A Metanoiaic Journey

In Romans 12:2, Paul admonishes his readers not to be conformed to the world, but rather to be transformed through the renewing of the mind. In others words, he seems to say that the Metamorphic Journey is first a Metanoiaic Journey. Paul's own thinking was certainly radically transformed. His encounter with the resurrected Jesus called into question many things that Paul had previously known to be obviously true, and turned them upside down. Jesus' crucifixion, for example, changes from being a colossal failure at the hands of the world's powers to a dramatic victory over those same powers; it changes from being the evidence that God has cursed him to the occasion for God to highly exalt him; it changes from being utter foolishness to the power of God unto salvation.

We tend to think of Paul's transformation as being instantaneous. Yet by his own testimony in Galatians, we can see that some significant amounts of time elapsed, during which he was no doubt wrestling with the business of making sense of the world once again. The transformation of his relationships also took some time — he certainly lost the trust of his former associates quite quickly, but it seems to have taken quite some time to gain the trust of his former victims. Their thinking had to undergo some radical transformation also, it seems.

For me, this Metanoiaic Journey continues to be quite a long and involved one, moving through a number of stages. As for many others, it seems that one stage tends to involve a lot of anger and/or frustration at those people and institutions that had had a part in perpetuating what now seems to be a falsehood. This stage is particularly intense if the now questioned former "truth" played a significant role in some loss or pain. It can also involve a lot of frustration towards those around us who just don't seem to "get it" when we try and explain why this universally accepted obvious "truth" isn't really true — frustration that just mounts when they point out the reasons why there really must be some truth there after all.

The reality, of course, is that there is some element of truth hidden away somewhere in every "obvious truth" that turns out not to be either so obvious or so true. The problem is that everything has been so obvious before, that now we no longer know where that nugget of truth resides; just that there is a lot of falseness all around it. Well meaning suggestions that we just take what is good and leave the rest just aren't helpful — they totally miss the point that it's going to take a lot of sorting out, and a lot of reaction against the old notions, before the capacity to recognize just where any residual truth lies is achieved.

Right now for me, there are three well established and widely held "obvious truths" that have long ceased to be either obvious or true, but for which the process of metanoia is still ongoing:

• what works, works: so whenever we get a "good" outcome, we can assume that the process by which it was obtained was good, and simply repeat it to get more good outcomes
• leadership produces results: so we can determine the personal effectiveness of a "leader" by measuring the results obtained against some pre-determined desired outcome
• whatever your issue, the Bible has the answer to your question: so just read the Bible with your question in mind, and pretty soon you'll get the answer

The Focus 3 "Emerging Leaders" material I'm struggling with forces me to engage these three issues, almost at every turn, simply because so much of the material has these three beliefs implicitly in the background. While it forces me to engage the issues, it is not providing any resources with which to do so. Still, I am commited to participating in this project because, quite frankly, it's the only place I can see where the kind of open disclosure necessary for true community is actually taking place.

That leaves me with a dilemma: some of the people with whom I am participating in this course are intimately involved in leadership in this new congregation with which I am now committed (one of them being my wife). My confronting of these issues is inevitably going to call into question some of the leadership processes, choices and directions currently evidenced here. If I am open with these struggles, that is almost certainly going to add to the burden of these leaders — who may very well not be at the point in their journeys where these matters need to be wrestled with — and produce significant relationship strain that they could probably do without. Furthermore, what effect will an open relationship struggle between participants have on this developing community? On the other hand, if I back away from them, what effect will that guardedness have on this developing community? And if I address these matters only outside the leadership circle, do I just end up perpetuating a negative attitude within myself? God knows, there's already too much of that to go around in most churches.

What, then, is the wisest course? I will have to choose soon, either by intention or default, because it isn't going to just go away.

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True Community Requires Diversity

Today I finished reading Lyle Vander Broeck's book, Breaking Barriers: The Possibilities of Christian Community in a Lonely World. I continue to be amazed at how truly radical Paul was in the applications he makes of the gospel's implications on community and culture, and how much our practice of reading the text for answers to our questions only makes us blind to so much that would actually be extraordinarily pertinent to our lives.

Paul's tough language in the latter half of 1 Corinthians 11, for example, is extraordinary: the fact that rich and poor were eating together at all was already an amazing transformation in Greco-Roman society, yet Paul makes a failure of true egalatarian community at the Lord's Table a matter of bringing the judgement of God upon oneself.

Paul asserts that poor and rich need each other. The poor need the material things others in the community can share. This principle is illustrated powerfully in the larger church by Paul's collection for the poor in Jerusalem (see 2 Corinthians 8-9) and by the support he himself received (Philippians 4:15-16). The presence of the disenfranchised and poor in the community is a clear reminder for both the rich and the poor that what we have in Christ does not come through human achievement (1 Corinthians 1:28-31). And 1 Corinthians 12 reminds us that the community cannot be the body of Christ without its diverse parts (vv. 12-31); the gifts of all are necessary.

