Story and God

In my last blog entry I championed the significance of story. Following Daniel Taylor, I suggested that propositions are “short hand” for story. Propositions, I said, are like titles on a folder, but stories are what’s inside. Is story then superior to propositions? No, but, and this is key, neither are propositions superior to story. Propositions serve story. They tell stories, explain stories, interpret stories, and give hooks upon which to hang stories. Without them story is impossible to communicate. That is, they are essential to story, and story is essential to propositions. Without story you have folders with titles but no content. You have empty categories. When someone refers to September 11, 2001, we instinctively visualize burning buildings, suicide jumpers, the tears of a widowed woman. We think of tragic, painful stories. September 2, 2005 holds no such meaning. In fact, unless something especially good, like a wedding or birth of a child, or especially bad, like a loss of loved one, occurred on that day, nothing whatsoever registers in your mind at the mention of the date. Such are propositions without stories. They would be nothing more than dates without events, names without the person.

Now let us ask the question, “What is theology?” For too many of us I fear that theology is nothing more than properly stated creeds and confessions. That is, theology is propositions. “God is a spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth,” says the Westminster Catechism. That is theology: accurate statements about the nature of God and His works. If you can utter orthodox responses to prepared questions than your theology is good. If your can’t, your theology is bad. Now I’m all for orthodox creeds and confessions, but is not something seriously missing? Surely theology is something more than precise, formulaic answers.

Humans have long known that propositions have their limits. There is truth deeper than words can express. To make up for the deficiency we (and I shamelessly say “we,” for you and I played no part whatsoever in the development) added poetry to our prose. We use meter, rhyme, metaphors, and even (when we add music) melody, harmony, and rhythm to compensate for all that is lacking in our words. “God is spirit, infinite, eternal, etc.” sinks no where near the depths as a rousing edition of “How Great Thou Art” or a solemn and fervent “Holy, Holy, Holy.” That is because human beings are not like computers who simply need the right data download to operate. A person is more than a rational mind, not less than than that, but certainly much more. And God is much more than that as well. He is not a book of statements or compilation of abstract ideas. He is a person. In fact, He is tri-personal (or super-personal as C.S Lewis said). Persons don’t simply communicate via facts. In communication, emotions and will get blended all up with intellect. I reveal myself and my thoughts to others not only through a steady stream of truthful indicatives, but also by altering the tones and volume of my voice, by gesturing and gesticulating, not to mention by sighing (which I apparently employ too frequently according to my wife).

Therefore, it should not surprise us that when a super-personal being (i.e. God) communicates himself to personal beings (i.e. us) there is more than a steady flow of factual statements. There is not less than that, but certainly much more. There is poetry, hymns, apocalypse, and most of all there is story. And that should not surprise us. The life of a person is all story. Indeed, that is what story is. It is either pieces or the whole of a person’s life. Story, then, is one of the most effective means of self-expression. Story not only reveals who we are, but it also connects deeply with others. For example (and this is a good piece of marital wisdom) when your wife asks, “How was your day?”,she doesn’t want to hear, “It was good.” With a guy that response works, but that is because a guy, unlike your wife, didn’t ask because he cared. He asked because he should, and he is relieved to hear nothing more than “It was good.” Guys are not totally disinterested, but they must ease into answering those kind of questions. And they answer them best when they are not asked. A few insults, a few jokes, and a few years of friendship, and a guy will reveal such things unbeckoned. With your wife, however, “It was good” only works as a segue into stories of the day’s events. That is because, unlike a guy, your wife actually cares. She, the wonderfully communicative creature that she is, wants to know you now. She wants to know you as you are, and so intuitively she seeks for stories.

So as I said, it is of no surprise that our super-personal God and master of communication should reveal himself through story. And that very fact says much about who God is. The Western world following Greek metaphysics have tended to conceive of God as a sort of motionless mind. Or perhaps even more crudely as an old man sitting on a throne lost in thought. For such a God there is not much else to say beyond propositions. “God is good.” If He’s just sitting there on his throne what else can you say about Him? “He’s good. If He ever got up and did something, I'm sure it would be good. His thoughts at least are good.” But the God of Scripture is not a stationary being. He is an actor in a story, His story. And He reveals who He is by telling that story. So if you want to know God, you need more than the epistles. You need to soak your mind in the stories of Scripture. A theology light on story is a frail and sickly thing, for apart from God's stories God cannot be truly known.

