Easter #2 :Why Easter “Sunday”?

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unday-the Lord’s Day? We are told in the Scriptures that the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath. In that case, we would have to call it “The People’s Day.” Besides, Sunday isn’t really the Sabbath, as Jesus would have recognized it.

I have always wondered why we have collective worship on Sunday, and when I ask those I think will know, I always get the same indoctrination: “It’s the day that Jesus rose from the grave.”

Based on study and research, I have reason to challenge that answer.

A familiarity with the Jewish calendar will enlighten us to the fact that Jesus rose on what we would refer to as Saturday night. Therefore, the reason we worship on Sunday has very little to do with Jesus being raised on Sunday. Secondly, the reason we worship on Sunday is due to an ancient spat between the surviving Pharisaic Jews and the surviving Nazarenes after the destruction of the Temple in 70 A.D.
When the Temple was destroyed, the Pharisees escaped to Yavneh and the Jewish followers of Jesus ran to the mountains of Pella as they were told to do in Matthew 24:16. Since that time the Jews and the Church have created obstacles to keep one another from being unified.

“The Church forbade believers from keeping the Jewish feasts and began to meet on Sundays, while, in reaction to the Christians kneeling for prayer, the Jews adopted the standing position while praying the Amidah” (Dr. Ron Moseley, Yeshua: A Guide to the Real Jesus and the Original Church).

How will the Jewish calendar inform us that Jesus rose on Saturday night? The answer comes from research done by David Bivin and the Jerusalem School of Synoptic Research. To the Jews, the day always begins with night. That is because of Genesis 1:5, which reads, “And there was evening , and there was morning-the first day.” First century Jews, using Nehemiah 4:21 as their guide, defined Nightfall as the moment when the stars were visible, which was around 7:00 p.m. during the season of the Passover.

In Matthew 28:1 we read, “After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.” in Greek the Scripture reads, “Opse de sabbaton te epiphoskouse eis mian sabbaton…” (Late [of] sabbath, in the lightening to one of Sabbath). This doesn’t make a whole lot of sense in Greek, but in Hebrew it makes perfect sense.

“Late of Sabbath” is a Greek form of the Hebrew phrase, “be-motsa’e shabat” (at the exiting of Sabbath), which means the hours that follow immediately after the Sabbath. “In the lightening to one of sabbath” comes from the Hebrew idiom, “‘or le-’ehad ba-shabat” (light to [day] one of the week). Used in this way, “light” is a synonym for “night,” referring to the night before the next day. In Hebrew, “light” can be used as an antonym for its literal meaning to speak of the dark hours that exist before a new day.

An example of this usage is found in ancient Jewish writings that give instructions for carrying out the search for leaven as directed in Exodus 12:15. The ancient writing says, “Light to the fourteenth [of Nisan] one must carry out a search for leaven by the light of a lamp.” The use of the lamp gives us a clue that the search was done in the dark hours.

“With this understanding, the Galilean women returned to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body shortly after dark on Saturday evening. It was then that they found the tomb already empty. Jesus, therefore, may have remained entombed only slightly more than twenty-four hours, being raised from the dead on Saturday evening rather than on Sunday morning. By the method of reckoning time in Jesus society, such a short period, scarcely more than a day-a part of Friday, all of Saturday, and a part of Sunday-would have fulfilled his prophecy that he would be raised from the dead on the third day after his death” (David Bivin, Jerusalem School of Synoptic Research).

Based on this historical information, it seems that the reason we worship on Sunday has more to do with a 2000 year-old grudge than a God-honoring recognition of the Messiah’s defeat over death and the grave.

In His dust,
Johnny 

Writer: Capt. Jonathan Gainey was born in Jacksonville, FL in June, 1969. He has been married to Staci, the daughter of retired Salvation Army officers, for twenty years and they have four children ages 18, 16, 12, and 4. Jonathan was commissioned as an officer in June of 2002, and is currently serving in his third appointment in New Bern, NC, USA. He is working on a Masters of Divinity from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and is the creator and manager of the Flocks Diner website, where his passion for learning and teaching is expressed and shared through writing and a weekly podcast.

Easter #1:The Suffering Servant

            “He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; by his wounds we are healed.”                        

These words from Isaiah 53 flash across the screen starting Mel Gibson’s film The Passion of The Christ. The movie was released in theatres on Ash Wednesday, February 25, 2004. The film portrays Jesus Christ’s last hours of life on earth before his crucifixion.