Lyle D. Vander Broeck, Breaking Barriers:
The Possibilities of Christian Community in a Lonely World

I'm struck by the similarities between these insights and the insights that Henri Nouwen describes in relating his experiences with the L'Arche communities he was involved in. Nouwen finds that the mentally handicapped adults he serves play an extraordinarily important role in the community that is L'Arche — and an extraordinarily important role in God's formation of Nouwen himself. There are things that must be changed in Nouwen's life and perception of himself to become truly human; things that only the severely handicapped can help him with.

This is so different from the kind of thing implied in so much "Leadership" literature; whether written from a "wordly" or "Christian" perspective. It is hard not to come away from such literature without the sense that "leaders" are a class above the rest — those upon whom the success or failure of the enterprise rests. How different from Paul's radical flattening of class distinctions in Corinth (to say nothing of his rebuke of so manner other disputes in that factious church), and of Nouwen's recognition of the indispensability of the handicapped in making us truly human.

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A Bright Spot on Wednesday

In looking over my last post about the weariness of Wednesday, I see I may have left the impression that everything was wearying about that day. In fact, the evening involved a meeting for "mentors" associated with the Focus 3 project, which was actually quite encouraging.

For all my struggles with the material, which will certainly still be ongoing and the subject of much more blogging as we go, this project is putting me into community with people whom God has and will use to accomplish his transforming work in my life. I particularly appreciated many of the reminders that Glenn, the leader, made to the effect that the key is not in following the script, but rather in listening to God in the life and lives of those we are in community with.

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A Weary Wednesday

Wednesday morning I woke up extremely tired. This weariness persisted through my morning walk, breakfast, shower and commute. It was not because my sleep had been cut short, interrupted or otherwise disturbed, nor even because the day before had been particularly strenuous or exhausting. Intuitively, I knew that this weariness was closely related to the section of study material I had browsed through late Tuesday night before heading for bed.

For a moment I thought about quickly blogging about being so tired, but there really was no time, let alone clarity of thought. I was quickly engaged in several hours of meetings, and was therefore too busy to be tired or reflective.

Not long after emerging from the meetings, and starting to look over the other things on my plate, our practice leader stepped into my office. He had a message he had to deliver to me, as well as to the rest of our practice, concerning deadlines for reporting "sales credits" for entry into the new sales tracking database. It was clear that this was a message he did not personally believe in, but felt obliged to deliver. It was not a message I cared to receive either, and as I got my assistant to pull out the details on what was supposed to go into this reporting, I felt the same sort of tiredness descend upon me.

Although it has been highly profitable and has grown considerably over the years, Mercer has never been a sales focused organization. The current generation of management seems determined to change that, however. The slogans, messages and admonitions about RevenueGrowth@Mercer are everywhere. The pressure to grow the business faster has also been increased in the face of losses incurred recently by sister companies — entities that have long had a much more sales oriented culture than Mercer. The supreme irony, however, is that the losses incurred by our sister companies are fairly closely related to some questionable business practices that had developed precisely in response to a sales mentality gone too far. All strictly without permission or encouragement, of course, since the firm values "integrity above all".

Talk about dissonance between values and behaviour.

Dissonance between values and behaviour was the subject of the study material I was looking over Tuesday night, and more closely this morning. The surface message was that we need to work at eliminating such dissonance from our lives if we are to truly emerge as effective Christian leaders. So far, no disagreement.

The problem for me is that I keep running face first into any number of sources of dissonance between values and behaviour right within the Christian community. Right within this leadership study. Even right within this chapter on aligning values and behaviour.

One source of dissonance that emerged early, and has persisted throughout the study has to do with the use of scripture. We say that as Christians we value the Word of God, and want to be formed by it in all that we are and do, particularly as leaders. And yet, we rarely allow the scripture room to speak on its own terms. Instead we come to it with the issues already pre-defined, expecting it to speak to our issues on our terms, and using it as the authority for our own prognostications. We've been doing this so long in our Christian sub-culture that we can't even see that this is what we are doing, even when we talk about being formed by scripture.

In large measure, I think this is what happened to the Pharisees in Jesus' day. They had already defined the issue of right living before God in terms of obedience to the regulations of Torah, and were determined live scrupulously by them — not like their forefathers whose sin had led to exile, from which the people had never fully returned; at least not in the way prophesied by the prophets.

What they could not see was that their very scrupulosity was laying on their poor brothers burdens that were as egregious as the exploitation of the poor that their forefathers had practiced — which exploitation was what the prophets had repeatedly warned was going to end up in God's judgement of exile. Ironically, the Pharisees' very practice of righteousness was their sin. And they couldn't see it; the light within them had become darkness and so they majored in minors and missed what was of major importance — compassion and restorative justice.

