communion liturgy mentions it, as the blood of Christ washes our sin away. Some widespread evangelism strategies give it a prominent place, going something like this*:

  1. We are all sinners and deserve the wrath of God.
  2. Jesus took on our sin on the cross and bore the penalty for our sins.
  3. We therefore stand justified and forgiven in the eyes of God.

The direct link between sin and justification makes it sound easy. It looks as though repentance automatically leads to forgiveness. And in a way, it does – because God’s nature is always to have mercy. But it makes it look silly too. On its own, it’s petty. Arrogant. Why would God want us to say sorry for our sins in order for them to be forgiven?

Photo: Roger Davies, reused under CC License

Behind this question, there is a double misconception: firstly, about the place of forgiveness in Christianity: we cannot think of sin or forgiveness without placing them in the context of God’s incredible love for us – lest we make that forgiveness a mechanical thing. Secondly, a misconception as to what being sorry actually means.

When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.

(Luke 7:37-38 NIV)

Is that the attitude we take when we pray for forgiveness? When I realise my sin, I sometimes say “oops! Sorry God”. The assurance of forgiveness makes me treat the grave matter of forgiveness and repentance very lightly. It is actually very rare for me to have that broken and contrite heart. But where that happens – when I do feel contrite, it feels too big to bring to God. Too big to be forgiven. This is the true conundrum of seeking Jesus’s forgiveness: either the guarantee of forgiveness makes it so I don’t come forward with a contrite spirit, or my contrite spirit stops me from coming forward. This is why the sinner in Luke 7 is weeping. This is why the prodigal son goes back to his father’s as a hired servant. This is why the tax collector cries out in the temple: because they have all grasped the grave matter of their sin, and seek forgiveness without thinking they will get it. The reaction is overwhelming. The relief is great. From that relief, comes the joy of dwelling in Christ and true repentance.

I’m not arguing that we should make a show of being contrite. I don’t think we have to weep to show true anguish or sorrow. I don’t even think we should feel much anguish or sorrow. But we should not trivialise sin by making it commonplace (yes, we all do sin, in word thought or deed, but should we lump all our sin together?). In the same way that God is not a vending machine when it comes to petitionary prayer, He is not a vending machine when it comes to asking for forgiveness. Approach asking for forgiveness with humility and with a contrite heart, but also with the wisdom of the Psalmist who said

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

(Psalm 51:17 ESV)

How do we do that? To be honest, I don’t really know, and would be grateful for any pointers. All I can do is to turn to Jesus (rather than, as I often do, my own mind) as the convictor of my sin, and pray that the Holy Spirit create in me a contrite heart. Not for the sake of being sad – that would be stupid – but for the joy of being truly forgiven.

How do you seek God’s forgiveness?

* It’s easy to criticise any evangelism strategy; but that is not the point of this post. It would, after all, be too easy if I didn’t offer anything to replace this approach (which I may attempt in a future post). The main purpose of this post is to reflect on forgiveness of sins – and even then, I only scratch the surface. What about our commission to forgive sins? What about sinning against the Holy Spirit? Sin and forgiveness are vast subjects which could (and do) fill up books! If you’ve got some to recommend, please let me know!

7 ways in which the Doctor is like God, but not quite

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To celebrate the return on television of the greatest show ever for its seventh new series, I thought I’d draw seven comparisons between Doctor Who and God.

Photo: Ben Sutherland, under CC License (Doctor Who and the TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC)

1. The Doctor regenerates: there are (so far) at least eleven Doctors. Each of them is a completely separate person, with his own personality, his own appearance, his own stories. But ultimately, he is the same Doctor whose nature it is to always have mercy… One substance, eleven hypostases. Just like the Trinity, except with eleven. Right?
Wrong: each of these incarnations (see what I did there?) of the Doctor has a beginning and an end. They do not relate with one another. And while they can sometimes meet, they are not defined by their relation with each other. In a way, each incarnation is a mode.

2. In the golden days of 1963-1966, nobody knew Doctor Who would be quite that successful. The Doctor was this grumpy old man, and the heroes of the show were very much the first companions, Ian, Susan and Barbara. The fact that, to prolong the show, they had to write in the regeneration process – and that we only find out about it later does not mean that the First Doctor gained the ability to regenerate in The Tenth Planet. So the first seasons of Doctor Who are standing up on their own, without need of the clutter brought by the other Doctors; and the same goes for the Old Testament. Right?
Not so: even in the Old Testament, there are plenty of indications of the coming of Christ. More so: reading the Old Testament in the light of the New Testament brings it out in its fullness.