Story

A while back I heard a lecture from Daniel Taylor, an evangelical English Lit professor, about the importance of story. You can hear the audio or read the lecture in printed form (though the audio is much better than the article). It was an earthquake moment for me. The rumblings from that lecture are still overturning many things in my mind and life. One of the key statements Taylor made was “propositions are short hand for stories.” It’s an idea that certainly runs against the grain of many evangelicals. I recall hearing one rather well-known pastor describe the OT as primarily illustrative material of the NT, or more precisely of the epistles. Romans, Galatians, Ephesians, etc. those are the real epicenters of truth. The stories in the Bible are merely illustrations. But if Taylor is correct, and I think he is, then that perspective is upside down. Another pastor I once heard instructing fellow preachers stated that stories are the “hooks” upon which people hang ideas. Stories, he said, are thus very important, because people may not remember the idea that God is in control, but if you give them a hook, a story, it will bring that truth to mind. But again, if Taylor is correct, that line of thinking is backwards. Stories aren’t tools to remember truth. Stories are the truth. They are the real theology.

“God is good.” That is a true statement. But what does it mean and how do I learn what that means? Do I look up “good” in a dictionary? Do I do a word study on good in the Bible? Those things may help, but you need more. You need stories, because it is only through stories of God's goodness that you can ever truly know what “God is good” means. Propositions like “God is good” are only the sticky notes of truth. Open up the filing cabinet of your mind, or of reality for that matter, and you will see propositions everywhere. But those propositions are just the titles on the tab and not the contents of the folder. Open the folder and it’s all story. When I think, “My wife is beautiful,” I don’t sit and contemplate the meaning the word “beautiful.” I think of a thousand times I have encountered her and found all thoughts apart from her obliterated. That is, I think of stories.

If it sounds like I’m bashing propositions, rest assured that is not my intention. Propositions are essential. After all, I’m filling this whole article with them. And we must fill stories with them as well in order to communicate those stories. Furthermore, propositions are necessary to synthesize the essentials of story. They explain and interpret story. But we must keep propositions in their places. We must remember that propositions are merely the tabs of the folder and not the content. When we look at the Bible as a whole, it is clear that God certainly has preference for story. Even when the biblical authors aren’t telling stories, they are harkening our minds back to them, drawing conclusions from them. Jesus also seemed to prefer story. How many times was Jesus asked a question, a simple question that demanded a proposition in response. But Jesus didn’t give a proposition. He gave them a story. Why? Because he wanted to evade the point? No, he gave story because story is the point, because a proposition is nothing a part from story. “God loves sinners” means nothing without a story like that of the prodigal.

So is this merely intellectual rambling? I don’t think so. This is a seismic shift, at least it is for me, that shakes up pretty much everything. It certainly alters the way I read my Bible, but it does far more than that. Over the next few weeks, I hope to explore a bit on how the centrality of story transforms the way we think and live. I hope it is as helpful to you as it is to me.

8 Ways To Ruin Your Accountability Group

From Jonathan Dodson.

1. Make your accountability partner drop ten bucks in the jar for that grievous sin
2. Make your accountability a circle of cheap confession by which you obtain cheap peace for your troubled conscience.
3. Ask one another moralistic questions that reinforce moral performance.
4. Pilfer through God’s Word for an experiential buzz or life connection.
5. Go public with your respectable sins while cherishing your secret sins.
6. Know your partner’s sin better than you know your own.
7. Passively stand by as your sin slowly puts you to death.
8. Make accountability, not Jesus, central to your group.

Go and Make Disciples

And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. [19] Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, [20] teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20)

“All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me.” These are Jesus parting comments as he ascends for a time to the Father’s right hand. Modern translation: “The universe is under new management.” The old managers of pride and rebellion, pain and death, sorrow and fear have come to an end. A new day is dawning, and the new managers of repentance, healing, forgiveness, redemption, and joy are moving in by the authority of the new King, Jesus. From here on out there are but two choices for humanity, become a citizen of the new King or remain the citizen of a fallen kingdom that is about to be ruined and judged. All the world needs to get this memo. So how does this message factor into our daily life?

“Go therefore.” Answer #1: Deliver the memo. The NT calls it the “gospel,” which means simply “good news.” Did you get that? It’s “news.” Something not previously known and must be heard. Jesus commissions his disciples, his church, to be the tellers, the witnesses, the heralds, the postmen, the bloggers of this news. Thus, the command to “go.” Not wait for a co-worker to ask just the right question, or for a neighbor to meander coincidentally into a church service, or a friend to tune into K-LOVE or flip the channel to a Billy Graham Crusade. That’s a passivity that finds no place in Jesus’ instructions. Jesus commands us to act, take the initiative, be the aggressor.

“Make Disciples.” Jesus doesn’t command us to go and tell the nations, “Repeat after me, ‘Dear Jesus, I’m sorry for my sins. Please forgive me. Thank you for dying on the cross. Amen,’” or any version of that. We don’t “go” simply to seek one-time decisions, or even to disseminate correct theology, but to “make disciples.” And we do this by “baptizing them” and “teaching them” all Jesus commanded. We baptize to initiate them into a new citizenship: one that dies to self and lives for the King. And we teach them how to live out that citizenship in the whole of their life. Thus our mission is to recruit citizens for the kingdom of God: men and women loyal only to Jesus, who conform their lives to the new order of repentance, healing, forgiveness, redemption, and joy and shun the old order of rebellion, pride, and self rule. To be Jesus’ witness, then, means to proclaim the gospel to those who have never heard, or who have heard and rejected. But to be Jesus’ witnesses also means going to the man who call himself a Christian, who prayed a prayer 10 years ago, who is a decent person, who maybe even goes to church regularly, but who lives under the old order with more loyalty to his goddess Prosperity than he has for Jesus.

A World Without Jobs

An intriguing article by Andy Crouch on the gospel alternative offered by Steve Jobs. Here's a sample:

As remarkable as Steve Jobs is in countless ways—as a designer, an innovator, a (ruthless and demanding) leader—his most singular quality has been his ability to articulate a perfectly secular form of hope. Nothing exemplifies that ability more than Apple’s early logo, which slapped a rainbow on the very archetype of human fallenness and failure—the bitten fruit—and made it a sign of promise and progress.

Modding Red Green Style

Most comedy is hit and miss and that's certainly the case with the Red Green show, but the do it yourself skits are almost always hit.

A Burden of Rest

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. [29] Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. [30] For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

The logic of Jesus’ words is startling: throw off your burdens to gain his rest and gain that rest by taking on a burden. Are we going in circles here? Jesus explains, “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Huh?

The Rest of God. What exactly does it mean to rest? Refrain from work, take a nap, veg on the sofa? “Rest” of course is a very common theme in the Bible. On the seventh day of creation God rested and he requires his people Israel to follow his example by resting on the seventh day of the week, the Sabbath. So what does it look like for God to rest, and why does he do it? God of course doesn’t rest because he needs a recharge. No, God rests because he is done, because his work is so complete that nothing else needs added, because his work of sustaining and ordering the life and energy in billions of galaxies comes easier and more natural to him than napping does to us. Not that God is bored. He is no more bored than an artist who has poured his whole being onto a canvass and stands back amazing even himself at how exquisite it all turned out. God’s rest is all energy and life and joy. It’s not lying still on a soft bed. It’s a dance.

The Rest of God’s People. God calls us to imitate his rest in the OT but not fully. Our rest, in a sense, is the opposite of his. God’s people rest by refraining from work and limiting their energy. A failure to cease is to reject the reality of God’s rest. More needs to be done. God does not quite have the cosmos under control. Throughout history the common conception of the gods is that they are great kings lounging on thrones sending peasant humanity out to do the dirty work. The true God, however, creates, delivers, fights, works for his people, so that they can lay down their weary bones and know the world won’t fall apart when they do. God is infinite and good. We are finite and needy. It’s a perfect union. That is until we muck it up by trying to be infinite and failing to trust God’s goodness.

Jesus’ Restful Burden. Jesus, however, brought in a new age. The Sabbath was just a road sign to God’s eternal rest: “God’s Rest - Few Thousand Years Ahead.” But now through Christ we can begin to taste that rest for ourselves. Through Christ our rest, like God’s, is not merely a cessation of activity; our rest is a dance. Thus, to find rest in Christ is not to find a burden-less, workless life. But his burden is easy and light. It is restful to carry. So a nap is rest, but not full rest. Not God’s complete rest. To experience that you have to be quivering with life.

The Way To Rest. How can we experience such a peculiar, thrilling rest? It is by taking up his burden. The next section (Matthew 12:1-14) shows us what that burden is. It is the burden of mercy and love for the hungry, the disabled, the needy. It is the burden that works with all its might to set this world to rights, to gather the broken to its Healer. Jesus states why this is possible in Matthew 11:27, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.” This burden, though demanding, becomes a dance because Christ has all things in his hand. All that is broken, the world, the needy, me and my work, are all made well again by him and his work. I can rest today because Christ didn’t. I can rest because he carried the joyless, crushing burden of our brokenness, and because after it crushed him to death he rose, mission accomplished. The burden to bring healing to this world is now no longer a burden. To mingle with beggars, to converse with the hurting, to get our hands dirty with the filth of human lives becomes a joy-filled dance. Rest comes not by works but by faith, and yet it is a faith that works. Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give that to receive (Acts 20:35). It’s also more restful.

A Call and a Step

And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” [29] He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. [30] But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” [31] Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” [32] And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. [33] And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” (Matthew 14:28-33)

How do you know that Jesus is the Son of God? Perhaps you’ve been taught that. Perhaps you’ve even taught others that. But how do you know? Every night you flop on your bed you don’t lie awake nervously perspiring, anxious whether your bed will collapse into a heap of ruin, or fearful that this will be the night you’ll wake up in your crawl space. Why such bold assurance? Of course, it is because of experience. You’ve laid on that bed and many others time and again without any disturbance. Your whole life is lived out in dependence upon foundations and subfloors without even considering their stability. Each step you take is an act of faith in the floor. And each time that floor rewards your step of faith with firm support. The question for Peter in this passage, and the question for us is, do you know that Jesus is the Son of God like you know that floors and beds will support you?

The only way for Peter to arrive at such knowledge is the same we arrive at faith in floors: he had to take a step. Without that step there is no faith. There may be an aspiration to faith but not real faith. Thus, for faith to become reality two things must happen. First, there must be a call. Jesus called to Peter, “Come.” Were there no call, there would be no need of faith. Secondly, as I have just stated, there must be a step of obedience. Without obedience, there is no faith. The apostles James and Paul are both right. Paul says we must live in the “obedience of faith.” That is, there is no obedience apart from faith in Christ. There must be faith in his sacrifice, his forgiveness, and in his empowering Spirit. But James is equally correct: “Faith without works is dead.” To hear the call of Christ and claim faith when your feet remain firmly planted on the boat is self-delusion. You must step off the boat.

The Call. The call of Christ by definition is a call into peril, uncertainty, and out of the realm of the ordinary. It is not a call to walk on floors but to walk on water. It is a call to trod where mere mortals could never trod. The call may be to give more than you have, to invest more time than is reasonable, to forsake your routine for the needy. In each person you encounter this day, in each decision you make, you may hear the call of Christ. It may not make sense. It may not be reasonable. In fact, it is best to assume that it won’t be, but that is the nature of the call. “Come, walk on water,” Jesus says. Or just stay in the boat with everybody else.

The Step. Do you know that Jesus is the Son of God? You can’t know that until you step off the boat. Please get this. Staying in the boat is not an act of little faith; it is an act of zero faith. That may sound harsh, but it is really freeing. The realm of water walking is a pretty amazing place to live. Most mortals are confined by common sense, laws of physics, and such nuisances, shackled to the world of the reasonable. But how I long to be unreasonable, to take up the adventure of faith. Today, we have choice. We can linger in the safety of the boat. No one will blame us for staying there. There is plenty of justification for staying put. Or we can walk on water. We can answer the call of Christ with action and take a step into the extraordinary.

The Power of Gift Giving

I'm currently reading through Miroslav Volf's Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace. Here are a couple of great quotes just in time for the Christmas season.

This the the paradox of self-love: The more you fill the self, the more it echoes with the emptiness of unfulfillment. Living in itself and for itself, the self remains mysteriously unsatisfied and insatiable. . . . The paradox of true love is exactly the opposite . . . When loving truly, the self moves outside of itself to dwell with God and neighbor, and only then is it truly at home. (p.52)

You sit on your couch, beer or soda in your hand and junk food by your side watching TV for hours – that's ordinary. You work around the clock not because you have to feed your family, but for no other reason than to park a better car in your garage than your neighbors have – that's ordinary. You get up from the couch to play with your kids or you give your time and energy to help educate a prisoner or lend an ear to an elderly person – that's extraordinary. Why? Because you are giving. Every gift breaks the barrier between the sacred and the mundane and floods the mundane with the sacred. When a gift is given, life becomes extraordinary because God's own gift giving flows through the giver. (p.53-54)

Missional Singing

Immanuel: A Poetic Journey

I don't know exactly how to classify this. Call it a poetic meditation. But it summarizes many a journey my mind has taken.

Can you live and not grow weary of life?
Will not decay or disease rent a beloved from my side?
Shall my child grow cold and silent before my days have gone?
I am no coward, so I tell myself.
At the right time, in the right place
Perhaps even the heroic could leap into action
I do not fear pain, nor flinch at threats.
But at death’s tormenting whispers
I would rather flee to distraction than boldly turn and stand.

A valley of shadow of death indeed.
And who shall shepherd our gropings in the dark?
Who shall be our comfort or guide?
Who shall start the feast?
And for what shall we feast?

I cannot fathom Trinity,
Or omnipotence, or eternity.
They are utterly other;
Beyond all that is common or safe;
A bottomless chasm of unknown.
And I dangle from the precipice in quiet terror.
The call is to come, to surrender, to fall in.
But should I fall?
Will not the fall never end?
Sinking ever deeper,
The terror giving way only to the weariness of no end

Shall I meet the Maker?
The utterly Other One?
Me? Part animal crazed with desires,
Part fiend scheming, manipulating, using,
Part human hating the hateful in me,
Striving for a better self.

I am no mystic
No sparks in spirit and soul
No ecstatic visions of divine Love
God is an ominous cloud of otherness
A terrifying storm of infinite unknown
Shall I give myself to this Shepherd?
And recklessly dive into the abyss?

Now at edge of eternity look and see Nativity
A man, a woman, and a baby.
A baby.
The infinite other, a crying baby
I’ve touched babies, loved babies.
Infinite God I cannot know
But a baby, a child, a man I can know
With an eternal divinity I cannot converse
But my God I can speak to, dare I say it,
As man to man, as brother to brother.

O blessed Nativity
God meets us not on the terrifying horizon of infinity.
He meets us in the here and now,
In flesh and bone,
With cries and laughter.

O blessed Nativity
Omnipotence made helpless
All knowing made knowable
The Untouchable made touchable

O blessed Nativity
God in pursuit
Love incarnated
Man made of Joy

O blessed Nativity
God is with us

Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Well its that time again. A new Narnia movie is out and all Christian bloggers with a smattering of familiarity with C.S. Lewis' work are eager to post their reviews. I am no exception (only I hope I know a bit more than a smattering of Lewis). I had the joy of taking my daughter to see Voyage of the Dawn Treader yesterday, and today I'm ready to review.

I base my judgments on really two main categories. First and foremost in my mind is whether or not the movie carries the main threads of the book. Main threads would be the key term there. What works in a book doesn't always work in a movie, and all Narnia lovers need to cut Michael Apted some slack on that point. I didn't watch the movie for what was changed, but for how well it carried the primary themes of the book. Secondly, the movie should itself be good in its own right. I don't want to see a movie that just makes C.S. Lewis fans happy. I want to see a real piece of art. I think the Lord of the Rings movies are perfect examples of what the Narnia movies ought to be. At times in Peter Jackson's films I grimace over certain changes to events, characters, dialogues, but the movies carried the day on both criteria I have given. In the end, the main themes were all there, and they were there in a trilogy of excellent art. To this point in the Narnia series, the score is 1 for 2. The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe was a good film. Prince Caspian bombed on all counts.