In the same way, I think the exercises in our current study chapter come close, but ultimately miss the point. Much is made of Jesus rebuke to the Pharisees about cleaning the outside of the bowl while the inside is full of greed and wickedness, and of the need to look deeply at the interior of our lives. Much is made of the need to avoid pretense, by ensuring that it is the inner reality of our lives that receives our attention, not just the whitewashing on the exterior. Much is made of the fact that what we truly value is not what we say we value, or think we ought to value, but what actually drives our actions. Yet in the end, the exercise aims to:

• discern leadership values in scripture — that is, figure out what our values "ought to be";
• articulate a statement of personal values — that is, figure out what scripture, relationships and experience suggests we would want as our values;
• align our behaviours with what our "stated" values say they ought to be, by making behavioural goals — that is, use effort to make the exterior look like what we think it should look like

Just how does this differ from what the Pharisees were all about?

It seems to me that Jesus' rebuke is all about seeing clearly; looking clearly and accurately at what we really value; letting the light shine in on the darkness and allowing the darkness to be replaced by the light. The whole call to metanoia is about changing how we see the world, how we see reality, how we see ourselves — or rather letting the good news transform the way we see. Then what we see will change us.

Lord, open our eyes, that we may see You and be changed. Amen

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What place community?

On Sunday I read through 1 Corinthians in one sitting. I was surprised to see just how thoroughly the theme of "community" came up, in pretty much every section of the letter. Lyle Vander Broeck's book, Breaking Barriers: The Possibilities of Christian Community in a Lonely World, picks this up and develops it much further.

Community seems to be a very prominent theme throughout many of Paul's letters. I suppose that should not be surprising given the emphasis that Jesus gave in his Upper Rooom Discourse — again and again telling the disciples that his command to them as he was going away was that they love one another. He even made a focal point in his high priestly prayer, and told the disciples that love was the mark of true discipleship.

But the prevalence of community in the New Testament does come as a bit of a surprise when seen in the context of much of what I've been told — over and over again — in the churches of my experience. "Churches", they said, "have gotten into the habit of spending all their time on community. They've become so inward focussed that they are little more than a country club. It's time to stop wasting time on community, and start reaching the lost." Some variation on that statement seemed to come up whenever anyone suggested developing a deeper, meaningful community. It was curious, since it rarely seemed that the existing community was really much more than a superficial civility — not really like anything that would suggest a love as deep as Jesus love for his followers.

I really wonder what would happen if, instead of seeing deeper community as a threat to evangelism, we saw it as the ground and basis for all that we do. My guess is that people would start grabbing us, and demanding the "reason for the hope that is in us"; because it would be clear that God is among us.

Maybe God's Kingdom cannot be expanded by our direct efforts at all — only by the indirect means of the saints actually living as though the reign of Prince of Peace has already broken into this world.

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How then shall we value our selves?

In his article entitled The $65,000 Question, Chuck Colson reflects on the foundation from which human life has its value, describing things he has learned from his autistic grandson, Max. According to the utilitarian ethic that governs much of the world's philosophy and perception of value and goodness, Max really isn't much of a human being. He cannot produce much, if anything, in terms of tangible goods — rather his very existence costs society a disportionate amount of resouces; $65,000 per year just to keep him in his special school. Colson ends his article this way:

How should Max account for himself, and why should he have to? Max is more than happy to be alive, thank you very much. Max knows a joy and wonder that puts me to shame. Why is that?

Let me just suggest at this point it's because the good life is not about the sum total of what we contribute to the world. It's about loving. Utilitarianism knows nothing of love. Love is the beginning and the end of the good life, however, and it's in love that our lives must be centered. Truth matters because without truth, love is unreal. It's just another sentimentality. But we know in our hearts that within us is a love that calls out to the Love that we believe formed the universe. Otherwise, we're lost.

In many ways, the lessons that Max has taught his grandfather are similar to the lessons that the mentally handicapped adult residents of the L'Arche Daybreak Community taught Henri Nouwen. It is not what we can produce that makes us human. Nouwen extends these insights to the concept of leadership, and insists that it is not the great abilities and results that give us value as leaders either. Our greatest value as leaders comes in sharing our selves — broken and inadequate as we are — with those around us, so that in our very brokenness we may contribute to God's pouring wholeness into the world.

This is a profoundly liberating idea, and yet it is curious just how difficult it is for us to allow ourselves to own it — to grasp and live it. Perhaps we are not quite ready to give up the notion that we can generate our own value as human beings and particularly as leaders by what we can produce.

I know I desparately need to be reminded again and again that the things of greatest value in the world in general, and in my life in particular, are far beyond my power to generate — but that I am not called to do that impossible task anyway, and my value does not lie in doing it. Perhaps that is why I react so much against the language of the "pursuit of Leadership" — I know just how easy it is for me, and for others I care about, to measure our own worth by an impossible standard — and I just don't have enough Henri Nouwen's around me to keep me balanced.

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It's not enough just to see the wrong.

On the newly formed Leadership Journal blog, Out of Ur, James MacDonald begins a multi-part post entitled Why James MacDonald Is Not Emerging. His first point is that "observing the bad is not a credential for guiding us to the good."

