Chris flies into Malmö this evening, which is very exciting. Out of all my friends I’ve probably known him the longest (at least 10 years), and, while we don’t see each other all that often anymore, when we get together it feels like we just pick up where we left off.
I’m trying to get as much work done before he arrives as possible…
A simple question (part 2)
One thing that I know is that we all unexpectantly crave authenticity. We’re so accustomed to the glossy sales pitch which, on closer inspection, is full of holes. We know marketing strategies, we know consumerism and we know that we can’t trust people. But, if we’re brave enough to admit it, we hope that authenticity exists and that if we look hard enough we might find it.
Then those of us who endeavour to follow Jesus look around and notice that people expect us to be judgemental, closed minded, hypocritical, out of touch. Sure, those same people, when looking at Jesus would say they see an authenticity and a hope that they wish were true, but those who claim to represent him don’t echo the stories of that wonderful man.
We gather, we pray, we worship. We worry about being misunderstood. We worry about judging and try to figure out how not to do it. Our groups, whether we like it or not, need leading. The leaders need leading. We say we want to put character before gifting, that we don’t choose someone just because they are good at something, but because their first goal is following Jesus and they are steadily ordering their lives around his.
Deep down we trust that we can be different, we can be authentic and we can follow Jesus. Our communities are open, they say “come as you are,” just as Jesus did. We long that our lives would begin to resemble that of Christ and hope that our faith is something beyond the cerebral.
But how do we juggle the tension that exists between desiring an authentic spirituality and knowing that along the way we will fall short of our own aspirations? How do we model this authentic spirituality to those around us? How do we handle our responsibility as leaders of leaders to appoint people whose lives reflect Jesus but with an awareness that even we fall short?
How do we shape an ethics that is non-judgemental, but which affirms the possibility of change and expects it?
A simple question (part 1)
I’ve been pondering a fairly interesting question that, I think, really deserves some focus of theological energies. It involves the tension that exists between being a people ‘in the world, but not of it,’ along with concepts like inclusivity and exclusivity.
I’m part of a community of faith. We are a people who have decided that we want to follow Jesus. We are a people for whom the call to be apprentices comes before all the other things that pull on our lives. At least that’s the target we’ve got our sights on. In choosing to follow Jesus I choose to no longer follow myself.
We have all been raised by a culture which screams individualism. A culture whose only true God is ones self. My only framework for life involves following myself. My worldview is that of seeing me as the centre of the cosmos. The world does revolve around me. I can form a set of beliefs which are most convenient to me. I can have a McDonald’s (or Subway) brand of spirituality, where I take what I like and leave behind what I don’t. God is only real if he affirms the infantile urges that I’ve been trained to succumb to.
Then I’m invited into a way of life which is all about community. A way of life which states that the best leaders are the best servants. I’m struck by how different this is, how much love is on offer and how my imagination is captured by this life beyond my own. But I’ve been taught that it’s only hypocrites who claim to follow higher values. Humans cannot change, cannot be anything other than selfish, not deep down…
Sorry, no life-enhancing ponderings to post yet, but I’ve been listening to some music that takes me back something like 8 years – Pantera – such great music. I really wish this hadn’t happened.