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Gossiping the Gospel

2/26/2013

Marcus and I are grateful and encouraged to be pastoring a church that has grown much in the habit of intentional conversations that reflect on the gospel and touch daily life. I recently came across the following article, written by Colin Marshall, that expresses that heartbeat and that I pray you will find to be encouraging and practical...

"Church Was Great! Let's Not Talk About It"

We've just heard the Word read and proclaimed, sung the praises of our great God, and petitioned him for mercy in our time of need. And then we spend our time afterward talking about last night's movie, the game, the hobby, the state of the nation, or whatever. Anything but the great truths of the gospel we've just heard and by which we're saved. Why do we do this?

"Drive-thru church" doesn't help. We have six other commitments on Sunday, so we aim to get through church as efficiently as possible on the way to the next thing. Some of us have just never thought about having conversations about the sermon (apart from pestering the preacher about something). Others know it's crazy to talk about everything but God, yet they still feel uncomfortable striking up "spiritual" conversations. We've never been in a context where this is normal. Sometimes, perhaps too often, we leave the service with no sense of engaging with God by Word and Spirit, and so we have nothing to say to anyone.

For still more, the underlying problem is our consumer view of church---an unsurprising consequences of "what's in it for me" contemporary Western culture. "Church is put on for me by the professionals and their teams," we assume. With this mindset, engaging in spiritually encouraging conversations certainly won't be on the agenda.

Ironically, those with a serving mindset---the antithesis of consumerism---can also find it difficult to get into "God talk" at church. The busyness of serving can keep us from stopping to encourage others and can let us feel we've done enough by helping to organize things.

Why We Meet

But why should we use our conversations at church to encourage one another in the faith? Because that is the reason why we meet.

"But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness." (Heb. 3:13)

"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching." (Heb. 10:24-25)

The church gathers God's people to hear his Word, respond in obedience, and use our gifts and abilities to strengthen one another in the faith. All believers are involved in building Christ's church. Therefore, we shouldn't see ourselves merely as part of an organization called "St. Hubert's Church," but as servants of God's people, eager to meet the needs of others even if it means stepping out of our comfort zone.

Not the Only Ones

I love our heritage of expository preaching delivered by godly, studious, articulate pastors. But somehow we've inadvertently communicated that they're the only ones (plus a few others on the stage, perhaps) who do the work of encouraging and building. If that's your assumption, read the New Testament (e.g., 1 Cor. 12-14; 1 Pet. 2) again with an eye toward how the whole body builds itself up, with each part doing its work by speaking gospel truth in love (Eph. 4:15-16).

Perhaps some of you are thinking, I may not talk much about God and what we've learned in the sermon, but I do show love in lots of other ways, through caring for people in need and asking how to pray. But encouraging someone isn't only putting our arms around them and urging them to press on. What gives courage is the truth of the gospel. We see a clear example of this in 1 Thessalonians 4:18: 'Therefore encourage each other with these words." In context, "these words" that encourage are the words of the gospel (1 Thessalonians 4:13-17).

Here's my question for you: Do you come to church expecting God to use you to minister to others, to encourage them in faith, hope, and love through the Word? Are you asking him to provide such opportunities?

What to Ask

So how do we start these encouraging conversations after church? Asking "What did you get out of the sermon?" might work, but often you'll get a blank look or worse. Here are a few suggestions:

Pray during the service that God would lead your conversations, and pray for specific people around you.
Listen to what God is saying to you through the sermon (or songs, creeds, and so on) and formulate a comment or question to start a conversation. This past week at our church, the sermon was on what it means to praise the Lord, from Psalms 146-150. Since I was thinking about this article (and, I hope, for more godly reasons), I picked out two things to try as conversation-starters after church.
With another couple we somehow got into a conversation about their blended family, and I reminded them of God's favor towards the alien, orphans, and widows (Ps. 146). Since the husband is not yet a believer, I was deliberately talking about God's character. I have no idea what effect it had on him.
Even if the conversations don't always get off the ground, your enthusiasm for learning the Bible and knowing God will be contagious. And non-Christians will see that church isn't dull and boring but fascinating and life-shattering.
These intentional conversations after church will sometimes lead to prayer for one another. Why not stop for a moment and give thanks or petition God for some need?
Another way to deepen our fellowship is to ask each other how we came to salvation in Christ. Sometimes we've been in church with people for years without ever learning their story. The other day at church I asked a guy named Phil how he became a Christian, and we discovered God had worked in us in very similar ways as young men. The door is now open to building a friendship with this brother. What a joy!

Family, Not an Audience

The benefits of working at these encouraging conversations go way beyond the few minutes after church. Our gatherings are enriched, and our partnership with one another in the gospel is enhanced. We know each other as God's family, not as anonymous audience members at a performance.

Moreover, I'm convinced we don't "gossip the gospel" with our unbelieving neighbors and friends at least in part because we've never learned to talk about God and our Christian life, even with other Christians. How will we engage unbelievers about God's grace in Christ if we don't talk with our brothers and sisters about these great truths—especially after listening to a sermon together?

If your church gathering doesn't include coffee and refreshments after the service, let me encourage you to consider doing so. You'll set the pattern of staying afterward to minister to others, and, after a while, it will be quite normal.

Too costly? Going deeper in Christian friendship and stirring up one another to love and good deeds? I don't see much cost there.

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"Brothers, We Are Not Professors"

10/23/2012

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The following article, written by R. C. Sproul Jr., was intended primarily for pastors. I appreciated it very much personally, but think it is a helpful read for more of us than just pastors because it describes what we all need to be looking for in a pastor's ministry. A few observations that I found particularly striking have been highlighted...

It has been said by one great Reformed theologian that we are living in the most anti-intellectual age in the church’s history. We are the TV generation, making way for the Internet generation. Images tickle our eyes, and sound-bites massage our brains. We are, compared to our Puritan fathers, ignorant shepherds leading sensate sheep in a dry and dusty land. Surely what we need then is more thought, more scholarship, more earnest hours spent pouring over the ancients in our studies. Right?

We are worldly when we, like the world around us, give ourselves to an entertainment mentality, when we amuse ourselves to death. We are still worldly, however, when we rightly reject the eye candy and froth of pop culture and then conclude that our problems are intellectual, and our solutions [are] more learning. It was the enlightenment, not the Light of the World, that gave us education as its high and holy sacrament. What Jesus calls us to is to repent and believe the gospel. It is more important to us and our sheep that we would learn to believe more, than that we would find more to believe.

That means first that when we prepare to serve in the ministry, we have to prepare to serve in the ministry. Our seminaries, if we must have them, should more reflect a training hospital than a university. Divinity is not a body of knowledge to be mastered like geology. The Bible is not a book to be dissected like Moby Dick. We go there, if we must go there, not to study the Word, but to begin to learn to have the Word study us. We go to pursue not advanced degrees but the fruit of the Spirit. We go to lose our reputations, not to gain them. We go not to be thought wise, but to learn what fools we are.

That means next that when we are called to the ministry, that we minister. Our pulpits, sadly, are filled with men who started as seminarians eager to shepherd a flock. There they were introduced to a dynamic, likely godly professor, and suddenly the student determines he will pursue still more degrees, that he might follow in the footsteps of his hero. As seminary comes to a close growing debts, a growing family, and a growing urge to go and teach derail the plan to become a professor. Instead the young pastor determines to take a church that his flock can become his student body, and His Body, a tiny little seminary. He will lecture then during Sunday School, and regale them through each sermon. The Shepherd, however, calls us to feed His Sheep. We are not to give our wisdom, our insights, the fruits of our scholarship. Rather, like Paul before us, we serve up our weakness, our frailty, our need. That’s how the Word breaks through, where the power comes from.

Brothers, your flock may need some more information. What they need more, however, is someone to lead them, to show them the Way. They need to see you repenting. They need to see you wrestling with your sins. They need to see you preaching the gospel to yourself, not because you like the sound of your voice, but because you hate the sin that yet remains, and you need grace. They need to see you rejoicing in the fullness of His promises, and mourning both sin and its fruit, the last enemy, death.