I think he is reacting to a tendency seen among many who identify themselves with the emerging chruch, to define themselves almost entirely in terms of their opposition to what is wrong with that part of the church from which they perceive themselves to be emerging. I too have found this emphasis on the bad to be somewhat less than satisfying. However, I would point out that it is not just the emerging church that is subject to falling into this negative definition trap — for the past 500 years, this has been the standard operating practice in the church. So much so that we now have hundreds, if not thousands, of churches that identify themselves principally in terms of the protest that spawned their initial formation.

Lately, I have been reflecting upon my own lifelong journey of faith, and I am coming to see that it is actually impossible to divide the good from the bad in the church. That is, I am becoming increasingly aware that it is one and the same church that has been both the place where I have been introduced to, and nurtured in my relationship with God, as well as the place where I have been thwarted, opposed and misdirected in my relationship with God. I have not been influenced by one good church and also by another bad church, but rather the same church — the same people, the same structures, the same institutions, the same teachings, the same emphases — has been at work in my life both for good and for ill.

As a result, I dare not turn my back on that part of the church which has exhibited the bad, for it was there that God met me, guided me, and made me grow. Nor can I uncritically bless that part of the church which has exhibited the good, for it was there that I suffered much spiritual opposition and wrong. Rather in both, the good and the bad, it was God who was at work in my life and in the life of the church.

It is far too easy to blame the insert identifying adjective here church for everything that has been wrong about our spiritual journey, and to assume that by converting to the insert alternate identifying adjective here church we will be sure to grow spiritually ourselves and also to see that all around us develop spiritually as they should. But it just doesn't work that way. No matter which "adjective" we pursue in our practice of church, we are going to be the source of much pain and much detraction from God. But we are also going to be part of God's working in the lives of people, in spite of our "adjectives".

I'm still curious, however, to see whether James MacDonald's post of reasons why he "is not emerging" is going to be more than just "observing the bad".

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Moving beyond Worship Wars

From Lee C. Camp, Mere Discipleship

What does it mean, concretely, to worship in a way that makes a difference for a rebellious world at war with itself? The experience of many of us indicates that it might be a bit naive to believe that we will have much to offer to the world when our own worship assemblies and church communities have themselves become a battleground. ... It is quite easy to sermonize about "love" and "forgiveness" in the abstract. But such love is difficult to practice, because my self-centeredness runs very deep. How often have I preached that we should forgive those who do not merit forgiveness — the murderer, the warmonger, or the terrorist who has decimated or oppressed some third party unknown to me — and yet am offended and resentful when someone doesn't like me or my preaching?! Third-party "forgiveness" is cheap, requiring nothing of me. When the rubber meets the road, when I or we must forgive an offense done to ourselves, our profession of faith gets tested. Self-pity, self-absorption, and self-defense work in concert to undercut my feeble efforts to love those who have acted spitefully towards me. ...

Pride pushes me to react, to strike out, to respond to harshness with counter-harshness. Self-centeredness convinces me that my task is o have all people think well of me. Fear propels me to act and speak defensively. And yet again, true worship is the heart of the matter, for worship can occur only when the heart of the worshipper practices humility. Too often, we construe humility as self-effacement, self-humiliation, or maybe even self-degradation. But such practices know nothing of humility, for each of these practices continues gazing at the navel of self. Humility, instead, casts its vision upon the God who loves us in our rebellion, the God who loves us even in those places deep in the receses of our soul that we dare not admit. This God seeks to draw us out of our shame and heal our afflictions of soul, constantly willing to forgive, yet seventy times seven. Even more, humility reminds me that the world is not about me, but about God's purposes, God's kingdom. Rightful worship calls us to surrender our will. ... True faith means we obey Christ, turning from our will, embracing his.

In worship, we gather to bring our failings, shortcomings, and rebellion. If we wrongly envision church as a place where we are supposed to "do church right", then we are unable to come as a people confessing that we, left to our own devices, do little right; our ecclesiology, instead, must always bear witness to Jesus' declaration that the kingdom of God belongs to those who are poor in spirit, who are deeply aware of their insufficiency, their powerlessness, their inability to make any claim upon God, their inability to stake any claim based upon their own rightness.

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A sense of Destiny?

A very strange thing happened to me this week — an experience I hope not to soon repeat.

It began Tuesday evening as I was reviewing the study material for our next group meeting. The section began by looking at God's calling on an individual's life and some of the ways one might recognize that calling. The material then shifted to using different terminology: a sense of personal destiny. It's not entirely clear to me just what the author means by this term, but it's clearly intended to be something related to, but distinct from, the idea of vocation or call.

