Worship develops feelings for God, not vice versa

twitter.com/PetersonD…

This wonderful little bit of insight came across my Twitter feed this morning and I’ve been chewing on it all day. It strikes me that this is one key reason why the lyrical content of worship songs sung in church is so important to me.

The insipid worship music designed to inspire a feeling nearly always rubs me the wrong way. I’m painfully aware of when my emotions are being manipulated, and I recoil.

On the other hand, when I sing good content, powerful truths, they move me. They sink in and then engage my emotions in worship. But it’s the willingness to come to worship and the truth sinking in to my heart that brings the emotion, and not the reverse.

Thanks, Pastor Eugene.

Farewell, Episcopalians?

There have been some strong reactions across the internet the past couple days to some remarks that Southern Baptist Theological Seminary president Dr. Albert Mohler made on his daily podcast The Briefing. The provocative headline: “Controversies involving Episcopal leaders affirms liberalism and Christianity two rival religions”.

A little ways down in the piece it’s clear he’s not talking about political liberalism, but rather Protestant liberalism. And he says that Protestant liberalism (he singles out the Episcopal Church) and Christianity are “two rival religions”.

Why does he make this audacious claim? He points first to a recent tragedy where a female Episcopal bishop in Massachusetts was driving drunk and hit and killed a bicyclist. Mohler theorizes that the woman was appointed a bishop, even after one prior drunk driving conviction, because “the diocese was in a rush to elect a woman as bishop”. Secondly Mohler notes that the dean of a leading Episcopal seminary (also in Massachusetts) is stridently lesbian and pro-choice, and is stepping down from her job, Mohler conjectures, not because of those views, but because of financial mismanagement at the school.

Mohler says that these two examples demonstrate that the Episcopal church has a different “moral code”. (This seems fairly self-evident, albeit with the caveat that not everyone in those denominations may agree with those value norms.)

But then he audaciously claims that because of this different “moral code”, Episcopalians (and apparently, by extension, the rest of ’liberal Protestantism’) are not actually Christians, but rather, “rival religions” to “orthodox Christianity” (by which, of course, Mohler doesn’t mean Orthodox orthodox, but rather those that agree more closely with his set of beliefs).

By their fruit you will recognize them

Now we shouldn’t be hasty to discount Mohler’s evaluation criteria. After all, in Matthew 7 Jesus says that we will know false teachers by their fruit. “A bad tree bears bad fruit.”

So, to summarize Mohler’s argument, these two Episcopal leaders are exemplars of a set of moral priorities that demonstrate that liberal Protestantism isn’t, in fact, Christian.

But is it really reasonable to go from observing two pieces of rotten fruit to concluding that the whole section of the orchard is bad?

Alrighty then…

First, I’m more than a little astounded that Mohler would suggest that a “moral code” is what delineates “real Christians” from “rival religions”. (Apparently we don’t need to worry about theology much? Odd coming from the head of a seminary…)

But if, from a couple highly-visible examples, it’s appropriate to conjecture the “moral code” and thus orthodoxy of an entire branch of Christianity, let’s use Mohler’s own Reformed Baptist Evangelicalism as an example.

Let’s consider the case of C. J. Mahaney, who while being fawned over at conferences for writing books on humility was also running roughshod over staff without any accountability, had a history that included blackmail of rival leaders in his denomination, and who was at the helm of a denomination that covered up multiple accounts of child abuse.

And then let’s consider the case of Mark Driscoll, who built a megachurch on his reputation as “the cussing pastor”, bought his way on to the NYT Bestseller list with church money, and finally resigned in disgrace and saw his church shut down after a plagiarism scandal was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

What should we conclude from the “moral code” demonstrated by these two leaders (certainly at least “bishops” if there were a formal hierarchy) in Mohler’s theological circles? Is it fair to suggest that Reformed Baptist Evangelicalism is some sort of rival religion to Christianity because Mohler and many with him embraced these men until their patterns of sin finally became too public to ignore?

Of course not.

