The Country Parson

The Country Parson

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How Shall We Live?

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how shall we live never meeting you?"

--C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader


"So Jesus said to the Twelve, 'Do you want to go away as well?' Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.'"

--John 6:67-69

Wearing New Shoes

Today, a professor told me that, according to my Facebook, I seem pretty swamped.

I brushed aside oddity of a professor commenting on my Facebook statuses, and I told him that I wasn't any more swamped than anyone else--but when I looked at my calendar after the conversation, I realized that this week seems pretty swamped.

I looked at last week--it was pretty swamped, too.

And the week before that. That was a busy week.

And I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, as my grandmother is so fond of saying. This is just what I'm beginning to notice, and to be honest, I'm not all that unhappy with my business. I've been praying that God would let me live a full life--so I'm living a full life.

The problem with all of this is that I am starting to schedule times to hang out with my friends and build relationships. I have to write, in my planner, when I am going to have coffee with so-and-so and when I am going to catch up with my married friend.

In other words, my relationships are starting to merge with my to-do list, and I do not like it.

It's not that I am against being organized and disciplined with my time. It's actually been incredibly helpful to my life.

But what I don't like is growing up, in this area specifically. I realized today that my parents and their friends have to schedule time to be together sometimes two weeks or even a month before it happens. And even then, sometimes they have to cancel last minute, because something comes up.

My mom sees her best friend once a month if she's lucky.

And the reality that this is my future--and really, my present--is uncomfortable. Growing up, becoming an adult, a man, is not a bad thing.

It's like a new pair of shoes that need broken in--good, but new and not as comfortable as the shoes you've worn out. It takes time for you to get used to the new way they feel, but eventually you grow accustomed to them, and even comfortable in them.

And so, for now, I'm wearing new shoes. I'll be honest: I like them a lot. I just haven't quite gotten used to them yet. Really, I am looking forward to getting used to them, but that will just take a few weeks. Or months. Or years.

And then maybe, just maybe, I'll think these shoes are comfortable.

Ruminations on Relevancy

I spend almost every day thinking about and talking about and (sometimes) arguing about things that the vast majority of the world does not.

I think about text and Word and Spirit and theology and exegesis and genitives and datives and the difference between a double accusative and a predicate accusative.

Yet, God has called me into the world, not only as a pastor and church leader, but as His kid. I am supposed to go to the broken and hurting and lonely and angry and failed and depressed and anxious and poor and sick and imprisoned and tired and worn out and burnt out world and share with them the message of the Gospel.

Living the life I do, thinking about the things I think about, I am forced to ask myself if, by studying what I am studying, can I relevantly speak into the brokenness of humanity and offer them something meaningful?

Or can I only speak to those in my own discipline, answering questions only my peers are asking, without addressing the lived experience of the church?

In essence, the question could be viewed as, Is what I am doing worthwhile?

My answer?

A resounding yes.

As I study and learn and think and then think some more, I know more about Jesus, the Gospel, and myself.

I know Jesus better because I spend so much time in His Word, studying who He was and the incredible reality of God-Made-Flesh. As I understand who He is, I am transformed into someone more like Him.

I know the Gospel better because I learn how to think about and articulate a radical truth in a rapidly changing culture. I am able to understand the ultimate message of the Gospel--the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and its unequivocal centrality to humanity's life.

I know myself better, because as I become better acquainted with Christ and His Gospel, I begin to see my desperate need for both. Today, I am more aware of my need for the Gospel than I was yesterday. And, God willing, I will be more aware of my need for Jesus tomorrow.

I see who I am and what I do in sharp relief against the radiance of Christ and His Gospel. And I see the greatest need to better understand who He is and what He has done--I realize I only need to know and understand and experience more of Him.

Understanding the Gospel is what makes me relevant to a hurting world--not the way I dress, the music I listen to, the books I read, or the language I spin. These are all secondary to a robust understanding of the Gospel.

