Does the Bible Promise the Land of Israel to the Jewish People Forever?

Many Christians today assume that God promised the land of Israel to the Jews forever, and that Christians today must therefore support the modern nation of Israel (some say we must support Israel no matter what their government does!). However, that is a new way of reading the Bible among Christians. For most of Christian history, Christians believed the prophecies concerning Israel were fulfilled in Christ, and that God no longer intended to give the land to the Jews and restore the temple and kingdom.

We must carefully consider three questions:

1. What did the promise to Abraham say in its Biblical context? 
2. Was the promise unconditional? Do the promises and prophecies actually say what many Christians now assume they said?
3. Did God actually do what some say he promised to do? What do the facts of history reveal about their fulfillment? 

1. What did the promise to Abraham say in its Biblical context?

The Promise in the Context of the Mission of God

Following the plunge of humanity into sin and wickedness, God chose Abraham to be the father of a people through whom he would work out his plan to save the world. God made a three-part promise: Abraham’s descendants would become a great nation, they would be given the land of Canaan as their inheritance from God (what we call “the Promised Land”), and God would bless all the nations of the world through them (Genesis 12:1-7; 13:14-15; 15:5-21; 17:1-8; 22:15-18; 26:2-5, 24; 28:11-15).

The story of God and his people is, to a great extent, the story of the fulfillment of that promise. Exodus and Deuteronomy tell how Israel became a nation. The stories of Joshua, the judges, Saul, and David tell how they conquer and settle the Promised Land. And the New Testament tells how all nations were blessed through Jesus, the promised offspring of Abraham. The promise to Abraham must be read in the context of that mission. The creation of the nation of Israel and their possession of the land were part of God’s mission to bless all people through them. Once that mission was accomplished in Christ, the New Testament speaks about the promise in different terms.

The idea of the “Chosen People” and the “Promised Land” became key themes in Scripture, but in the New Testament the language of God’s chosen people was expanded to include both Jews and Gentiles as part of the children of Abraham by faith in Christ (Romans 4:9-18; Galatians 3:7-9, 23-29; Ephesians 1:3-14; 1 Peter 2:9-10). The promised inheritance is no longer defined by a land for a particular people; rather, in Christ Gentiles now share in the inheritance of God’s holy people (Ephesians 1:18; 2:11-3:6; Colossians 1:11), and the Holy Spirit and heaven are our promised inheritance (Ephesians 1:13-23; 1 Peter 1:3-5).

The Promise to Aaron in the Same Context

Consider a related promise God made to Israel “forever.” When God established the priesthood of Aaron (part of the priestly tribe of Levi), he promised that Aaron’s descendants would be priests “forever” (Exodus 29:1, 9). That promise was made in the context of the creation of the nation of Israel as a holy nation on their way to the Promised Land. However, despite God’s promise to Aaron and his descendants, their priesthood came to an end in the Jewish revolts against Rome in 70 AD and 135 AD, when the temple was destroyed and the Jewish people were expelled from Jerusalem.

Jesus had predicted that the city and temple would be destroyed, but Jesus said nothing about it ever being rebuilt (Luke 19:41-44; 22:5-24). Jesus also said that worship would no longer be required at the Jerusalem temple, but God would seek those who worship in spirit and truth (John 4:20-23). The author of Hebrews said that the Levitical priesthood was superseded by the better priesthood of Jesus, and that the old covenant with its sacrifices was about to pass away (7:1-10:18). Other New Testament authors viewed all believers in Jesus as priests (1 Peter 2:4-10; Revelation 1:5-6).

The promise to Aaron that his descendants would serve as priests forever was made in the context of the covenant with Israel at Sinai, a covenant that Christians believe was superseded by a new covenant in Christ. The New Testament clearly did not view the priesthood of Aaron’s descendants as continuing into the new covenant. Similarly the promise to Abraham that his descendants would inherit the land forever was made in the context of God’s mission to bless the world through Jesus and must be understood in that context.

2. Was the Promise Unconditional?

Prophecies and Promises Have Conditions

God told Abraham to look as far as he could see in every direction, “for all the land that you see I will give to you and to your offspring forever” (Genesis 13:14-15; see also Exodus 32:11-13). Many Jews and Christians today use that promise to say that the land still belongs to the Jewish people and the modern nation of Israel. However, it is important to remember (1) that the prophecies in the Old Testament had conditions, even if those conditions were not always made explicit, and (2) that the “forever” promises in the Old Testament were given in the context of a covenant relationship with God which had explicit conditions, even if those conditions weren’t explicitly named in every passage.

God made it very clear to Jeremiah that God could and would change what he had said he would do concerning any nation depending on what that nation did. Prophecies to bless or punish a nation would not be fulfilled if that nation changed its conduct.

If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, and if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will relent of the disaster that I intended to do to it. And if at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, and if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will relent of the good that I had intended to do to it. (Jeremiah 18:7-10)

Implicit conditions are seen in God’s promise concerning David’s kingdom. God promised King David that he would establish David’s kingdom forever (2 Samuel 7:12-16), without mention of any conditions. However, later passages make it clear that the promise depended on whether David’s descendants obeyed God (1 Chronicles 28:6-9; 1 Kings 9:4-9). If David’s son, Solomon, or his heirs turned to idolatry, God would “cut off Israel from the land that I have given them” (1 Kings 9:7). As we will see, the kingdom of David ended in 586 BC, with only a brief revival around 100 BC. Despite the promise to David, his kingdom did not last forever.

“Forever” in such passages clearly does not mean “for all eternity no matter what.”

“Forever” could mean something like “for this age,” meaning until the Messiah comes and inaugurates his spiritual kingdom. When Jesus came as the “Son of David,” he did not expel the Romans and reestablish the earthly kingdom in Jerusalem, as Jews expected the Messiah to do. Rather, Jesus claimed that his kingdom was not of this world (John 18:36). In this sense, David’s kingdom continues, but clearly not in the sense of the original promise that David’s descendants would always rule in Jerusalem over the kingdom of Israel.

More importantly, implicit in such promises is the understood, but sometimes unstated, condition that the people keep their covenant with God. David’s descendants would continue to rule as long as they were faithful to God. We could compare the similar nature of promises made in a marriage covenant. People often make wedding vows to “love forever” or “as long as we both shall live.” No one makes a wedding vow to “love you forever, as long as you don’t run off with someone else or try to kill me to collect the life insurance”—but that is an unstated, though understood, condition of the promise!

The Land Came with a Warning to Israel

The land of Canaan was inhabited by a number of tribal peoples generally called Canaanites or Amorites. God told Abraham that he may not possess the land yet; his descendants must wait 400 years until the inhabitants of the land become so completely wicked that God will act to destroy them (Genesis 15:13-16; Deuteronomy 9:4-5). When God finally did send the Israelites into the land of Canaan, he said that the Canaanites’ wickedness even included child sacrifice, and commands the Israelites not to follow in their ways (Deuteronomy 12:29-31). He warned that if the Israelites followed in their wickedness, the land would vomit out the Israelites as it did the Canaanites before them (Leviticus 18:24-30; 20:22-24).

The promise of the land of Canaan to Israel was in part an act of judgment for the evil of the Canaanites, and the inheritance of the promise by Israel was conditioned on whether or not they followed in the same path.

Moses and the Prophets Predicted that Israel Could and Would Lose the Land

Despite the promises that Israel would inherit the land forever, a number of prophecies in the Bible made it clear that they could lose that inheritance. As they prepared to enter the Promised Land, Moses warned them of the consequences of rebellion against God. They would be given over to their enemies and “be plucked off the land that you are entering” (Deuteronomy 28:48, 63). Then Moses made a remarkable statement, warning that God “will bring you back in ships to Egypt, a journey that I promised that you should never make again” (28:68). Despite the fact that Moses once had promised they would never return to Egypt, he prophesied that it would happen anyway if they turned away from God. Clearly such promises were conditional.