I do know that on Tuesday evening as I was working through this material, I sensed a shift inside myself, a distinct disquiet, that prompted me to ask whether Destiny was at all a biblical concept, or merely a pagan one. My Anchor Bible Dictionary gave me a quick insight — it talked exclusively about Isaiah 65:11,12; not a particularly pleasant passage. A bible search for "destiny" revealed that most English Bibles don't use the term much at all, outside Isaiah 65. The few that do use it primarily in the context of "there is one destiny for all men: death" or, less favourably, "the wicked, whose destiny is destruction". Finally, my old reliable Oxford English Dictionary gave definitions of destiny that were closely aligned with the concept of "Fate": something that is quite outside the range of biblical approval.

I pretty much decided that I was just going to skip the whole segment on developing a sense of personal destiny. That sounded too much like something God has been teaching me to weed out of my life, not cultivate.

The very strange thing I mentioned at the start of this post happened the next morning as I took my habitual early morning walk. I kept hearing a voice, like that of Emperor Palpatine from the Star Wars movies, saying something like: "Take your place beside me, and fulfill your Destiny" — like he was trying to recruit a young Skywalker (or was it me?) to the "Dark Side of the Force".

It wasn't something that was easily brushed off. Instead, a dark something seemed to be clutching my chest as the walk continued and the voice recurred. I had to really focus on repeating over and over the chant:

Lord, have mercy
Christ, have mercy
Lord, have mercy on me.

It took a good half hour before things were normal again.

Today, however, another thought struck me. In Revelation, God gives to his faithful ones a white stone, on which is written a name known only to God. Is it not enough to know that God knows my name? Not Malcolm Kern, but my real name: the name that perfectly describes the real me — the me that I have been created to be, but whom I am not as yet. Is it not enough to know that God, who began a good work in me, is faithful to direct and complete this Metamorphic Journey and to bestow on me my true name at His good pleasure?

If God is indeed the one who, through His power at work in me, is able to do exceedingly far more than I ask or imagine, then perhaps all that is needed is to trust Him. Indeed, it seems to me that there is little to be gained — and much to be lost — by trying to glean ahead of time where God is going, as if by that knowledge I could help assure He gets me there.

I'm satisfied to leave destiny to God, and just concentrate on knowing and hearing Him better.

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What is God up to?

One of the exercises in the Focus 3 spiritual formation for emerging leaders material we were to discuss this past week was to look at a variety of scripture passages to get an idea of what God's mission is — what God is up to in this world. I had been a bit surprised not to find anything from the final chapters of Revelation on the list, since if there is anything in the Bible that would describe the end to which God is heading, surely it would be this vision of the end. After reflecting further on the final two chapters of Revelation, I think I may have just a bit different perspective on this whole "pursuit of Leadership" myth that I have been struggling with.

The Dwelling of GOD

The first thing I noted was:

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.

Revelation 21:3

I thought about how many times this "dwelling of God with man" came up in the biblical story:

• in the garden of Eden, when God used to walk and talk with man in the cool of the evening;
• with the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, where God dwelt with them, in the very middle of the camp, in his own tent (with parallels both to the tents the people lived in and to the garden), and moved with them wherever they went;
• with Moses, of whom God himself says that he reveals himself not in visions and dark dreams, as to others, but with whom he speaks face to face, as a man with his friend;
• in the temple that Solomon built and dedicated to God, where God dwelt visibly among the people (at least in the sense of the visible shekinah glory);
• most notably, in the prologue to John's gospel, where we read: "and the Word became flesh and pitched His tent among us, and we beheld His glory — glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth";
• and of course, in Jeremiah and Hosea and other prophetic books, God continues to talk about wooing his people, his wife who he took to himself but who forsake him for other lovers, and drawing them back to himself again.

Clearly, a major theme throughout scripture: God working to reverse the estrangement that occurred in the garden, when man rejected the presence of God and hid from him.

The most odd thing, however, is the shape that God's dwelling with man takes:

Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and spoke to me, saying, "Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb." And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, having he glory of God, its radiance like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal.

Revelation 21:9-11

And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

Revelation 21:2

The city as symbol of rebellion

The most astonishing thing about this revelation is that not only does God chose to dwell among men in the city, but that the Bride of the Lamb is herself described as the city.

Throughout the Bible, the city is the quintessential symbol of rebellion against God. The first city is built by Cain, who simply cannot trust that God's mark upon him will be sufficient protection for him, and instead puts his trust in the city he builds. And after the flood, the peoples of the earth refuse to disperse throughout the earth, to repopulate it. Rather, they assemble at Babel, to build a great city as a monument to themselves: even to the extent of declaring that they themselves will go up into heaven.

Again, and again, and again, God's prophets speak against the city as the symbol of greed, violence, corruption, exploitation of the vulnerable, and death. There is very little good to be said of the city anywhere in scripture.

Even Jerusalem, called out to be the City of the Great King, the city where God himself dwells among his people, becomes a symbol of rebellion. In Jeremiah, God warns the people that their faith in the "holy" city, and in the "holy" temple, is misguided — the city and the temple will not save them from God's judgement for their allegiance to other gods and other kings, no matter how well they keep up the rituals of their temple worship.

Jesus ultimately laments over Jerusalem, identifying her as the city "that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her!" Matthew 23:37. Indeed, he says that it is impossible that "a prophet should die outside of Jerusalem" Luke 13:33

Ultimately, the city is referred to in Revelation 17 as "Babylon the great, mother of prostitutes and of earth's abominations". And John says that "I saw the woman, drunk with the blood of the saints, the blood of the martyrs of Jesus." Rev. 17:6 "And in her was found the blood of prophets and saints, and of all who have been slain on earth." Rev. 18:24

Indeed, the triumph of God and of the Lamb is proclaimed in heaven by the cry: "Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!" Rev. 14:8; Rev. 18:2

Behold, I make all things new!

So what does it mean that the city — the great monument to man's power, wisdom, wealth and independence from God, the great symbol of rebellion, of sin, of greed, of violence, of sexuality immorality, of corruption and death — is made the dwelling place of God, the Bride of the Lamb? For John sees the holy city as being itself the holy place of God's temple (hence its cubic dimensions); and as the source of the river of life that flows out of the gates of the city and brings life and joy to the whole earth (much as the river that flowed out of Eden); a city so secure that her gates never need be shut, and who may welcome the kings of the earth at any time, so that they may walk in her light; a city who, with the Spirit, says "Come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price."

How amazing is the work of God, that he takes the work of man — proud, rebellious, violent and corrupt — and makes it his own dwelling, full of beauty, truth and life; for his own glory and for the good and blessing of the whole earth. No wonder the book ends with "Even so, Come Lord Jesus!

What about my struggle with Leadership?

Just this: if God can take the worst of man's rebellion and arrogant self-seeking — the city — and turn it into His own glorious dwelling, then certainly God will have no problem taking the fruits of "the pursuit of Leadership" — as self-absorbed or self-deluded as it may be — and turning it into something glorious. Never, therefore, should I fear that God's work will be thwarted, even by the misguided adventures of his people.

If then, God places me in a position to speak against the follies of Leadership run amok, it does not consequently fall to me to Lead the people back — that is, to take it upon myself to see that those to whom the message is given heed it and follow. Rather, my call must always be simply that of being a "loving adversary of every regime".

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More than Forgiveness

From Lee C. Camp, Mere Discipleship

Grace does not merely provide forgiveness so that we may be forgiven, but empowerment to be the people of God, to be the body of Christ, to continue the work and ministry of Christ in human history

An alcoholic enslaved to drink, for example, commits all sorts of transgressions in the cycle of addiction. For the alcoholic, lying and deceit become a way of life. Transparency would threaten to reveal closely guarded secrets; duplicity is always at hand. For some, theft becomes a practice — ever in need of alcohol, and with insufficient funds to purchase drink. Relationships suffer, expectations go unmet, families disintegrate. Jobs are lost, finances suffer, and despair results. The addict needs, most certainly, forgiveness. For the relationships harmed, for the trusts broken, for the money stolen — for all these things, the alcoholic needs the grace of those individuals harmed by his deeds. And such forgiveness is indeed costly, painful to give, and painful to receive. But were the alcoholic merely to receive forgiveness — desperately needed though it is — this would not be enough. This alone would not be good news for the one enslaved to drink. What is needed is sobriety — freedom from drink, and more, a new life of freedom from duplicity, pride, fear, resentments, self. The alcoholic needs a new life, a life lived in service not to one's self, one's desires, one's pride, but in glory to God, in service to others. It is this that the gospel offers, the power to break the enslaving powers and principalities of the world. Our problem is not how to get a get-out-of-hell-free card; our problem is not a legalistic God who must somehow be appeased after we've broken God's rules. Our problem — or at least Paul believes it to be so — is the slavery in which we find ourselves, trapped and oppressed by "the way the world works." We need "forgiveness," but not mere forgiveness — we need deliverance from the rebellious principalities and powers.

Addicts do not come to know sobriety apart from the fellowship of a recovery group. In the same way, disciples do not come to know transformation apart from communion with fellow pilgrims on the Way. In fact, many addicts attest to the fact that isolation — wanting to be alone, and to be left alone — accompanies their cycle of addictive behaviour. But through the cross, the power of the "works of the flesh" is destroyed, and a joyful antidote to addiction offered — real community with friends on the Way.

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TheBolgBlog: Christians as Loving Adversaries

I was really intrigued by Ryan Bolger's reflections on Christians as Loving Adversaries, inspired by the line "we are loving adversaries of every regime". It seems to me that the idea of being a "loving adversary" is precisely the place where I have so often struggled when I have encountered things, particularly within the church, that aren't quite right.

I remember once when it felt as though I had been handed a task like that of Jeremiah's: he was called to preach repentance to a people who simply were not going to repent. I realized that the big difference between Jeremiah and I was that I was not developing the heart that Jeremiah did. Jeremiah wept over his mission, I just got frustrated and angry.

