‘Jesus is not a pansy.’ Appropriate language for gospel people?

I’ve not posted much in recent months, a combination of busyness and waiting for an issue to arise that I feel strongly enough about to write. But a few days ago, I read Mark Driscoll’s post, ‘Is God a Pacifist?’ where he explains distinctions between killing and murdering, before coming to the conclusion that the coming of the kingdom ‘is only possible if an all-powerful, benevolent Authority vanquishes his enemies. In other words, the Prince of Peace is not a pacifist.’

Greg Boyd has already provided a response to Driscoll which is more articulate and cogent than anything I could produce. Leaving aside Driscoll’s failure to acknowledge than the vanquishing he speaks of is actually achieved through the non-retaliation that takes Jesus to the cross, where he disarms the rulers and authorities and triumphs over them, his article has also got me thinking about the sort of language which is appropriate for us to use when we talk about Jesus.

The line which stood out most to me in Driscoll’s article, and which has been disturbing me ever since, is the statement that, ‘Jesus is not a pansy or a pacifist.’ Maybe my perspective is skewed by the three years I spent at Junior High School as a prime target for bullying (in case you’re wondering I wasn’t a pansy, I was the school swot instead, and I’m still getting over the scarring that comes from a sustained period wearing 1980s style NHS children’s glasses). But since when has it been acceptable to use the word ‘pansy’ when talking about Jesus? I’m not just angered by the thinly-veiled homophobia, but rather the bigger implication than anything which smacks of being gentle, sympathetic or kind-hearted isn’t somehow tough or impressive enough to keep up with people’s expectations of all action hero figure God. Are there any other clarifications we need to offer about Jesus: that he wasn’t a namby-pamby or a goody-two-shoes?

I know that I write from the perspective of a European with a humanities degree (it appears from later in his article that these are two further attributes which could earn someone the dis-approval of Driscoll). But can there ever be any place for this sort of vocabulary when we speak of Jesus? To me it betrays the insecurity of the playground intimidator, who doesn’t like what he sees when he comes face-to-face with the ways in which God has worked to bring in his new kingdom, a disappointment that God has revealed himself to be different from the tough guys who are celebrated by our culture.

Earlier this week, David Cameron was rebuked in the Commons for his use of the phrase ‘con-man’in relation to Ed Miliband. It wasn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened to our Prime Minister. Under pressure, he has a tendency to hit out with disdain, but these moments stay with us, the use of language which reveals our true colours to others. All of which goes to underline the need for each of us to use such care and precision in the words we use to talk about God, and in our relating to each other.

A rant for Saturday evening

We’ve spent most of Saturday at the wedding of friends, a happy and relaxing occasion, and a lovely service conducted by an excellent minister. The whole thing was superb, with the exception of verse 3 of the opening hymn. Allow me to explain…

Perhaps I’ve been on a different planet from other hymn-singers during my 41 years here on earth, but I’d never heard this version of ‘All things bright and beautiful,’ and my eyes were somewhat agog when they read these extra four lines (suffice to say, they’re not in the Songs of Fellowship version):

The rich man in his castle,

The poor man at his gate,

God made them high and lowly

And ordered their estate.

Now I know the Church of England is sometimes described as ‘The Tory Party at prayer.’ I just didn’t realise it may be also be Tory Party at sung worship.

I wouldn’t say I was upset to read this. More like angry, enraged, appalled, embarrassed and cringing as I looked round at the congregation, most of whom I’d guess aren’t regular church-goers. Can I simply say that this verse struck me as the most offensive, unbiblical, theologically-dubious, patronising, anti-prophetic, status-quo affirming lyric I have ever encountered?

.., and now that’s off my chest, I can relax for the evening.

Everything I learned about leadership I learned from Johan Cruyff

We’ve spent the last two weeks on holiday, offering much needed time to reflect and think, and also the opportunity to catch up on reading. Every summer, I try to take in at least one book on pastoral practice, to make me think about my priorities, and this year was no exception. I wasn’t disappointed by David Hansen’s Art of Pastoring, challenging and full of wisdom, but the most thought-provoking reading on leadership came from an unexpected source.

Graham Hunter’s Barca tells the modern history of Barcelona Football Club, culminating in the recent reign of Pep Guardiola’s wonderful side who won 11 trophies in the four seasons from 2008 to 2012.

The story of Barcelona’s recent success is the ultimate demonstration of the importance of corporate culture. To find the roots of Guardiola’s success, you need to go back to 1988 when the club persuaded one of its greatest players, Johan Cruyff, to return as manager. Barca won four La Liga titles and one European Cup with Cruyff at the helm, but those headlines can’t begin to do justice to the legacy he left behind. A more important contribution was his overhaul of the club’s famous youth development system, the cantera (literally ‘quarry’) based at La Masia.

