The parable of the strivers and skivers

As usual on a Wednesday at YWBC, we shared Morning Office earlier today. This was my reflection on one of our readings, from Matthew 20.

Let me tell you again what the kingdom of heaven is like. One day a businessman came up with an idea for a new venture, one which had the potential to revolutionise the sector in which he was competing. He went out looking for people who might be able to help make his dream a reality:

• People with skills and imagination, with the creativity and insight to exploit gaps in the market when they arose.
• People who work hard – people who get out of bed early in the morning, when others are still asleep. People who are willing to put in the hours for the cause, people who pay their taxes and don’t cause a drain on the public finances.
• People who are respectable – the kind of people you and I would want to be the face of our company, the kind of people who would ensure the good reputation of the business.

Over time the business grew – as wealth was created, new opportunities arose. But it’s not always easy to get hold of the sort of staff you need to enable you to sustain growth. The businessman found himself struggling when he looked around for people who might be of use to him. There were graduates who weren’t able to adjust to the demands of a competitive business, there were people lacking the necessary drive and determination, there were people with no employment history, people with no history of standing on their own two feet.

Time went on and the business grew and the owner took the decision to look for even more staff. One day, he walked out of his office and across the road to the pub where men spent the mornings playing pool and the afternoons drinking beer. ‘Why are you sitting here, idle?’ he asked them. ‘Because no one has given us a job,’ came the reply.

So he took them on – the men from the pub across the road, the people on the welfare to work scheme, the immigrants whose presence in the town had become the source of so much tension.

One month later, he got together all of his workforce for a special announcement: every single person in the company, those who had been there from the start, those who had just joined, the finance director, the delivery driver, the head of sales and marketing, the cleaner.

‘Our company is prospering,’ and he said, ‘and to enable us to grow further, I’ve decided that we should float on the London Stock Exchange. This is a marvellous opportunity. And to say thank you to all of you, I’ve decided that you should each have 200 shares in the new PLC.’

The directors of the company were appalled. They pointed at those who had only just signed up to work with them. ‘This is so unfair,’ they said. ‘We have worked hard, grafted, put in the hours, borne the burden of getting this business off the ground. And yet you treat us in the same way as these freeloaders who haven’t been here for five minutes.’

And the reply of the businessman: ‘But you knew the deal. Take your shares and go. I’ve paid you everything I said I would, and if I want others to share in my wealth why is that such a problem for you? Why are you reacting in such an angry way to my generosity?’

‘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.