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calling

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Continuous discernment

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A while ago, I described my calling to ordained ministry. I explained how, through prayer and conversation with close friends and a variety of Elis, I gained assurance in that calling – to the point that I have stopped questioning it.

I also explained that I did not have a clear picture of the particulars of my future ministry, and that, at one time, I did struggle with this lack of clarity. Whilst the shape my ministry is to take is not much clearer, though, I have found that I was okay with that.

And so, trusting in my calling to the ministry, I ploughed on. I set my sights on this end goal, and worked towards it. I preached a few sermons. I got involved in a variety of ministries. I picked the liturgy for a service. In short, I’ve been busy. And since I started down this path, I have thought that doing this work was obeying God, because it was pursuing the calling I felt.

continuousdiscernment

Photo: Vladimir Kramer, public domain(Unsplash)

I still think this is true: I still think that it is extremely important to follow my calling, and to do everything that I can to fulfill it. But I fear that, in focusing on this, I have separated my calling from God. It has become “something to achieve”, for the glory of Christ, yes, but first and foremost an end in itself. So I was concentrating on my personal future, at the expense of both my present actions and the greater picture.

It is especially easy to fall into this trap when the vocation we follow is somehow religious. If the calling we pursue is secular (and let me stress here that secular callings are just as worthy as religious callings), then we don’t risk much to mistake it for its source. For better or for worse, the working out of a secular vocation will always be slightly distinct from religious activity, no matter how pervasive our faith is. But if the calling is a calling to a religious role, then it is easy to set the fulfillment of that call as the primary purpose of all our doings  – religious and secular. Therefore, focusing on what we are called to rather than on the one who is calling us has particularly far-reaching consequences in the case of religious vocations.

This is why we need discernment, continuously. Even when we think we got it all figured out – what ministry we are called to, and a five-year plan to get there. Not because we necessarily need to further fine-tune this five-year plan, but because of what discernment means: constantly looking to God, and constantly being reminded that He is greater than the vocation we feel called to. Not because we doubt our vocation, but because God is present throughout our calling, not just at its end; and because we cannot reach this end on our own.

Let us not believe that we can sort out our vocation entirely; but let us, instead, turn to and trust in God for everything, including our calling and its fulfillment.

A commitment to discipleship

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Discipleship – being a follower – is central to Christian life. Though the shape that discipleship takes varies, there are some key elements we are all called to: becoming ever more Christ-like. When big decisions come our way, it is right to tackle them as a follower – through prayer and with discernment. This is especially true of discerning our life calling – whether within the ministry or not.

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Photo: Miguel Vaca, re-used under CC License

The way I described my response to calling, based on 1 Samuel 3, was this: firstly, hear the call; secondly, discern what the calling is (as Samuel went to Eli), and thirdly, take on the new identity brought on by this call (as Samuel took on the identity of God’s servant). These steps are sometimes muddled up, and the first two occasionally implicit. But a response to a call virtually always includes a commitment.

And here’s where a mistake can be made: to think that it is on that commitment that hinges our call. Or – possibly worse! – that this commitment takes precedence over the calling that it is a response to. This is true both of particular callings to specific action, and to the more universal calling to follow Christ; and it is true both of how we see our own calling and of how we see the calling of others.

When I make the mistake of considering my commitment to my calling first, here’s what happens too:

  • I consider my resolve as more important than the one from whom my calling came.
  • When my commitment wavers – as it is bound to, from time to time – I have to question my entire sense of calling, and go through the whole discernment process again.
  • I don’t know where to draw strength from: my commitment is my own, my responsibility and, in short, my business.
  • My actions become goal-oriented, rather than identity-oriented. In short, I am doing this and that in order to reach whatever goal I have committed myself to (e.g., ordination, or getting a specific job, or helping a specific group of people). I have stopped doing this and that because that’s what I should be doing. And that’s a dangerous thing to be doing.

Don’t get me wrong – commitment is necessary. But not at the expense of knowing that it is just a response: a response to the God who equips those whom he calls.