            The Passion of The Christ was hailed by critics as “a great epic film” and was called “powerfully moving.” It is most definitely moving. It affects you. It touches you. It shakes you. In fact, it’s a hard movie to watch; it’s a very dark film. If you’ve seen it, you know: the filmmakers do not hold back. It’s violent. It’s graphic. It’s horrific. It’s brutally honest in it’s depiction of the Passion of Jesus Christ. We see the crack of the whip, the tearing of flesh, the flowing of blood, and the nails driven into his hands. Jesus is beaten, battered, and broken. He’s crushed, crunched, and crashed. He’s whipped, welted, and wounded. He’s a cut, scarred, bloody mess. He is unrecognizable. The prophet Isaiah wrote: “…his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and his form marred beyond human likeness…”

Isaiah foretold that Jesus would be “despised and rejected by men;” that he would be a “man of sorrows, familiar with suffering.”

Jesus Christ knew suffering well. Christ, through his suffering, cleanses the nations, everyone, not just white heterosexual Christians from North America. The writer of Hebrews tells us that by Christ’s “one sacrifice he has made perfect those who are being made holy,” and that can be anyone who calls on the name of Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ “took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows…”

Jesus Christ “was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”

This doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t sound fair. This doesn’t add up.

Jesus took up our sins. Jesus was punished for our sins. His wounds heal us. His suffering brings us peace.

There’s a scene in The Passion of The Christ where Jesus and the two criminals are being given their crosses to carry to Golgotha. Christ drops to his knees, holds the cross close, and says: “I am your servant, father. Your servant, and the son of your handmaid.” One of the criminals scowls at Christ and asks: “Why do you embrace your cross, fool?”

“Why do you embrace your cross, fool?”

Why did Jesus Christ embrace the cross?

Why did Jesus Christ become the suffering servant?

Christ embraced the cross to change the world.

Christ embraced the cross to bring about peace, wholeness, and salvation; and not just in the forgiveness of sins sense, but in the peace and reconciliation among nations sense, in the reconciliation of relationships sense, in the restoration of souls and the world sense.

Christ embraced the cross for the world and every man, woman, and child on it.

Writer: Mark Braye and his wife Nancy are officers in Essex, Ontario, Canada. They have two children, pictured above, Hannah and Micah. The four of them love to play and watch Sesame Street.

I was a teenage fundamentalist - part nine

Keep on keeping on

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hat keeps us afloat as we pursue the way, the truth and the life? Who guards our hearts?

When we are honest, we will recognise our need for periodic pitstops. We all need, from time to time, to pause, have a good look at our lives and own our imperfections.

We are heirs of the kingdom, we are loved by God and can embrace His will; but the key’s not yet in our pockets. Our hard-won victories, our feats in conquering our demons, may not balance with our pratfalls; our defeats. That is the truth of our human existence. When we deny it we lessen Jesus’ sacrifice, diminish God’s grace and kid ourselves into the bargain.

The truth is that our wins are not merely or solely ‘ours’. Nor are our losses. We are part of the Body of Christ, the church. We are also intrinsically part of relationships, businesses, study groups, families, congregations, communities and societies that are the richer for our efforts and the poorer for our abandonments.

One of the beautiful symmetries of the Christian faith is the dichotomy between the reform and ‘death’ of self (by the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit) and the choice to live as Christians or ‘little Christs’ (that exercise of free will is ours to make, through human agency).

As the ninth doctrine of the Salvation Army states, ‘We believe that continuance in a state of salvation depends upon continued obedient faith in Christ.’ He who comes to God must believe that He is, the Bible tells us, and he rewards those who seek Him. That seeking includes obedience to His will; never an easy process for human beings who want to steer their own dodgem cars.

Continued salvation. Continued obedient faith. We are called to rest in God, yet we also have to work out our salvation in fear and trembling. Caught between heaven and earth, that is our lot; to embrace grace while working out God’s will.

Our eternal future (life beyond this life), while certain in that will, is not bulletproof to the point of complacency or arrogance on our part. In our humanity we respond in the phraseology of that great 20th century pop-cultural prophet, Homer J. Simpson, would respond: D’oh!

We are made, as the psalmist wrote, ‘a little lower than the angels’. We reflect the image of our Maker. But there are other perspectives that distract from the loving kindness we see in the face of God.

Thankfully, we believe the grace of God the Father, the love of Jesus the Son and the communion of the Holy Spirit can save us from ourselves; our selfish harbouring of hurts, insecurities, lusts, fears, petty hatreds, professional jealousies and indignant protestations at perceived attacks on our dignity.

Scripture and prayer, meditation and the guidance of good friends and mentors have helped me look into and ‘out of’ God’s eyes. His perspective on life takes me outside of myself. This is by no means a surprise. The church has celebrated the presence of God in believers’ lives since its inception.

