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Happy Birthday to Becky!
Today is my dear wife’s birthday. We’re probably getting to the point where she doesn’t appreciate me listing her age any more, but suffice it to say I’ll always be a couple months older than she is.
We’re old enough now that we’ve known each other for half of our lives, and I can’t quite imagine my life without her. Best friend, awesome mom for our three daughters, faithful friend to those around her, tireless servant. I am well and truly blessed.
It’s only typical that we will spend her birthday primarily celebrating others. (Let’s face it: it’s graduation season.) But with her mom visiting and three excited little girls, we won’t let the day go by without making sure we celebrate her, too.
T4G and TGC break their silence on Mahaney
One of the great frustrations of those trying to bring the allegations of rampant child abuse and cover-up in Sovereign Grace Ministries (SGM) churches to light has been the silence of those who have long been founder CJ Mahaney’s greatest supporters - Al Mohler, Mark Dever, and Ligon Duncan of Together For The Gospel (T4G) and Don Carson, Justin Taylor, and the rest at The Gospel Coalition (TGC).
In the past 24 hours, in light of the dismissal of the majority of the civil suit against SGM folks (due to the statute of limitations), and in what appears to be a coordinated move, both those groups have issued statements of their continued support for Mahaney.
Together for the Gospel
The T4G statement came out last night on Facebook [Update: statement has been deleted from FB; It is also on the T4G website, which doesn’t allow comments.] and is troubling. They first seek to cloud the water about the civil lawsuit:
Claims presented in a civil lawsuit seeking financial compensation are beyond the ability of the public to render judgment. Often, such claims are even beyond the ability of a court to deliberate.
So if even the courts don’t have the ability to render judgment in these sort of issues, who can? Paul seems pretty clear in Romans 13 that God has established the civil authorities to bring punishment to wrongdoers.
They go on:
If a Christian leader is accused of any wrongdoing, those to whom he is accountable must investigate the charges and then deal responsibly with the evidence. If a criminal accusation is made, Christians have a fundamental duty to inform law enforcement officials. This does not, however, preclude or mitigate the church’s responsibility for biblical church discipline.
This is a key point. To whom was CJ Mahaney responsible? It has been made abundantly clear from the brouhaha around Mahaney and SGM polity over the past couple years that Mahaney was essentially accountable to no one. When it was deemed best that he step down from leadership, he didn’t stay at his home church, under discipline; instead he left to attend Dever’s church in Washington, DC, then went to start another church in Mohler’s backyard in Louisville. If anyone was in position to hold Mahaney accountable, it was Dever, Mohler, and Duncan, but to all appearances they have completely failed to do so.
A Christian leader, charged with any credible, serious, and direct wrongdoing, would usually be well advised to step down from public ministry. No such accusation of direct wrongdoing was ever made against C. J. Mahaney.
This almost defies belief. Mahaney was accused, in the lawsuit, of conspiring to keep the abuse covered up. At a bare minimum, he failed to report the abuse accusations to the authorities, even though he was in a position where he was legally required to do so. So are those charges not credible? Not serious? Or not direct? It would appear that Mohler, Duncan, and Dever are saying either that (1) the charges against SGM aren’t credible, or (2) that failure to mandatorily report child abuse is not a serious or direct charge. Really?
Those who minister in the name of the Lord Christ bear an inescapable duty to live and to minister in a way that is above reproach.
Finally, we get to a place where we agree. What I’m led to wonder is if the term “above reproach” means something significantly different to Pastors Mohler, Dever, and Duncan than it means to me.
The Gospel Coalition
TGC’s statement (“Why We Have Been Silent about the SGM Lawsuit”) was published this morning as a statement from Don Carson, Justin Taylor, and Kevin DeYoung. It’s slightly less troubling than the T4G statement… but only slightly.
