Prayer and Things

A friend asked me to write a few paragraphs for a book he's self-publishing. The book is about the transforming power of prayer. I have to admit that I wondered why he wanted me to do this. Maybe because I'm the only aspiring writer he knows, and have the best grammar...because I'm surely no expert on prayer.

Of course, why would I let that stop me?

But prayer...the transforming power of prayer? "Prayer changes things." That was the first thing I wrote, in quotes, as something I'd heard again and again. It's something all Christians believe, officially. In practice, though, maybe we don't. In practice, it might be more like "things change prayer."

I started to write about this and to point out that the New Testament believers knew better--that prayer really does change circumstances, that God really works miracles when people pray. But I began to think about what underlies prayer that transforms. Not faith, or at least not only faith. As important as faith is, faith alone doesn't make our prayers "work." There has to be something else that accompanies faith.

"If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, you will ask what you will and it shall be given you."

Jesus said that the night before his death. It was in a long discourse in which he opened his heart to his disciples, preparing them for his death and preparing them to wait for the Holy Spirit. It's intriguing that, as he is getting ready to leave, he tells them, and us, to "abide" in him. That means, in part, keeping his words in us. It means keeping his commands. It means loving Jesus.

It's the Father himself who has put us into this union. We didn't go up to heaven and work out a deal; the Godhead has come in the person of the Son and enacted a covenant with us, a covenant that God made and maintains. In fact, the New Covenant gives another piece to the puzzle of "abiding." Specifically, this is the New Covenant:

I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, "Know the Lord," because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more. (Hebrews 8:10b-12, quoting Jeremiah 31:31-34)

In this covenant, it's God who starts all the action. He dictates the terms and he puts and he writes; he forgives; and he remembers no more. We receive his actions--his laws in our minds and on our hearts. He puts something into us and we are changed because of that. All Jesus commands is that we remain with God's laws in our minds and our hearts, knowing God and sure of his forgiveness. That's "abiding."

And then we will pray prayers that change things.

The key to prayer that transforms is knowing that we ourselves have been transformed. I know this for a fact. See, I fail a lot. I don't really have a high opinion of myself most days. I snap at the kids. I growl at my wife. I grumble at work. I do these things over and over again, and then wonder: Have I really been changed? And my prayers are weak and pathetic.

But then there are the times (I wish they were more frequent!) when I think: All of this, my God, you have forgiven. You have taken this away and put something new into me. You have changed me by putting your words and your laws into me. Then I pray differently: humbly, joyfully, expectantly.

When prayer is the fruit, or the proof, of performance, then things (my performance) change prayer. When prayer is the fruit of God's transformation, then prayer changes things.

Solomon, Oh, Solomon

Somewhere today I heard a man talking about Solomon, king of Israel after David. You know the story:  Wisest of men, leading Israel to riches and peace, 700 wives and 300 concubines, the builder of the Temple and, in the end, apostate king. "The difference between Solomon and David," this man said, "is that David had a passion for God and Solomon didn't."

I'm not sure the difference between them is that simple. But the man had a point:  Solomon, as he grew older, became distracted and turned from God. In the end, so far as anyone can tell, he died unrepentant, his heart cold towards God and the people of his kingdom.

This reminds me of Jesus' parable of the man sowing seed in his field. Some seed fell on ground where there were thorns and weeds, and when that seed began to sprout the thorns entangled themselves around the grain, choking it out so that there was no fruit from that seed. This, Jesus said, represents the person who hears the gospel and receives it; but the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke out the gospel.

I think about this as I grow older. I think about this because I wonder how many of us are slowly, and all unawares, turning into Solomons. We have kingdoms now, and alliances, and comforts and blessings. We want to keep those things going on into the future. We have a place for God, just as Solomon had a temple for God. We aren't tearing down the temple; we're just kind of ignoring it. We have other concerns now--retirement, paying off the mortgage, getting the kids through college.

You don't need to be wealthy to be deceived by wealth. You just need to put your hope in wealth. We show this when we think that all our problems would be solved with a bigger paycheck, or by winning the lottery, or by someone leaving us a few hundred thousand dollars as an inheritance. Money can give us what we want. Money can provide the toys that make life worth living. Money can ease the stress we face day by day.