3. With a show as big as Doctor Who, there’s a lot of spin-off media. Charity events sketches, such as in Jim’ll fix it, Dimensions in Time, The Curse of Fatal Death, … even have the BBC stamp of approval. Then there’s the books, the audios, the comics, the games. All of these are supposed to somehow fit together… but the canonical status of these is subject to debate. At the end of the day, you can choose whether the Looms of Lungbarrow are actually what happens; but all must fit with the core TV series. The same goes with the Bible and Apocrypha, right?
Not quite: while, yes, everything should be tested against the Gospels; not just anything which fits with the Gospel is necessarily truth. What is canonical is not a matter of personal choice and convenience – it is a matter of truth, and required the help of the Holy Spirit when the canon was compiled, and still requires it now.

4. The fans will tell you what the Doctor can and cannot do, and be sure that their understanding of Doctor Who is correct, regardless of anything that comes their way (of course he can’t regenerate more than 12 times. WHAT? He snogged Grace? NEVER! THAT’S NOT THE DOCTOR! THE TV MOVIE NEVER EXISTED!). Most people are just there to enjoy the show and those details don’t look like they’re worth fussing about.
Actually, that sounds about right. Not that it should.

5. The Doctor is half human. On his mother’s side. Seriously, that’s a line from the 1996 TV Movie. And it’s led to a lot of debate amongst fans. Just like that, Jesus was begotten of God the Father and the Virgin Mary. It’s the same, right?
But Jesus was, and remains, fully human.
Alright, then, the Doctor made himself fully human. Twice, if you count the Virgin adventures (I kid you not), in both occurrences of Human Nature (book and TV).
But Jesus’s humanity is ontological: he has always been human, and, far more importantly, remains incarnate now to intercede for us at the right hand of the Father.

6. The Doctor is outside of time. When he’s in the TARDIS. Just like God, right? The Alpha and the Omega, and all that?
Wrong: in the TARDIS, the Doctor is still part of the universe (just in a different dimension), and constrained by physicality, and by his own timeline. And, unless you consider Terminus, the Doctor had nothing to do with the creation and the end of the Universe. (Let’s not consider Terminus).

7. Meeting the Doctor changes your life forever. And it’s exhilarating. Okay, that one’s a bit transparent :-p
But while meeting the Doctor changes your perspective, and leaves you stranded with little to do but pick up remnants of a broken life when he leaves, once you have found God, He never leaves.

Add your own comparisons!

My greatest fear

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My greatest fear is that I end up doing church.

Scarecrow
Photo: jcookfisher, under CC license.

Regardless of the number of activities I partake in on weekdays, of how involved I can get in church life, the risk is still there: that I consider church, small groups, Bible studies, etc. to be something that I do. Because there’s a fine line between that and those things being what I do. But also because it is much easier to constrain specific actions to specific settings. And finally because it can lead to dissatisfaction with myself and others, as there is always more that I, or they, could do.

And none of these are desirable prospects. What I want is for my faith and my belonging to the local and global church to be part of my identity. For these things to seep through everything that I do and that I am, but not to be the object of my actions. It may sound like a pedantic difference to make, but it is important to make it, because church is more than the sum of its parts: it is more than all that we do there.

That can be used as an excusenot to go on the rota. But it shouldn’t, because that in turn could lead to a reluctance to get involved – and the death of the excitement felt at first.

Rather than avoiding doing stuff for church, rather than simply trying to be church, here’s the key: remember that what you do is about, for, with and from God:

  • when you read the Bible for the congregation, don’t simply “do the reading”, thinking you have to get it done for the rest of the service to go on. Remember what it is you’re reading (it is from God). Remember why you’re reading the Bible (to tell the congregation about God). And with the help of the Holy Spirit, proclaim boldly the Word and make it alive. Take the time that is needed, because it is for God.
  • when you’re leading worship, don’t let the technicalities of keeping rhythm, etc. (I have very little clue what I’m talking about here!) overwhelm you. Remember who you’re singing about. Whom you’re praising. Where the songs come from. And that the worship is, again, with the help of the Spirit.
  • when you’re serving tea, remember what hospitality is about and whom we’re trying to emulate. Remember where the love you’re showing comes from (that, and the goodness of tea). Seek the presence of God and let it shine through you.
  • when you go out of church – keep on reminding yourself of that throughout the week, in all that you do. That way, what you do will never be about what you do.

When I remind myself of God’s hand in what I do, the words of Philippians 4 come alive:

the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, guards my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus.