I was thinking about music today. When I was young, music was everything. Each of my friends--every one--had his or her own musical configuration. We identified ourselves by such a configuration. We shared some favorite groups, but then diverged from each other on others. My friend Jeff and I both loved Beatles, but he had no use for my Moody Blues and I had no use for his Grateful Dead. We knew all the vagueries and subtleties of any group or singer. We spent $200 on a turntable cartidge and cited all the specs for it, against those of our friend's unit. For those of us who played guitar or drums (are there other instruments?) we enjoyed rough imitations of the great ones' tunes. Music was a passion. It was the fuel for our generation. I would go to concert after concert like religious pilgrimages.

Now, I listen still to music often, but have grown much more focused. I mostly listen to 60s musicians still. Christian music holds an attraction, but there I have become very picky. I do not know the Christian "hit parade" singers any more, since 1995 or so. I find much popular Christian music over-produced and commercialistic. We used to have the phrase "sold out." That would apply now, I think. Becoming a star seems to be the aspiration of many song-writers. Gone are the days of Sparrow Records and Keith Green.

I wonder how music will be in 50 years? What little of today's sounds I hear are more often annoying than pleasant. Surely they are not inspirational. I embarrassed myself last week by accidentally discovering a song recorded by a re-united Byrds in 1990, and liked it a lot, only to find out it has been recorded by numerous "pop" artists and is considered trite, even to the point of making the Top Worst 50 Songs of all time. Sheesh. And I just heard it for the first time.

In heaven I fantasize music to be always fresh, always innovative, never boring and never shallow. The right balance of beauty and movement. Until I get there... back to the Airplane.

The work of shepherding souls, is not unlike shepherding sheep. First, the shepherd does not necessarily own the sheep. Second, the sheep can become food for wolves if the shepherd becomes distracted. Third, sheep get sick easily and die. The shepherd grieves a loss from illness. Fourth, sheep know the shepherd's voice and trust it. Fifth, the sheep need green pastures in which to feed. Sixth, all the sheep are not identical; some have unique features. Seventh, sheep may bite on each other sometimes. Its to be expected.

Today, I shepherded lots of different kinds of sheep--college kids, twentysomethings, an older lady, a bunch of breakfast guys, talking about Glocks and Rugers, a worker-sheep who gives her every ounce of energy, a middle-age fellow seeking to know if he can rebuild a spiritual walk with the Lord after a quarter century of drifting. I am weary with the care of the sheep. But I am so expendable. Another shepherd could be easily found, so I do not overestimate my own importance. The bottom-line is, I love shepherding. I hope the Lord Jesus allows me to do this until the last week or so of my life.

Faith is trusting God, even though we can't see Him. And even if we could--the Israelites could see His workings with great drama and yet they still needed faith. I need it every day, even though I have the Bible and am surrounded by many believers, all of whom also have faith.

What am I trusting God for today? There are the resident, baseline things like a) if I die tonight I have faith He will take me to heaven b) the Gospel is applicable for all people, all of the time. c) His providence and care are there for me--He will never break a promise to me. But what active issues and challenges am I consciously trusting God about? Of this I should take regular inventory. There should be a number of things that are engaging my day-to-day trust in Him, and which I am frequently asking Him about. Daily faith is more than passive. It is active. It is a turning-over-to-Him intentionally, of things I would rather try to handle (or worry about) myself. A person of great faith, I think, is a person who is actively, deliberately taking God at His word. "Ok God, you have said it, now do it." This of course, assumes I am accurately interpreting His promises, and not stealing promises made to Israel or the early church and appropriating them to myself just because I like reading them. But there are a great many promises in the New Testament which ARE intended for all believers. These are precious, and the things that energize my faith. What of THOSE am I actively trusting Him for?

Quiet. My Dad used to sit out on the patio at night in the summer. He just sat, and smoked. I would know he was there in the dark by the ember of his cigarette. He would just sit, and think. He liked the quiet of the a summer night. Occasionally, he would sit out there all night. This is strange, because when he was raging he was very much heard all over our part of the neighborhood. When enraged, he was a terror. But when quiet, he really liked the quiet. I don't get much quiet these days. I am too busy. And there isn't anywhere I go where it is quiet. I detest being alone, too, which precludes much quiet. But I see its value. Daughter Susanna says she likes the concept at least, of the Quaker quiet time. They sit in quiet until someone stands up and starts ranting about something political. But if no one is ranting, it is quiet and she likes that. When I get quiet, there is a ringing in my ears. And a ringing in my spirit--I think that is why I have always liked C.S. Lewis' Woods Between the Worlds in the Chronicles of Narnia. I think it was exceedingly still there. Some quiet in my spirit, and stillness, would be nice...

It occurs to me, while watching the September 11th film tonight, that there are, in this life, many bad ways to die. But there are a very few good ways to die. Therefore, when we see someone die a good way--we can give much thanks for them and for their families. It is a convaluted way to give thanks, but a thing in which there is much grace...the older lady who died sitting in her favorite chair with her Bible in her lap, in her living room before church...the fellow who simply slips into the arms of the Lord in his sleep...perhaps there are a few others. Thanks be to the Lord when a person dies in grace and mercy. It is rare.

I figured out why I'm depressed. I secretly wish for several stupid things. Here they are:
a. I wish that a whole bunch of people that I really like in this place who do NOT go to the church with which I am affiliated, did. Or maybe ever more deeply stupid, there are about 4 little other churches which I just wish would say to me, "We've been praying about it and we think we're just supposed to come be with you from now on. Don't worry about the details, we'll work all those out."
b. I wish I could know what I know now, and be like 30 again.
c. I wish my girls lived here. And wanted to.
d. I wish I knew the Lord Jesus was returning like, in 1 year.
e. I wish Dallas Seminary would call me up and say, "Yo, we want you to come teach part-time." Adjunct Instructor in Coolness.
f. I wish in my next doctor's visit he would say, "Oh Neil, I want you to take this neat, non-addicitive, no-side-effects, sample pill which will make you lose 80 pounds while eating anything you want."
g. I wish my Dad would appear to me from heaven, young, full of Christ, and tell me some stuff.
h. I wish UMassDartmouth would invite me on to their faculty. I would promise to be good.

None of those are true. So that's why I'm kind of depressed, I figured out...

I remain terribly interested, vitally concerned and emotionally tied to the plight of the 20Somethings as regards evangelical Christianity. Others can never compel, cajole or convince a group to be receptive to Christ, as He is. (I seem to be thinking in triples today.) But we can pray and always be hungry for dialog with a generation that seems to NOT buy the evangelical "package." For example, I found the suggestion interesting in a recent CT article, that the 20Something block does not by and large "buy" evangelical eschatology. Too much commercialization and focus on sensational things has made them skeptical. I can understand that. The writer of the article, in a frenzy to distance himself from "e.e." confused the books and the movies, referring to the movie, The Late Great Planet Earth, which to my knowledge has never been made into a movie (though I wouldn't be surprised if I learned it HAD been made into a video game!) Finally, the suggestion is made that the older evangelicals (which I am afraid now seems to include me) have somehow failed to really communicate the core of the faith. Thus, lesser, more hollow forms of the faith are not wearing well or even being adopted by spiritually minded 20Somethings in general.

Now, I'm not feeling sorry for myself when I say this. Really, I'm not. But I became aware again how quickly we become irrelevant to each other. This probably makes little difference to most people, but to preachers and pastors, who trade on relevance, quick perception about culture and speaking into the culture, getting irrelevant is scary.

I viewed pictures on Facebook of a woman who used to be in our church. How very Central we pastors imagine our churches to be. But then the people move on, develop great lives, experience happiness and many new things all without our participation. Perhaps viewing FB pix of people who have moved on isn't a good idea. But it stimulated thinking about how relevance is relative! Today I may be profoundly relevant to someone; tomorrow I will likely become a memory, and then...irrelevant. Now this is a grief if I maintain an insistence on always remaining relevant with everyone I meet. Yes, Yes, no one can do that. But we imagine we can... And truly, we cannot. So I suppose the solution is to accept passing relevance, and try to always be creating NEW relevance with new people around me. Praying faithfully and intelligently for various people, keeps me relevant too, a little bit.

So often I see people entranced with someone's "niceness" that they make theological decisions about their correctness based on liking that person. This is preposterous. I am all for being nice. And friendly. And a good listener. And funny, even. But theological rightness or wrongness has little to do with nicencess. We need to develop a filter for gullibility. The apostles warned against the tactics of "niceness."

I think theological issues--true ones--come up fairly infrequently these days on the local church scene. At least, they do not come up so often around the church where I am part. Theology of baptism, the Lord's Table, salvation, sanctification, polity are pretty set in place. Conflagrations about election, glossalalia, what millenialism?, head-coverings or clergy-Or-not, just do not occur these days. I wonder what theological matters await us in the future? The next generation knows very little theology, I fear.

A thousand pardons, but I ask again, what is an evangelical? And more importantly, can a person be saved and somehow, for some reason or set of reasons, NOT be an evangelical actually? Aren't being saved and being an evangelical the same thing? Doesn't becoming saved MAKE a person an automatic evangelical? The reason I ask, is that I have been encountering people who a) seem to possess a knowledge and trust and confidence in Jesus Christ for their salvation, b) seem to at least appreciate the Bible if not daily reading it, c) seem to generate some sense of "fruit" in their character and daily decisions. And yet they either 1) do not know about evangelicalism or 2) do not like evangelicalism, or some aspect thereof or 3) are so basic-minded that they are not aware/interested in ANY "ism." So can a person like that be a regenerate disciple of Jesus Christ?

On Saturday, I felt an emotion that occurs in me only rarely: awe. We were at the Quonset Point Rhode Island Air Show. An F-22 took off in front of us, shot straight up in a giant roar that made my ribcage vibrate. It came to a complete stop in mid-air. I said, "Oh no!" I feared it would fall. And it was beautiful at the same time. And tears came down my face. I looked around, and thousands of fellow-observers were all looking up, jaws open. The volume, the total focus, the incredible sight, the fear, the joy. This is "awe." And it didn't take but a couple of moments, in the midst of this rare feeling, that I remembered John on the isle of Patmos, as he viewed the Risen King Jesus. He fell as a dead man. Awe. I'm not sure I'm looking for more of this emotion. But it was incredible. It emotionally took me to a great place to imagine the feeling of seeing the Lord Jesus. It will be awe then too, only far more.

Call me crazy. I fantasize about going back in time, enabled by the Lord somehow and doing it within some divine mission, but having conversations with various people--or at least watching them play out history. (I love time-travel movies and always have.) For instance, I think about going back to my home town (Annandale, VA) which lay in the path of several early Civil War battles. I would go to the place where my own neighborhood would someday lay. (I could easily find it.) I would stand in those woods or that field and watch the Union army retreat down the road nearby after defeats at First and Second Manassas.

I imagine showing up in front of my Dad (like the end of the film Field of Dreams) while he exits Buchenwald concentration camp, April 1945. I can imagine his state of shock, as a first-liberator. I would identify myself as his son, to be born seven years in the future. I would lift his spirits, tell him there was much to live for, that the war was nearly over (though he would have known that.) I would tell him of his grand-daughters--four decades in the future.

I often wonder what it would be like to be given a couple of days in Judea when Jesus was there...to hang out in Capernaum just after Peter's mother-in-law was ill. Or to be in Ephesus when Paul visited. (Archaelology appeals to people like me for these dreamy reasons.)

I would love to walk beside Martin Luther as he makes his way back to Saxony after the Diet of Worms. I wonder what he would be muttering to himself. And as I appeared (and of course the Lord would enable me to speak in 16th century German) I would encourage him that although things so often seem dark, in God's gracious providence his efforts would bear much fruit.

Call me crazy, I know.

OR TO PUT IT ANOTHER WAY...
If Christians didn't have the following words to use, when would it be?

• Premillenialist, Amillenialist, Postmillenialist
• Calvinist, Arminian, Amyraldian
• Episcopalian, Pentecostal, Emergent, Baptist, Congregationalist, Plymouth Brethren, Church of the Brethren, Gathering of the Brethren...
• Bi-partite or Tri-partite
• Paedobaptist, Presbyterian, Reformed
• Infralapsarian, Supralapsarian
• Blended, Traditional, Contemporary
• Missional or Body-life committed
• Partial to Full Cessationist
• Autocratic, Presbyterian, Democratic

The year would be 64 A.D.

In 2059
will there be?

• Calvinists?
• Premillenialists?
• Charismatics?
• Presbyterians?
• Plymouth Brethren?
• adherents of the Lord's Day?
• people who believe marriage is by definition between a man and a woman?
• pro-life people?
• inerrantists?
• people who listen to and like sermons?
• churches with worship-dedicated sanctuaries?
• the Lord's Table?
• baptism by immersion?
• only white churches?
• only black churches?
• hymn singing?
• offering plates?

Back in the Day
When I became a Christian in 1972 certain names were significant in the Christian arena. Representative were names such as Hal Lindsey, Francis Schaeffer and Elisabeth Eliot. Lindsey's The Late Great Planet Earth, Schaeffer's many books/conferences/L'Abri centers, and Eliot's testimony and books provided drive, thought and fun to evangelicalism. That was 37 years ago. Today Elisabeth is still alive but pretty quiet, Hal Lindsey has moved to the realm of the fringe and Francis Schaeffer has been with the Lord since 1984. Few mention any of them any more. And yet they were "prophetic" and popular in '72.