Most people I know look for two things in life:  we want security and we want to enjoy the fruit of that security. We use our faith as a tool to gain what we want. Not only the Word of Faith people--those "prosperity gospel" preachers--do this. In everyday living, we all throw our time and thought and strength into seeking these things. What a contrast to "Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

Technorati Tags: Christianity,prosperity,gospel

Making Light of It: Pierce Pettis

Some time ago, I first heard the voice and songs of folk singer Pierce Pettis through Paste Magazine's pasteradio free mp3 download site. The site has changed now, and I can't find the artists listed whose works I downloaded then:  Claire Holley, Ryan Long, Harrod and Funck, Over The Rhine, Innocence Mission. . . . These are not-quite-mainstream artists whose work is cutting-edge lyrically, and who are worth looking up. But the one who most impressed me was Pettis.

I haven't had the chance to hear much of his music. For one thing, the local Wal-Mart just doesn't carry a lot of his kind of thing, the lyrical folk music that oddballs like me love but that doesn't sell gold. For another, I just don't have the spare $20 to grab any album I like every few weeks. Then I found Pandora, an internet music site that lets the user set up personal radio stations based on specific artists. Now I have Pandora stations featuring Steve Delopoulos (of Burlap to Cashmere), Phil Keaggy, Todd Agnew, Daniel Amos, Glenn Kaiser, and. . . Pierce Pettis (Can't wait to add some Maggie Becker into the mix).

Because Pandora doesn't stream the whole album at one time (instead it streams the featured artist and others like him), I haven't heard all of Pettis' songs from his album Making Light of It. But there are two songs I'd downloaded from Paste:  "Miriam" and "Absalom, Absalom." If you follow the link to the album, you can hear clips from these songs and the rest of the album. If you follow the Pandora link, you can register and set up your own stations, including (I hope) a Pierce Pettis station for your own.

Here's what captured me about Pettis:  He's the perfect mix of voice, instrument, and lyric. He weaves faith into his songs without being preachy; he shares deep sentiment in plain, simple words; he sings real life. "Miriam" is a good example of what he can do with a song:  Taking someone we think we know (the virgin Mary) and showing her for who she really is (Miriam, a Jewish girl). This is like good exegesis in a song:  You get people to look deeper than they have to find what they've skipped over and missed because "we already know that one."

I hope to get the chance to hear more of Pettis, maybe even to buy a whole album (or you could send me one this Christmas. . .). In the meantime, check his music out for yourself. For that matter, check out the other artists I mentioned. You'll know what I like, and you'll find (I hope) new and intriguing music.

No Place For Boys

This is going to be something of a more personal post than any other, and one in which I can't help but leave myself open to some criticism. Nevertheless, taking a deep breath, I plunge in with an illustration; several, actually.

My family was at church this last Sunday, previewing worship clips the church will use in this summer's Vacation Bible School. There were two clips, bouncy melodies about worshiping and praising God--not what I'd call memorable, but after two or three nights I'd probably catch on to them. The singers were a kids' ensemble, and a minute into the second clip something struck me: There are no boys. The ensemble members are all girls.

Okay, no big deal. Typically, more girls than boys go to church. Why not? After all, there are more girls than boys in the US now anyway. I myself am the one boy of three children; I have one son out of four children; our best friends have three girls and no boys; my wife grew up with one brother and one sister. Girls outnumber boys in my world now.

But I watched this video and wondered: What is my son going to take from this? That church is for smiling, perky, bouncy girls and not much of a place for rowdy, roaring, rough-and-tumble boys? After all, when you get down to it, the whole church service tends to be something women relate to better than men. There's not a lot of action; the typical evangelical service is usually a monologue, a shortened and less-formal version of a college lecture. At least Jesus told stories--some of them quite violent, all of them fitting into the real world.

About a year ago I came across a book with the intriguing title Why Men Hate Going to Church.
Gotta love the cover:


Murrow's book stirred some controversy, but I found myself with him far more often than against him. I want my son, and the troubled young men I'm coming across, to know that there is a place for them in the church. I want them to know that church isn't a Girls Only (or Mostly) hide-out that neuters any male who comes into its doors. And unfortunately a lot of men are beginning to think that way.

This is strange, when you realize that the main point of the New Testament is that a new kingdom has invaded the world. A mighty Sovereign has claimed the world as His and is taking it through warfare. Granted, it's a new kind of warfare; no one in the new kingdom is ever told to wield a sword against other men. Still, it's warfare. It calls for men to be disciplined and committed to our Captain. It calls for us to endure hardship not just with patience but with exuberant praise. It calls for us to leave the places where we feel safe and to batter down the gates of Satan's own stronghold. It calls for us to take a sword against demons, wield a shield against burning darts flung from Hell itself. This is a gospel for men.