I have also been refreshed, throughout my life, by the arts; especially through music and literature. Also not exactly hot off the presses: God the creator works creatively.

For me, the unfortunately-named Christian muso Randy Stonehill lit up the 1980s, just as his mentor Larry Norman had scooted through the Christian cultural morass of the ’70s. A lot of my struggles with ‘who is God?’ and ‘who am I?’ were influenced by the vinyl-encased writings of the likes of Stonehill, David Meece, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Phil Keaggy, Kenny Marks, Russ Taff etc., etc., etc.

It was quite the growth industry in that day and age, and a large percentage of my weekly income as a teenager and young adult went in to the coffers of my local Word bookstore.

Take Randy’s feisty song ‘Angry Young Men’ (1985), which seemed to be penned in response to the scornful, self-aware lyrics of ‘Angry Young Man’ (1976) by Billy Joel.

Joel, a favourite musician of mine, had accused the morally earnest of ’self-righteous rage’ and said that ‘just surviving is a noble fight’ (instead of pursuing a ‘pointless point of view’).

Stonehill, however, said that passion - anger - can be a righteous gift. ‘Rest assured when Jesus comes again,’ he thundered, ‘He’ll be looking for some angry young men. ‘He wants some angry young men with fire in their eyes, ones who understand what Jesus gave. Ones who have grown weary of the world and all its lies, ones who won’t forget they’ve been delivered from the grave.’

That kind of holy passion is rare. In some instances we find ourselves in danger of channelling our inner Ned (Flanders) in a parody of faith, a jarring bundle of cultural twitches and a lack of self-awareness.

The media view of Christianity, the projection of the Ned Flanders of the faith, is less than complimentary. Drag yourself through life in boredom and clouds of judgmental misery. But we believe Christ came to give us joy. To give us life in all its fullness. To help us help others through the Spirit, our desire to live obediently and our actions that, in love, prefer one another.

Pray hard, act justly, live hopefully.

Just as to be assured of our salvation we need to exercise our faith, so we (to practise our faith helpfully) must exercise our minds and guard against the small-mindedness and bureaucracy that stunts our spiritual growth and practical work.

Consider this cautionary tale from William Booth’s In Darkest England and the Way Out (1890); one he qualifies by stating ‘I am somewhat slow to credit this incident; anyway it is true in spirit’.

‘There is a story told enough to be true about a young girl who applied one evening for admission to some home established for the purpose of rescuing fallen women. The matron naturally inquired whether she had forfeited her virtue; the girl replied in the negative.

‘She had been kept from infamy, but she was poor and friendless, and wanted somewhere to lay her head until she could secure work and obtain a home.

‘The matron must have pitied her, but she could not help her as she did not belong to the class for whose benefit the Institution was intended.

‘The girl pleaded but the matron could not alter the rule, and dare not break it, they were so pressed to find room for their own poor unfortunates, and she could not receive her.

‘The poor girl left the door reluctantly but returned in a very short time, and said, “I am fallen now, will you take me in?”‘

‘The matron could not help her… matron could not alter the rule… she could not receive her.’

The underlying reality of this possibly real, possibly fabricated story is that the matron chose not to help her.

Does the parable of the Good Samaritan ring true for anyone? Salvationists are just as capable of being Pharisees, Levites and ‘passers-by’ as anybody else. Booth’s anecdote is hardly an inspiring example of Salvationism, or - more importantly - an example of an obedient faith in Christ.

God protect us from the niggardly, bureaucratic, love-deficient matrons of this world, the dog-in-the-manger Marthas who would rather boss their sisters around in the kitchen than sit at the feet of Jesus.

Bureaucracy and regulation overcame compassion and common sense. The exercise of power and control was more important in that scenario than the needs of the individual.

Therein lies the Army’s doom.

By grace we are saved through faith, that none should boast. But not everyone who calls out ‘Lord, Lord’, not everyone who bleeds yellow, red and blue, will recognize or enter the kingdom of God. May God spare us from being a parody of grace.

Let me leave you with more words of wisdom from that same song, ‘Angry Young Men’.

‘You’ll be tempted, tried and tested, there’ll be wars the devil wins, but God’s love is not a license to lie there in your sins. He understands the human heart, His mercy is complete, but His grace was not intended as a place to wipe your feet.’

Amen, Randy. 

Writer: Barry Gittins is a Melbourne-based writer, lifelong Salvationist, husband (to Trudy) and father(to Emily and Benjamin) who seeks God in everyday encounters. A frustrated poet and playwright, he has worked for the Salvos’ Australia Southern Territory in various roles since 1991: as a journalist (for Warcry, The Young Soldier/Kidzone, The Musician),technical writer and CD-ROM author in corps program (mission development), senior review editor (Warcry) and editor (On Fire). He currently works as a social program and policy consultant (writer/researcher) for the social program department.

