Here’s an interesting video from the recently completed Justice Conference. It wrestles with the question of whether working for justice is worth all the effort when it seems like it’s impossible to make any real progress in this torn and broken world. The answer, according to the video, is obvious once you begin to identify with those in need, ending with the powerful, “You never stop fighting for your own.”
Check it out and let us know what you think.
Sitting on the dock, looking out over the still, dark waters of the lake, I just knew. It wasn’t surprising; I’d been toying with the idea for almost a year. But now, after much prayer, and at the end of an especially meaningful retreat, everything was clear. My mind relaxed, the decision made: I was going into ministry.
I can still remember that easy certainty, the calm assurance that this was what I supposed to do. In hindsight, it’s a little surprising how quickly I set aside my other plans and launched into ministry preparation. At the time, though, nothing could have been more obvious.
Three years later, everything was different.
It was late, well after midnight, and the church was empty. All the kids had gone home hours ago. But I was still in my office, alone with my questions: Is this really what I’m supposed to be doing with my life? Why is it so hard? Why am I so drained? Am I cut out for this?
At first I was so sure. But now, just a few short years later, that quiet confidence eluded my anxious grasp. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Maybe I was never really called to ministry.
This is the beginning of my most recent post over at Christianity.com. Please head over there to read the rest.
I like creativity in worship. Mix it up. A little change here, a little innovation there. For me, it keeps things fresh.
But C.S. Lewis had a very a different perspective. According to him, worship is like dancing: practice makes perfect. And introducing new elements into the dance simply distracts the dancers and diverts their attention from what they’re supposed to be doing: worship.
So here he is warning against novelty and change in worship. Check it out and let me know what you think. Should we avoid “novelty” in worship?
It looks as if [pastors] believed people can be lured to go to church by incessant brightenings, lightenings, lengthenings, abridgements, simplifications, and complications of the service. And it is probably true that a new, keen vicar will usually be able to form within his parish a minority who are in favour of his innovations. The majority, I believe, never are. Those who remain — many give up churchgoing altogether — merely endure.
Alistair Begg recently spoke at Western Seminary. And just before he got into his sermon, he went on a fascinating little digression about the fact that American men don’t sing during worship. It’s not just that we can’t sing, but that we don’t. And, although his primary focus is on worship, he thinks it’s a more widespread cultural phenomenon. In other cultures, especially in the UK, singing is a normal part of life. Men sing at football matches and in the pubs. So when they enter the church, singing is normal. But in America, it’s different. So Begg makes a fascinating point at the end of the clip when he says that he thinks you can really tell that American male has really been converted when he begins to sing during worship.
Check it out. If the video doesn’t start at the right place, jump to the 5:08 mark for the relevant clip.
Summer camps exhaust me. I love teens, and I love spending quality time with them. But by the last day of a full week at summer camp I just want to take my sore muscles, raspy voice, and weary eyes home from some much needed rest.
This last week has been different. By the end, I was still sore, raspy, and tired. But I could easily have stayed longer.
And I can’t quite figure out why. The language barrier made it difficult to capitalize on those spontaneous conversations that usually provide the best opportunities for meaningful interaction. So I’ve been at camps where I felt like I’ve had more of an impact. The camp facilities were smaller than I’m used to, which means there was also less to do. So I’ve been at camps that were more fun. And trust me, it wasn’t not the food! So why did I feel like I could have stayed longer?
My wife and I lived in Scotland for a couple of years. And, in many ways, making the transition to Scotland was much easier than moving to a place like Papua New Guinea. The language and culture of Scotland are similar enough to America that we could navigate through society fairly easily.
One thing we noticed, though, is that when two cultures are rather similar, it really makes the differences stand out. You have a nice breakfast with bacon, eggs, and toast, all things that any American would be quick comfortable eating, and then they hit you with some smoked haddock, which will stay with you all day long…and then some. You get the hang of driving on the other side of the road, and then you run across a road sign you’ve never seen before. (It took me a long time to figure out what the “no parking” sign was trying to tell me.)
When something seems mostly familiar, the differences really stand out.
That’s been my experience this week. In many ways, the summer camp that we’re helping with in Slovakia is just like the many camps I’ve attended in America. And that’s not surprising given that my church in America has a long-standing partnership with this one. We’ve been helping with camps here for years, and many of the Slovak leaders have interned at my church for as long as a year. So the games, the format of the evening program, the small groups, the free time, these all feel like home.
And, as I discussed in my last post, the students here face the same challenges as early adolescents everywhere. So even new students are old friends.
But the similarities just make the differences stand out that much more.
What do I mean? Here are six differences between a Slovakian summer camp and one in America. Or, to be more accurate, here are six differences between this Slovakian summer camp and the ones I’ve attended in America.
Looking around the room, I see many familiar faces. I see the athlete all the girls will love in a few years, though now he’s a little shy and prefers to run with his hair flying in the wind. Next to him is his awkward, overweight, and rather nerdy friend, loyal to a fault and trying to keep up. Across the room are several other boys, the popular crowd: fun and good looking, sought out by others. And, of course, there are others as well: the boy who looks like puberty is still years away, and the other one whose body is well into the process but whose mind may never catch up.
And there are the girls. On my left is the power group: the tall, attractive girls who look several years older than any other kid in the room, though they’re not. Confident and insecure at the same time. A few seats to my right are several smaller and rather awkward girls, the ones who haven’t yet grown out of the slight layer of “baby fat” that still pads their young bodies. Scattered around the room are a few others who don’t quite have a niche of their own yet. All of them clearly wrestling with what it means to be caught between child and woman.
I know these kids. And I know them well. But I’ve never been here before.
We’re almost at the end of our first week in Slovakia. The jet lag is entirely gone, the temperature has cooled enough for us to sleep with the windows closed, blocking out the street noise below, and were still having a great time.
This is the first time my wife and I have been to Slovakia–indeed, anywhere in Eastern Europe. So we’re having plenty of new experiences. But what really makes this trip unique is that we’re here as a family.
Here’s what we’ve learned so far.
Have no fear, the Americans are here. You’ve got problems, we’ve got solutions. And, conveniently enough, we also have some free time to fix your problems. Lucky you.
Not only that, but we get to visit some really cool parts of the world while we’re at it. Bonus.
Maybe I’m a bit jaded, but that’s what I always think when someone talks about short-term mission trips. I immediately wonder if the trip isn’t motivated more by ethnocentrism and tourism than altruism.
Yet I’m going on a short-term mission trip. My whole family is. We leave tomorrow.
People love barbecues, potlucks and meals together. There’s something spiritual, missional and even sacramental about biblical hospitality. It is a missional and sacramental practice because it is rooted in the very character and presence of God himself, in his love for sojourners, strangers and aliens. Hospitality lives at the heart of the gospel and missional life.”
Roger Helland and Leonard Hjalmarson, Missional Spirituality: Embodying God’s Love from the Inside Out (IVP, 2011), 186.
Hospitality is critical to the gospel, indeed the whole story of redemption, because the gospel is about God reaching out beyond himself to include others in his joyous life. So a gospel-shaped people should exude hospitality. It should be one of our hallmark characteristics, that word that naturally jumps to mind when people think “Christian.”
Locked in my own plans, needs, and interests, I needed that reminder today.