When Cruyff arrived at Barcelona, each age-group at La Masia played a different style of football, depending on the coach. Cruyff, however, insisted on a wholly different approach, with the same tactics taught to players at each stage of their development. Even at the age of 12 or 13, players at La Masia now play seven-aside football with a 3-2-1 formation that closely matches that of the senior side (two overlapping full backs either side of a ‘pivot’ in defence, and Xavi and Iniesta type midfielders behind one forward).

So next time you watch Barcelona’s irresistible football, and a beautifully fashioned goal, try to appreciate that it wasn’t conceived a week ago on the training pitch. It’s been years in the making, it’s not a way of playing a game but rather a philosophy. Barcelona Football Club doesn’t train its players, it moulds them.

And all of this has got me thinking again about the role of a pastor. Is it just to get results next Sunday, or rather to shape the culture of a church, to establish norms and practices which will still be forming disciples many years later?

Short term thinking produces results of sorts, but all too often it’s something shallow, lacking deep enough roots to sustain longer-term fruitfulness.

There’s a final insight offered by Hunter which seems especially relevant to this issue of leadership and culture. He writes about the constant queue of coaches from clubs around the world who want to come and visit Barcelona, to see how they operate. But he points out that ‘… unless the club from which the person is sent is ready for a total overhaul of its scouting, development and training structure, as well as its basic football philosophy, then picking up ‘bits and pieces’ of the Barca credo is a waste of time.’

Purpose Driven Football Club?  

Engagement and/or entertainment

At the risk of coming over all ‘grumpy old man,’ a couple of thoughts have occurred to me in light of the frenzy of excitement which has arisen in the last 24 hours, in light of the internet sensation that is Kate Bottley’s Flashmob performance at a wedding she recently officiated. (If you have been in a cave/on the moon/in your own world, over the weekend, you can catch up on the story here.)

1. Kate Bottley is great – obviously a warm and winsome personality, and I wish I had her charisma and could dance like she can, but she has clearly has more rhythm in her big toe than exists in all of my gangling six foot two inches frame. If I tried to imitate her approach, the results would be embarrassing for me and all concerned, and besides, ministry is not about imitation, but finding the best expression of the values of the kingdom in whatever context we find ourselves in. More than anything else, people are looking for a church which is authentic.
2. The church does need to find patterns of worship which engage all of our senses, and which are participatory, but we don’t all want to dance and we’re not all extroverts. What some people regard as wonderful fun is living hell for others. I’ve met a number of people in church in recent months who’ve wanted to come and hide for a while, find a quiet space to recover from life's wounds, and receive God’s grace and healing.
3. The sooner we have women bishops the better, but leading a dance at a wedding does not automatically qualify someone for the role.
4. Being relevant and fun really impresses some people, but makes us open to parody in the eyes of others. If you’re not sure what I mean, watch this.

Bible reading skills in a digital age

It’s been a busy couple of weeks recently, in church and family life, with little opportunity to blog or reflect, but I thought it was worth sharing a particularly thought-provoking piece by Jonathan Freedland in yesterday’s Guardian, which you can read here. His column reflects on the impact of digital technology on the depth of what we know and share. There’s little need to study facts or information and come to our conclusions, when information is invariably one click away (a trend brilliantly summed up by Stephen Colbert’s concept of ‘truthiness’), and we’ve traded in forms of communication like letter writing, for emails, texts and social networks. The result is that we share our lives with far more people than ever before, but often on a far more superficial level.

I was particularly struck by Freedland’s comment on how tools like Twitter have reduced the time that we take to process and reflect on significant events. A news story trends quickly, inspiring a flurry of hashtagged comment and analysis which quickly evaporates, as the news cycle moves on to the next big event.

Perhaps most disconcerting of all is a closing observation by the American intellectual Leon Wieseltier, that the very skill of reading itself is under threat, as we become addicted to acquiring, commenting and then discarding information at an ever increasing speed.

What are the implications of these trends for discipleship? How do we embrace the benefits of the digital age, whilst also forming habits that are intentionally different in key ways?

Perhaps we can begin with a love for Scripture which plays itself out in a deliberate slowing down of our reading speed. The Psalmist famously wrote (119:11), ‘I treasure your word in my heart,’ which suggests a ponderous, reflective process of of pausing and lingering over words. We don’t encourage people to read Dickens or Shakespeare in a year, but we do think that’s a good thing to do with the Bible. I understand the desire to help people acquire an overview of the whole biblical story, but it’s not a text which works well with speed-reading: take it a verse at a time, a parable at a time, recognise that you’re engaged in the task of a lifetime.