The Holiness Movement: Dead or Alive?

 Is there a Holiness dichotomy here? asks Joe Noland

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‘ve been thinking a lot about holiness lately, simply because often our theology doesn’t seem to jive with the way we treat each other internally - administratively, officially and otherwise. I detect a holiness divide, separating the internal from the external. “Others” is reflected in our compassion toward “the last, the lost and the least,” those being exploited on the outside, whilst there is little patience or consideration for those not living up to our standards on the inside. There appears to be a holiness dichotomy here.

Social justice is big now, whilst injustice within sometimes gets lost in the translation. Leeriness of the holiness messenger, oftentimes makes the message suspect, unfortunately.

Keith Drury tackles this subject in a paper titled, The Holiness Movement: Dead or Alive? (Link: http://www.crivoice.org/hmovement.html) He lists eight factors contributing toward its death, with number seven perhaps capturing the reason for the ambivalent feelings expressed above. 

1. We wanted to be respectable.
2. We have plunged into the evangelical mainstream: “Holiness people” became “evangelical people.”
3. We failed to convince the younger generation.
4. We quit making holiness the main issue.
5. We lost the lay people: “We have generals without armies. Strategy, but no soldiers.”
6. We over-reacted against the abuses of the past: “While the abuses of the old holiness movement were glaring (and perhaps responsible in part for our own overreaction), the abuses of our own generation have been no better.”
7. We adopted church-growth thinking without theological thinking: “Pastors became CEOs. Ministers became managers. Shepherds promoted themselves to ranchers.”
8. We did not notice when the battle line moved: “The doctrine at risk in many holiness churches is not entire sanctification but “transformational conversion.” We may need to stand at Luther’s side awhile before we can rejoin Wesley.”

One needs to read this paper in its entirety in order to grasp the full essence of his message. Whilst not agreeing with all that he says, most of it makes perfect sense. And those of us claiming to be part of a holiness movement should sit up straight and take notice.

Writer: Commissioner Joe Noland’s ministry can be summed up in three words: chaos, creativity and controversy - three elements implicit in any successful innovative endeavor. Cecil B. DeMille, renowned producer of Biblical epics, once wrote, “Creativity is a drug I cannot live without.” Joe’s mantra reads, “Creativity is my drug of choice.”  Access Joe Noland’s complete bio, among other things, by clicking into his website.

Listen …

 Do you hear what I hear? … asks Wayne Rumsby

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 believe in The Eternally (and currently) Creative Triune God.  I believe that Trinity is relational, and therefore communicative. I believe that God speaks into the moment in a variety of ways, including through the ancient scriptures, through other believers, through nature, circumstances and occasionally even in ways that are mysterious and perhaps a little abstract. 

I clearly remember the first time I ever heard God actually speak to me. I was very busy praying for someone else who was in a desperate situation and then He spoke very clearly, “It’s you that I’m trying to reach”. It made all of my small hairs stand up. It was as if I were listening with every part of me, including those small hairs. How did I know it was God? The voice was full of love and hope.

I didn’t tell anybody, at least until I couldn’t hold on to it anymore. I shared it with a friend who told me that he’d had a similar experience. He was a police officer, not the friendly ones you see standing near the road work crew with their warm cup of Tim’s, rather the type that deal with the bodies of victims of violent, and disturbing crimes. He got to a point where he couldn’t take it anymore. He drove himself to a quiet spot and took out his service revolver and decided to end his life. Then just as he raised the gun to his head, he heard The Voice, one word, his given name. It took a while to sink in, but what God was saying to this desperate and confused man was, “I know you”.

To many, the idea of listening to God is just for those crazy folks who talk out loud to themselves on a crowded subway. Many who hold that view don’t believe in God at all. Others, who share my faith in a living, loving and relational God, believe that everything God has to say is recorded in the Bible. They don’t actually come out and say that, because the scriptures themselves suggest that God can’t be contained in such a manner. So, even to those who believe that God cares, the idea of taking an extended period of time to listen to Him can seem a little strange.

Let me explain that when I say, “listen” I don’t simply mean to give attention with the ear. What I really mean, is to pay close attention, and that really requires all of my senses and more. I often said to my students, when I was teaching woodworking, “you must listen to the wood, it will tell you what it wants to be.”  When I ride my motorcycle I listen to it, and it speaks to me in ways that can’t always be heard. Furthermore, as a hearing impaired person I have had to learn to listen with my other senses. So, when I say listen, I mean totally.