Men want to be challenged. Men want leaders who will stop pampering them and who will tell them: "Be on guard. Be strong. Play the man. Hold your place in the line of battle, and don't back down." Most of all, men in the thick of battle need to be told over and over: "The battle is not your own. Your God has won the victory." We need to hear it again and again because the real battle isn't the romantic thing we thought it would be. People get weary in the front lines. People get wounded. People back down in fear.

God has won the victory. That's the key message that leads us to victory in every part of the Christian life. It leads us to holiness, to worship, to service. It leads us to overcome the enemy in our communities, our families, ourselves. God has won the victory. So we fight on.

In a sense, yes, the church really isn't a place for boys. It's a place for men. And a place where boys can be turned into men.

Cookie-Cutter Fallout

Last night, I ran into a friend I'd not seen in several years. The last I knew, he was doing well and had recently married. Three years later, the picture has changed.

My friend has Asperger's syndrome, something we know a bit about because our youngest daughter has it also. Asperger's is on the autism scale and those who deal with it are, to put it bluntly, socially clueless. These people have limited (sometimes very limited) capability for social interaction. They are not stupid; my friend is much smarter than I. They just do not get the nonverbal aspects of communication--the facial clues, body language, emotional clues we all pick up on. They prefer to be alone; my wife has read that Asperger syndrome is the one disability that goes away when the person is by himself.

My friend also spent several years in a church that left a bad mark on him. It was a Calvinist congregation and its members were all, it seems, cut from the same cloth. I say this because both of these factors (the Calvinist doctrine and the conformity) hurt my friend. He doesn't play life safe; he's a born adventurer. The folks at his church just didn't get him, didn't know how to relate to him or how to accept him for what he was. And he, with some serious issues that he faced again and again, began to wonder if he were one of the damned, one of those outside the elect. No atonement for him, it seems.

You have to understand something about my friend: I would entrust my life to him. I don't say that lightly. I would put my life in his hands knowing full well that he would guard it as best he could. I don't understand everything about him but I know that he is honest with me and has let me see things in him that few, if any, others have seen. You can't have that kind of openness with someone else and not love that person.

I wish I were better at accepting people as they are. I wish I loved each one I met perfectly, even when that one is not like me--even when that one is a reprehensible flagrant sinner. That's how Jesus loved; that was one of the things he was criticized for. In the case of my friend, I've been able to do this where others haven't. I wish they saw him for what he is and not for what they want him to be.

Why has Christianity come to mean conformity to someone other than Christ? Why do we think He is so small that I and I alone express Him, and all that is not like me is not like Him?

Many wounded believers I've met have felt that pressure to conform to a certain image of faith. I've done it too. I remember the time 20 years ago when, while cleaning a church with some friends, I plopped in a Petra cassette. The pastor came out of his office and politely let me know that I couldn't put that cassette in the church's tape deck. I never let him know about my Rez Band tapes. . . and I guarded parts of my personality from him. I didn't feel free to let him know that Fahrenheit 451, for example, was one of my favorite books; that I re-read The Lord of the Rings about every 18 months and was interested in philosophy and hated fishing (back then, that is). I reflected back for him the image of himself that he wanted to see in me. That was safe. That won approval and the chance to minister in his church.

I can't help but wonder about the ways I try to force people into my own mold. What I long for is a place where I can be free to express who I am, grow into maturity, and love without holding back. But am I as willing to give that as I am longing to get it?

The Start of Something Big? Or "Here We Go Again"?

My friend Mr. K thinks it is time for a new reformation, or at least a new denomination.

Mr. K is quite serious (he wants me to be the theologian).

Mr. K, to give you some background, is an ordained minister with a missions-oriented ministry based in Central Illinois. Mr. K has had experience with a Pentecostal denomination and with a Pentecostal fellowship of affiliated churches. When he began to pursue ministry, he was, shall we say, bounced around for a few years, pigeon-holed into children's ministry, and led on by a couple of pastors. He was, in fact, ordained only when he told his then-senior pastor that he was leaving the church he served as associate pastor because he had been asked to lead a small and unique church start-up in Urbana, IL.