In Jeremiah’s famous sermon in the temple, he warned Jerusalem to look at what God did to Shiloh in the northern kingdom because of their sins. He told the people that if they would practice justice, not oppress the vulnerable, protect the innocent, and not worship other gods, then God would “let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your fathers forever”; but if not, God would destroy Jerusalem as he did Shiloh (Jeremiah 7:5-15). The promise to live in the land forever was dependent on their faithfulness. When Israel was exiled, the prophets explained that it was because they had not listened to the prophets (Jeremiah 29:15-23; 35:15-17; Daniel 9:3-14). Even though the Israelites had been promised the land forever, they lost it, just as they had been warned.

When reading the prophecies, our focus should be on hearing what they called the people to do, rather than speculating on predictions and fulfillments. The most important message of the prophets for Israel today—and for America and any other nation—is the call to practice justice, mercy, and faith (see Isaiah 1:11-20; Jeremiah 7:1-15; 21:11-22:10; Ezekiel 16:44-52; Amos 2:6-16; 4:1-3; Micah 2:1-4; 3:9-12; 6:6-8). Many of the practices of the modern nation of Israel must be judged in the light of those prophecies.

To use questionable interpretations of predictions and prophecies to justify the modern nation of Israel, but ignore what those prophets actually demanded of God’s people, is to misuse Biblical prophecy.

3. Did God Actually Do What Some Claim He Promised to Do?

The Extent of the Promised Land

Abraham was promised the land of Canaan from the river of Egypt to the Euphrates River (Genesis 15:21). These borders have been the subject of some debate, but most scholars agree that they do not mean from the Nile River in the middle of Egypt across Arabia to the Euphrates in Mesopotamia, encompassing a huge area of the Middle East (territory that never seems to have been under consideration in the rest of the Bible as part of Israel’s land). 

The “river of Egypt” referred either to the Wadi el-Arish, a brook at the border between Canaan and the Sinai; or, it referred to the eastern Pelusiac branch of the Nile that flows into the Mediterranean at the border between Egypt and the Sinai. So the territory may or may not have included the Sinai, but it did not extend into Egypt. The Euphrates River in this context did not refer to the southern portion of the river in the area of Chaldea (later called Babylonia), but to the northern portion of the river above Syria. The territory promised to Abraham extended northward beside the Mediterranean, not eastward across the Arabian Desert.

It is important to note that this promise was never completely fulfilled at any point in history.

From Joshua to the Exile

When Joshua led the Israelites into Canaan (usually dated either about 1400 BC or about 1250 BC), they did not succeed in conquering all the land promised to them (Judges 1:16-3:5). They did not even gain complete control of what might be called the heart of the Promised Land (“from Dan to Beersheba”). Most, though not all, of the land from Dan to Beersheba did come under Israelite control from Joshua until the northern tribes were carried into exile by the Assyrians in 722 BC. So Israel controlled most of the heart of the Promised Land for about 500-600 years, but not the broader territory promised to Abraham.

Under David and Solomon (around 1000 BC), conquests and treaties brought most of the territory promised to Abraham under Israelite control for less than 100 years. This was the only time in history that most—though still not all—of that territory was under Israelite control. (If the promise referred to all of the much larger territory from the Nile River in Egypt across the desert to Mesopotamia, then most of that territory never came under Israelite control at any time in history.)

David’s descendants no longer ruled most of the land after the division of the kingdom in c. 940 BC. The northern kingdom was ruled by various other dynasties and immediately plunged into idolatry, never to return to God. This left only the smaller kingdom of Judah under the rule of David’s descendants for the next 350 years. The northern kingdom was carried into exile in 722 BC by the Assyrians, and in 587 BC, Judah was carried into exile by the Babylonians, ending Israelite control of any of the Promised Land.

From the Exile to 1948 AD

As God had promised according to the prophets, some of the Israelites returned to Jerusalem from exile and rebuilt the temple (516 BC) and the city (444 BC). However, they were under the control of the Persian Empire and did not reestablish the kingdom with a descendant of David on the throne. When Alexander the Great conquered the region (c. 332 BC), the land of Israel came under the control of the Greeks. Around 142 BC, the Jews revolted against Greek rule and established an independent kingdom (known as the Hasmonean dynasty) in part of the Promised Land for a brief period of less than 100 years, until the Romans conquered the land in 63 BC. Unsuccessful Jewish revolts against Rome in 70 AD and 135 AD resulted in the destruction of Jerusalem and the expulsion of the Jews from the land.

From 587 BC to the present, an Israelite kingdom only existed for less than 100 years. Including the modern nation of Israel, the Jewish people have only controlled some of the Promised Land for less than 200 years out of the last 2,600 years.

After the Romans, the land was controlled by various empires, including the Byzantines (who were Christian), various Muslim empires (some Arab, some Turkish), and finally the British. During the period of approximately 2,000 years from Roman to British rule, there was no independent nation in the land (Jewish or Arab), and there was only a relatively small number of Jews living in the land alongside an indigenous population of Muslims and Christians (mostly Arabs and Turks). During most of that period the land was known as Palestine. That was even the term used by the Jews in the late 19th and early 20th centuries who were campaigning to create a homeland for Jews in Palestine.

The modern nation of Israel was created in 1948 AD in part of the Promised Land. But it was established as a modern Western democracy, not a Biblical kingdom, and many of those who founded it were secular, non-religious Jews. Even today about half the Jews in Israel are non-religious. The faith of religious Jews is practiced in synagogues, as it has been for 2000 years, not in a temple with priests and sacrifices. It is difficult to see how the modern nation is a fulfillment of the promises and prophecies of the Old Testament.

Conclusion

Even though God promised that the Israelites would “inherit the land forever,” they clearly did not. If the Jews have to be given a Jewish state in the land today because of the promise to Abraham, why did they not have to be given the land from 586 BC to 1948 AD (a period of over 2,500 years!), and why not the whole territory promised to Abraham?

For the past 2,000 years (until the rise of modern dispensationalism made popular 100 years ago by the Scofield Bible), Christians generally have believed that the promises to Israel concerning the land, the priesthood, and the kingdom were either negated by the coming of Jesus or were brought to fulfillment in Jesus. The idea that God still intends to create an earthly kingdom and temple in the land of Israel does not come from the teachings of Jesus or the apostles—it comes from a new and very questionable reading of the Old Testament.

To say that Jews today must be given the land because of the promise in Genesis ignores much of what is said in the rest of the Bible and ignores the evidence of history that God did not in fact give Israel the land forever.

How Do You Pick a Church?

So, how do you pick a church to join? For the first time since we were newlyweds 34 years ago, Judy and I have to choose a church to attend. Since the second year of our marriage, we have chosen churches because they chose me to be their minister. For over 30 years I've watched as people chose to join our church or chose not to...or chose to leave us for another church. Now we find ourselves on the other side of those experiences and conversations.

The question for us is not just "What church should we join?" The more important question is "How will we make that decision?"

For years I've listened to all sorts of reasons why people made their choices--and many of the reasons were pretty common: We like the preaching (or we don't). We like the music (or we don't). We like the youth and children's programs (or we don't). There are people our age or in our life situation (or there aren't). The people seemed very friendly when we visited (or they didn't). The leaders hold to certain doctrinal positions important to me (or they don't).

If it sounds somewhat self-centered and consumerist, that's because it is. And everyone knows it. Americans shop for churches the way we shop for everything else in a privileged society where exactly what we want can usually be found at some store/mall/restaurant/theater/club somewhere in town.