No man needs advanced degrees and arcane letters after his name in order to follow Jesus. Which means that no man needs these things to lead others in following Jesus. If you follow Him, they will follow you. If, however, you merely tickle their brains, they will soon go off in pursuit of someone who seems smarter than you. If they are taught to hear your voice, they won’t discern the voice of the Master.

When our days of ministry come to an end, our labors will either be dust, or they will be dust. No matter how many downloads our wisdom garners, no matter how many journals publish our insights, these will all one day decay. Our scholars’ hoods and robes, pulpits and libraries will become mere chaff. If, however, we spend our days as shepherds, pasturing the flock, our labors will last forever. For we minister to dust, to men into whom the Spirit breathed twice. We minister to dust that is, through faithful, pastoral preaching, being burnished into the image of the Pearl of Great Price. Brothers, we are not doctors, but the sick, not scholars but fools. Let us then be fools for Christ. Preach.

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"Keep It Complicated"

9/11/2012

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It is interesting to me how many people I meet seem content to have what they call a "simple faith." Usually, this self-description comes up in the context of a conversation in which the person is struggling to accept some particular teaching of scripture with which they are unfamiliar, uncomfortable, or both. In these cases, my sentiments are usually fourfold: 1.) I praise God for the faith that the person already has, "simple" or otherwise. 2.) I am burdened for the person to be able to love and trust all of the Word regardless of the implications. 3.) I am burdened for pastors and other teachers (myself included) to be willing to "dig in" to the Word in their teaching in such a way that people will learn to "wrestle" with the Word while still loving and trusting it, thus molding maturing believers. 4.) I am burdened for myself not to arrogantly expect everyone to believe everything exactly as I do on the same time frame that I do. With that in mind, I found the following article by Randy Newman to be appropriately challenging and gracious...

I am sometimes told, when discussing how to present the gospel to a non-believer or how to formulate a sermon or Bible study, to "keep it simple." Sometimes the admonition is "to keep the cookies on the lower shelf."

If the advocate of simplicity elaborates, he'll tell me that, if we "make things complicated," people may get confused, reject our message, get lost in unimportant issues, not remember what we said, or fail to benefit from the Bible's teaching, the gospel's power, or the truth's beauty.

But what if "keeping it simple" is really distorting the message? What if our message isn't really simple? What if the gospel is complex, rich, multifaceted, nuanced, far-reaching, and touching upon an infinite number of other aspects of life? What if the Bible isn't really a simple book after all? What if God's Word points us to its inspirer---the God who is beyond comprehension, beyond finding out, beyond our finite reasoning, and beyond all we can pull together?

What if "keeping it complicated" really did justice to the subject matter and "making it simple" misrepresents it? What if we can't "keep" it simple because it never was simple to begin with? What if we're not "making" it complicated but reflecting the truth as it really is?

Have I made this argument complicated? Good.

Nice and Easy
I certainly see the need to find ways to state things concisely and simply. Sometimes you only have a few minutes to explain what you believe to a sincere inquirer. In those instances, a short booklet or a diagram drawn on a small napkin is the best vehicle for telling people the message of salvation.

But it's one thing to draw that diagram or read that booklet and say, "This is one way for me to express my faith in a concise way. There's obviously more but this is a helpful introduction." It's another thing to say, "There. That's all there is to it."

I have often pondered the best-selling book title, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Apparently, given its popularity, a lot of people think it's the only book they need to read. But I remain unconvinced. All I really need to know? Really? I have found that the dramas of life, the complexities of marriage, the trials of disease, the confusion of evil, the pain of death, the ever-evolving challenges of parenthood, not to mention the wonder of beauty, the joy of music, the blessing of laughter, and all the delights of worship to be just a few of the things my kindergarten teacher left out of the syllabus.

Do I think the lessons I learned in kindergarten were helpful, foundational, crucial building blocks upon which to learn many of the lessons that would follow? Absolutely. Am I thankful for kindergarten? Remarkably.

But am I glad there was also a first grade and a second grade and every other learning experience I've encountered since kindergarten? Increasingly so.

If I reflect on this tendency to "keep it simple" vs. "keep it complicated" from a missional perspective, I would have to say, "keeping it simple" hasn't served the church all that well---at least, not lately. Our world is complex, and people know it. In fact, people love it. They reject (rightly, I believe) simplistic answers to complex questions because those answers haven't worked. Formulas haven't helped them make relationships work. Short explanations haven't helped them grapple with long problems. And the people who insist, "it's really quite simple" seem to be out of touch with reality.