Lord, create in me the heart that can truly love those whom I am called to oppose

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A brief note on the "Leadership" struggle

In my early morning walks, I've been reflecting on a couple of passages that seem to be providing some new perspective on my struggles with "the pursuit of Leadership". In particular I've been reflecting on Revelation 21 and 22, and on Ephesians 3.

But with so much going on this holiday weekend, I'm not really able to develop those reflections as fully as they deserve -- there are so many threads to follow. I do, however, want to get some of that down here in this blog, if only for my own sake. I hope there'll be some quiet later when by mind, body, and access to computer all align.

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Leadership & spiritual formation -- this week's struggle

I've joined with a group of people in a year long process intended to promote spiritual formation in the context of emerging leaders. The testimonials of spiritual development and community from a broad spectrum of previous participants was the primary draw. Many said that the "leadership development" aspect was really secondary, which was fine by me. However, already I'm having struggles with the "leadership development" aspect that really seems to me to be pretty front and center.

This is going to be a rather long post, trying to record some of the struggles and maybe resulting insights from this past week.

The pursuit of Leadership: a modern myth

It seems that our culture, both outside the church and within it, is enamored, perhaps even obsessed, with the pursuit of Leadership. The bookstores are full of titles like Developing the Leader Within, every institution of higher learning has a "Leadership" track, even elementary schools and kindergartens are into "Developing the Leaders of Tomorrow, Today".

From the way such language permeates our society, one easily gets the impression that Leadership is one of the quintessential marks of authentic humanity. If you really want to be fully developed as a human being, to be all you were meant to be, you need to pursue Leadership. The pursuit of Leadership is, in modern culture's linguistic space, an unqualified good: a virtue to engaged in by all. Or by all who matter, anyway. Oh, sure, we all grant that there are exceptions. "Leadership is not for everyone", we'll say, "but you don't want to be one of those people, do you?"

This is a very powerful story. You see and hear it everywhere. This is a story of mythic power and import that is rarely questioned. The pursuit of Leadership is one of modern society's great myths.

A subversive counter story

One of the best things about the material my group is working through is that it includes a number of readings that are really quite subversive of the prevailing "pursuit of Leadership" myth. A particularly subversive voice is that of Henri Nouwen, who speaks out of his experience living in community with mentally handicapped adults. One's value as an authentic human being in such a community just cannot be seen in any of the things that come from the "pursuit of Leadership" -- all of one's success in that arena is simply irrelevant.

Not being able to use any of the skills that had proved so practical in the past was a real source of anxiety. I was suddenly faced with my naked self, open for affirmations and rejections, hugs and punches, smiles and tears, all dependent simply on how I was perceived at the moment. In a way, it seemed as though I was starting life all over again. Relationships, connections, reputations could no longer be counted on.

This experience was and, in many ways, is still the most important experience of my new life, because it forced me to rediscover my true identity. These broken, wounded, and completely unpretentious people forced me to let go of my relevant self -- the self that can do things, show things, prove things, build things -- and forced me to reclaim that unadorned self in which I am completely vulnerable, open to receive and give love regardless of any accomplishments.

I am telling you all this because I am deeply convinced that the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self.

Henri Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus

And yet, while the readings bring out this subversive counter story, I still hear the powerful beat of the "pursuit of Leadership" myth driving throughout the various exercises we are asked to complete. The subversive counter story has made a significant inroad, but the great modern myth is not giving up without a fight.

I wonder whether the compilers and proponents of this material are even aware of how much the material embraces both of these diametrically opposed stories? For me, however, the contrast seems to scream from the pages -- more loudly the farther I go. And that's a part of the struggle.

How will we be Biblically formed?

One of the first major exercises toward developing a "biblically informed definition of leadership" was to do a study of just under two dozen single verses in which some variant of lead, leader, leadership, etc. appear -- presumably at least in some translation, as some simply contained euphemistic expressions that may be taken to refer to leadership. Rarely was the nature or character of leadership itself the subject of the passage, and even when it was, it was hard to find unless one was familiar with the largest thread in which the passage exists.

I had actually anticipated that these verses would have been handpicked to present some view of leadership that the compiler of the material felt was the "biblical model". Instead, it appears that these may have just been randomly selected from a concordance.

One of my own first tasks once I got Yvonne's notebook computer reloaded and running was to do my own word search. As I had anticipated, I actually got almost 8,000 hits on some form of lead, leader, leadership, etc. from the dozen or so Bible translations available in her Libronix system. Also as I had anticipated, I found that generally the Bible uses these terms, and various metaphors and euphemisms for them, without definition. That is, it simply assumes that the reader knows what it is talking about. And in most cases, the precise nature of the leadership at hand is not particularly important to what the text is on about.

But does any of this really help us be formed by the Biblical text in our understanding of how we are to lead, if we are? Should we expect that simply finding lead, leader or leadership in a verse of scripture necessarily gives us God's definitive idea about how human beings should lead? Should we even be trying to read the Bible with "leadership eyes", trying to suss out it's wisdom on how to lead or become a leader? Is the Bible even concerned about assisting us in our pursuit of Leadership?