That's not to say that all those reasons for selecting a church are completely without merit. It does make some difference if we share important beliefs with our church family (though perhaps not as much as we sometimes think). The weekly worship experience is an important part of spiritual life for many people (even if there is little Biblical support for the overemphasis placed on Sunday services in churches of almost all kinds). Most parents naturally are going to care about what the church offers for their children (even if it's far more important what goes on at home than what happens at church). And as someone who preached for 30 years, I'd like to think that good, thoughtful, informed, effective preaching makes an impact on those who listen to it every week (even if what we call preaching doesn't bear too much resemblance to the preaching of Jesus and the prophets).

And I will say that the temptation to make a consumer-like decision has proven powerful. For the last 10 years we've had small groups in our home mostly made up of people young enough to be our kids--it would be nice to have more friends our age. As a former preacher who was trained fairly well in theological studies, I've been strongly advised to be careful about which preacher I will have to listen to every week--and I can understand that advice. I am deeply committed to more equality for women in church, which I think is something the Bible teaches--so I'd like to find a church that shares that belief (only once have we been part of a church that truly shared that conviction, and I'd like to experience that again). And I confess that I'm drawn to church music that I'm...well, drawn to--music does connect at a heart level.

But we decided up front that we would not make this decision based on what church service we like or where we feel most comfortable. We will try to make this decision based on mission--on where we can best continue to follow Jesus on the journey we've been travelling. We want to listen for a sense of calling--a sense that we are needed and will have a purpose (something like the way we tried to decide which churches to serve in ministry). We want to go where we can make a difference. We want to be part of a church that can help us continue to live missionally and where we can help others to do the same.

And so we're asking more questions about the church's understanding of mission than doctrine. We're more concerned about what they are doing for the poor than what they are doing for their members. We're more interested in where and how they are called to serve than in how they conduct their services.

Over the years, I don't remember very many prospective members asking me those questions. I wonder how different churches would be if that is what members were asking of leaders, rather than looking for better preaching, better music, and better children's programs.

If we have to choose, we want to choose a church based on the more important questions, rather than one that has the other things we'd like. It's probably more in keeping with the way of the cross if we choose a church that doesn't have stuff we like, but is really on mission with Jesus.

But it would nice if we find both.

Two Reasons Why Bringing Dr. Brantly Home Is the Right Thing to Do (and Why Christians Should Be Ashamed for Opposing It)

[A few days after this blog was written, political pundit Ann Coulter posted a terribly offensive rant--probably no surprise if you know her style--about this topic that has stirred up a well-deserved backlash. She criticized Brantly and other Christians for going to " disease-ridden cesspools" like Liberia when they could have stayed here and done more good. It's hard to know whether to view her post as culturally arrogant, ridiculously nationalistic, or just plain racist. In any case, I'll let my comments below remain a partial answer as to why Christians should serve the poor and suffering, and why objections are clearly not Christ-like.]

Dr. Kent Brantly trained at one of the top Family Medicine residencies in the country at John Peter Smith Hospital in Fort Worth. He could have worked anywhere he wanted to go and made a profitable living caring for patients in the comfort of American upper middle class life. He chose instead to serve as a medical missionary with Samaritan’s Purse in one of the poorest areas of the world. When the Ebola virus struck people in the area he was serving, he could have returned home with his family and no one would ever have blamed him. But he chose to stay, working tirelessly to do whatever he could to save lives and relieve suffering. It is what he felt his faith called him to do. It is what he felt his medical training prepared him to do. It is what he felt his commitment as a physician required of him.  If Dr. Brantly had not contracted the disease, most of us probably would never have heard of him (just as we can’t name the many other doctors who have been doing the same thing without any fanfare).

When the news broke that he had become sick, everyone was amazed by his story, praising his incredible self-sacrifice. He was suddenly an American hero…until the announcement came that he was being brought to Atlanta to one of the best places in the world to treat this kind of disease. Now the hospital is getting hate mail, the Internet is flooded with fear and anger, and the news media is questioning the wisdom of the decision. Even though many medical experts say that America is not at risk of an Ebola breakout from Brantly’s treatment in this facility, many Americans seem unwilling to accept any possibility of any remote risk associated with treating Brantly in a facility designed to do just this. Sooner or later, it seems to me, this disease will surely find its way outside West Africa. The questions we have to ask are: Will we support those trying to fight the disease there? What will we do if they get sick? And, How will we respond when someone here in America does get sick?

I’d like to offer two reasons why Christians should believe that bringing Brantly home is unquestionably the right thing to do.

First, taking care of Brantly, even if there is some risk, is what Christian compassion calls us to do. What Brantly and others are doing in Africa, putting themselves at risk in self-sacrificial service to others, is profoundly Christian (i.e., Christ-like, following in the way of the cross). Bringing Brantly home is exactly what a “Christian nation” should do. (Of course, America is not really a “Christian nation” by any meaningful standard I can imagine, but Christians are nonetheless part of the chorus of American voices complaining about the decision.) If what Brantly and others are doing is profoundly Christian, then refusing to do whatever we can to help him is profoundly unchristian.

When the plague struck Carthage in the Roman Empire in the 3rd century, people abandoned their dying relatives and friends in the streets and even fled the city to save their own lives. But Christians, led by Bishop Cyprian, stayed in large numbers to treat the sick and dying, putting their own lives at risk to take care of, not just their own family members, but anyone who needed their mercy and care. Dionysius, another Bishop at the time, wrote this about the Christian response to the crisis:

Most of our brother Christians showed unbounded love and loyalty, never sparing themselves and thinking only of one another.  Heedless of danger, they took charge of the sick, attending to their every need and ministering to them in Christ, and with them departed this life serenely happy; for they were infected by others with the disease, drawing on themselves the sickness of their neighbors and cheerfully accepting their pains.  Many, in nursing and curing others, transferred their death to themselves and died in their stead…The best of our brothers lost their lives in this manner, a number of presbyters, deacons, and laymen winning high commendation so that death in this form, the result of great piety and strong faith, seems in every way the equal of martyrdom.

Second, and more important, ask yourself one simple question: If Brantley were your brother or son or father or friend, what would you be saying? Would you say, “He chose to go—it’s noble—but we shouldn’t take any risk whatsoever”? Or would you say, “We should do whatever we can to help someone who has risked so much to serve others?” Would you say we should leave him there to receive whatever care they can give, or we should bring him home to receive the best care we can offer? You know the answer to that question.

We have a name for offering Brantly the care we would want for our own loved ones: we call it “The Golden Rule.”

The Christmas I Stopped Singing a Lullaby

When my children were babies, I loved singing lullabys to them as I rocked them to sleep. They were mostly songs I learned from my mother and grandmother before me—“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mommy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird” and “Go to sleepy little baby ʼfore the Boogie Man gets you” were two of our favorites. Another favorite was one in the hymnal used in most of the churches where I grew up:

Can you count the stars of evening
That are shining in the sky?
Can you count the clouds that daily
Over all the world go by?
God the Lord, who doth not slumber,
Keepeth all the boundless number;
But He careth more for thee,
But He careth more for thee.

It was a sweet song expressing the faith that God would individually care for each little child. Holding my sleeping infant and softly singing these words was both a parent’s prayer, but also an expression of comfort and security.

Our second child was born in August of 1984—the year a terrible famine struck Ethiopia. That fall the news was full of stories about the hundreds of thousands of people dying of starvation. I sat down to our annual Thanksgiving Feast of turkey and dressing haunted by images of starving children with emaciated faces and bloated bellies. I tried to forget the images while I ate and avoid feelings of guilt for my gluttony while others were starving, but that just made me feel more guilty for trying to forget.

Then one night I began to sing that lullaby to Zack as I rocked him to sleep. I came to the third verse and the words choked in my throat—I just couldn’t get them out:

Can you count the many children
In their little beds at night,
Who without a thought of sorrow
Rise again at morning light?
God the Lord, who dwells in heaven,
Loving care to each has given;
He has not forgotten thee,
He has not forgotten thee.

I have never sung the song again. I can’t. I don’t believe it any more. It was a song of a faith that only made sense in a life of privilege and plenty. The words were not true for starving children in Ethiopia.