Many people wonder about the complexities of life and want to explore them. They long to see how seemingly unrelated topics intersect. They are not surprised by mysteries that keep unfolding, revealing more and more levels of wonder. They enjoy movies like Inception.

Maybe we should try to "keep it complicated" because God's Word and his gospel are complicated---not in the "confusing" sense of complicated but in the rich and beautiful and intellectually fulfilling and aesthetically pleasing and awe-inspiring ways. I think it's worth the experiment---both for the deepening of our faith and the challenging of our friends' searches.

Randy Newman serves with Campus Crusade for Christ’s Faculty Ministry in the Washington, D.C., area. He blogs about evangelism and thoughtful faith.

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"Worshipping at the Altar of Family"

9/10/2012

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Check out the following article by authors Kristin and Ted Kluck. As a father of two with one more on the way who will happily welcome any more that God may bring along thereafter, I appreciated their thoughts on keeping things in God-centerd perspective.

When visiting a number of Reformed churches in the last few months, we've noticed a significant trend. These churches are bursting with children---lots of biological children, of course, but also a good number of adopted and even foster kids. This is a great thing, all those kids, even if we are a little extra sensitive, due to our status as Dreaded Infertile Couple. But we've gotten used to this baby boom---the infant dedication.../rose-on-the-piano acknowledgements, the romper-room-kindergarten-classroom atmosphere in the sanctuary, the baby showers. And lest we sound too much like curmudgeons, we assure you that God has helped to heal the pain of infertility through the adoptions of our two sons (and used those same two wiggly, loud, preciously infuriating boys to confirm that we were not, ever, meant to be parents of a huge family).

But perhaps this sensitivity to the "normal" family experience of marriage at 21 with five kids by age 30 (five is the new two) has given us some perspective that may have escaped the Normals. It came to me this Sunday while sitting behind a family with six or seven kids and listening to the pastor talk about the things we sacrifice to God's agenda. He was talking about how the disciples had ambition for the wrong thing---power in an earthly kingdom. He went on to apply that faulty expectation to misplaced ambitions in our lives: wealth, power, and fame. He clarified that these things are not inherently, incurably wrong, and some devoted Christians do indeed gain wealth, power, and fame. But he spoke of the lust for them, the chasing after them, the have-to-have-them, the sum-total-of-my-being, as being the problem. He quoted David Powlison: "good gifts, bad gods." True, powerful, and convicting words.

And it struck me that those examples---wealth, power, fame---are primarily idolized by men. Sure, women may want some of those things. But more often men fantasize about being the richest guy, the prodigy in their field, wielding power and influencing people, being known and respected. A family may support him off to the side, but he's longing for the accolades, the respect, the riches. But I found myself, while he described the feelings of idolatry---the sense that this is my whole life, this is what I live for, this is what I dream of,this is what completes me and gives me significance---thinking that, for me, this is family.

This stuff of many women's fantasies includes an adoring, faithful spouse; attractive, obedient kids; people who depend on you, love you, give you a reason to get out of bed, regularly stand up and sing your praises. And it is idolatry, just like money, power, and fame. It's the thing that causes the mom in your women's Bible study to post the 67th picture of her daughter's birthday party on Facebook. It's the reason for the magazine-quality family pictures all over the house. It's why the mother-of-the-bride obsesses about her daughter's wedding and treats it like a part-time job. It's (at least in part) why Christmas letters get sent and then end up making their recipients feel mad and competitive.

Gift or God?
What makes it even trickier and more confusing is the value the Bible places on family. It is the building block of a just and moral society. It is a hedge of protection for the traditionally vulnerable children and women. The Bible has much to say about the blessing of a godly spouse and a houseful of children and includes lots of good directives on how to keep those relationships healthy and godly. Parents are charged with the precious task of directing and guiding our children's hearts towards God, so it is easy to think of family as an unqualified good. "Family values" is practically synonymous with "orthodox Christian."