They acknowledge up front that their silence could indeed feel like a betrayal to those who suffered abuse, and that pastors hold a responsibility to obey all civil mandatory reporting laws in addition to overseeing church discipline. (This is a lesson that, by all accounts, SGM badly needed to learn.)
However, then TGC turns on the alleged victims, claiming that the conspiracy charges against Mahaney were underhandedly and unfairly manufactured, and praising the statute of limitations as “an important feature of our legal system”.
My question is this: why should church leaders be so happy to escape due to the statute of limitations? Regardless of the legal limitations, shouldn’t the charges be fully investigated by the church, and discipline enacted accordingly? God is not restrained by any statute of limitations.
TGC goes on to encourage us to let the litigation to play out, to hear both sides, to not assume all allegations or false, and to not assume that all defendants are guilty. Good stuff. I could’ve almost been happy with their statement until this final paragraph:
Reports on the lawsuit from Christianity Today and World Magazine (among others) explicitly and repeatedly drew attention to C. J., connecting the suit to recent changes within SGM. He has also been the object of libel and even a Javert-like obsession by some.
And there we are. “Javert-like obsession.” TGC has now turned the tables. The victims of abuse are now the accusers, and Mahaney, the head of an organization that allegedly let the abuse run rampant, is the victim.
For shame.
“Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs." Luke 12:1-3
“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea." Matthew 18:6
"…the truth will set you free.” John 8:32
[Update at 9:30 Friday morning]
The T4G statement has been removed from Facebook in its entirety. I’ll link to a copy of it if I can find one.
[Update at 10:06 Friday morning]
The T4G statement is available on their website. Commenting is not allowed.
A Rich Mullins... movie?
Matthew Johnson alerted me yesterday to the trailer that’s out for a movie about Rich Mullins. Before I comment, here’s the trailer:
Honestly, my first thought was that it’s been more than 15 years since Rich died in a car accident, and I’m still not really ready to see a movie. All the trailer’s foreshadowing with him driving in the Jeep is enough to bring tears to my eyes.
I never met Rich Mullins or even saw him play a concert, and yet he remains my most significant musical influence. I listened to his records (well, cassette tapes and CDs) over and over and over through high school and college. I sang his songs. I learned his piano riffs. After he died I organized a little band to do a 4-song memorial tribute to him in our college chapel service. I guarantee you if you sat me down at a piano I could play and sing at least three dozen of his songs from memory.
Here’s my other hang-up with the movie: I know Rich almost exclusively from his songs. Do I really want to deal with some other writer’s dramatization, and some actor’s impression, of his life? Maybe not.
Instead, I kicked up iTunes and started on a bender playing through Rich’s classic albums The World As Best As I Can Remember It, Vol. 1 and 2, Never Picture Perfect, and A Liturgy, A Legacy, and A Ragamuffin Band. You guys can let me know how the movie turns out, but those records may be all of the Rich I ever really need to know.
Facing the truth about ourselves
Andrew Peterson has a beautiful piece up at The Rabbit Room today. He reflects on his discomfort at answering personal questions on a doctor’s questionnaire, and the dichotomy between what he wants to think he is and what he actually is.
But you see, the story we tell ourselves is skewed. There comes a time when we need to sit and take account of how we’re spending our lives, like at the doctor’s office or with the budget, and be reminded that we are not who we think we are. We need Jesus more than we allow ourselves to admit. We are not really so much better than the people around us whose lives are so obviously messy. In fact, we’re not better at all. They may in fact be closer to the heart of Jesus because they are humble enough to admit to themselves that they need help, humble enough to answer the hard questions about their weakness boldly.
You should really read the whole thing.
Telling the Tales of the Scarring War with Sin
Songwriter and singer Jennifer Knapp answered questions over on Rachel Held Evans’ blog this week, and in the midst of it all she offered up a devastatingly spot-on critique of Christian Contemporary Music (CCM) and how it reflects the attitude of the evangelical church:
In this sense CCM reflects our Christian culture very well. It is our Christian culture to invite those to tell only the story of victory and spare the gruesome details of the scarring war. We can reside if we are made clean and presentable, those who are still writing their story must wait for absolute victory before they can share it with others.