A few days after Thanksgiving a group of British and Irish pop and rock stars recorded a new song to raise money for famine relief.  The song was written by Bob Geldoff (of Boomtown Rats) and Midge Ure (of Ultravox). Some of the biggest names of the day participated—Sting, Phil Collins, George Michael, Duran Duran, Bananarama, and more. “Do they Know It’s Christmas?” became a huge hit in both England and America.

I first heard it riding in the car in Chicago in the middle of the bustle of the Christmas season. The lyrics were piercing, disturbing, and inspiring.

But say a prayer, Pray for the other ones
At Christmas time it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?
Feed the world
Feed the world

I lost a song that season. But I learned a better one.

Something Has Changed

The other day I went to a run-down motel to pick up the belongings of a homeless man named Dwayne who has been part of our Reunion community. He had been sharing a room there with a man who was living on meager disability checks. Dwayne paid him about $15 a day to share a room, money he earned selling The Contributor on street corners. Dwayne has been in the hospital for weeks and is now in the respite care program at Room In The Inn. The roommate is moving back to his home state, and Dwayne asked me to go get his belongings for him.

I took some boxes and plastic bags and gathered his stuff. Two small boxes of books and papers. A few large bags of clothes. An electric blanket. Some personal items. I carried it all down to my car and packed it tightly into my trunk. As I closed the lid, it suddenly occurred to me…I just loaded a man’s entire earthly belongings into the trunk of my car. The trunk of my car.

And this was not a nameless homeless person we might stop to help or serve in line at a mission. This was my friend Dwayne. I see him every week in our home. Most Wednesdays we grab a burger and talk about life. I had everything my friend owned in my trunk.

Something has changed in my ministry these last few years. I’ve been involved in some way in ministry to the poor in the city for many years—whether starting a tutoring program for inner city kids in Milwaukee, or serving on the advisory board of a Houston charity, or preaching for a church with a food and clothing pantry in Nashville. I have considered myself a compassionate person with some level of understanding of the issues faced by the poor. I guess I would have considered myself a friend to the poor.

But something has changed these last three years. It all seems more personal—which might be expected since I now work for an inner city ministry—but it’s more than just my job. And it seems more complicated—I’ve learned so much more, and realize how little I still know (my father always said that the value of an education is not what you know, but what you know that you don’t know)—but that’s not what I mean either. The change is something more than greater knowledge or deeper involvement.

What has changed is that I used to serve the poor—now they are my friends. I don’t mean I am friendly to them (I think I always was). I don’t mean that I know them by name. No, I mean we are actually friends.

They have been in our home, and Judy and I have been in theirs. We were invited to her son’s wedding. He has slept in our guest room. Her little girls call us Miss Judy and Papa. I was up in the middle of the night talking him out of suicide.  He came to our home for Thanksgiving Dinner. We’re friends.

I’d feel better about that, but I keep wondering why I was near the poor for so long, but not close to them. Is it just that we moved into a transitional neighborhood? That’s surely a part of it. But I know it’s more than that. We’ve chosen to make friends with people who happen to be poor—not because they are poor, but also not because we have a lot in common (isn’t that the usual basis for choosing friends?). We have chosen to make friends with people in our neighborhood, and our neighborhood is diverse. We’ve chosen to make friends with people we are meeting in our ministry—and we’re ministering to people from more diverse backgrounds than ever before. We’ve chosen to make friends—not just to be friendly.

And I see poverty differently now. It’s not just about political issues or social causes. It’s not just about theological positions on social justice. It’s not just about feeling compassion or showing mercy.

No, now it’s about our friends.

Why I Did This, Part 3: Scribes and Disciples

Early in my ministry, Ezra 7:10 became something of a theme verse for me:

“For Ezra had set his heart to study the law of the Lord, and to do it, and to teach his statutes and ordinances in Israel.”

Like Ezra, I devoted myself to study the Word of God, to do it, and to teach it to the people of God. In retrospect, if I’m honest with myself, I devoted myself more to the study and teaching, than to the doing.

To some degree, I was trained academically to be like Ezra, “a scribe skilled in the Law of Moses” (7:6), and teaching seems to be my area of giftedness—at least, if you believe the spiritual aptitude tests and the feedback of church members. And I still don’t know what to do with the sense that I am not using my primary gifts very much—one or two adjunct courses a year at Lipscomb University, and an occasional guest sermon at area churches—a reality that continues to distress my devoted wife.

In our new home in the city, we have a storage room above our garage. I built some shelves in it to hold my books, in case I ever needed access to them. Several months after we moved, I unpacked box after box of books onto those shelves—commentaries, Greek and Hebrew dictionaries and grammars, studies on New Testament backgrounds, resources for ministry—hundreds of books representing years and years of perfecting my craft as a scribe skilled in the Word. As I unpacked a long row of books on worship, I found myself beginning to weep. It seemed as though I was putting everything I had worked so hard to become on a storage shelf.

But this too was a moment of truth. Perhaps, of all the discoveries I have made about myself and my ministry, I think the most troubling is this: I have come to realize that I have lived my life more as a disciple of Ezra than a disciple of Jesus.

What does one say after that?

“Sorry” seems trite. But I am sorry. I must apologize to God for failing to do what was most important in my service of him. I must apologize to Jesus for misrepresenting his ministry—my ministry didn’t look like his ministry. I must apologize to the good people who looked to me as a spiritual leader. I believe I failed at the central task of a leader—I failed to follow Jesus myself.

Followers of Jesus do what Jesus did. I failed to do that. It’s just that simple.

Ultimately, I feel this may be the greatest failure of churches today, whether traditional or contemporary. We don’t really pay our scribes to be disciples, and so we aren’t very good at making disciples. We have focused our efforts on making believers in Jesus—either preserving and passing on the traditions of the faith, or evangelizing people to become believers. As a result, our efforts have produced a reality that I only recently have come to recognize: most churches are full of believers in Jesus, but not followers of Jesus. As Denver Moore (The Same Kind of Different as Me and What Difference Do It Make) observes, we’re a lot more focused on Bible studying than Bible doing. I helped perpetuate that reality.

For the past 3 years I have been trying to become what for 30 years I failed to be—someone who goes where Jesus went, helps those he helped, teaches what he taught, and is friends with those who were his friends. It’s not been easy—but it’s been good.

And it’s 30 years too late.

Why I Did This, Part 2: Prophets and Priests

I often felt my calling in ministry was to be something of a prophet.  Not in the sense of someone who could predict the future. And not in the sense of receiving visions from God (my ministry-related dreams were sometimes more akin to nightmares than ecstatic visions). I mean prophet in the sense of one who speaks the word of God to his people, calling them back to faithfulness and obedience.

I thought of prophets like John the Baptist calling people to repentance (though I never had the guts to call a congregation a “brood of vipers”!). I thought of Peter boldly declaring to the temple authorities that they could threaten him all they wanted, but he would not stop preaching Jesus. I thought of Jeremiah, who would have quit if it were not for the burning fire inside that compelled him to keep declaring what he knew was true. And I thought of many voices in that prophetic tradition, my father among them.

I wanted to be like them. I wanted their integrity.  I wanted their insight into the will of God. I wanted to understand God’s message to his people and faithfully proclaim it with the clarity and passion and courage that I saw in them.

I was fortunate never to face the persecution they faced. Unlike John, I never risked having my head cut off (though I lost it a few times). Unlike Peter, I never was scourged in the temple (though, like most preachers, I left a few church meetings feeling a little beaten up). Unlike my father, I never was fired by good Christian cowards moved more by fear than by the Spirit (though there were brothers and sisters along the way who lobbied for my exile).

The tensions I faced over the years were not because of crowds and kings out to silence the prophets. I think much of the tension was because of the role I was in as a full-time minister. I was a prophet who was paid to be a priest. We do not really hire preachers to preach like prophets. We hire ministers to serve the church.

