Bonhoeffer

At almost 600 pages, a big, honking book by any standard, it has taken me a good while to finish Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy. Nevertheless, I am grateful to have delved into such a riveting account of one young man's journey with Christ, converging faith and works in ways that ultimately had a profound, enduring affect all over the world. I first heard of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the unbelievably credentialed and spirited German theologian, in seminary. I knew of his execution in 1945, given being cited as one of the conspirators in a failed assassination attempt of Hitler. Years prior friends and colleagues in the U.S. had scrambled to secure him an impromptu teaching post at Union Theological Seminary in New York City in order to escape Nazi censorship and persecution. He could have easily remained abroad for a number of years, safe and secure teaching, writing, and ministering, but it was not to be. After about only one month on U.S. soil being wooed for more permanent academic service, Bonhoeffer felt certain God was calling him back home to Germany to suffer through the struggle against Nazism. And so he returned to what would eventually be his death. I knew the general details of his sojourn, but not he specifics from birth to death. Eric Metaxas' book filled in the hyphen for me.

The theological prodigy he was, despite Bonhoeffer's accomplishments he identified his faith in and reliance upon Christ as the core of his identity. Nothing and no one was more important than God, of that he was crystal clear, and so living in obedience to biblical revelation wasn't optional. As he understood it, this must be a compulsion of disciples; connecting God's people to God's business: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty...offering eternal hope and healing to the world. (Matthew 25:31-46) Although not a pacifist, he spent significant time studying Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, heavily influenced by Jean Lasserre (a Frenchman who studied with Bonhoeffer) and African American pastors engaged the Civil Rights struggle. He called it "cheap grace" to assert that the call to discipleship by the power and presence of Jesus required little sacrifice or effort in challenging the status quo of one's time, putting faith into tangible action on behalf of truth. While unconvinced that everyone must go about faithful action exactly as he felt drawn to, he had firm objections to safe faith.

Like everyone, Bonhoeffer was quite simple yet complex. And like most people who have followed God into the fiery furnace of obedience (which almost always brings about negative societal attention), he was haunted at times, you might say, in trying to navigate a world, and "a church" that didn't share or seem to care much about God. Bonhoeffer is a wonderfully meticulous biography by Metaxas of Bonhoeffer that illustrates his core convictions in context. The more you discover what Bonhoeffer wrote, said, or did and when, you realize all-the-more how selfless he truly was; constantly offering himself as a sacrifice in order to advocate for others' liberation. The following quote of Metaxas illustrates clearly, just as a snapshot why Bonhoeffer was willing to risk everything:

As Germany's armies moved toward Moscow, the barbarism of the SS had again been given the freedom to express itself. It was as if the devil and his hordes had crawled out of hell and walked the earth. In Lithuania, SS squads gathered defenseless Jews together and beat them to death with truncheons, afterward dancing to music on the dead bodies. The victims were cleared away, a second group was brought in, and the macabre exercise was repeated.

Bonhoeffer was a theological conservative for his day (and would probably fit that classification today), but astute in his approach practically applying God's truth. He was an advocate of the Spirit taking precedence over scholarly, esoteric ramblings, but also a champion of the employ of sound exegetical tools. I am forever indebted to his keen commitments.

Think Big

Ben Carson is the Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery, Co-Director of the Craniofacial Center, and Professor of Neurological Surgery, Oncology, Plastic Surgery and Pediatrics at Children's Hospital at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, Maryland. And he is also a bestselling author. To put it lightly, he is a surgical phenom, successfully performing countless extremely risky procedures that have a high probability of failure or previously high rate of failure, such as when he pioneered the separation of conjoined twins. Carson is easily not only one of the most renowned doctors in America, but the world. His is a quintessential rags to riches story of someone with a servant's heart who went from academic failure to success (along with so more) because of prayer (his own and others'), hard work, faith, and an abiding desire to be used by God to do what humans said was impossible. His first book, Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story, documents his humble beginnings and ascent, and he has numerous other titles to his name, but I recently came across Think Big: Unleashing Your Potential for Excellence and decided to give it a whirl.