This process of listening totally, with all of your senses, and then some, is a process that requires sifting the details. When I ride my motorcycle, there are many sensations and I must pay attention to. I must sort through them separating the useless or irrelevant information from the useful. There are many sounds and vibrations, some come from the bike and some from the road or from other vehicles. If I am unable to discern which is which then all of the information is useless. Sometimes it requires an extended period of listening or paying attention. I may keep notes, look for patterns, and watch for wear patterns in the tires or the chain sprockets.  I often talk to others who ride, asking them for feedback. I may even talk to the company who made the bike or check my owners manual.

My listening to God time includes, prayer in the form of me speaking out my feelings to Him. My listening time also includes reading scripture to remind me of the character and patterns that I need to listen for as I pay attention. Solitude is also helpful, just listening to nothing. And, my listening time includes working with my hands, cuz that’s who God created me to be.

I encourage everyone to listen to life. Sift life in order to separate the truth from the lies. Truth brings hope and healing, the lies bring doubt and death. Even if you don’t believe there is a living God who cares, He will be revealed, because all truth is God’s truth. Listen with all you heart and mind, but don’t be surprised, that if in the middle of the sounds of war and terror, famine and disaster, you hear, hope, healing and love.

Writer: Wayne Rumsby is at least a fourth generation follower of Jesus Christ. In his late 30’s Wayne responded to an invitation to visit an inner city mission in the heart of Toronto. At the time he was working as a graphic designer. It wasn’t long before he left his job in the fast paced ad business, in the glass towers, to become a full time missionary on the streets and in the alleys. The focus of his mission was to help the marginalized discover God through meaningful work. For most of the past decade Wayne was helping people discover who God had created them to be, by teaching them to make beautiful furniture in a woodworking shop. Today Wayne and his wife Linda are working with the team at 614 Regent Park with the very same vision, helping people discover who God has created them to be, and more.  

From the streets to a mansion

 A friend finds his place at last …

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ordon’s head lay cradled in my wife’s arms and we prayed as she softly stroked his contorted face. His breathing was shallow and his liver had finally given out from an insidious cancer. Gordon was a man who had been homeless for over 35 years, almost two thirds of his life, but in that hospice room he was now warm, safe and comfortable.

Gordon had only recently given his life to Jesus Christ and he reveled in our weekly “Christianity Explained” and pizza night each Thursday. He proudly carried his bible with him everywhere he went and when I visited him in hospital I’d always find him reading it voraciously. With a twinkle in his eye he’d try and tell everyone he came in contact with about his new life and what God had done for him. He’d first heard about Jesus from the Nuns when he was at primary school, he’d even taken communion and been confirmed but hadn’t had much to do with church since then.

In my Father’s house are many mansions …. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2

Gordon loved that verse, he took it as his personal promise. He’d lived in carparks, at the back of railway stations and churches, in filthy “squats” and sometimes in Salvation Army hostels but he’d never had a place of his own. That was all about to change.

Part of being a new creation in Christ was his desire to get off the streets and into a hostel. Nothing was available so we checked him into the YMCA hotel. As I helped him into his room the tears came freely “Is this just for me?” he asked, astounded at the sheer beauty of a clean room with its own bathroom and even a TV set (which he had no idea how to operate). When we later got him a place in a hostel and then a room in a boarding house he was ecstatic and kept them in immaculate condition.

As we left the hospice we knew that we’d probably never see Gordon again and although we were forlorn, we celebrated the fact that he was one of the very few people on the streets who had made a decision for Christ before it was too late.

Around 3.00 am the next morning I woke up with an old song going through my mind …

                Come home, come home,  You who are weary, come home …

I knew that he’d slipped away during the night. I thanked God that Gordon was “home” for the very first time.

Writer: Bruce Redman is Editor of the Rubicon. He is an Australian film and television professional, radio broadcaster and university lecturer in journalism and communication. Bruce and his wife Anne headed up a team to plant an SA mission in Fortitude Valley, in inner-city Brisbane. He attends Carina Corps and is a lifelong, fourth generation Salvo with a mission heart. Personal Blogspot:  http://neosalvosunite.wordpress.com/

Don’t Even Touch It!

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any sermons have been preached that have given sound instruction for those seeking to live the way of God. Sermons are a powerful form of sharing the message of the Holy Text. Still there is room for individual interpretations and personal agendas to be expressed. That may not be a bad thing. Just because a teacher has an agenda or a misinformed interpretation, doesn’t mean that his or her teaching is false. And sometimes it does. This is why hermeneutics plays such an important and helpful role in the sermon preparation process.