I don’t mean to discount the role of the priest and minister. Priestly service was God-ordained ministry. They were charged to teach the people the Law of God; to lead the people in worship and praise; and, to call the people before God in confession and sacrifice to experience God’s forgiveness. But I felt I was called to be a preacher more than a worship leader.

For too many years I found myself saying, “I’m tired of trying to keep rich, white, suburban Christians happy.” Those are hard words. They always felt hard whenever I uttered them privately to colleagues in ministry—who always seemed to know exactly what I meant. They are hard words because those suburban Christians were truly my friends, my family. I loved them, and always will. They are hard words because—perhaps, especially because—I myself was one of those rich, white, suburban Christians. (I’m still a rich, white Christian, just not in the suburbs.) But they are also hard words because they speak a disturbing truth about the role of church leaders in our contemporary, consumer-driven church culture.

I have often heard it said that the role of a prophet was to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. But most folk come to church only wanting the first part (especially since we all like to believe that we are afflicted). I must say that comforting the grieving became one of the most meaningful parts of my ministry. But overall, maybe it was a mistake for someone who felt called to be a prophet to get a job as a minister.

Prophets in the Bible were rarely priests—Samuel, Ezekiel, maybe a few others. Typically, prophets stood outside the institutions of temple, synagogue, and monarchy. Their task was to challenge the priests, kings, rabbis, and even other popular prophets, calling them back to righteousness, mercy, and justice. Their role was to stand like Jeremiah in the temple and warn the people not to trust in the church rituals. To cry out like John in the desert that God can make Christians out of rocks. To declare like Isaiah on the Day of Atonement that God hates their worship services.

So how do you do that and at the same time fulfill your responsibility to maintain the rituals, build the sanctuaries, lead the services, and give the children of Abraham an encouraging word with which to go forth and face the afflictions of life in middle class America?

I don’t know. Maybe if I figure it out some day, I’ll return to the priesthood. In the meantime, I just need to figure out what to do with what’s left of Jeremiah’s heartburn.

Why I Did This, Part 1: Ministers and Mission

I think I was awakening to something during my ministry in Milwaukee in the early 90s, without fully realizing it. We were engaging the neighborhood school near our church, making advances in racial reconciliation, and also breaking down barriers between Christian fellowships. Looking back, I think I was experiencing missional impulses that were moving me beyond our church walls.

For reasons too complicated to sort out here (and I’m still not sure I could), we felt called to a church in Houston. It was a church with a great, and well-deserved, reputation for supporting many good works in the city. It was also a church with an ecumenical spirit and equality for women. But it was not growing, and I set myself to the task of trying to help the church make the changes necessary to attract the unchurched to hear the good news. It was the only way I knew.

For years I had studied church growth, and nearly all the experts said the same things—and most established churches struggled with their recommendations. We brought in a consultant, read books, and felt the pain of trying to change. But there was a revolution already happening in Christianity, and I was only beginning to become aware of it. America was becoming postmodern and post-Christian, and the theories of what this would mean for the church were becoming hot topics.  If I had understood these issues better, I think I would have understood better why I was struggling so much.

Many factors make it difficult for churches to change—tradition, natural human resistance to change, institutional leadership structures, increasing cultural irrelevance. But I am convinced now that the most significant issue we faced was a personal issue in my ministry.

After several years there, we moved back home to Nashville and I continued the mission of trying to lead an established church toward growth and outreach—with many of the same struggles. Then, with the help of Randy Harris and David Wray, we began a study of the “missional church” (interestingly, the church in Houston began the same study at about the same time). The issues facing churches in postmodern, post-Christian America began to appear in sharper focus, as did some of the more substantive changes we would need to make if we were truly to begin advancing on mission in the world—which is not the same as trying to attract people to the church building and church activities.

We began to see that “mission” is not just one of several things a church is supposed to do. Mission is the reason the church exists. God is on a mission in this world, and he created the church for that mission. As missional writers often say, “The church doesn’t have a mission; the mission has a church.” And being on mission doesn’t just mean trying to have the kind of church that will attract consumers to its services and programs. It means living on mission in the world—serving those in need and being friends to those who don’t know God.

But change was no easier even with a clearer vision. In fact, in some ways it seemed to become harder. We still faced issues of tradition, human nature, institutional leadership structures, and cultural irrelevance. But I began to realize that the issues churches face are deeper than could be addressed with program changes.

It began to become clear to me that a great deal of the problem was that too many of us in leadership in churches—including me—were not living missionally. I was a minister on a mission in the church, but I was not personally on mission in the world. How could I lead a church to become God’s people on mission in the world when I was not on mission myself?

My job was the church; my church was the church; and my friends were the church.

I had long lamented this reality as a barrier to my ability to reach unchurched people. But now those words were moving from an excuse to a conviction. I had to learn a new way of living in this world. Perhaps I could have done that and stayed in my role as a minister, but I don’t think so. 

We don’t really pay our ministers to be missionaries. Everything I was reading and hearing said I had to spend time where people are, in coffee shops and pubs rather than in a church office. But there were three problems with this. First, I hate coffee and beer…seriously! So what was I supposed to do in a coffee house or pub? I figured out I could drink hot chocolate at a Starbucks and fit in ok, but at the neighborhood pub there is no hot chocolate option.

Second, what church pays its preacher to hang out in pubs and have a drink with worldly people? Jesus ate and drank with tax collectors and sinners, but preachers don’t (and look at the reaction Jesus got from church folk!). Good brothers and sisters who want to believe that Jesus had matzos and grape juice at the Passover would not be ready for this!

Third, and maybe most importantly, I liked my church office. I liked being surrounded by my books, with my colleagues and friends just down the hall. I liked using it as a base to prepare to preach to Christians, to teach classes to Christians, to have planning meetings with Christians, to lead small groups of Christians, to visit Christians in the hospital, to comfort Christians at the funeral home, and to attend ministerial association meetings with Christian ministers. I knew how to do this. I liked it. I was pretty good at it. But I needed to leave it.

So we moved into the city and have been learning a new way to live. It has taken us to new experiences, but more importantly to new relationships. We built a house in a transitional neighborhood, one where the privileged and underprivileged live on the same streets. (We hadn’t planned on building, but we met the builders at a neighborhood meeting—they live here too.) Some of our neighbors are well off and are building new homes near their downtown offices. Others are on government assistance. We love the socio-economic and racial diversity of these neighbors working together to improve their community.

Now we have open houses for our neighborhood instead of for church members. We have our neighbors into our home, go to restaurants and events with them, and plant the community garden with them. I play trivia at the pub with the guys (I’ve learned to drink light beer…and have almost learned to like it). Our neighbors invite us out to eat and to their birthday parties. For the first time in 30 years, we were invited to a Christmas party at the home of an atheist—it’s the first time in 30 years that I have an atheist friend.

And that’s what bothers me most—30 years of missed opportunities to be like Jesus. I look back now and see so many chances I missed to be friends with people Jesus would have been friends with . . . but I was too preoccupied with being a Christian.

Why Did I Do This? A Brief Introduction

I haven’t blogged in a long time—probably too long. I return now with an attempt to answer a question I am frequently asked (and often ask myself). After 30 years of being a pulpit minister, I am now working with a nonprofit that serves inner city children and trying to plant a missional network of house churches in the city—so, why did I do this?

The list of preachers in my generation who are abandoning the pulpit to work with nonprofits and parachurch ministries seems to be growing, and it reads like a “who’s who” of preachers in the Churches of Christ. I can’t speak for them, though I have talked to enough of them to know that some aspects of my story are similar to some aspects of their stories. But this is not an attempt to describe this troubling trend. It is merely an attempt to share my own discoveries in the hope that it will be helpful to others trying to make sense of what is happening to the church in America and to their own congregations and ministers—and perhaps what is happening in their own discontent with American Christianity.