While it retells a few stories from his from troubled years as a child living in inner-city Detroit to landing in the hallowed hallways of Johns Hopkins, it functions mostly as a tribute to the heroines and heroes, unsung co-workers and influential mentors in his life. One of the helpers he highlights is his mother Sonya. She actually pens a brief chapter in Think Big, sharing her upbringing, marriage, and the circumstances that caused her to be a young, single mother with two young sons. Long before her boys earned academic awards and gained professional prominence, she led by example, establishing a foundation for them to climb out -- and be pulled out (by God) -- of the cesspool of low expectation. In refusing to drown herself, she refused to let them drown or become a statistic of circumstance. Her candid remarks were most compelling:

My own life starts out like the end of a romantic novel. At age thirteen, with practically no schooling, I married a handsome man who promised to make my life happy and exciting. Until then, my life had not been happy or exciting. Although I remember almost nothing about my own parents, I do vividly remember moving from one foster home to another and being ignored or laughed at for being different from the others. To this day I don't know how many children were in our family. I have heard that there were twenty-four, but I don't remember for sure. Besides myself, I personally know thirteen of them -- certainly a lot. As a child, I did not have friends, not even among my siblings. From as far back as I can remember, I felt different, I was different -- and they let me know it. I was chubby, and my hair had a reddish tint. I couldn't talk plainly, and they laughed at the way I pronounced words. I wanted to belong, but I never did fit in. Then I met the man who would take me away from all the pain and poverty: Robert Carson, the minister of a small church, who seemed to be everything I wanted in life.

Unfortunately, down the road Sonya learned that this "man of her dreams" was instead an imposter; a bootleg preacher who ran whiskey and/or drugs on the side, was financially irresponsible and an adulterer. He never wanted children and when she persisted he would say, "You don't need children. You don't need to mess up your beautiful figure by having children. We can have lots of fun without children." They eventually had Curtis and Benjamin (Ben) and life was good for a few years or so it seemed until her husband began staying out later and later, which was the beginning of the end. After not too long, he would have abandoned the family, and Sonya -- now a functionally illiterate divorcee with no work experience whatsoever -- was poised with the task of raising a family on her own. She speaks of her clinical depression, which included at least one suicide attempt and institutionalization at a few points, and other difficulties endured while seeking God for manna, such as often working multiple jobs from 10 to 15 hours each day to make ends meet.

As she tells it, one of the final nails in her marriage's coffin was discovering that her husband had another wife and family. "He had married years before we met and never divorced her. I couldn't believe it. I did not want to believe it -- yet I knew it was true." I find this particularly fascinating because my paternal grandmother and my wife's paternal grandmother were in similar situations, married to men (our respective grandfathers) who kept another wife/mistress and family elsewhere, relationships that began during the marriage or existed before the marriage. It is a lowdown, dirty shame, and the acknowledgement of normative social behavior reflective of "a different time," is never an excuse for violating God's precepts. In our cases, both of our grandmothers decided to stay with these men. Men, our grandfathers, who lied to them, physically abused them, and otherwise violated core tenets of what it means for a man to love a woman (and his family) in marriage. I find it encouraging, especially given that day and time, that Sonya believed God enough, perhaps in saying, "I can do bad all by myself," to free herself from a toxic relationship.

My wife and I surely wish our grandmothers would have done the same. My wife's grandmother succumbed to cancer some years ago. Her grandfather, however, is still very much alive and seemingly in his "right mind." My grandmother has dementia/Alzheimer's disease and is a shell of her former self, while my grandfather is also still doing well though he has slowed considerably now in his 90s. And the kicker is that neither of our grandfathers, have been forthcoming or truthful about their "other families," even to this day as life rounds towards home plate. We, therefore, suppose that they follow the old player's anthem of taking their lies to the grave. So be it.

While we believe in the sacredness of marriage, we lament that our grandmothers weren't willing/able to leave our grandfathers, and in doing so put themselves and their children in an all-around better long-term situation. I firmly believe that when one lies to, neglects, or cheats -- not to mention beats -- on their spouse, it inevitably eats away at their soul, leaving the better half with damage that is irreparable without divine intervention. Of course, grace and mercy abound. Forgiveness is available to all. But let's not get God twisted. Our decisions in this life matter. We can be advocates for good or evil. That choice is up to us in the momentary and sustained decisions we make.

Paul wrote in Galatians 6:7, "Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow." I appreciate the Reformer, Martin Luther's input here also: "We are saved by faith alone, but not by faith which is alone." The values of faith and works coming together as divine advocates for those who love the Lord is a prevailing theme of Think Big that we need to be exposed to more often.