Does any of this help us read the Bible on its own terms, to be formed by it? Or are we just trying to use the Bible for our own ends?

The gospel account of Jesus

In my frustration, I picked up the gospel of Mark and just began reading it from the beginning, until it was too late to finish. I was struck by how the passages flowed from one theme to the next and by the sudden changes in emphasis: how the exorcisms suddenly ceased and the parables suddenly began when the religious authorities declared that it was by Beelzebub that Jesus was casting out demons, for example. But I was also struck by just how indifferent Jesus seemed to be to the kind of pursuit of Leadership that dominates our modern culture.

Early on, Jesus heals Peter's mother-in-law, and the people of Capernaum bring all their sick around in the even for Jesus to heal. Early in the morning, before dawn, Jesus goes off to a lonely place to prayer, and when his disciples find him, they inform him that "everyone is looking for you". Jesus has gained a huge following. His leadership success has just soared. And his response? Let us leave now for the other towns in Galilee, for I must preach there also.

This is not just an isolated incident. Jesus refuses the people's wish to make him king after feeding them in the wilderness, for example. And of course, in the end, Jesus faces his final task alone. All of his disciples deserted him and fled. The disciple who boasted of his loyalty denied even knowing him, three times. In that hour Jesus was no leader, as he had no followers.

Last night when I picked up Lee Camp's book, Mere Discipleship, and started reading where I had left off, things came into even starker focus. Right at the beginning of Jesus' public ministry he is baptized by John, and hears the voice of God saying "You are my beloved Son, with you I am well pleased". Immediately the Spirit leads him into the wilderness to be tempted by the adversary. Mark does not record the specific temptations, but we all know how they go: "Ok, you are the Son of God. So do this".

Camp points out that "Son of God" is an appellation given in the Psalms to the king of Israel -- the true successor to David, the man after God's own heart, who will lead God's people in God's own way. So, you are the King, the anointed one. What kind of kingdom will you lead? What sort of leadership will you exercise?

How about turning these stones into bread, meeting the immediate economic needs of this people? Moses gave the people bread in the wilderness, remember? Caesar maintains his kingdom by providing the people with bread and circuses. It'll work. Try it.

No, well how about religion? John has already come in the likeness of Elijah to prepare the way, as Malachi has prophesied. How about continuing in that prophesy by making a big, splashy entrance at the temple? It's full of people coming to prayer, and just in time for the evening news. Besides, doesn't the psalmist talk about God's angels bearing you up lest you dash your foot against a stone? It can't miss. You'll be an instant leadership success, I guarantee.

Still no? Well how about this: Psalm 2, the messianic psalm where God says to the king, "you are my Son; today I have begotten you. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession." Well, there they are, right before your eyes, just as promised. I will give them to you, as they are all in my power to give. Just ask of me, and they're yours: a mighty empire for the asking, and you the great emperor.

If there was any question that Jesus does not buy into our modern pursuit of Leadership myth, it must be firmly dispelled by his responses to these temptations. Man does not live by the pursuit of Leadership, but by the pursuit of God: by eating and drinking the very word of God, by trusting God's providence as He choices and not according to our own forced tests, and by delighting in Him alone, even more than the promises of blessing.

My dilemma

The more I read and the more I reflect upon how God has led me in my own life, the more the subversive counter story rings true and the more empty and false the modern pursuit of Leadership myth becomes. The difference between the two becomes ever more stark in my own mind, and seeing them both side by side in apparent approval of both seems bizarre and insane.

Getting here has cost me too much pain over the past five years to ever willingly cozy up to the pursuit of Leadership myth again. And yet, fighting it directly still gives it too much power over me. Trying to read scripture through eyes focused on opposing that myth is just as dangerous -- I will have simply substituted one set of preconceived lenses for another as I read the Bible, and will not have moved closer to reading it on its own terms.

For awhile I have been able to deal with this by simply ignoring the issue of leadership and its pursuit. But I have made a commitment to this group of people to walk with them through this journey, and part of that commitment is to these assignments -- the very assignments that seem to me to be bound up in the modern myth I wish to escape from. So ignoring them is not really an option, either. Besides, it is not leadership itself that I shy from, but rather its pursuit: its pursuit as the great good of our time, its pursuit as the means of ensuring our own success in bringing about the kingdom.

Many have testified to the great change in their own lives that participating in this journey has wrought; a change not at all geared to a more intense pursuit of Leadership. I would not deprive my fellow travellers of that opportunity, and so fear lest my own struggles with the material become a distraction. But playing along and not rocking the boat by pretending not to see these stark discongruities would be a blatant masquerade, and a violation of the openness and transparency we wish to foster as a means of encouraging each other to love and good works. To say nothing of the damage to my own soul in trying to dance with the devil and follow God at the same time.

So, what do I do?

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy
on me.

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