I’ve been wrestling with this for almost a year. I’m still not sure it’s ready to share publicly, but maybe it will never be. I have promised others that I would share some of these thoughts, so here they are in a series of three posts on “Ministers and Mission,” “Prophets and Priests,” and “Scribes and Disciples.”

Why You Can Bet the House Jesus Won’t Return Today

Perhaps you've seen the news reports about the group predicting the world will end today, May 21.

Associated Press (OAKLAND, Calif.) – Some shut themselves inside to pray for mercy as they waited for the world's end.
Others met for tearful last lunches with their children, and prepared to leave behind homes and pets as they were swept up to heaven.
And across the globe, followers of a California preacher's long-publicized message that Judgment Day would arrive Saturday turned to the Bible, the book they believe predicts Earth's destruction on May 21.
The doomsday message has been sent far and wide via broadcasts and web sites by Harold Camping, an 89-year-old retired civil engineer who has built a multi-million-dollar nonprofit ministry based on his apocalyptic prediction.

But I am absolutely positive he's wrong. Not because I think he's a little confused about how the calendar works (I saw a TV interview with him, and he was definitely confused). Not because I interpret some Biblical prophecies differently (which I do). And not because I've figured out the errors in his mathematical calculations (I haven't bothered). I am confident he's wrong because of one simple thing that Jesus said:

So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. (Matthew 24:44)

So I'm certain Jesus will not be coming back today, precisely because the people are expecting him. Even if this was supposed to be the day, when these folk launched their ad campaign announcing the world would end today, I figure God would have just changed the date.
So instead of trying to calculate when prophecies will be fulfilled, maybe we ought to be trying to do what the prophets told us to do—take up the cause of widows and orphans and foreigners, help the poor and the weak, protect innocent blood, be honest and righteous and faithful.
Which might suggest some better uses for those multi-millions Camping has raised than buying ads to spread his fanciful calculations.

Good Friday from Below

Last night we attended a Good Friday Service, as we have for some 20 years. This year was different, but not just because I am no longer leading the service.

Since we are free now to choose where to visit a service, we considered options. We decided, rather than shopping for a service we might like, we would try to do something consistent with the mission of God which this day commemorates, the mission which has called us into the city. So we chose to attend the service at an African American church in our community.

My parents joined us and the four of us were the only whites present, which we anticipated. We were warmly welcomed by the small gathering. (Good Friday attendance is always much lower than Easter Sunday, and apparently that is true across racial and denominational lines.) The brief litany was thoughtful and challenging. The cross-centered hymns were very familiar, though the style was less so. They sang my father's favorite song, and I was feeling glad we had come.

Then the lesson began.

The guest speaker was eloquent, passionate, and provocative…very provocative. He delivered a fervent exposition of Mark's passion narrative told from the perspective of the suffering of the African American people. He spoke convincingly of the injury to the soul caused by dehumanizing words and injustices, which are just as painful as is harm to the body. Those with power can kill the soul with words before they kill the body—something he persuasively insisted that African Americans have long experienced. And so, he said, they did to Jesus—belittling and ridiculing him before they executed him. Vivid comparisons were drawn between the treatment of blacks and Jesus' unjust treatment by the "po-lice" and other manifestations of Empire, culminating with an excruciatingly explicit description of the horrific torture and lynching of Claude Neal in 1934, followed by an equally explicit narrative of the scourging and crucifixion of Jesus.

There was much about the exposition that was compelling and thought-provoking. It was a bold denunciation of Empire and oppression in any age, especially our own. But there was also much that was disturbing. The comparisons between Jesus and "the black body" were pressed pretty far—too far in my opinion. The speaker wanted us to see Jesus as a young black man tortured and murdered by Europeans and the "Negroes" collaborating with them. The analogy is not without merit—but it seemed to us to be taken too far. (Or maybe we were just uncomfortable being the only Euro-Americans present…and we were admittedly uncomfortable!) His manuscript was undoubtedly written for an African American audience, not anticipating our surprise visit. Yet his strong words did not confront his audience with their own sins, only those of others—missing the confessional Spirit which I personally feel should characterize this occasion.

Perhaps even more troubling to me, though, were several verbal shots taken at Republicans, George Bush, and religious conservatives. In a sermon decrying the dehumanizing effect of verbal attacks, I could not help but feel that he was violating his own principle in his prejudicial stereotyping of his political opponents. I wonder if the message of reconciliation was lost in this reflection on the cross—the cross which has "broken down the dividing wall of hostility," and calls us to do the same.

Still, according to Raleigh Washington and Glen Kehrein (Breaking Down Walls), if we are to have reconciliation we must hear each other's stories—with the pain and offense often inherent in them. From listening we can move to understanding and to mutual respect.

Following the lesson we shook hands with the speaker as we stood in line to share communion with these brothers and sisters, and I had a very affirming and hopeful conversation with the Senior Pastor after the service. So as troubling as aspects of this evening were, I am glad we were there. Perhaps this passionate sermon was not an expression of reconciliation—but hopefully our respectful presence was.

The Priority of Love

In a recent conversation on ConversantLife (http://www.conversantlife.com/life-with-god/5-questions-for-brian-mclaren), Brian McLaren was asked how he remains peaceful amid all the conflict among Christians. His answer is great. Here's a repost:

You get a lot of criticism from evangelicals, yet you seem to always maintain a very winsome and open spirit. What keeps you in such a positive and calm frame of mind when just about everybody else seems agitated for one reason or another?

I grew up in an extremely conservative and contentious fundamentalist movement or sect. It was filled with wonderful people who loved God, but the sociology of the group depended on exclusion and exclusiveness. When I "emerged" from that exclusive fundamentalism into a broader evangelicalism, I was hoping to find less contention. And I think I did. But in recent years, I think a contentious form of fundamentalism has been making a comeback and is in the process of a takeover attempt in evangelicalism. (I think similar movements are afoot in Catholicism and Mainline Protestantism too.) When I see this, I am not impressed by it, because I grew up with it and saw what it does to people.

I've learned in my own experience that it's way easier to think oneself right than to be loving. So Paul had it dead right when he said that knowledge puffs up, but love builds up, and that without love, no matter how right you are, you gain nothing but produce a lot of noise.

So really, I'm grateful for my religious heritage in fundamentalism. It taught me many things including that if you live by contention - theological swordplay, if you will - you will die by it. If you seek to argue and fight against an argumentative and combative spirit, you become what you are against. (Paul said that if you bite and devour each other, you'll consume each other, which describes our situation pretty well.) So my background forced me to seek a better way—what Paul calls the most excellent way, the way of love, the way of the Sermon on the Mount that transcends the way of the scribes and Pharisees.

Of course, I often trip up and slip back into things I am trying to grow beyond, but even that experience of failure humbles a person and makes it harder to try to put oneself in the position of an equal, much less a superior, in relation to one's fellow Christians. I guess so much comes back to Paul's words in Philippians 2, where he urges us to consider others as better than ourselves and to follow Jesus downward into servanthood. I suppose that to whatever degree I am, albeit imperfectly, able to maintain a winsome, calm, open, or positive spirit, it's because God has used the practices I explore in Naked Spirituality to form me. I still have a long, long way to go, so even though I wrote this book, I need its message as much as anyone else.