Hope for the Future

I recently completed a yearlong post-seminary, post-ordination leadership development program for clergy under 35, wherein a cohort convened three times in three different parts of the country (Kansas City, Kansas; Fort Lauderdale, Florida; Silver Spring, Maryland) for peer learning and contextual analysis of ministry paradigms. Filled with those serving in various capacities from senior or associate pastor to university chaplain or children's pastor, it was a joy to interact with young clergy who I have both so much and so little in common with. We surely would have benefited from more denominational and racial/ethnic diversity, however, the majority were white and United Methodist. As with any largely homogenous group, those dominant points of reference and perspectives tend to stifle the level of creativity and insight that otherwise might be possible, which seemed at least partly to be true with our group. With a roomful of United Methodist clergy, from the participants to the program leaders and speakers, it was frustrating at times to have conversations that extend beyond that denominational comfort zone or periphery. My biased impression was that the handful of us from Lutheran, Baptist, Disciples of Christ, and African Methodist Episcopal Zion backgrounds were generally able to better process our sentiments from an interdenominational and intercultural perspective. Not always, but more often than not. Having had significant theological training and pastoral experience within Presbyterian, Baptist, United Methodist, and other circles definitely made me feel like an oddity, but that wasn't the first time and likely won't be the last.

Nevertheless, I am grateful to have learned alongside such talented colleagues of similar age as we wrestled with the Church's complex issues, exploring what we can do presently as servant-leaders to make a difference for Christ in the future. My biggest takeaway is that despite the challenges (and to be sure, there are scores of daunting challenges ahead) we face, the Church is in good hands. This isn't primarily so, however, because of the well-trained and rightly "called" younger clergy like myself who may be able to provide apt leadership "for such a time as this" (Esther 4:14) through whatever inclement weather is to come. Rather, knowing that the bride of Christ, "the church" is God's idea is more the point for me. God has been faithful, is faithful, and will continue to be faithful using frail, oftentimes delusional and disobedient human beings to spread the good news of salvation. And, we clergy are no different. We, too, at times try to make gods of ourselves, expressing ministry in a way that ultimately hurts rather than heals, that embraces dysfunction rather than challenges it. While there are some nuanced updates and complications for us, none of Christianity's struggles are new to God, and I find that very encouraging.

I have grown to appreciate the diversity that did amongst our group, even though I wish there were more. In choosing any social issue, policy question, ecclesial tradition, pastoral competency, or theological premise, you would be hard-pressed to receive a unified reply from most of us. One person thinks of church growth in this way. Another processes church administration in that way. One person views the issue of LGBT inclusion/exclusion this way. Another processes clergy self-care or work/life balance in that way. One person thinks of denominational structure and allegiance in this way. Another is primarily interested in spatial and financial stewardship. As a group, we could debate until the cows come home about quantitative and qualitative metrics, and a host of other vocational matters. Part of this program's desired outcome, though, I think, was lessons in agreeing to disagree, to own the ways in which you discern God has distinctly called you to the pastoral vocation while respecting that some well-meaning, committed colleagues embrace an understanding opposite of your own. In The Humanity of God, Reformed theologian Karl Barth wrote: "A free theologian works in communication with other theologians...He waits for them and asks them to wait for him. Our sadly lacking yet indispensable theological co-operation depends directly or indirectly on whether or not we are willing to wait for one another, perhaps lamenting, yet smiling with tears in our eyes." As resident pastoral theologians in our particular settings, Barth's statement makes all the more sense now.

Try as we did in our short time together to some degree, we were unable to solve the many conundrums of the world or the Church. But, we were able to experience vulnerability with colleagues cut from different swaths of life and ministry. We were afforded the opportunity to reexamine what "success" or "effectiveness" is to us personally and professionally. And, again, while there was some diversity even here, we connected and reasoned with other clergy who affirm, "There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all." (Ephesians 4:4-6) This is nothing to take for granted. One's position as a relatively young pastoral leader can at times feel overwhelming. Therefore, if nothing else, bonding with a cohort over the joys and pains of ministry alone is a blessing.

The Christian Walk

In studying the Bible recently, I happened upon the questions that follow below, and found myself encouraged by the introspection required to answer them. It seems to me that contemplating, wrestling with, and learning about what is most important in life and how we can better live out those truths is a key component of Christianity. We aren't trying to be perfect or, even worse yet, gods in our own making, but instead faithful adherents of Jesus, who was, is, and is to come -- the picture of perfection. Jesus embodies the sense of devotion, sacrifice, and love that we are to emulate, empowered by the Spirit, while recognizing that we, ourselves, are not Jesus. We have limitations. Jesus does not. God saves us. We are incapable of procuring our own salvation. Scripture testifies that those who faithfully endure the arduous toil, sacrifice, and pain associated with being a captive -- to whatever degree and in whatever context that occurs -- will be rescued and experience victory in the end. Of course, this is all in God's distinct timing and ways. There is a "certain uncertainty" with it, though, which is where the bulk of tension exists for the believer, perhaps. You may be certain that God will deliver you (whatever that means at any given point in your life), but you are uncertain by what methods or means, not to mention by what date that emancipation or triumph will occur. You are grateful, on the one hand, that God will guide you through the raging fire as only God can, but you are frustrated, on the other hand, that God doesn't move at the pace you deem prudent. Christians often get a bum rap for either being too boisterous or too stoic about their faith, and God's presence in their life. Faith is a lifelong journey, more marathon than sprint, inevitably filled with ups and downs, and we find strength in sharing our collective joys and pains.