I don’t know about you, but from my experience, she’s right on.
When we hear testimonies in church, or smaller gatherings like men’s groups or (I would assume) women’s groups, etc, the stories we are told are only, as Jennifer calls them, “stories of victory”. How someone battled their demons, their besetting sin, and hallelujah, with Jesus’ help they came out victorious.
And sure, it’s encouraging. Stories of victory provide hope that there is victory to be had.
But when was the last time you heard a testimony that said “I don’t want to do this sin, but I did it again this week. So I’m repenting again and I’m going to God for grace.”?
Let’s go even further. If, by some odd happenstance, someone does confess struggles with sin in a church meeting, what gets confessed is a “respectable” sin. Pride. A bad attitude. Shortness with a spouse. Failure to have a regular quiet time.
Have you ever heard a testimony where someone confessed an ongoing, painful struggle with alcohol, or pornography, or anger, or financial honesty? Not a story of victory, but a story of the pain of the “scarring war”? I never have.
Here’s what I think this means:
We don’t really believe in the gospel of grace and forgiveness.
Sure, we give it lip service. But what good is the message of grace and forgiveness when the only time we acknowledge it is for stories of victory, for people who have experienced absolute victory?
Yes, Jesus said “Go and sin no more”. We put fancy words on it and call it “progressive sanctification”. But sanctification will progress at different rates sometimes. One brother may experience a sudden change and never go back to drunkenness; another may fight the bottle his whole life. To only affirm and share the stories of the former is tacit acknowledgment that what we really value is not the grace but the works.
I can hear some objector ready to quote me Romans 6:1. “Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? May it never be!”
Here’s the thing: we will all continue in sin for the rest of our lives. For some of us it’ll be the same sin. Others will retire old sins only to find and wrestle with new ones. We don’t want to, but we will. See Romans 7.
But when we silence the stories of the ongoing, painful, scarring battle, we are hampering the bountiful endowment of grace.
In God there is an abundance of grace. Powerful. Rich. Saving. Free. Not designed only for those who have already cleaned up their act.
Let’s not do anything to withhold it.
A year off the Internet
Tech writer Paul Miller spent a year unplugged from the internet, and returns today to share his insights.
Paul reports that while the first few months disconnected were freeing and encouraged him to read more deeply, write more, and do more recreational activities, what he found after several months went by is that this “freedom” wasn’t all he had thought it might be.
It’s hard to say exactly what changed. I guess those first months felt so good because I felt the absence of the pressures of the internet. My freedom felt tangible. But when I stopped seeing my life in the context of “I don’t use the internet,” the offline existence became mundane, and the worst sides of myself began to emerge.
I would stay at home for days at a time. My phone would die, and nobody could get ahold of me. At some point my parents would get fed up with wondering if I was alive, and send my sister over to my apartment to check on me. On the internet it was easy to assure people I was alive and sane, easy to collaborate with my coworkers, easy to be a relevant part of society.
So much ink has been spilled deriding the false concept of a “Facebook friend,” but I can tell you that a “Facebook friend” is better than nothing.
Paul says that while he thought he might find his “real” self disconnected from the Internet, instead he realized that his “real self” and his online interactions were rather inextricably linked.
He relates a conversation with a young relative during a recent visit:
My last afternoon in Colorado I sat down with my 5-year-old niece, Keziah, and tried to explain to her what the internet is. She’d never heard of “the internet,” but she’s huge on Skype with the grandparent set. I asked her if she’d wondered why I never Skyped with her this year. She had.
“I thought it was because you didn’t want to,” she said.
With tears in my eyes, I drew her a picture of what the internet is. It was computers and phones and televisions, with little lines connecting them. Those lines are the internet. I showed her my computer, drew a line to it, and erased that line.