Mr. K told me about a chat he'd had during that time with another pastor who'd become a mentor to him. The subject was ordination, and the mentor asked: "Do you tithe?" Mr. K, rather surprised, said that he did. "Then he's not going to let you go," the mentor said. His point was blunt: Mr. K tithed, he filled in for the senior pastor, he made the senior pastor look good. He fit a niche for the senior pastor. "So why would he let you go?"

This is the background that has led K to think we need another denomination, if not a new reformation. It's not a reformation of doctrine so much as of ecclesiology. A new structure to the church that makes for real community, in which the people of God share a common life. Less hierarchy (perhaps none at all!), a form of mutual submission among pastors, a place for each man and woman to use his or her unique gifts for the body of Christ. And a place for all the offices of the New Testament church: apostle, prophet, evangelist as well as pastor/teacher.

My own take on the church is not that far from his. I think the church has become an organization and not an organism. The structures of denominations, associations, and local bodies need to be re-examined and changed. I'm not sure that a single structure that is meant to be a model for every assembly, from now till the Second Coming, is the answer. But our ecclesiology needs a real re-thinking.

So the question is: Do we need to do this through a new denomination? Or would yet another denomination lead to repeating the same error somewhere down the road, oh say a couple centuries from now? As our mutual friend Mr. J has said to K and to me: "Why not work within the fellowship we're a part of?" Why start something new? Wouldn't it be better to change what already exists?

The thing is, in the experience of the three of us, the fellowship we're a part of has not been exactly helpful. In part, that's because we're a "special needs" group: 3 guys who have full-time jobs and can't rush off to conferences and gatherings and networking meetings. And maybe we're the future of the church--trained but non-professional leadership--but the present isn't treating us well.

Still, the question needs to be asked: Why start something new? Is this (unintentionally) a "give me my ball 'cause I'm going home" thing? Or is it a legitimate answer to a problem that's cutting through all evangelicalism today?

Politics, Part 2

In this political year, the divide between parties is showing up in the divide among believers--especially evangelical believers. This year more than any in the past two decades, there is a rift between evangelicals. The rift has been a long time coming. It's getting a lot of attention in the media, both secular and Christian. The secular press seems to be playing the story as a "cultural shift" away from "the Religious Right" and towards a more moderate (hopefully liberal?) evangelicalism. But in fact the rift is the fruit of dissatisfied believers who want to live out the Gospel more fully.

I've wondered in the last two national elections if I were the only one who saw my votes as "the lesser of two evils." I've cringed at Bible-thumping crusaders who have made Americanism an integral part of their faith. I hear them proclaim that God has a plan for America and wonder: Is there any country He does not have a plan for? I hear the rhetoric about reclaiming America for God and wonder what exactly that means. Is it a moral vision? A moral nation is not a righteous nation. And when I hear them talk about persecution of American believers, I look through the latest news from Voice of the Martyrs.

But the rhetoric from the left is just as wrong-headed. It's an anything-goes, "Judge-not" kind of love that hasn't a hint of holiness, except in poverty issues. Even there, the solution isn't to bring the poor into your home for a banquet; it's increasing government programs. This is a poor substitute for the Gospel, but a nice dodge. It lets a man feel good about meeting the needs of the poor without ever actually meeting the poor themselves. It wants government to play the role of the church but in an inoffensively secular way.

There are so many things about this that are wrong. I have been left wondering where the complete men and women are, the ones who want to follow the Gospel in all its fulness. These would be the ones who proclaim Jesus as Savior of the world, as righteous Son of God with something to say about every part of our lives: how we spend our money, whom we go to bed with, how we dress, what we say of or to those we disagree with and how we say it. . . . Such people would be looking for a way to show love without compromising the holiness of the Gospel. Some aspects of their lives would be "conservative" and some would be "liberal."

You can see this as the expected norm in the New Testament church. The apostles taught believers to give to the poor among them and to have nothing to do with believers who lived immoral lives. If a brother were taken in a fault and refused to repent, he was to be expelled from the congregation.

All this might go to explain why I've begun to take the Anabaptist view of politics, at least to some degree. Political involvement has been a thing that divides and distracts us. We are not the people of God; we are Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal. We do not define ourselves fully by Scripture but more by the bits and parts that our sub-culture finds acceptable. Politics changes faith. Do we stand for America, for a better future, for a transformed culture, or for the Kingdom of God? Are we first and foremost believers in Jesus Christ or partisans of one or the other party?