Christians, of all people, and reformed, “total depravity”-believing Christians most of all, should be the first to line up to admit that we are all sinners, and that moral uprightness is (blessedly) not the criteria by which our faith is judged.

Yes, true faith will change how we live, how we calibrate our “moral codes”, how we allow God to make us more like Jesus every day of our lives. And by all means, let’s strive, vigorously, to champion righteousness within (and without!) the church.

But publicly dismissing an entire wing of Protestantism as a “rival religion” because their set of acceptable sins is different than your own is arrogant foolishness, and Albert Mohler’s listeners deserve better.

I have many friends and family in liberal Protestant denominations who I am happy to embrace as brothers and sisters in Christ, even when we disagree on moral priorities. I will continue to learn from them, and hopefully them from me. One day a perfect man will sort us out and open our eyes and show us how wrong we all were in various areas of belief and practice. Thank God that man’s name will be Jesus and not, well, anybody else.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell Songwriting

Yesterday my worship pastor sent out a lead sheet and MP3 for a new song we’re going to learn and sing this coming weekend at church, and it’s causing me some odd internal conflicts. Not because I hate the song, or because I think the content of the song is bad or anything like that. No, it’s because I opened up the lead sheet and had a strong reaction to the name of one of the songwriters. In this case, the song is called “Only King Forever” by Elevation Worship, and the songwriter in question is the pastor of Elevation Church, Steven Furtick.

www.youtube.com/watch

This is not about my pastor’s choice of this song or about Furtick specifically. I don’t want to get into those arguments. What it is about is this question that’s nagging me. How much should my opinion of a songwriter affect my reaction to their songs?

Don’t go dissing on my fun music

First off, let’s agree that this is specifically about songs used for worship in church services. Because when it comes to music I listen to for fun, I really don’t care. I’ve honestly got very little idea what Sergei Rachmaninov’s theology, morality, or politics were, but he’s still my favorite classical composer because his music is awesome. Heck, I’ve got a pretty good idea that John, Paul, George, and Ringo had fairly lousy theology and morality, but that doesn’t prevent me from enjoying a good Beatles song.

But when we get to “Christian” music, and more specifically worship music, the dynamic changes somewhat, though the Christian/church music industry’s application of standards seems to be uneven. For example, Jennifer Knapp’s excellent record Kansas fell out of Christian music favor when she came out as a lesbian. On the other hand, Phillips, Craig, and Dean don’t believe in the Trinity and still get played ad nauseum on Christian radio.

Did you just forget to take your cynical pills today, Hubbs?

So then we come to this song, and Steven Furtick. What’s the issue with Furtick? Well, maybe it’s me as much as anything. He’s a megachurch pastor from Charlotte, NC, in the Southern Baptist denomination. Good enough so far. However, there have been some significant concerns raised in the past couple years when his church had “plants” in the congregation to “spontaneously” come up for baptism and when he built an 8500-square-foot mansion on a 19-acre lot in a gated development from an undisclosed church salary and book deal. And if I’m honest, I’ve watched some of his sermon videos, and there’s something about the guy and his approach that just feels wrong, that gives me the creeps. It’s not humble teaching and servant leadership to make disciples; rather, it’s manipulative performance art for the sake of inspiring giving and driving attendance/membership numbers.

(Again, I’m not claiming that I’m completely right here about Furtick - only describing why I have the reaction I have to him when his name comes up.)

I don’t really have any issues with the content of the song itself; it seems theologically sound, certainly more Jesus-proclaiming and less mushy than some other stuff we sing. But I’m still struggling to get past the authorship.

Am I holding a double-standard here? Probably. I mean, sure, we’ve all heard about Horatio Spafford writing “It Is Well With My Soul” after a great personal tragedy, and stories about Fanny Crosby’s saintly approach to her blindness, and I’ve heard good things about that Charles Wesley guy who wrote a bunch of solid hymns. But I know very little about the personal lives or theologies of most of the other songwriters whose songs we sing on Sundays. And in general that’s OK with me. As long as the song is good, let’s sing it.

