There’s no shortage of people today criticizing megachurches for the amount of money they spend on unnecessary luxuries for their church building. And the critique is coming from a diverse group - you’ll hear it from Rob Bell (whose church is an abandoned mall with all the walls blown out), Matt Chandler (whose church just bought an old Albertsons to use as a facility in which to meet), and you hear it from housechurch guys.
So here’s my question: What do we do with 1 Kings 6 and Solomon’s Temple? I’m guessing that if any church today were to go to such extravagant ends in building their worship facility, they’d be roundly criticized by most everyone.
So how do we respond to this section? How can we reconcile such displays of oppulence with New Testament calls to generosity? (Obviously, generosity doesn’t by necessity preclude oppulence, but if one is being generous and living in such oppulence, one is either exorbitantly wealthy or has one heck of a credit card debt.)
Especially helpful was Kauflin’s three points on how music is able to serve words in our singing.
First, he said that music can help us remember words.
Second, it helps us engage emotionally. His four sub-points on this second point were outstanding:
“a. We need a broad emotional range in the songs we sing: reverence, awe, repentance, grief, joy, celebration, etc. The jubilant triumph of Christ’s victory over sin cannot be duly communicated in an acappella hymn.
b. We don’t need to pit different styles or traditions against one another. They each serve to help us in different ways.
c. Know that there is a difference between being emotional moved and spiritually enlightened. Music has a voice but we’re not always sure what that voice is saying. It can make us feel peaceful, but it can’t tell us that the Lord is our shepherd or that Jesus endured God’s wrath in our place to bring us eternal peace with God.
d. Singing should be an emotional event. And they should be religious affections. We won’t always be moved in the same way or to the same effect when we sing, but when the emotions aren’t there we should repent and cry out for mercy to feel them appropriately again. God is worthy of our highest, purest, and strongest emotions. Singing helps express and unite them. Singing without emotion is an oxymoron. Vibrant singing enables us to connect truth about God with passion for that truth. We can sing theologically profound truths and not be affected. But none of that changes the fact that God wants to use music to help break through the apathy and hardness of our heart and engage him emotionally.”
Finally, singing can help us use words to demonstrate and express our unity.
The other consequence of the talk was that it provoked several questions in me that I’m trying to probe a bit more after the conference.
One thing Kauflin said that I want to consider a bit more is this: In response to the question of, “How does music relate to words?” Kauflin offered this thought, “Some Christians think music supercedes the word, both in its significance and effect. Others think that music undermines the word. But God himself wants them together. He gave us music to serve the word.”
I would like to hear a bit more said on that last part. I think here the Presbyterian tradition can offer us a lot by creating a distinction between the church’s public gatherings for worship and the day-to-day lives of individuals. In the context of worship, I think Kauflin’s comment is perfect and enormously helpful.
But I’m not sure that I’m ready to say “God gave us music to serve the word,” without some qualifications. I worry that such a statement is making one aspect of what it means to be made in God’s image subservient to another. God gave us both language and music and in terms of day-to-day life, I’m reluctant to create a sort of hierarchy with these gifts. That said, I think the corporate gatherings of the church are different and I think it’s exactly right (and exceedingly helpful) to understand that music is meant to serve the word in the church. The church is where the people of God are to be reminded of the gospel and for that to happen we need words. Music can enhance the message of the word - which is what Kauflin’s talk is about - but in the context of the church we need to give primacy to the word.
Any other thoughts? If you’ve read the notes or watched the talk, am I being fair here? Do you have any thoughts on the idea that, “Music was made to serve the word”?
“The problem with all [non-narrative] solutions as to how to use the Bible is that they belittle the Bible and exalt something else. Basically they imply – and this is what I mean when I say they offer too low a view of Scripture – that God, after all, has given us the wrong sort of book and it is our job to turn it into the right kind of book.”
Listening to NPR this morning, I became very frustrated by the tenor of conversation. Absolutely everyone – politicians, pundits, even radio hosts – seemed intent on playing the economic blame game. What’s worse, as I’ve read the Christian blogosphere over the last few weeks, it seems that this blame game is being played by us as well. It’s the fault of those damned liberals, or that crazed Bush administration, or those greedy corporate executives, or those irresponsible poor minorities. I think that this should be a source of great shame for us.
There is certainly a place for discussing the causes of our economic woes; I don’t pretend that we should ignore the contributing factors to our woes as we seek a solution. However, this needs to be done in a gracious and non-partisan way, and as we do it we must recognize that there is more than enough fault to go around. Everybody’s chickens are coming home to roost right now, and the fact that there’s fowl in our neighbor’s house doesn’t allow us to pretend that we’ve flown the coop.