I am: irrelevant.
God is: the One who makes me relevant.

How to Move on in Conflict

Tullian Tchividjian became the lead pastor of Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida last March. In between now and then, certain members of Tchividjian 's church tried to oust him, which culminated in a vote this Sunday.

Here is an interview he did with Christianity Today regarding this weekend's events.

A good quote:

"How do I go forward? I keep pastoring the whole church. I keep shepherding the whole church. I keep preaching to the whole church. I keep leading the whole church."

And, embedded in it is a good thought about how the church needs to be engaging culture:

"For too long, I think, evangelicals have made synonymous the idea of cultural engagement and political activism. And that's very much a truncated view of cultural engagement."

Titus 2:1

Teach sound __________.

Why?

Because wimpy theology makes wimpy Christians.

What is the Goal, Anyway?

Last summer, I started writing a blog to share the thoughts, the challenges, and the experiences I had during my summer internship. I wrote a little bit during the year as well; but let's be honest, I was anything but disciplined when it came to making regular updates.

I've been wrestling through whether or not to continue keeping the blog, discerning whether or not I should keep writing. You see, I have this tendency to think that blogging is a little self-centered. People drop by my site, with what I think is a crafty name, and they read my thoughts about something going on in my life.

That's a whole lot of instances of the word 'my.'

So I have decided to keep writing.

But I have also decided to do so differently.

So, we're going to explore this blogging thing for a little while longer. Hopefully, anyone reading this doesn't have to cringe too often.

We'll see you on the other side.

The Reflection

I went to England because I knew I had to; that is, I felt overwhelmingly compelled by God Himself to take two weeks of my life and follow Him across the Atlantic.

So I did.

And I am not quite sure if I'll ever be the same.

My trip to England was simply the next step of obedience my Father asked me to take; for over a year and a half He was slowly unfolding for me His plans for my future, and I went to England and it unfolded a bit more.

Now I want to go back, and to go back for a lot longer than two weeks.

In short, I bumped into my future. I say often that we are on a need-to-know basis with God, and that everything we need to know at any given moment, we know. But occasionally, God allows us to see just a little further down the path than we normally would unaided. You finally crest the hill you have been walking for quite some time, and see what features lie ahead. I crested a hill in a town called Formby.

I can't exactly place my finger on what it is that compels me to go back there. There has been no flash of lightning, no sudden burst of insight. As I said, it's been a slow unfolding: England caught my attention in October of 2007, and it took me well over a year to finally get there and see exactly what, if anything, there was to see.

But there were plenty of things to see:

I saw people who are on fire for God in the midst of one of the most overt post-Christian cultures of our generation: A small church by the M&S on Furness Avenue; A ragtag band of teenagers who meet in a classroom on their college campus each morning for devotions and weekly for Bible study; A few teenagers who regularly ask the question, 'What does it mean to follow God?'

I saw the Family of God working in a functional, healthy way: People who love one another and mean it; People who open their homes and practice the discipline of hospitality in ways I had pretty much decided doesn't happen any more; People who wake up each morning and decide to take part in our call to Reconciliation; People who love God and, believe it or not, love each other.

But I also saw a generation hungry for God, starving on the sparkling street corners of post-modernity; I saw a lost generation wandering through the shadows of hundred-year-old churches, crying out 'There is no God!'

I saw a generation in need of the Gospel. I looked into the eyes of people who need love and have abandoned their Lover; I looked into the eyes of people who were hurt but had left their Healer; I saw people who were lost and fatherless who daily suppress the presence and reality of their Father.

Indeed, I bumped into my future in Formby. When I was younger and I first felt God's call to ministry those six-odd years ago, I knelt on the floor of that arena in Phoenix, praying as I was swept away in the blinding light of God's revelation. I told God that I would go anywhere, that I would do anything, to serve Him.

Now I think I have an idea of how God has responded to that prayer.

He responded with a place called Formby.