And yet…

But, Chris, you sing songs written by Pentecostals and Catholics and others of every theological stripe and enjoy them. Why is this different?

It does seem different somehow. I think it’s because in those cases, while I don’t personally agree with those folks’ theology, I can understand how someone could, I find it reasonable, and I wouldn’t shy away from recommending someone attend one of those churches if it otherwise made sense for them. Furtick’s case is different. It’s not necessarily his theology, but his personality and apparent views toward leadership and money and pastoring. I can’t imagine I’d ever recommend that somebody go attend his church.

Isn’t your attitude then just basically ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ with regard to songwriters’ beliefs and personalities?

Yeah, I guess maybe it is. But hey, don’t ask, don’t tell has some Biblical basis, after all. Isn’t that what Paul basically advised Corinthian Christians with regard to eating meat sacrificed to idols?

Hey, couldn’t we just solve this by singing nothing but Psalms in church?

Well I dunno, King David wrote most of those and he wasn’t always an upstanding moral example, either… wait, you’re just trying to confuse me now, aren’t you?

Well, maybe…

Anyway, we’ll be singing the song on Sunday, and if it seems like a good fit, likely many Sundays after that. I suppose I’ll learn to live with the internal conflict. Maybe my friend Jason summed it up best:

twitter.com/jasonwind…

Worth checking out: Laghdú

I would never have run across this album were it not for Jeffrey Overstreet tweeting about it yesterday. (Thanks, Jeff!)

Laghdú is a new album of Irish fiddle music played by Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Dan Trueman. These guys are playing unique, custom 10-string fiddles and creating a fascinating, minimalist style.

The music is wonderful and difficult to describe all at the same time; think Arvo Pärt meets traditional Irish fiddle playing, or, as @ChadComello responded to Overstreet, it’s as if Jonny Greenwood (Radiohead guitarist and composer of film scores to There Will Be Blood and The Master) had scored Braveheart.

Here’s a sample:

vimeo.com/92712357

You can download the MP3 (or other audio format of your choice) for “name your price” (including free, though it’s worth a donation) at their website.

It feels like a new era...

We got my first computer when I was 7. My dad was writing a book, so bought a little PC with two 5.25" floppy drives and a monochrome monitor. (Ah, the good old days when you had to put the MS-DOS disk in to boot, then remove it to put in a program disk.)

Dad had a tech-savvy friend come over to show him how to run Wordstar and Datastar while I looked on over their shoulders with great interest. I apparently soaked it in pretty well, because it wasn’t long before Dad would call me in to answer his questions before calling his friend, and 30 years later I’m a “computer guy” with an engineering degree and a programming job and still actively in family tech support.

As my three daughters have gotten older (the oldest is 10), I’ve uneasily looked forward to a day when there’s some issue of tech which has me confused and one of them says “oh, Dad, it’s easy! Here, let me show you…” But I’ve always figured it would be quite a way off.

But then yesterday after some begging and pleading for a membership on some money-grubbing movie-associated game site, we settled on a different option: the full-blown version of Minecraft.

Parents these days are probably familiar with the game, at least by name. It’s a low-res graphics world-building game that has Creative and Survival modes and the ability to play solo or to join up to servers on the internet to collaborate with others. The girls have been playing a stripped-down iPad version for months, but got a few Minecraft books for Christmas and have been wishing for the full version.

So last night I bit the bullet, bought licenses so they can play concurrently, and set up a local server so they can play together w/o having to deal with the outside world. But once I showed them how to log in and start the program, I realized something: that’s all I know about it.

If they have questions about how to do something in the game, I’ve got no clue. I had to Google to figure out what the keyboard controls were for my five-year-old since the 10-year-old had the book in the basement.

They played the game for 30 minutes before dinner last night and while at the dinner table it was non-stop jabber about what they had discovered. “Hey, did you know how to do this?” “Did you know that if you do that then this will happen?” “I made it do this!” But while I loved their excitement, I’ll admit that the rest of it sounded like Greek to me. I’ve got no clue.