That said, there’s a deeper question we also need to be asking. When the blame game is being played, how should we as Christians respond? Most of us seem content to play it in the same way that the world does: desperately scrambling to shoot our neighbors before they shoot us. I think that this is unsatisfactory. There must be a more redemptive way to approach these issues, and I’d like to offer two thoughts on how Christians should handle attempts to lay blame.
1. Take the blame we deserve. We have all contributed to these problems in one way or another, whether in supporting a candidate who favored irresponsible economic measures or trusting big government to help the poor when we should be doing it ourselves. We need to own up to our share of the blame, to confess our fault before God, and to repent before the nation of our part in the sins which led us here. Before we start recommending the way forward, we as believers need to publicly acknowledge our part in the current situation.
2. Take the blame we don’t deserve. This is where things will make us uncomfortable. After we have taken our share of the blame, as I meditate on the gospel, I am convinced that we need to take as much of our neighbor’s guilt upon ourselves as well. As Christians, we are uniquely equipped to lose at the blame game because of the work of Christ. By bearing our guilt for us and giving us His righteousness, He has put us in a position to bear a burden of blame for our neighbors who cannot bear it themselves. We ought to follow in the path of Jesus, offering ourselves in place of others.
It’s this second point that I think is most important right now. We certainly do deserve part of the blame for our nation’s economic woes. What’s more, we should now be leading the way in sacrificially giving to help our neighbors avoid foreclosure. That said, even if we did all these things, we wouldn’t be doing something uniquely Christian. It will only be when we willingly allow the accusing finger to be pointed at us rather than those who may well deserve it that people will be seeing a model of Christ’s love spread before them – a love which suffers injustice in order to do good to those who don’t deserve it.
This then is the ultimate point: Christians have no business playing the blame game at all unless they play to lose. Any attempt by Christians to pin the fault on another group, even if it’s deserved, is antithetical to the cross. Sure, we might need to dialog about the mistakes that led to this point, but never with the aim of excusing ourselves or condemning our neighbors. When the recriminations and accusations start to fly, the model of Jesus is to interpose ourselves between them and their targets. To do less is to fail to look to the cross.
The second session Friday night was a helpful panel discussion moderated by Justin Taylor with Dr. Sinclair Ferguson, Dr. John Piper, and Mark Driscoll. I found the comments of all three men to be enormously helpful, but I think what stood out to me most were Driscoll’s thoughts on critics.
He said there are two kinds of critics: Those with love and hope for you and those with neither. Personally, as someone who is both highly opinionated and prone to making criticisms (my pastor jokes that he has the spiritual gift of delegation. If such a gift exists, I imagine the gift of criticism also exists, in which case, I probably have it.) it was a helpful reminder that if my criticism does not come from a love for the person or group and a hope that they could change, then it’s probably better that I don’t make it. The video is linked above, but I wanted to include this part below, because it was hilarious and also served as a great picture of a couple great pastors enjoying each other’s company.
Stealing a page from Denis Haack’s blog… Here’s a scenario, would love to get people’s thoughts on it:
Suppose you’re the music leader at a church and someone asks if you can sing the song, Better Than Life in the near future. Here are the lyrics:
“Your love is everlasting
It’s an everlasting love
Your mercy is as new
As every rising of the sun
And Your loving kindness
Loving kindness
Is better than life
Your grace is all-sufficient
It’s an all-sufficient grace
Your power and Your glory
Are forever on display
And Your loving kindness
Loving kindness
Is better than life
Chorus
Oh, it’s better
Oh, better than life
Oh, so much better
Jesus, Your loving kindness
Is better than life
Fairest of ten thousand
Of ten thousand You are fair
And nothing in this world
Could ever measure or compare
To Your loving kindness
Loving kindness
Is better than life
All your ways are just Oh Lord
You’re just in all Your ways
And I will lift my hands Oh Lord
With gratitude and praise
For Your loving kindness
Loving kindness
Is better than life
Chorus
Jesus, Your loving kindness
Is better than life itself
Better than life itself
Jesus, Your loving kindness
Is better than life itself
Better than life”
Do you sing the song in your service or not? If you do, why? If not, why not?
As a personal aside, I’m posting this question for two reasons - One, I found myself stumbling over some of the lyrics (some of youc an probably guess which lyrics). Two, there’s a bit of a trick here that I think can provoke further discussion, assuming someone catches it. (I didn’t, I had to have it pointed out to me by a friend.)