Christmas Mission

Those are not two words I usually think of together: "Christmas Mission."
Christmas Eve. Christmas shopping. Christmas pageants. Christmas presents. Christmas dinner. Christmas sales. Christmas trees. Christmas parties. Christmas cards. Christmas decorations.
Not "Christmas Mission." Not unless you hear someone say they are going to help feed the homeless on Christmas at the Mission—but how often do you hear that?
But isn't the Christmas story really a story about mission. And I don't mean Rudolph on a mission on a snowy night. I mean the story of an angel announcing to Zechariah that God is about to fulfill the prophecies and promises of old. The story of Mary learning that she will give birth to the Son of the Most High. The story that God entered this world as a light to the nations, to bring peace to those on whom God's favor rests, to save his people from their sins.
Christmas isn't just a story about a baby in a manger, and angels singing to shepherds, and wise men bringing gifts. It's really just a chapter (though certainly a heartwarming chapter) in a greater story of a God who was, and still is, on a mission in this world.
Christmas Eve services are a lovely tradition (our family attends one every year). But the risk Christians run at Christmas is the same risk Christians run every Lord's Day. Most church goers are at risk of thinking that the focus of our faith is our faith. Church is about what the leaders can do this week that will be meaningful to me. Whether the church we choose emphasizes liturgy or preaching or music, the critical issue seems to be whether it encourages and nourishes my faith. We measure church by the quality of the experience. In short, church is about me (at least, that seems to be how we often evaluate it).
But isn't the focus of our faith really God's work in this world? Isn't the Lord's Day really about remembering the mission of God that took Jesus to the cross and brought him out of the tomb? Shouldn't we be more concerned about whether church services stir us to follow Jesus on his mission in this world?
And isn't that really what should lie at the heart of our observance of Christmas? Shouldn't Christmas call us to be light in the darkness around us? To be as concerned for the poor as is the Son of God who slept in a feed trough? To be voices of peace in the middle of all the strife? To be friends with the people Jesus came to save? To be on God's mission in this world?
Maybe Christmas at the Mission is closer to the heart of the story than most of what we do—whether at the holidays or on Sundays.
Maybe a good question we could each ask is this:
To what mission is Christmas calling me this year?

Black Friday Week???

I got an email ad this week from a retailer with this subject line:

"It's Black Friday Week! Get Started With These Great Offers."

Really? "Black Friday Week"? Has it come to that? Not only has our commercialized Christmas overwhelmed everything from Labor Day to New Year's Day, but now we are renaming Thanksgiving after a shopping day!

Ok. I know some of you who know me recognize this as my annual holiday rant. But the fact that I'm ranting doesn't change the fact that this is just simply disturbing. Predictable? Probably. Inevitable? Maybe. Pitifully materialistic? Definitely.

And the fact that I'm now working with a non-profit for inner city kids, trying to raise money so they can have something for Christmas, has nothing to do with it. Neither does the fact that I feel a little guilty about living in a brand new house that's nicer than we deserve, and we just helped a poor neighbor with her family's Thanksgiving meal. Neither does that fact that I already feel guilty for how much of a glutton I'm going to be tomorrow. Nor the fact that my car and laptop are both dying and I can afford to replace them both and still buy Christmas presents for all my family.

The only relevant fact is that a season once devoted to thanksgiving, and generosity, and penitence, and celebration of the advent of our Savior is now just one huge, seemingly endless, exercise in consumerism and self-indulgence.

If you are as disturbed by all this as I am, and concerned about the impact on your family, and feeling a little guilty too, then you might check out the Advent Conspiracy for ideas for a meaningful season. (Or, if you'll pardon the shameless plug, check out the Y.E.S. Christmas Store.)

Have a Happy Thanksgiving! And if you must venture out into the shopping madness on Friday, perhaps you might shine a little brightness into the blackness by following John the Baptist's advice and "if you have two coats, share with someone who has none; and if you have food, do the same."

I'm through ranting now.

Jerks for Jesus

What is it that leads some Christians to believe that acting like a jerk is something that Jesus would want them to do in his name, or in gatherings of his people, or…well, anytime, anywhere?
The latest hoopla over preachers threatening to burn the Quran is just one more example in a list that I think must upset God about as much as rereading a list of the kings of Israel and Judah. And if you have any doubt at all whether it was a good idea, even after everyone from the President to General Petraeus to a host of religious leaders was pleading with them not to, consider this one simple question:
Can you honestly picture Jesus daring to burn anyone's religious books unless they agreed to debate him?
Did you even have to stop and think about it?
How is it that people can claim to follow Jesus and then openly, blatantly, brazenly do something they know he would not do? I don't mean, how do followers of Jesus sin, or make mistakes in judgment, or arrive at wrong conclusions on a variety of topics? I mean, how do Christians in a premeditated manner, with malice aforethought, stand up in public and intentionally do something they must know he would never do?
How do they sit in a restaurant and humiliate a waitress for making a mistake and then stiff her on the tip? How do they walk up to an elder after church and chew his ear off because they don't like the song choice that Sunday? How do they pass on inflammatory emails that degrade and slander public officials whose political views they do not share? How do they refuse, on Easter morning, to shake hands with someone with whom they have a disagreement? How do they stage protests at a funeral? How do they go to a town hall meeting or campaign speech and shout and scream and refuse to give someone a chance to speak? How do they sit at a baptism and whistle, not because they are so excited they have to celebrate, but because they are upset that others are clapping? (And no, I did not make any of those up.)
There are all sorts of reasons why I would not want to do any of these things, but one of the best reasons is simply the Golden Rule (you remember that cute little saying of Jesus we all learned in Sunday School). I wouldn't burn a Quran because I wouldn't want someone else to burn a Bible. I wouldn't chew someone's ear off after church, because I wouldn't want someone to do it to me. I wouldn't spread slander about someone else because I wouldn't…well, you get the point. When Jesus said to treat others the way we want to be treated, I think he actually meant for us to live that way. I really don't think he had any desire to launch a movement of Jerks for Jesus.
But maybe an even better reason not to do such things is just plainly and simply because Jesus wouldn't do them.
Christians trying to be like Jesus—is that really such a radical idea?

Tent-making (or something like it)

This summer I have been looking for a part-time job I could do that would give me a more interactive presence in the community. Just as Paul had a job in the marketplace, many missional church planters look for work in the community. It increases opportunities to interact with people, and helps unbelievers relate with us better than they might with a "preacher." And since in a missional church plant you don't start up with a hundred or so in a Sunday service the way you would in an attractional church plant, you don't have very many people tithing either. Having a second job helps reduce salary costs for the church.
I was applying to become a substitute school teacher this fall, because that would connect me with principals and teachers and others in the central city. I may still do that in the winter. However, a door suddenly opened for me to serve as the interim executive director for Youth Encouragement Services, a wonderful Christian ministry to inner-city children. I have been serving on their board, and Judy and I have been planning to partner with them in our new church. So this was a natural fit that overlapped well with the work we are trying to do. I will serve about 30 hours a week for Y.E.S. for 4-6 months, and continue working at least 20-30 hours a week for the church.
We were excited and grateful for this surprising opportunity. The timing really seems to us a "God-thing." It makes me wonder what the next surprise will be!

What Does a Church Planter Do?—Part 2

I apologize for the lapse in posting blogs. I know it has left many of you with an empty space in your life. I'd offer excuses related to two weeks fighting gall bladder disease (I'm doing great now) and two weeks traveling in the Middle East without a computer (it was a great trip). But excuses won't fill that empty space, so let me try and offer something more interesting.

In an earlier post answering the question "what does a church planter do until he has a church?" I shared some of the many tasks on the to-do list of planters. However, the work we're involved in is about much more than task lists (I still wonder how the Apostle Paul functioned without project management software!). So, what else does a church planter do at this stage of the work?

One important part of any church planting effort is fundraising. That involves preparing materials that explain the mission we are called to. We are working on a new brochure that we hope to have ready to mail by the end of this month. It also involves meetings, calls, prayer, and planning. The fundraising has been going well, but there is still much to be done.

Another key part of planting a new church is connecting with various community leaders, non-profit organizations, and ministries already working in the community. I've met a couple of times with the manager of the housing project in our community. We are excited about the possibilities for serving the residents there. We've also connected well with the local elementary school and look forward to helping impact the lives of the children. We're getting to know a variety of charities and non-profits working in the downtown area. Recently I was invited to attend a breakfast for Conexion Americas, an impressive organization that promotes "the social, economic and civic integration of Latino families into the Middle Tennessee community." (I actually got to sit at the table with the mayor—but he was on the other side of the big table and we didn't get to talk.) Almost every week, I am told of another good organization or hard-working community servant I need to meet. The possibilities for cooperating to improve the lives of people are very exciting!