So consider your own calling as a Christian – or your story of how you became a Christian. Does it revolve around the moment you decided to follow, or does it revolve around the ways God called you, and your redeemed identity?

And if you agree that God’s call is far more important than a commitment, then why do we continue to describe evangelistic success primarily as “people giving their lives to Jesus”?

The guilt of the secular worker

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I’ve heard this many times: being a Christian is an all-encompassing calling which takes precedence over everything. I’ve preached this message, too. The message sometimes becomes a slogan:

  • Church is not just for Sunday.
  • You should join a small group.
  • Too busy to pray? Too busy NOT to pray, more likely.
  • Preach the gospel in your workplace.
  • Jesus wants your everything – not just when you have time for it.

guilt

The list could go on. And all of these things are true: if your Christian identity is restricted to attending a church service on a Sunday, then maybe you’re missing the point. But let’s take that very notion further: being Christian is not simply about attending church. It’s not simply about attending church activities throughout the week either. Of course, small groups are helpful. Prayer meetings are helpful. Evangelism in the workplace is helpful. Yes, a thousand times yes. But church and church activities are not the only way in which this can happen. Explicit, intentional action is not the only way in which evangelism can happen.

And I know that the people who express the all-encompassing nature of the calling to be a Christian in the ways I described above mean well, but we often fail to consider how it can be perceived:

  • You’re not a proper Christian if you only go to church stuff on a Sunday
  • You’re not in a small group? Clearly you have no desire to grow your faith.
  • Too busy to come to our weekly prayer meeting? Sort out your priorities!
  • Actively evangelise at every single opportunity. If what you’re saying is not linked to the Gospel, it must be that you are ashamed of your faith.
  • So you don’t have time to take on admin for church/prepare intercession/lead the worship this week? Come on, surely church is more important than whatever else you’ve got to do!

Of course we don’t mean this – or at least I hope we don’t! But the problem is: we generally say these things in a church context, and so all the expressions of our Christian identity get linked with church activities. Thereby, the secular worker may feel their job is worth less than anything they may contribute to the church.

But callings are not just callings to the ministry. People get called to secular jobs! Or to build a family! And there is a reason for that; if your job or your family needs your attention, neglecting either of those in favour of church activities would be denying your own calling! If you are choosing church activities – even outside of Sunday – over your calling, you are paying lip service to the lie that Christianity only happens in church or intentionally!

So feel free to say no to extra church stuff without guilt. Because in saying no to church stuff, you might well be saying yes to what God has called you to; and that is submission to His will. That is an expression of Christian identity. And that identity will pervade in many, many different ways – your own form of prayer. Your own evangelism – perhaps through simple acts of service. Your own leadership. All of them held together by love.

Christianity: about community?

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Last week, I wrote a post in which I highlighted the shift, in terms of focus, from nations to individuals between Old and New Testaments; in order to stress the importance of individual relationships rather than merely corporate ones. This week, I’m looking at the community aspect of Christianity.

community

Background: adapted from GreatPaperWolf, reused under CC license.

No better way to start than quoting a comment from last week:

The reformation, while rightly seeking to distance itself from the then overtly controlling religiosity of the Catholic church may have taken a step too far in their emphasis of individual salvation and personal faith.

As it is eloquently put, matters of individual/corporate nature of faith are matters of emphasis. Individual salvation and personal faith are Biblical. In fact, the picture painted in Luke 17 goes a long way to show that simply being with those who are saved is no guarantee of salvation. But this is “only” an eschatological matter.

Practice of faith is an altogether different matter. Have you ever noticed the following verse:

For when two or three gather in my name, there I am with them.

Matthew 18:20 (NIV)

It is usually read as “there is no need for massive congregations to worship”, but it is two or three – not one: there is no talk of individual worship. Of course, there are other moments where, say, individual prayer is commended; but it is clear that community is important.

After all, all-consuming, all-pervasive relationships are at the heart of the Trinity. On top of that, Peter was anointed to build a church – and though the meaning of church may have evolved over the centuries; originally, it seems to me that this all-consuming, all-pervasiveness was present: ἐκκλησία, generally translated as church or assembly, but which etymology could mean “called out of”, is used in the singular. Out of the many who are called, the church of Christ is, in its very substance one. That alone should be enough to ignite our passion for ecumenism (although ecumenism in itself is another subject).