“I spent a year without using any internet,” I told her. “But now I’m coming back and I can Skype with you again.”
In the end, Miller has decided, being connected with those he loves is more important than whatever “freedom” his technological disconnection provided.
Miller’s story highlights many of the concerns that have gone through my head whenever I have considered “unplugging” in some way or another. Yes, I might gain back some “free time”. Yes, I might be better able to sit down and read 200 pages at a single go instead of 20. (Wait, I have 3 small kids - what am I thinking? 200 pages is a pipe dream.)
But my friendships and social interactions over the past decade have been hugely influenced and enabled by technology. I’ve made friends over Twitter, and blogs, and forums; people that aren’t just ‘creepy internet friends’ but that have become real, embodied friends when we’ve had the chance to meet in person.
So when I think of disconnecting the way Paul Miller did, the first word that comes to my mind is “lonely”. Which means, for better or worse, I’m going to be staying connected.
New-to-me Music Monday
We made a family trip to the library yesterday, and as usual I came home with a pile of books and media beyond what I am ever to get through in the three weeks I’m allowed to borrow them. I did, however, manage to work my way through the four new (to me) CDs that I borrowed.
In the order I listened to them at work today:
Loaded - The Velvet Underground.
I’d never listened to The Velvet Underground before today. I found them enjoyable in that early 1970’s rock-and-roll way. Nothing too profound, but very listenable.
Chamber Music Society - Esperanza Spalding.
Jazz, anybody? Spalding is another new artist to me, and wowza. The woman plays bass and holy cow can she sing. Fantastic jazz. This one is a keeper.
Live at Leeds - The Who.
I’m typically a fan of live records, but this one didn’t really grab me. Maybe I’m not enough of an aficionado of The Who. I dunno. Turned this one off about four tracks in. Really couldn’t bring myself to care.
Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend.
I’ve owned Vampire Weekend’s Contra for a couple of years now and enjoy it OK. But when I heard my friend Dan complain a while back (on some social media - can’t remember which or when) that he hated Contra and hoped that VW’s new record would be more like their older stuff, I took a mental note to explore their other stuff.
And (no real surprise here) Dan was right. This eponymous record is, on first listen, far superior to Contra. Less frantic, more interesting melodies and instrumentations. I wish they wouldn’t drop the F-bomb - makes it less friendly for playing when the kids are around - but on the whole, yeah, this one bears multiple listens as well.
Thus ends Chris’s random update on new (to me) music.
Graffiti vs. real change
Matt Chambers has a piece up today in light of this week’s ongoing arguments about gay marriage, and this paragraph jumped right off the screen:
As it is, we, as Christians / Christ-followers / Believers / Born Agains / [insert latest trendy religious title here], seem to be much more comfortable trying to find a way to use all our energies up in plastering the kingdoms of the world with graffiti that says, “heaven” than actually pouring ourselves out to see God’s will on earth as it is in heaven.
Trouble is, graffiti doesn’t fool anyone.
Boom.
Celebration is a craft I need to learn
Sarah Clarkson has a beautiful post over on The Rabbit Room today about, as she says, “the grave importance” of celebrations, and how they remind us that God cares for our joy - not just the joy that we find from spiritual hope in the midst of trouble, but also in the fully-embodied, rollicking joy of song, food, and friendship.
Satan, I think, strikes a few of his best blows when he can persuade us that God is boring. That life with our Savior is a dull and dutiful upward climb toward a summit of righteousness always a little out of reach. We are close to defeat when we start to believe that God cares nothing for joy, that holy people are wage slaves to long days of righteousness. Work, pray, endure, and pay your bills, check off that list of upright deeds. And the image of God in our weary minds becomes that of a long-faced master whose only concern is our efficient goodness. We forget that we are called to a King who laughs and creates, sings and saves. That our end is a kingdom crammed with our heart’s desires. We forget that our God is the Lord of the dance and the one whose new world begins with a feast.