Let’s consider one passage of Scripture where a lack of background may have allowed for a bit of false teaching.

Genesis 3 is a wonderfully interesting passage of Scripture. It has been taught for centuries, and has carried with it great mysteries and lots of opinions. I want to focus specifically on verse 3, which reads, “but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

How many times have we heard that Eve lied and put words into the mouth of God by exaggerating His instructions? God did say to Adam, “…you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die” (Genesis 2:17). In this passage, “touching the fruit” is not mentioned; however, not all of Adam’s conversations with God are recorded in the text. That is because much of the Bible is laconic. If it weren’t, we’d have a few thousand years worth of daily journals to sift through. Even the Gospels include very little of the 30-something years of Jesus’ life on earth (see John 21:25).

So what is my point about Genesis 3:3? As Dr. Jeff Niehaus, Professor of Old Testament Theology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, believes, it is very likely that Adam did tell her that God said the tree was not even to be touched. And God very likely did say that to Adam.

Why does it matter? It matters because if she lied before she ate the fruit, then she sinned before she sinned. To teach that Eve lied by exaggerating God’s message, is to teach that she didn’t have to eat the fruit to sin; she already fell when she lied about what God said.

This may seem a bit petty to some, but the point is that the story is not written to teach us that Eve was a sinner before she took the fruit and ate it. The story is written to teach that she and Adam brought sin into the world when they ate the forbidden fruit.

Adam and Eve were both deceived by the serpent, and both knew, just as we do, that a temptation should not be received by a follower of God, and it is best, if we don’t even touch it.

Many blessings,
Johnny

Writer: Capt. Jonathan Gainey was born in Jacksonville, FL in June, 1969. He has been married to Staci, the daughter of retired Salvation Army officers, for twenty years and they have four children ages 18, 16, 12, and 4. Jonathan was commissioned as an officer in June of 2002, and is currently serving in his third appointment in New Bern, NC, USA. He is working on a Masters of Divinity from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and is the creator and manager of the Flocks Diner website, where his passion for learning and teaching is expressed and shared through writing and a weekly podcast.

Does size really matter?

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here’s an old Hollywood saying that goes: “There are no small roles, only small actors.” I believe there’s a ministry parallel to which this statement can be applied. I’m talking about churches/corps/appointments/ministry opportunities, and the question that comes to mind for some people: does size really matter?

Unfortunately for some folks (and I need to fight against feeling like this) it does. Size does matter. Bigger is better; more is better. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of thinking that bigger communities, bigger churches, and “bigger appointments” are better than smaller communities, smaller churches, and “smaller appointments;” that congregations and church families with more people apart of them are better than congregations and church families with fewer people apart of them.

However, the truth is, there are no small appointments (churches, corps, ministry opportunities), only small officers (priests, ministers, pastors, servants, etc.).

Jesus never sought positions of power or prestige. He didn’t need to be an Archbishop or a divisionally appointed officer; he didn’t need to speak to the largest crowds or in the largest temples; he didn’t need to live in the biggest centres of his day. Jesus served and ministered to people. Jesus made and had relationships with people. Jesus met the spiritual and practical needs of people. Jesus was about people.

Every community/appointment/church/corps/opportunity for ministry or service is going to have people. Love them; serve them; befriend them; meet their needs. We need to stop thinking in terms of size and responsibility, and rank and title. We need to stop trying to climb the corporate ladder, which really has no place whatsoever in ministry circles. We need to start thinking in terms of love and grace, and service and Christlikeness.

In The Message, Eugene Peterson paraphrases Psalm 37:7 this way: “Quiet down before God, be prayerful before him. Don’t bother with those who climb the ladder, who elbow their way to the top.”

Remember, there are no small appointments, only small officers.

Writer: Mark Braye and his wife Nancy are officers in Essex, Ontario, Canada. They have two children, pictured above, Hannah and Micah. The four of them love to play and watch Sesame Street.

I was a teenage fundamentalist - part eight

 Them’s fightin’ words, pilgrim

Everybody wants to get to heaven, an old Negro spiritual notes, but nobody wants to die. And as John Wayne pointed out often to James Stewart in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), it’s life’s ‘pilgrims’ (tenderfoots, or innocents) who tend to be on the express route to the heavenly realms.

In the eighth of the Salvationists’ doctrines, we read that ‘we are justified by grace through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and that he that believeth hath the witness in himself’.

There are two large spiritual truths at play in this belief: A) that we are reconciled to God through faith in Jesus; and B) that we can be at peace with that internalised truth. In other words, we can’t pay our way to glory; and B) while we can’t and don’t have to ‘prove’ our faith, that faith serves to show ourselves and others that we are on the road home.