Main threads. On this criteria, I give the movie a B. Overall, I think Lewis' book is fairly well represented. My major complaint is that two key themes, the longing for Aslan's Country and the spirit of adventure, were present but not emphasized like they were in the book. At the end of the film, sailing on to Aslan's Country is sort of just a nice way to end the story, but Lewis' makes it the climax. Adventure loving is also somewhat lost. For instance, in the book Caspian decides to avoid Dark Island because its a terrifying place. Reepicheep then lectures Caspian for forsaking an adventure simply because what is ahead is fearful and unknown and persuades Caspian to approach the island. In the movie, they go to dark island because they have no choice. It is full of a vague, green mist monster (they don't call it a mist monster by the way) that is going to corrupt all the world. A little hokey, I know. More on that later.

But I must give credit where it is due. There are actual shockers in the movie. At one point Caspian and company are told that they can't defeat the evil (the mist monster) unless something is done about the evil inside of them. In fact, the power of the mist monster is to use the evil lurking inside of you to control and destroy you. Wow! That's not just in a Hollywood movie. That's in a Hollywood movie geared towards kids! The redemption theme with Eustace also remained in tact. In describing how he went from dragon back to boy, he says that though he tried to be free of the dragon skin he could never get it off. He had to let Aslan do it for him. And when Aslan does it, it really hurts. Only its a good hurt like a thorn coming out. Finally, and most shockingly, Aslan parts from Lucy by telling her that in her world he is known by another name, and the reason she was brought into Narnia was to know him better in her world. Thus the movie ends with the message that there actually is a real Aslan.

Good Art. On this criteria, I go with a B as well. It's a movie worth seeing, but I think they could have done better. Granted this was a difficult job. More so than the other books, in my opinion. Doug Wilson noted that the book is very episodic, which isn't easy to translate into one cohesive movie. So in the attempt to create one over-arching story, they added things like the mist monster, and human sacrifices to the mist monster, and swords being placed together to defeat the mist monster. All of it a little bizarre and thoroughly unnecessary.

And of course there are those strange glitches that we as an audience are just supposed to miss. Immediately following Eustace's transformation back into a boy, he is suddenly running on Ramadu's island ready to put the final sword in place. How he got there is not so clear. Then when he does get the sword in place and the mist monster is defeated, he is suddenly miles away from Ramadu's island and swimming next to the Dawn Treader. His movements equally baffling.

Casting was good (especially Eustace who is as annoying on screen as in the book). I'm not a real special effects guy, so I thought they were more than adequate. Dialogue could have been better. Acting could have been better. But in comparison with much of what comes out of Hollywood, it was pretty decent. So that's my take.

Sin and Righteousness and Judgement

But now I am going to him who sent me, and none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment: concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness, because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged. (John 16:5-11)

Outsourcing? The gospel mission is a daunting task. And for some reason we like to make a lot more daunting. When Jesus commanded his disciples to go into the world and make disciples of all nations, he wasn’t outsourcing. Jesus didn’t ascend to the right hand of the Father because he was tired of getting his hands dirty and wanted his church to finish what he started. Yet somehow this is the vision we often have of our mission. When we think of evangelism, discipleship, missions, charity, etc., we generally see it as our work, the Church’s work. God has outsourced it to us.

The Promise. Jesus, however, said that he was ascending to the Father in order to send the Spirit to us. Jesus wasn’t abandoning the work to us; he was making way for the Spirit. The “Advocate,” he promised, would come and convict the world of its unbelief, its culture of injustice, and the impending day of judgement. Talk about a fun list of subjects, and yet salvation cannot come into our lives, communities, nations unless we are convicted on these points.

Chutzpah. There is an amazing passage in Acts 24 where Paul stands trial before Felix the governor of Judea, an official known for his corruption, brutality, and licentiousness. As his future hangs upon the whims of this powerful procurator, Paul is summoned before Felix and his wife, and what should his topics include? Justice, self-control, and the coming the judgement (Acts 24:24). Luke records the governor’s response: “Felix was alarmed and said, ‘Go away for the present.”(Acts 24:25). Paul had some serious chutzpah, or perhaps he just believed that the Spirit would do his job.