I recently picked up Death by Love: Letters from the Cross, Mark Driscoll’s new book. I realize that there is a long line of people who like to blast Driscoll (and whose comments will probably not make it through moderation unless they’re talking about this book); I don’t happen to be one of them. Is the man imperfect, and are his imperfections often worn on his sleeve? Absolutely. However, there are two think I like about Driscoll: he has balls, and he has a heart.
This is the sort of book which says all sorts of things that people will hate, and he doesn’t shrink back from saying them. Especially when talking about sin and the violence of the cross, he pulls no punches (and maybe throws a few extra ones on the latter topic). That said, he does so with a willingness to acknowledge his own sin publicly as well, and I think it’s more indicative of his brutal honesty in general than of personal defects.
Death by Love, however, is less about proving that he has a pair and more about showing his pastoral heart to those who desperately need the gospel. The book is laid out as a set of twelve pastoral letters to people Driscoll has counseled, each section applying an aspect of the redemptive work of Jesus to their lives. With chapters like “My Wife Slept with My Friend,” “My Dad Used to Beat Me,” “My Wife Has a Brain Tumor” and “I Molested a Child,” these letters are extremely heavy stuff. However, I found myself in tears more than once as I got to see the gospel given to broken, hurting people.
The Good
I really loved this book for a number of reasons. Let me offer two. First, the format is extremely helpful. I remember hearing Bryan Chapell comment that “If we try to apply a text to everyone, we reach nobody. If we apply it to a single individual, we reach everyone else too.” I’ve read lots of books about the ideas Mark is discussing here. I can’t think of any of them which have made me feel the truths as profoundly. I was especially struck by the chapters on justification and redemption; both ideas are far from new to me, but hearing them through different ears made me even more grateful for them myself.
Second, I really appreciate the breadth Driscoll assigns to Christ’s work on the cross. He draws on twelve different aspects, ranging from the traditionally Protestant (justification, propitiation, imputation) to those which we often ignore (Christus Victor, Christus Exemplar, Jesus as the revelation of God). It is all too common to pit some of these “atonement theories” against each other in a way that the Bible, which teaches them all as an interconnected whole, does not in any way warrant. His chapter on Jesus as our example is especially helpful, drawing on all that goes into suffering with Christ and taking up our cross without thinking that this idea is somehow hostile to penal substitution or grace. Overall, Driscoll does a great job of showing the many sides of the jewel of the atonement without trying to insist that any one is better than another.
The Bad
There were a few quibbles I would have with this book theologically, but I don’t think this is the place to discuss them. Too many reviewers manage to find the two things they disagreed with and expand them into 80% of the discussion. I’d rather emphasize that, while present, they are secondary to the overall goal of the book, which is one I applaud.
There were also a few pot-shots taken at some traditions which I thought were unhelpful. I agreed with his critiques for the most part, but it does break the sense of personal address which the letters provide. I think that there might be some who are turned off by an offhanded comment or two and miss the central truths Driscoll discusses.
Lastly, I had one formatting complaint: at the end of each chapter is a set of common questions about the doctrine being discussed. While these were mostly helpful, I felt that they often shattered the tone of the book. I think they might have been better placed in an appendix, allowing further reading if necessary without breaking up the main text. However, this is more a tribute to the quality of the chapters themselves than a huge problem.
Conclusion
I really enjoyed Death by Love, and I hope it gets a wide readership. I would especially encourage those of you who hate Driscoll for one reason or another to pick it up and read it through. You will benefit greatly from the gospel truths it contains, and it might soften you toward the man as well. Ironically, perhaps its a testament to the gospel that Driscoll himself, flaws and all, seems to be called as a minister of the God of grace.
Michael Spencer has an excellent article called “What Gays and Lesbians hear when they listen to Evangelicals.” The entire article is outstanding and obviously still relevant in light of Ray Boltz’ recent announcement. However, I think many of the points have a broader relevance to them as well.
Spencer’s first point is that they hear that they aren’t present amongst us. We speak of them as if no one present is actually homosexual or struggles with those tendencies. This is problematic, regardless of whether or not it’s actually true of our communities. If it is true - it means we’ve created a more exclusive community. And the only thing that Christian communities can be exclusive about is the gospel. If our exclusivity is marked by anything else, it is unbiblical. And if the assumption of absence is false, it means there are gays or lesbians amongst us and we’re causing them to feel marginalized and excluded, which isn’t acceptable for our communities, and will probably lead to the first scenario in which none are present.