In many respects it feels like a new era. Here’s a computer-based thing that they know and I don’t. And I’m cool with that. Really. * deep breath *

My ten-year-old is getting into programming and if that persists, we’ll get a Raspberry Pi for her birthday and then I’ll be able to prove (at least for a little while, I hope) that I’ve still got a thing or two to teach her about technology.

But kiddo, fair warning: at this point you may as well start counting down the days until you starts getting phone calls from me. You have been warned.

A Timely Word for Today

The Fall is where the nation is… Americans have become so beleaguered by anxiety and fatigue, so bemused and intimidated, so beset by a sense of impotence and by intuitions of calamity, that they have, for the most part, become consigned to despair. The people have been existing under a state of such interminable warfare that it seems normative. There is little resistance to the official Orwellian designation of war as peace, nor does that rhetorical deception come near exhausting the ways in which the people have found the government to be unworthy of credence or trust. Racial conflict has been suppressed by an elaborate apartheid; products which supposedly mean abundance or convenience turn out to contaminate or jeopardize life; the environment itself is rendered hostile; there is pervasive babel; privacy is a memory because surveillance is ubiquitous; institutional coercion of human beings has proliferated relentlessly. Whatever must be said of earlier times, in the past quarter century America has become a technological totalitarianism in which hope, in its ordinary human connotations, is being annihilated. … Americans have been learning, harshly, redundantly, that they inherit or otherwise possess no virtue or no vanity which dispels the condition of death manifest everywhere in the nation.

– William Stringfellow: An Ethic for Christians & Other Aliens In A Strange Land, 1973

My 2014 reading in review

Well, with 2014 in the books it’s time for my annual little review of my reading. This was a busy reading year for me - 74 books equals the most I’ve read in a year since I started logging my reading back in 2007.

My fiction/non-fiction split was pretty heavily weighted in the non-fiction direction - 45 non to 29 fiction. That non-fiction was pretty well distributed, too, still a lot of theology, but a good bit of history, biography, and economics. (And economics was more than just Piketty. Go me!)

The full list is on Goodreads but here are some of the highlights:

The Best

The Pastor: A Memoir by Eugene Peterson

This is a beautifully-written memoir by a much beloved pastor and author. Peterson tells stories from his years of ministry, emphasizing the call to a simple, faithful pastoral ministry. (Such a breath of fresh air in the days of celebrity megachurch pastors!) This was the volume I gave away as Christmas gifts this year. Really good.

From Bible Belt to Sunbelt: Plain-Folk Religion, Grassroots Politics, and the Rise of Evangelical Conservatism by Darren Dochuk

A detailed history of the roots of American Evangelicalism, from the Oklahoma radio evangelists of the 1930s, through the migration to Southern California, through the rise of Billy Graham, and all the way to the Moral Majority of Jerry Fallwell. Dochuk’s history is quite readable and fascinating for a guy like me who grew up in evangelicalism but didn’t really know its roots.

The Anglican Way: A Guidebook by Fr. Thomas Mackenzie

I chipped in on the Kickstarter campaign for this book back in 2013, and boy was it ever worth it. Thomas, pastor at Church of the Redeemer in Nashville, wrote an introduction to Anglicanism for those Christians who may not be familiar with the tradition. Fr. Thomas: almost thou persuadest me to become an Anglican.

The Rook: A Novel by Daniel O’Malley

This was my last book of the year, so hopefully I’m not just biased because it’s fresh in my memory. This was a great read, though, if you’re into the sort of supernatural spy mystery/thriller sort of thing. Funny, moves quick, keeps things interesting. Looking forward to the second book in the series sometime next year.

That’s Not All

In addition to those titles I also gave five star ratings to some classics that I re-read (several of the Harry Potter novels, read out loud with the family) or read for the first time (To Kill A Mockingbird was a notable gap in my experience.)