And if there’s a part of the story you’ve not yet read, why is that a problem when you worship God and serve him in a community with someone who has? Perhaps a bigger risk than thinking the Bible is a book to be read in a hurry is the idea that it’s a book to be read on our own. We read it, not with the commentary of disembodied tweets, but with the perspectives of people we’re on a long journey with, and whose joys and disappointments we share. 

Confusing testimony with control – follow up thoughts from Sunday

Two days ago, our series on the Sermon on the Mount arrived at the end of Matthew 5, and we reflected on Jesus’ deeply challenging words on the need for us to love our enemies, a theme which seemed especially poignant in light of last week’s horrific attack on Drummer Lee Rigby on the streets of Woolwich.

You can listen to the sermon here. After I preached, we had time for questions and answers, and I've been mulling over two of the points which were made from the floor. Alan spoke about the transition which is proving so painful to many of us at the moment, as the church finds itself losing the political power and influence to which it has become so accustomed in the history of Christendom. And then John, alluding to Romans 13, pointed out that while we’re called to love our enemies, it remains the role of those in civic authority to uphold law and order, which sometimes means withdrawing freedom from criminals, or imposing other penalties on them. In Paul’s words, the government is ‘the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer’ (Romans 13:5).

Reflecting on this feedback yesterday, I remembered some words from Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon’s wonderful book, Resident Aliens. In it, they describe the Sermon on the Mount as, ‘A vision of the inbreaking of a new society. They are indicatives, promises, instances, imaginative examples of life in the kingdom of God. In Matthew 5, Jesus repeatedly cites an older command, already tough enough to keep in itself, and then radically deepens its significance, not to lay some gigantic ethical burden on the backs of potential ethical heroes, but rather to illustrate what is happening in our midst.’ (p84)

Offering the world a demonstration of the new work of God, of the values of the kingdom he is bringing to birth is a task which doesn’t sit easily with dictating terms to everyone. As soon as power is placed in the hands of the church, it’s only natural that we begin to feel a sense of presumption or entitlement about the level of control we feel we can exert on the lives of others, and we want to start playing the roles of judge, jury and executioner which scripture tells us to leave to others.

True love for enemies is something we don’t see often, which makes it so dazzling and compelling in the rare moments we encounter it, an unveiling of God’s love and mercy. Perhaps a key lesson we can take from Sunday’s reflection is a fresh awareness that demonstration of this love represents the prime calling of the church, with law and order a task best left to others.

Suggestions for our church swear box?

I’ve spent some time this morning getting ready for Sunday morning at YWBC. We’re carrying on with our series on the Sermon on the Mount, and this week we’ve arrived at Matthew 5:33-37, the section where Jesus calls for our language to be characterised by honesty, and free from guile or deception. On the same morning, it’s been striking to read reports of Google executives appearing before the Public Accounts Committee to face questions on their financial reporting and tax bills, with exasperated MPs asking them to ‘call a spade a spade.’

I realise that we live at a moment when trust in the credibility of statements made by public figures is low, but I can’t help feeling this is one more area of life where it’s easier to distract ourselves with what goes ‘in the world,’ conveniently forgetting about the need to put our own affairs in order first.

Reading the passage again this morning has reminded me of so many of the pretentious ways we use language in church, how we dress up our gossip or criticisms in pious language (we don’t pass on bits of juicy information, instead we say ‘I’m just telling you this for prayer…) or how we use euphemisms to play down the significance of behaviour which causes hurt or bad feeling. I thought this morning of a person I once knew who prided themselves on the fact that ‘folk always know where I stand with them.’ This was a coded way of acknowledging that lots of people had been crushed by their criticism over the years.

I’ve also been reminded this morning of Adrian Plass’ excellent, and very funny, book, Bacon Sandwiches and Salvation, where he provides an A to Z of definitions on the Christian life. For example, ‘Pillar of the church’ is defined as ‘(1) person who is consistent and reliable in their commitment to the well-being of the congregation (2) big thick thing that holds everything up and restricts vision.’

I think that a major step in combatting this problem is to start by naming it for what it is, to be upfront with each other about the games we sometimes play. So, why not have a church swear box? But let’s make sure that it’s not just about the outlawing of ‘rude’ words, but the prevention of self-righteousness and pretensions. Let me know your suggestions in the comments section below.