But this is true of other groups as well. I remember once hearing a sermon where the pastor was trying to communicate to a generally white, mid-to-upper class, Republican congregation that God loves everyone. And he said, “I think God loves Democrats too.” It was a wonderful point that needed to be heard, and yet in saying that there’s a subtle assumption that Democrats aren’t actually present - that’s why we need to be reminded that God loves “them” too.
Personally, I struggle with this in speaking of any groups that too closely resemble the fundamentalism of my youth. As I thought about this, I realized how many times I’ve probably offended someone with a careless comment about conservatives, evangelicals, or some similar group. And I’m honestly scared to know the exact number, I think it’d probably break my heart.
In any event, the lesson is that in speaking of groups of individuals or ideas held by large groups of individuals, there must always be a gracious posture that defines what we say. This isn’t to say there’s no place for satire, but as Eric said recently, you have to be willing to be satirized. (Yes, I laughed at this. A lot. My personal favorite is probably, “Paul: Author of Romans 9.”)
And if we ever forget this, we’re not only hurting ourselves by demonstrating a flippant attitude about the given group, we’re also possibly hurting people within earshot that may hold to the views we are so flippantly dismissing.
Sinclair Ferguson opened the conference with an exposition of James 3:1-12. You can read, listen, or watch the session at the link provided, so what follows in this post (and the other recap posts I do) will be my reflections on the talk as well as some very brief notes.
Ferguson’s talk was helpful on a practical level, but unlike many practical helps offered by well-intentioned Christians, I felt that it was also very gospel-centered so that you didn’t feel beat up after Dr. Ferguson finished speaking.
The practical help came in the form of these resolutions from James, patterened after the resolutions of Jonathan Edwards.
I resolve to ask God for wisdom to speak out of a single-minded devotion to him (1:5).
I resolve to boast only in the exultation I receive in Jesus Christ and also in the humiliation I receive for Jesus Christ (1:9-10).
I resolve to set a watch over my mouth (1:13).
I resolve to be constantly quick to hear and slow to speak (1:19).
I resolve to learn the gospel way of speaking to both rich and poor (2:1-4).
I resolve to speak in the present consciousness of my final judgment (2:12).
I resolve never to stand on anyone’s face with the words I employ (2:16).
I resolve never to claim as reality in my life what I do not truly experience (3:14).
I resolve to resist quarrelsome words as evidence of a bad heart that needs to be mortified (4:1).
I resolve never to speak decided evil against another out of a heart of antagonism (4:11).
I resolve never to boast in any thing but what I will accomplish (4:13).
I resolve to speak as one subject to the providences of God (4:15).
I resolve never to grumble. The judge is at the door (5:9).
I resolve never to allow anything but total integrity in everything I say (5:12).
I resolve to speak to God in prayer whenever I suffer (5:13).
I resolve to sing praises to God whenever I’m cheerful (5:14).
I resolve to ask for the prayers of others when I’m in need (5:14).
I resolve to confess it whenever I have failed (5:15).
I resolve to pray with others for one another whenever I am together with them (5:15).
I resolve to speak words of restoration when I see another wander (5:19).
The gospel-centeredness came from this at the conclusion: “You live in this creation marred by sin, and God is bringing aspects of the new creation that will be consummated when Jesus Christ will return and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Because he has brought us forth through the word of truth, as he regenerates us, he doesn’t do it in a vacuum. He does it in the context of the truth of the gospel illuminating our minds.”
Dr. Ferguson closed his talk with this funny, but pointed, illustration (if you don’t get it, listen to him speak and you will) :
“As I said early on, almost everywhere I go people say I have an accent. The most wonderful thing is that 15 minutes into preaching the word, no one remembers my accent. The best place outside of the sanctuary is in elevators. I get off on my floor, and people say “Where do you come from?” As the doors close, I say, “Columbia, SC” and see a puzzled look. That’s a parable for what’s possible for the people of God in our own time.
Wherever you are, it’s not so much what you say while your in the room, it’s the questions people have when you leave the room. “Where do you come from?” This is someone who has been with Jesus. By God’s grace, James says that we may so grow to maturity that we may begin to speak like our blessed Lord Jesus.”
Dr. Ferguson’s talk set a really strong tone for the conference as a whole - every talk was Gospel-centered, which I think is absolutely essential, but none of the speakers shied away from trying to offer some practical thoughts on what may or may not be helpful on a day-to-day basis.
I recently picked up