If so, then why do I feel so convicted, sometimes, about worshiping at the altar of family?

Isn't family still a gift, not a god? Isn't it still something that can be elevated into first place, which should be reserved for God alone? I think we see the problem in our reactions to the hardships of family life---fractured relationships with parents, wayward or difficult children, marriages that are anything less than Christian-movie quality. We take it personally. We feel somehow personally affronted ... by God, as though the Perfect Family were our birthright as Christians. And when I say "we," I mean "I." It's a personal battle, waged mostly silently by other families and friends.

Churches encourage our husbands daily to not make idols out of their careers, and to not look at porn. But how are we, as wives, encouraging and exhorting one another not to make idols out of perhaps our greatest gifts: our families?

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"Parenting For Recovering Pharisees"

8/31/2012

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I came across this article by Christina Fox today and found it very helpful--hope the same will be true for you. I have never been so aware of my own sinful, selfish heart as I am since having two little kids who, for some odd reason, don't always fit into my own personal program for any given day. So I praise God all the time for using them to grow me, and look to Him for the grace to help me shepherd them like He shepherds me. Enjoy...

Cooking dinner, I hear the sounds of angry hearts bubbling over into stinging words. It gets louder, and soon someone is crying. Two boys come out into the great-room, red-faced, fists clenched, and both yelling at once. After multiple attempts, I finally gather that one had frustrated the other, who responded by kicking his brother.

I begin by saying, "Remember how Jesus said we were to treat one another?"

"I'm not Jesus!" my oldest responds immediately, his face scrunched up as his feet stomp the tile floor. He runs off to his room.

Sometimes, my children speak words that the Spirit has been trying to pierce into my heart for a while.

The pasta is boiling over. The water makes sizzling sounds as it hits the red glass cook top. I stare at it, knowing I need to leave the kitchen and talk through the conflict with them. I think of how quickly anger can overflow the heart, spattering burning hot drops of pain on anyone nearby.

Turning down the heat on the pot, I walk into the boy's room, hoping to do the same with their anger. I find them both calm and playing with Legos. I get down on the floor, look my oldest in the eyes, and say, "I know you're not Jesus."

Deep into the PastHow often does a parent's response to her child's behavior imply that we expect perfection? The pharisaical heart has roots that dig deep into the past--back into childhood. A child can learn quickly the ways of self-righteousness. When they have behaved, they hear, "You're such a good boy." Over the years, they can grow to believe that the good they do comes from their own ability. When those beliefs take root, they can struggle with seeing their own sin. And perhaps even struggle with seeing their need for a Savior.

"Jesus called us to live as he lived. But he knows we can't be perfect as he is perfect," I tell my son. "That's why he died for us, because we can't do what's right. Through faith in him, he gives us the Holy Spirit. We have his power living within us. That's the only way we can ever obey. We need to pray and ask for his help."

He nods his head, listening.

"When you don't obey, remember that Jesus died for that disobedience. He loves you that much. When you feel the anger rising within you, pray and tell God you are angry. Ask him to help you to obey him."

As a recovering Pharisee, I struggle with living as though I can earn grace. I know how the self-righteous heart can look down on those who don't follow the rules. I don't want my children to grow up with the heart of a Pharisee.

I do want them to know the holiness of God. I want them to know all that he expects, what he commands, and what glorifies him. I also want them to realize that they can't perfectly obey him, and they need a Savior. I want their hearts to be grieved and humbled by their sin. I want them to run to the cross when they sin and remember his grace and mercy.

God's grace covers even my parenting blunders. How grateful I am that his grace is greater than all my sin! I rest in his promise that he is at work in my children's hearts despite my failed efforts. I trust in the story of redemption he is writing in their lives. And I look forward to that day when we will finally be like Jesus.

Christina Fox is a writer, blogger at www.toshowthemjesus.com, homeschooling mom, and coffee drinker, not necessarily in that order. She is a licensed mental health counselor and women’s Bible study teacher. She lives in sunny South Florida with her husband of 15 years and their two boys.

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Gossiping the Gospel

"Brothers, We Are Not Professors"

"Keep It Complicated"

"Worshipping at the Altar of Family"

"Parenting For Recovering Pharisees"

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