A vast majority of the books I read this year garnered either four or five stars. I hope this is because I did a better job of not wasting my time on books that never captured my interest. The (100 pages - your age) formula has been effective this year. If, 60-ish pages in I’m not engaged and enjoying the read, I’m not going to feel compelled to keep reading it.

Up Next

I still have a pile (though not as sizable as it once was) next to my bed that will keep my reading well into 2015. Most likely I will be reading:

  • Prayer by Tim Keller. (It’s Keller. Duh.)
  • Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Unset. (A historical novel written in the early 1920s by a Norwegian author who won the Nobel Prize for literature. Obscure but highly recommended by those in the know.)
  • Theodore Rex by Edmund Morris. The next volume of his Theodore Roosevelt biography. The last one was excellent.
  • Paul and the Faithfulness of God by N. T. Wright. I got this one for Christmas last year and didn’t get very far. I think I’m ready to give it a go here sometime soon.
  • Lila by Marilynne Robinson. Her follow-up to the excellent Gilead.

Happy 2015, everybody!

St. Thomas More's Prayer for Good Humor

I ran across this fantastic prayer this morning in a story about Pope Francis. (Reportedly the Pope prays this prayer daily.) It’s beautiful, funny, and practical all in one.

Prayer for Good Humor

Grant me, O Lord, good digestion, and also something to digest. Grant me a healthy body, and the necessary good humor to maintain it. Grant me a simple soul that knows to treasure all that is good and that doesn’t frighten easily at the sight of evil, but rather finds the means to put things back in their place. Give me a soul that knows not boredom, grumblings, sighs and laments, nor excess of stress, because of that obstructing thing called “I.” Grant me, O Lord, a sense of good humor. Allow me the grace to be able to take a joke to discover in life a bit of joy, and to be able to share it with others. -St. Thomas More, Chancellor to King Henry VIII

A Pearls Pun for Friday

How awesome is this?

Is the goal to win the argument?

twitter.com/AJWTheolo…

twitter.com/BrianZahn…

These two tweets showed up on my timeline within 10 minutes of each other this morning. And they highlight a fundamental concern I have with the intellectual defense arguments for the Gospel.

Don’t get me wrong - I’m not advocating a check-your-brain-at-the-door version of Christianity. But I think Zahnd is right - arguments by themselves don’t win people.

I mean, hey, the next time a Jehovah’s Witness approaches you at a restaurant or bar you can grab the nearest napkin and sketch out a little grid that will logically completely prove that you’re right and they’re wrong. But if you think that once you’ve done that the JW is going to tear up their Watchtower and come to your evangelical church next Sunday, you’ve got another think coming.

When I look over my own spiritual progression of the past two decades, I’ve never had an intellectual Eureka! moment change my beliefs. (I might almost say that reading NTW’s Surprised by Hope was that sort of experience, but that was more putting words and reason to what I knew must be true but hadn’t heard expressed before.) What has changed me is a long, persistent interaction with other believers over time.

Changes haven’t come by having my arm twisted; they’ve come by others gently taking my hand and saying “hey, I’m headed this way, what do you think?”. Sure, occasionally an earthquake radically moves things in a moment; far more often wind and rain slowly shape new paths where before there were none.

There are a lot of things I’m not saying here, so don’t hear them. I’m not saying that we should never present logical arguments for the Gospel, or that we shouldn’t share it with JWs or anyone else that comes along. I’m glad that there are people who have written great intellectual defenses of the Christian faith. I’m not saying that God can’t or won’t use a direct presentation of the Gospel as the tool to bring someone to faith.

But the attitude of “here’s the diagram you need to know to prove the JWs wrong” greatly neglects the realities of how people change, and instead encourages an attitude of intellectual superiority. Please don’t go out there with the attitude that any unbeliever will suddenly see the light if only you can draw the right back-of-the-napkin diagram.

We of all people should recognize that it is only God’s action to open our eyes that brings us to faith, and that should provoke in us not an intellectual arrogance but rather a great humility.