If we go by what Jesus had to say (not a bad approach, surely, for Christians; if one that seems to be going out of vogue) the church’s mandate is to be salt and light; a city set on a hill and a lamp free from any convenient cultural ‘bushels’. Martin Luther’s subsequent epiphany was a rediscovery of the freedom from fear and ritual that grace provides. We need works, oh yeah, we need works. But grace it what motivates ‘em.

So what’s The Salvation Army’s take on the grace/works divide? The oldies when I was a kid loved this chorus: ‘by the pathway of duty flows the river of God’s grace’ - what’s more, a lot of them tried to live by that truth.

The first public statement by The Salvation Army in Australia ended with this invitation: ‘If anyone hasn’t had tea then please wander back to my place; we’ll get you fed’ (my paraphrase). We’ve been feeding them ever since; be it through sustaining cuisine or spiritual counselling.

Balancing faith and works is a daily tightrope walk for Christians. As we know from the book of James (remembering that the writer was believed to be one of Christ’s earthly brothers - talk about a hard act to follow), faith without works is dead. Mere hypocrisy.

Curiously, it’s how we live (our works) that underpins and is underpinned by our faith. Our works also light the way for others to venture down Christ’s path.

What were the shining examples of faithful lives when you were a teenager? I had several, in my family and in the wider family that I was linked to through The Salvation Army. Perhaps one of the most unexpected, however, was an old saint named Ivy Hull.

I believe Ivy worshipped for a considerable time at The Salvation Army’s Brisbane City Temple (Brisbane is the capital city of Australia ’sunshine state’, Queensland). I grew to know and respect her while we were both soldiering at a now defunct corps south of Brisbane, Logan City, and I was one of her informal chauffeurs to and from meetings and social events.

Ivy was a tough woman who had fought illness for no small time. She wore heavy calipers on one of her legs and undulated back and forth as we walked, like she was flying into heavy winds hurled by an eternal stormfront.

Ivy was no public speaker, but she quietly encouraged anyone in her wake. She grabbed your hand and your arm, duly steadying herself while prolonging and deepening conversation. Ivy, like her God, didn’t play favourites. She spoke to anyone and everyone and would not be snubbed, dismissed, ignored or lessened. She knew she was beloved of God.

Doubt, pain, grief, loss; these were not conversational paths Ivy chose to venture down. She endured many things stoically, and encouraged people to find joy in their faith and their God. What stays with me is the certainty she possessed; Ivy knew God loved her. Ivy loved children, and she loved to laugh. Both qualities endure in those who knew Ivy.  

For postmoderns and sackcloth wearers (I don my own metaphorical suit of mourning more often than I care to, or would choose to), the examples of Ivy are large-scale flotsam and jetsam we can cling to in our own torrents of uncertainty.

We know God and love God; we question God and pursue God; we find God, lose God and find God again. That sequence is honest to my experience of faith, possibly to yours. That is grace embodied in a disembodied God. That is a testament to God’s love.

Citing ‘an ancient Orthodox writer’ in Reaching for an Invisible God, Philip Yancey writes that ‘God cannot be grasped by the mind. If he could be grasped, he would not be God.’

I have a good friend I haven’t caught up with in person for a few years now (tyranny of distance). When he’s up he’s an astronaut, but when he’s down you need a forklift to dig him out of what that beautiful old jailbird John Bunyan described (in The Pilgrim’s Progress) as the slough of despond.*

Do you ever wallow around, snoutfirst in your own bog of despair? It’s not overly helpful, although it’s comforting. It reeks of fear and littleness. And as we learn from Bunyan’s masterwork, it’s a good locale to avoid.

We believe that we are justified by grace through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and that he that believeth hath the witness in himself. Think on those words. Can I get a witness?

To encourage you, and myself, I present Bunyan’s beloved hymn, To Be A Pilgrim:

He who would valiant be ‘gainst all disaster,
Let him in constancy follow the Master.
There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories
Do but themselves confound-his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.

To encourage you even further, consider this unpublished original verse from Bunyan’s fertile and fevered, though sacred and consecrated, imagination:

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend can daunt his spirit,
He knows he at the end shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away, he’ll fear not what men say,
He’ll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.

‘He knows he at the end shall life inherit.’ He that believes in Jesus, she that follows her Lord, knows that truth.

* And Bunyan ought to know, the poor bloke, having been imprisoned for nigh on 12 years for daring to worship God in a way other than that decreed by the Anglican Church. Tell you the truth, as a writer I envy him the time and solitude (though as a father and husband I recognise the cost of his literary space).