The early church modelled this community way of life by pooling all their resources, and by remaining inextricably linked even when they were not geographically co-present. There is an incredibly powerful sense of acting congregationally whenever Paul exhorts us to pray for all the saints (something that might be missed out because of the power of what comes before it!).

These elements, I feel, are far more powerful than the practical ones. The advantages of communal prayer, or the description of the Church as one body are helpful to convince oneself that it is worth doing; but let us not forget in this description that the Church is not just one body: it is the body of Christ.

From the perspective of the in-up-out triangle (1), then, the sense of community coming before the individual is very strong in the in and the up vertices of the triangle. Very importantly, these all-pervasive links between individuals which form the assembly are involving us: we are part of them. It isn’t like a different organisation we can distance ourselves from: we are intrinsically in the church.

But we haven’t seen that happen in the out vertex. Of course, the vertices of the triangle are not independent; so there will be elements of community shining through in our outreach. And we will do it with the support of our community. But the other whom we are reaching out to is not a community nearly as much as it is individuals; and this should not be forgotten.

(1) Yes, I have used Lifeshapes. I feel dirty now. But for those of you who don’t know it, it is about the direction of growth both for local churches and for individuals: in (fellowship, discipleship, etc.), up (looking towards God, worship, etc.) and out (outreach, evangelism, social justice, etc.)

Frost and the Holy Spirit

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Today, there was frost everywhere for the second time this year. Frost is beautiful, even if the temperature is not necessarily that pleasant. But it got me thinking about the way we receive the Holy Spirit in our lives.

1. Frosted things are still the same things. The frosted leaf keeps its shape. Below the layer of frost, it remains the same leaf. When we are called to something, when we receive gifts, or inspiration, from the Holy Spirit, it does not make us completely different people. Rather, it is using our situation and our strengths and weaknesses. To find where your calling lies, identify your strengths and passions in your secular, everyday life.

2. The edges of frosted objects become more visible. In the same way, the Spirit highlights our uniqueness by pointing our out own gifts, our own specialness to others. Without the Spirit, we are indistinguishable  a mass of brown leaves where no one really knows where one ends and where the other starts. But that highlighting is the same for everyone: it is the same, one Spirit – and just the one Fruit of the Spirit that takes on many shapes: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.

3. Smooth surfaces don’t tend to get frosted quite as much. If we were perfect, we wouldn’t need the Holy Spirit in our lives as a comforter, nor as a guide. If we were saints, there would be no conviction of our sins. Not that we should sin to receive more of the Holy Spirit. But we should recognise that God can use our impurities, our imperfections, our own roughness; and that the same goes for our neighbour. Rather than pretending we are perfect, we are led to look at those areas in our lives which fall short, which are turned into something beautiful by the Spirit.

4. All are subjected to the frost. There is no way for things which are outside in damp weather and in sub-zero temperatures to avoid the thin layer of frozen water depositing on them. There is no way to reject the gifts of the Spirit, or its convictions. But there is a way to avoid them: stay inside, do not expose yourself to the world, to pain or to joy, do not interact with anyone. We can close our hearts to the Spirit, but then we close ourselves to a whole range of stuff too.

5. Frost is a response: snow can fall anywhere, because it is formed around dust motes. But frost is made up of ice crystals which are formed on the frosted surface. When we receive the Holy Spirit, we respond to it – and it is that response that we feel. The presence of God is everywhere, it is only our response that we feel in those special times when we talk about the presence of God.

6. Frost makes things shine when it thaws. The Spirit of God is good, and beautiful; but it is also meant to be released, not just taken in. To put it differently, if we were just receiving the Spirit, breathing it in, as it were, without breathing out, we’d become puffed up and, quite frankly, detestable to others. The fruit of the Spirit is something that is shared, and it is in sharing it that we become shining lights and bless others.