Most important, though, is connecting with the people who live where we will live. One reason we chose the Hope Gardens neighborhood is that it has an active neighborhood association, a very positive spirit of cooperation, and a growing level of social interaction including a community garden and regular gatherings in the neighborhood park. We've been attending the neighborhood meetings and gatherings and already know more people in our new neighborhood than we know in the neighborhood where we have lived the last 6 years. (That strikes me with both a sense of excitement for life in the days ahead, but also a sense of shame for the isolated way we experienced life in the suburbs.) Ultimately, our mission is to form relationships, to spend time with people as Jesus did, to be involved enough in their lives to know their needs and love them.

This summer we are actively looking for people to join us in this effort. We are networking with churches, campus ministries, and individuals to connect with Christians who have a heart for living as followers of Jesus in the city. Just yesterday we spent time with a young couple who came through town to learn more about the city and our work here. While it's too soon to know if they will move here, it is exciting to be with people who are excited about what God is calling us to do. Pray with us that God will connect us with people who have a passion for God's mission in this world.

What Does a Church Planter Do Before He Has a Church?

Most church goers probably think they have a basic idea of what a preacher does: sermon preparation, hospital visits, studying, staff meetings, elders meetings, counseling, planning, and so on. But, I know many of you must be wondering, "What exactly does a church planter do before he has a church?" There's no sermon prep when there are no sermons. No hospital visits or counseling until you have members. No staff or elders meetings.

So what does a church planter do (besides writing blogs about what he does)?

Planting churches has become something of a science. There are books and seminars and organizations and even academic programs devoted to the subject. They have the process worked out so thoroughly that there is actually web-based project management software that spells out everything that needs to be done from the decision to plant a church through the launch of the first public worship service. The various tasks and projects—all 286 of them!—are organized into various categories with important milestones marked along the way, all with due dates assigned and recommended reading. I even have a coach who just works with me on the tasks laid out in the software.

These tasks include training, such as going to "boot camp" (we went to two of them in January) and to the national church planting conference last month, visiting other church plants, and lots of reading (I wish I was a speed reader!). They include weekly phone conversations with my church planting coach, bi-weekly calls with the project management coach, and monthly meetings with a management team (representatives of the churches and ministries supporting us). The tasks include big projects like developing the church planting model we will use, networking with community leaders, designing promotional materials for fundraising and recruiting, and forming a prayer team. They also include all sorts of smaller but necessary tasks, such as filing incorporation papers with the state, getting a post office box, and buying an all-in-one printer/fax/copier.

So far, according to the project dashboard, I've completed 170 of the tasks (59.4%) and I'm only overdue on 10 (3.5%) of them (not too bad since I just lost 2 weeks to a conference and a cruise—and besides, 2 of them aren't really my fault!). That means I only have 116 tasks to go…

A Letter to the Donelson Church of Christ

Rob and Judy on St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands

Dear Friends at Donelson,

I am sitting on the balcony of our cabin on the Emerald Princess, looking out over the beautiful, calm Caribbean Sea, and thinking about how grateful I am to all of you for the gift of this cruise. (Judy is grateful, too. She's sleeping in and enjoying the gentle motion of the ship.) This is our last day at sea, and unless we stowaway, we'll return home tomorrow.

The cruise has been wonderful in so many ways. The getaway has been refreshing and just what we needed as we prepare for the months ahead in the new work. The time together has been like a second honeymoon, an early celebration of our 30^th anniversary later this summer. The scenery has been inspiring as we have witnessed the incredible beauty of God's creation. We have been pampered, entertained, and overfed beyond what any human being deserves!

We've also encountered many reminders of why we are setting out on our new course of ministry—the stories we've heard from passengers and crew, the incredible economic disparity between the tourists who invade the islands on shopping excursions and the inhabitants who call the beauty and poverty of the islands "home," and the daily encounters with the lifestyles and conduct of those not following the way of the kingdom of God. I've tried to avoid anything that felt like work this week—but it is hard to be around so many people and not think about our call to become friends of those with whom Jesus became friends.

The cruise has been a marvelous experience, and we just want to say "thank you" again for this very generous gift.

But more than that, we want to say "thank you" for the past 7 years at Donelson. You have encouraged us and loved us and supported us, and we will always love you. We still consider you our church family even though we aren't with you very often right now. Serving this church has been a blessing. You have invited us into very special and sacred moments in your lives. At times I've been among the first to hold your newborn children and at other times I've been at the bedside of your parents as they took their last breath, and so much in between. And in turn, many of you celebrated our daughter's wedding with us and stood beside us when Judy's father passed away. Because you are our family, we want you to know that we look forward to continuing to share such moments of life with you. Our new home will only be 15 minutes away and you can call on us any time we can help in any way. And we know we can do the same. I may not be your preacher, but we will always be family.

I also want to say a special thank you to those who served daily with me as ministers and staff. It was a joy to serve alongside people who were not just coworkers, but friends. I already miss our lunches at Casa or Lenny's—sharing the laughter and frustrations and burdens and joys of ministry together. I hope our church family realizes how special you all are. And if some day I have a new team in our new work, I pray they will be as competent, as committed, and as easy to work with as you have been.

Judy has awakened to enjoy the sunshine with me. She read this and cried (I know that's no surprise! But the tears are mine as well, an expression of our deep love for you). Coming to Donelson was a return home for Judy, but it has become home for her in new and deeper ways. She loves you and misses you, as do I.

We are praying for you all that God will continue to lead Donelson to follow Jesus in the ways of the kingdom.

We'll see you soon.

Love,
Rob and Judy

What Do You Need to Start a Church?

Judy and I are attending Exponential in Orlando. It's the largest conference on church planting in America. Thousands of church planters are here from all over the world. Some of the best known authors and speakers and church planters are teaching sessions on every aspect of church planting imaginable. Dozens of companies have displays advertising countless resources for small groups, web sites, financial management, portable equipment for churches meeting in schools and theaters, advertising resources, leadership development, and so much more. The stuff available to church planters is really amazing!

One of the most inspiring speakers I've heard at the conference is Louie Giglio. He has just planted a new church and said he really wants his church to be like the church in Acts 2—"devoted to the apostles' teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer…everyone was filled with awe…they shared with any who had need…they had the favor of all the people…the Lord added to their number daily" We all want our churches to be "Acts 2 churches."

Then he made this striking (but really obvious) observation:

"The Acts 2 church didn't know they were an 'Acts 2 church'!"

What kind of church did they want to be? There weren't any other churches for them to want to emulate. There were no premier churches or model church plants. No church planting conferences or books on how to plant a church.

So what did the "Acts 2 church" have to help them become "THE Acts 2 church"? Giglio pointed out three things they had:

1. They had the teachings of Jesus.
   
2. They were witnesses of the resurrection.
   
3. They had the Holy Spirit.
   

That was it. Those were the resources in their tool kit.—Jesus' teachings, the resurrection, and the Holy Spirit.

And Giglio went on to say that we have those same resources. We have Jesus' teachings (plus the letters of Paul, plus the treatise of the mystery author of Hebrews, and more). We have their eyewitness reports of the resurrection, and we have seen the resurrection power of God bring life to us and to others around us. And we have the Holy Spirit of God at work in us and in the world. It was an encouraging challenge to depend on God, not on our own abilities and resources. The same God who was at work in creating the Acts 2 church is still at work in the world.

Will Reunion Christian Community be an "Acts 2 church"? I don't know. But we have do have Jesus, the good news, and the Spirit…Maybe that's a good start.