Supporting Cast. Paul grew used to the Spirit doing his job. In Acts 16:14 Luke tells us that as Paul discussed the gospel with Lydia outside Philippi, “the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said.” Such is the work of mission. We act, we speak, we care, but it is not our voice, our words, or our giftedness that opens the heart and convicts it. We work in tandem with the Spirit. Mission is God’s work first and foremost. Not ours. God isn’t outsourcing mission to us. He is inviting us to join His mission. So as we live lives of mission, we are not acting alone. The Spirit goes before us, speaks through us, continues his work after we are long gone. We aren’t the main actors in this drama of cosmic revolution; we’re just supporting cast. Nevertheless, by God’s extravagant grace our names are still in the credits.

You Give Them Something To Eat

On their return the apostles told him all that they had done. And he took them and withdrew apart to a town called Bethsaida. [11] When the crowds learned it, they followed him, and he welcomed them and spoke to them of the kingdom of God and cured those who had need of healing. [12] Now the day began to wear away, and the twelve came and said to him, “Send the crowd away to go into the surrounding villages and countryside to find lodging and get provisions, for we are here in a desolate place.” [13] But he said to them, “You give them something to eat.” They said, “We have no more than five loaves and two fish—unless we are to go and buy food for all these people.” [14] For there were about five thousand men. And he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.” [15] And they did so, and had them all sit down. [16] And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing over them. Then he broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. [17] And they all ate and were satisfied. And what was left over was picked up, twelve baskets of broken pieces. (Luke 9:10-17)

Overwhelming need is all around. It’s so prevalent its easy to overlook or ignore. The world is teeming with malnourished children, war torn societies, dirty water, AIDS, poverty, sex trafficking, and that’s just for starters. The co-worker next to us has a relational crisis. The lady you met in the check out aisle has a health crisis. Your neighbor has a financial crisis. And, God be merciful, almost every single person you meet is in the midst of spiritual crisis.

Common Sense. In Luke 9 the disciples too encounter overwhelming need in the starving masses. Their solution is simple and practical. The need is simply too big, too expensive, too taxing for them to do anything. So send the people on their way, and they can get something to eat themselves. Jesus, however, has different ideas.

“You give them something to eat.” The command is ridiculous. Is Jesus simply toying with his disciples? He knows what he is capable of, what he wants to do. Why then does he command his disciples to do the feeding? What does he want them to do? The answer, I think, is fairly straight forward and for us quite shocking. When Jesus says “you give them something to eat,” he means “you give them something to eat.”

Big problem or Big Savior? When we encounter a problem, we like the disciples ask, “How big is this problem?” and “Do I have the resources available to tackle it?” If the answer is, “The problem is beyond me and my resources,” the course of action is inaction. But Jesus tells us that we begin with the wrong question. Instead of starting with, “How big is this problem?” we should start with “How big is Jesus?” In the first question we are really asking, “Are we enough?” In the second question we are asking, “Is Jesus enough?” In the common sense approach when we encounter overwhelming need, we do nothing, absolutely nothing. Shrug your shoulders, shake your head, walk away, and try to forget about it. After all, what can you do. But when we begin with our eyes on Jesus, inaction is simply not possible. He commands us to feed them, to help, to meet their need. Of course we can’t. But there is an ingredient that transforms the equation––Jesus. Jesus is enough. Jesus commands us to look at him and at the need, and when we do we act. So when need crosses your path, don’t just look at the need. Look at the need AND look at Jesus. Then get busy.

Act for the Persecuted

That is what you can do right now. Here's the situation according to J.D. Greer

Sayed Mossa is a new believer in Afghanistan who is in jail in Afghanistan because he decided, of his own free choice, to follow Jesus. In this letter he managed to smuggle out through the hands of a Westerner, he describes daily beatings, torture, and sexual molestation. He stands to be executed for his decision to follow Jesus next week. He has a wife and 6 children, one of whom is disabled.

Please visit this post by J.D. to find out what you can do to help prevent this crisis. And pass the word along.