Writer: Barry Gittins is a Melbourne-based writer, lifelong Salvationist, husband (to Trudy) and father(to Emily and Benjamin) who seeks God in everyday encounters. A frustrated poet and playwright, he has worked for the Salvos’ Australia Southern Territory in various roles since 1991: as a journalist (for Warcry, The Young Soldier/Kidzone, The Musician),technical writer and CD-ROM author in corps program (mission development), senior review editor (Warcry) and editor (On Fire). He currently works as a social program and policy consultant (writer/researcher) for the social program department.

BEWARE! | The Spirit of Prophecy

Following is the opening sentence in a New York Times column dated February 17, 2010:

“To settle a longstanding suit alleging that The Salvation Army preached Christianity in the course of its government-financed social services work, an agreement has been reached to ensure that it does not do so.”

“An agreement has been reached…” that The Salvation Army “not” preach Christianity - A principle so many sacrificed and some even died for?

 BEWARE!

The article goes on to say the SA “Agreed to be monitored”. What! Other agencies to monitor the nonfulfillment of its mission statement: “…to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and to meet human needs in His name without discrimination.”

BEWARE!

It’s not about losing $50 million in government contracts is it? It’s not about preserving the bureaucracy is it? It’s not about partnering, secularly, to enhance a broken down, bureaucratically protected foster care system is it? It’s not about survival is it? It’s not about compromise is it?

BEWARE!

Believing that every spiritual leader is to be prophetic by Divine appointment, I do have a “beware” segment about the dangers and pitfalls of compromise in my book, Lean Right, Love Left: Balancing the Body. Getting involved with government contracts in this country always requires compromise, one way or another. This explanation prefaces the following excerpts (written in 2002):

This is the deeper problem for me, personally, and for these reasons I have never initiated a government contract in any appointment. I have inherited them, however, and some of the horror stories have only strengthened my resolve to abide by those first instincts. Over the years I have found that it is easy to enter into a government-funded contract but very difficult to exit from one, as we are beginning to witness. And when we are forced to make the exit, everyone loses.

As an aside, let me give a warning of caution to any organization thinking about wading into the bureaucratic federal-funding quagmire. When the funding is received (quite substantial amounts sometimes, especially in the large cities), an agency begins to broaden its employee base and enlarge its infrastructure. Increasingly, over time, the organization becomes dependent upon this additional funding for its very survival, not only at the local level, but also right on up through the hierarchy. What happens when a new political regime comes into office and the priorities change? What happens when new restrictions come into play, which are contrary to the mission and fundamental beliefs of the organization? What happens when those dollars are no longer available? These are hard questions that are better asked with foresight rather than in hindsight.

The full scope and ramifications of President Bush’s “Faith-Based” Executive Order are yet to be tested. You can be assured that it will continue to be challenged vigorously from the left.

The solution? Two choices: Christ or compromise. Compromise was not part of the Army’s founding ethos. But then, in those days, they were not “America’s Favorite Charity” either.

BEWARE!

About right now, Joe the Turk must be turning over in his grave.

Clarifying Note: These personal thoughts are, in no way, meant to criticize the decision taken by TSA in NYC as, having been there, I’m positive that there’s more to this than meets the eye. First, legal counsel has guided them in their decision-making and second, those in leadership have inherited a gargantuan bureaucratic monster many decades in the making. Not to compromise would adversely impact a lot of good people, employees and clients alike - to do otherwise would not be Christ-like. In these instances, compromise should be a means to an end, never the end in itself, however.

Please accept my commentary in the spirit it is given, prophetic in intent. As stated above, I believe that every spiritual leader (not to be defined by rank or position) is prophetic by Divine appointment, visionary and futuristic. What is done is done; let us not make the same mistakes going forward. A prophet, by design, is critical of the past (where warranted), forgiving in the present and a presage for the future.

BEWARE!

Writer: Commissioner Joe Noland’s ministry can be summed up in three words: chaos, creativity and controversy - three elements implicit in any successful innovative endeavor. Cecil B. DeMille, renowned producer of Biblical epics, once wrote, “Creativity is a drug I cannot live without.” Joe’s mantra reads, “Creativity is my drug of choice.”  Access Joe Noland’s complete bio, among other things, by clicking into his website.

Link for “New York Times column” above:

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/17/settlement-in-salvation-army-suit-on-proselytizing/

Link for my book:

http://www.joenoland.com/joenoland/Creations.html

Line for “$50 million in government contracts” above:

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/undergod/2010/02/when_government_enlists_the_salvation_army.html