How do you recognize a joyful person?

Joyful people are those who refuse to be defined by life's circumstances, whether those circumstances are desirable or undesirable. While firmly rooted in reality, attune to struggles that we all face, they have learned to look to the hills where their help comes from, for they know it comes from the Lord. They don't sugarcoat or avoid how disconcerting life can be, yet are even-keeled, filled with faith and a type of peace that renders them a victor rather than a victim of circumstance. A joyful person is recognized partly by the ability to speak life instead of death when logic, emotion, and other factors render joyless people cynical, depressed, or hopeless. With that said, however, faith doesn't exist in a vacuum. Without doubt faith can't truly take hold, or grow and thrive. Ultimately, faith is about the hope and trust that one bestows on someone or something -- in my case, God -- over and above doubt. Faithful people have doubts just like anyone else. They simply are persuaded (part compulsion, part choice), empowered by God's word and spirit, in spite of that doubt, to trust in Jesus. The same is true of joy. The most authentic joy is confirmed through experience. Joyful people come in all shapes, sizes, experiences, and dispositions. Some are outwardly cheery, always jovial and smiling, whereas others may be quieter, or more conservative or serious-minded. That doesn't matter so much to me as does what their outlook on life is, and how they have responded in challenging moments. One of the best ways to recognize a joyful person is hearing them explain their scars.

For you, what is the most joyful part of being a Christian?

Knowing that while my efforts are important, the fact that they are incapable of persuading God to love me anymore or less is hands-down the most joyful part of being a Christian for me. I find refuge trusting beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves me in a personal way, and that God will, as the hymn says, "lead me, guide me along the way." Indeed, God is leading and guiding me all of the time. The important thing is that I learn to discern God's voice and heart, and follow God's lead, which, of course, encompasses the lifelong journey of sanctification. I am joyful that I am special and important to God even if/when I am not to anyone else. God is my bomb-shelter in the world inside of me and outside hellbent on destruction.

The Jesus Way

What can I say about Eugene Peterson? Probably not much that hasn't been said already with much more eloquence than I can muster. While there are sure to be those who aren't fans of The Message Bible translation or his other works, it is a fair assertion that he has more supporters than critics. To some his career as a pastor was rather ho-hum. Although he served as the founder and lead pastor of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Bel Air, Maryland for about thirty years, it never mushroomed into a megachurch or built a huge edifice for the world to admire. His face was never plastered on preaching magazines. Oprah never interviewed him. And it wasn't really until after he retired -- having begun visiting professorships at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and Regent College -- that his first handful of books began picking up steam and his stock increased a highly sought-after speaker at writing and theology/Christian conferences. He has authored close to forty books with The Message having sold millions of copies. In today's postmodern, somewhat anti-Christian culture, for a semi-retired pastor and writer, that is nothing short of amazing.

I respect Peterson, not at all because his books have sold so well and he has accomplished so much, but on account of his character and unabashed devotion to Jesus. If there is such a thing as a modern-day prophet, he easily fits the bill. Good writing is no doubt hard to produce, but good writing on topics that pretty much no one (pastors included) wants to hear a biblical, counter-cultural interpretation about is even harder still. That is what I appreciate so much about Peterson's witness. He looks fear, and possible ridicule and isolation in the face, returns the glare, and boldly moves forward proclaiming God's truth. This takes a deep faith and special resolve to  stand in awe only of God, striving for obedience rather than celebrity or acceptance. It requires one choosing truth over and above fiction. In classic Peterson form, he doesn't disappoint in The Jesus Way: A Conversation on the Ways that Jesus is the Way. This is an example of his prophetic edge:

Being religious does not translate across the board into being good or trustworthy. Religion is one of the best covers for sin of almost all kinds. Pride, anger, lust, and greed are vermin that flourish under the floorboards of religion. Those of us who are identified with institutions or vocations in religion can't be too vigilant. The devil does some of his best work behind stained glass.