Who will be "prophetic" for the Church in the second decade of this century? Why will they be important? What lasting value will they have for the kingdom? I have no doubt some will rise in significance. God will raise up people who can speak, act and animate the movement of the Gospel. He is dependent on no specific person's fleeting popularity but He DOES give demonstratation of the Gospel, solid doctrine and individual experiences with Him and acts done by His people, which genuinely testify of His power and love. Most of the people in our church probably have little to no knowledge of Schaeffer, Eliot or Lindsey. The new names will be different. God's continual use of earthen vessels--changing from generation to generation--shows forth His determination to finish the work of this dispensation.

Ministry should be this way:
We study the Bible, discuss it graciously, held in awe at the concept of the Word of God--therefore we are always respectful of each other's talk about it.
We pray with and for each other a great deal. Those times focus on prayer, and little else.
We make friends among each other, but never allow a clique or closed feeling to develop. We forgive each other when we are offended or disappointed. We never abandon each other.
We always, always look for opportunities to talk about Jesus with people a) don't appear to know Him yet, b) are willing and open to talking about Him. We also give blessings to people freely, in the hope of winning a few more chances to talk about Jesus.

That's pretty much it. The rest of the time we shut up.

Pardon my re-posting this one...

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

I am wondering how age changes our theology? Or does it? Take me, for instance. Since I came to know Christ I have been a Calvinist, premillenialist, soft-cessationist, believer's baptism, presbyterian-government, complementarian kind of guy. ALl of that was in place in my head by the end of 1972. Since then--two theological degrees, 37 years, four states, three churches and two daughters grown up later, all of that is still in place. I have seen no reason--though I have listened carefully--to change any of those core descriptions of my theology. This means that either a) I am pig-headed, b) I was trained well and in a balanced fashion early, c) my nature resists change in core-thinking, d) I remain unconvinced of the alternative systems of theology enough to alter mine. Does theology change with age? Of maybe it changes with circumstances which sometimes, coincides with aging. If I become old and sick and alone, will I abandon my Calvinism? If Israel gets pushed into the sea by the Arabs, will I decide amillenialism is more reasonable? If I come down with a mental illness, will I suddenly become charismatic? Does aging automatically induce change in theological convictions?

COOLNESS (Part 2)

Coolness is a thing that can be lost very easily. As in, instantaneously. For example. Saul was cool until the instant when the girls started singing their song that demoted him from Main Cool Guy to #2 Cool Guy (based on the number of deaths he caused, ironically.) 1st Samuel 18:9 And Saul looked at David with suspicion from that day on. Bang. Coolness gone--just like that. The point is: the amount of genuine coolness is directly proportional to the inverse of how much we can keep a lid on feeling threatened. Get threatened, and start focusing hatred... No longer cool.

I am not suggesting however that coolness only relates to relationships between people. Coolness can be a solitary thing, too. Many cool songs flow out of some insight derived by the songwriter when he or she was alone. For instance

(SITTIN' ON) THE DOCK OF THE BAY- written by Otis Redding and Steve Cropper- lyrics as recorded by Otis Redding December 7, 1967, just threedays before his death in a plane crash outside Madison, Wisconsin- #1 for 4 weeks in 1968

Sittin' in the mornin' sunI'll be sittin' when the evenin' comeWatching the ships roll inAnd then I watch 'em roll away again, yeahI'm sittin' on the dock of the bayWatching the tide roll awayOoo, I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bayWastin' timeI left my home in GeorgiaHeaded for the 'Frisco bay'Cause I've had nothing to live forAnd look like nothin's gonna come my waySo I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bayWatching the tide roll awayOoo, I'm sittin' on the dock of the bayWastin' timeLook like nothing's gonna changeEverything still remains the sameI can't do what ten people tell me to doSo I guess I'll remain the same, yesSittin' here resting my bonesAnd this loneliness won't leave me aloneIt's two thousand miles I roamedJust to make this dock my homeNow, I'm just gonna sit at the dock of the bayWatching the tide roll awayOooo-wee, sittin' on the dock of the bayWastin' time

Now that is a cool song. Solitary. Classic. I imagine Otis was alone. (I imagine Steve provided music support).

Coolness (Part 1)
Definition: a thing which is very relevant, interesting and unpredictable. Can relate to hats, songs, vehicles, one-liners and single words.
Automatically cool things: Harley Davidson motorcycles, Fender guitars, Beatle vinyl, Bible-on-phone, Hebrew, P-51s (any version.)

Coolness cannot be created. It is either there or it isn't. It cannot be transferred, since according to the above definition it must be unpredictable. However, a thing which is cool, can be adapted slightly for duplication.

Christian things which are cool: Going to Israel and bringing back something which was not purchased; Isaiah 65:1,2; Anything written by John Owen; Any Keith Green song off the No Compromise album; early Maranatha! Music vinyl; giving that is completely unknown; Puritan writings; most Larry Norman songs; any Bible verse in Apache.