 

He lovingly helps to equip and challenge both laypersons and pastoral leaders about "the way" that is Jesus, which I find quite encouraging in Christian circles where partiality, and conformity to "other" ways that contradict the former are often promoted. We, "the church," unfortunately are a walking contradiction, a spoiled, counterproductive group who at times could care less about our holiness or whose GPS we are following. Thankfully, though, Peterson attempts to make some sense out of this human condition in The Jesus Way and in doing so diligently explain what Jesus' way looks and feels like.

This One Is Mine

Maria Semple is a phenomenal writer, the rare kind capable of taking you on a journey through characters that at first you weren't so sure you even wanted to get to know, but by the end you are eternally grateful for having been introduced to. I read This One Is Mine: A Novel, her first book (her second was published in 2012), recently and would characterize it as a case-study in the avoidable yet frequently traveled path of human folly. Although not a religious novel by any means, it lends credence to the notion that we, humans, enter the world with hearts bent towards selfishness (Psalm 51:5) and without an intervention will exit in that same sad condition. Minus an ending too abstract and pristine for my tastes, I found the storyline to be deeply rooted in the greyed, confusing kaleidoscope that is life. Although it is indeed much more, bound to inspire laughter, tears, and shock seemingly at the wrong times, if nothing else This One Is Mine is believable. A bit too believable at times, or maybe merely too much of an indictment in how fast and deep we can fall. The truth hurts, as they say, but not as much as lies, and you will encounter an abundance of them here, which I found caused a roller-coaster of emotions for me. As perhaps with any savvy novel, the characters intermittently move from steamy romances to heated debates on morality and urban/suburban privilege, and then back again. Virtually no one is who they claim to be and nothing is as it seems; unfortunately all too similar to how life beyond the page is lived. In that sense This One Is Mine is an apt microcosm of life as most of us know it, worthy of celebration as well as mourning.

I have the privilege of caring for people during their highest highs and lowest lows, when dreams come true and worst nightmares are realized, as life simply happens and the consequences of poor decisions come home to roost from having tried to make gods of themselves. Still, though, even as a pastor what I found so captivating, shocking even is how much we take life for granted, living so recklessly that I wouldn't really call it "living." Whether the violations are big or small compared to our neighbor, that which separates us from God is always a serious matter, if not to us (even though it ought to be) definitely to God. While reading This One Is Mine I was reminded of something the late Calvin Miller wrote: "...it is good to exercise a lot of discretion before you end up with an indiscretion." We who wrestle with life's temptations, which are all so pushy and broad as they are specific, would do well to humbly recognize our dire need for God. In the busy lives that we construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct, only to excel as architects of messiness, God is our only hope.

When "Spiritual But Not Religious" Is Not Enough

Lillian Daniel is a highly sought-after preacher and lecturer, deservedly so. Serving as senior minister since 2004 of the First Congregational Church of Glen Ellyn, about 40 minutes outside of Chicago, she knows a thing or two about spiritual development and religious institutionalism, which makes her newest book all the more compelling. Birthed from an essay that she penned in The Huffington Post that went viral some time ago, Daniel went on to write When "Spiritual But Not Religious" Is Not Enough: Seeing God in Surprising Places, Even the Church. I have followed her ministry from afar in recent years and although we differ on a handful of theological points and approaches, I hardly find that reason enough to censure myself from her wonderfully vulnerable and humorous writing. If nothing else, her writings always bleed passion, unabashed candor, and mystery. And all of that goes a long way with me.

In this book, her third, she pushes back against those who claim a vague, noncommittal, independent brand of spirituality as a protest against organized religion, arguing that faith in the context of past, present, and future community is really the harder choice. Christianity doesn't always represent Christ well, there of course is no denying that. But this reality doesn't necessitate a knee-jerk reaction wherein Christians and churches everywhere are blanketly labeled inept, stunted religious fools, even with God's grace and leading, incapable of transforming the world. Throwing the baby out with the bath water, as Daniel explains, is immature and short-sighted, and ultimately evidence of the sinful pursuit of a self-serving quick fix. The choice to wrestle with one's demons, struggles, and, yes, sin alongside others in buildings and spaces designed with that in mind should be celebrated, not chastised, mocked, and condemned. To co-labor with others in following Jesus through this life's messiness is commendable, difficult as it can be.

Daniel shows that even card-carrying clergy and committed, churchgoing Christians have deep struggles and doubts about lots of things, including faith. Like anybody else, they are trying to make sense out of an oftentimes senseless world full of muck and mire, which they are welcome to critique so long as they recognize the part they play in the constant buildup. Sin is quite messy and can ruin a party, a moment, a day like nobody's business. If you are in the market for a chippy yet honest commentary on faith and those who seek to discredit its sacred commitments, then When "Spiritual But Not Religious" Is Not Enough eagerly awaits your purchase.