God’s Wrath: An Argument by Analogy

Not far from where I live is a nationwide (I think) drive-in, no appointment necessary, oil-change business.  I regularly drive and jog by this place and have even succumbed to having my vehicle serviced there, on desperate occasions.  

Every day, employees stand out in front, holding a sign that proclaims oil changes for $19.99 and beckoning people to stop for service.  It’s the classic bait-and-switch. The parameters under which one can actually get an oil change for that price are so narrow as to be virtually impossible.  But, hey, they got you in the door.

Worse, once they’ve captured you, they try to sell you stuff you don’t need. I’ve always serviced my own vehicles, but, as I said, occasionally, I’m desperate and too busy to do it myself.  One time I was in this store getting the “$19.99” service job that actually cost me $35 and change and, during the ordeal, the service manager came into the waiting room to tell me that I needed new windshield wipers.  I couldn’t believe it.  He did not bat an eye when I informed him that those wipers were brand new because I had changed them myself two weeks earlier.  He had moxy, I’ll give him that.  As you might imagine, I have not frequented this place of business in a long, long time. 

When I jog or drive by this place and see the poor employees standing out in the heat or the cold, I feel genuinely sorry for them.  They need the job.  I feel for them, but I still withhold my business.

Which makes me think of God’s wrath.  Maybe there is an analogy here, even though, admittedly, my little scenario is trivial.  It points to an important truth.  A merciful/just God eventually withholds benefit in the face of persistent injustice in order to bring about change.  It’s not a passive inactivity.  It is an active withtholding of blessing; God’s wrath revealed against all unrighteousness…     

I think this point important for two reasons.  First, I work with students who often exhibit the attitude that their actions (or lack thereof) deserve no untoward consequence.  It’s easy to dismiss their assumption that they’ll get a 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th chance on the basis of the immaturity of adolescence, but the truth is, humanity suffers from this disease, especially American humanity.  Within the church the sappiest of notions of divine love prevails, a view in which God’s love always trumps God’s wrath.  

Partly, I admit, we think this way because some Christian leaders have overworked and distorted the impact of God’s wrath.  I for one don’t want to go around consigning people to the outer darkness.  That said, our shallowness on this point is truly shocking.  Maybe our society is caught in the arrested development of perpetual adolescence.

Secondly,  this analogy bespeaks the real emotions of God who loves the world and suffers its waywardness.  As I mentioned, I genuinely feel for the guys who work in that oil-change shop.  I wish them well.  But I don’t take my business there.  Does God genuinely feel the world’s pain while at the same time withholding blessing because of our sin?    

If so, those of us who are Christian leaders ought to help people grapple a little more seriously with their own sinfulness.  Instead of noticing the sin in “the other” we ought to consider our ways in light of God’s nature.  This is theology at its most practical: helping people think about God so that they can walk in faith and obedience.

From One Heart to Another

In 2 Corinthians, Paul is put in the position of defending his ministry.  “Are we beginning to commend ourselves?” he asks the Corinthians.  “You are our letters [of commendation],” he reminds them.  Paul’s “defense” of the authenticity of his work is the strong, open, vulnerable witness he has lived amont these people.  “We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves…” (4:2)  

The open statement of the truth is delivered by means of a transparent witness, by the work of Christ in the hearts of the ministers.  Paul says that the light of God has “shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ,” (4:6)  This treasure is carried about in jars of clay, so that the glory may redound to God and not to the vessel (4:7).  

The Gospel goes from one heart to another.  The transparent witness of one Christ-follower lights up the knowledge of God in another person.  Grace “extends to more and more people…” (4:15)  

I’m struck by the lack of standard supports for ministerial authority in Paul’s situation.  I just re-read John Wesley’s sermon entitled, “The Ministerial Office,” which serves as an apologia for Methodism and an exhortation for Methodists to keep to their station.  He upholds lay preaching, for example, but he criticizes Methodist preachers for trying to administer the sacraments.  The purpose of lay preaching was evangelism, which does not need the standard support of ordination.  The purpose of Methodism was spiritual renewal – for the light and love of Jesus Christ to shine in the hearts of Methodists so that others could see the glory of God.  

I find here an irreducible core to Christian ministry.  Ultimately, ministry is not training or skill, though both are crucially important.  Ministry is heart to heart, whether lay or ordained.  In some fundamental sense, ministry is nothing more than witness.  And “witness” means that something is happening to me, to my heart, which becomes visible in my actions.

I don’t know about you, but as United Methodist annual conferences meet and tally the votes on the Constitutional amendments, these thoughts keep me oriented.  I am not pitting “heart” against external, organizational matters, as if the organization does not matter.  It does.  And people in favor of and against the structual changes care deeply about mission.  

But the ground of confidence in Methodism or any other church or movement ultimately is not in the structures.  It is not in the various kinds of standard supports we build to enhance the organization’s effectiveness.  The ground of our confidence lies in the glory of God shining in our faces; the grace of Christ extending to more and more people; the treasure of the Gospel embodied in these earthen vessels.  

I take comfort in these thoughts.  When I had to vote at annual conference last week, I struggled with the pros and cons of opinions about the amendments.  I voted my conscience.  At the end of the day, however, no matter how the structure changes or remains the same,  the Gospel still goes from one heart to another.   I need always to remember this one thing.

Mid-Term Evaluation

After fourteen years teaching and campus ministering at Southwestern College, I have accepted an appointment to become the Chaplain at Southern Methodist University.  For anyone who has moved from a place they love to some place new, you know this feeling.  I feel excitement and grief.  Feelings alternate in the space of a millisecond.

My friends and colleagues at the college and in the annual conference are hearing that I’m moving on.  I’m receiving well-wishing and congratulatory expressions, which I deeply appreciate.  People are being so kind and supportive and encouraging.  

At this stage in my life, moving prompts some evaluating.  It makes me think of the mid-term grades that we professors submit.  Some people have said, “Southwestern and our conference are really going to miss you.”  They have have sparked this mid-term evaluation.  

The idea that SC or the conference will feel my absence is, of course, deeply gratifying.  It suggests that people have evaluated my leadership in (mostly) positive ways; that my work here has been significant and made a difference somehow.  For anyone, but especially for people in ministry, the conviction that one has born fruit for God’s Kingdom really, really matters.  

How does one evaluate one’s effectiveness?  There are the obvious empirical measures: numberical growth (members or students or programs or facilities) for example.  On this measure, my grade isn’t bad.  Every congregation I have served has grown numerically, but every one has been small.  It was small when I came.  It was some bigger when I left, but still small.  The chapel service in the school where I teach has grown by a large percentage since I started, but the actual number is not eye-catching.  I’ve raised no money (at least not directly) to build buildings or additions to buildings.    

One of my former students who is now on her way to becoming ordained, told me of the young clergy dinner at our annual conference.  She gave the number of attendees and then the number of my students in that group.  Now here is a number I really start to care about.  It helps me keep clear about my particular calling.    

I’ve told the story so many times.  One day, as we were worshipping in chapel and I was watching our students rapt in praise and prayer, I felt as if God spoke to me: “Your job is to pour your life into these students.”  Students graduate and go into all kinds of places to work and serve and some into full-time ministry.  If I share something of my love for Christ with them and that something remains, then I’ve done my job.  It really is that simple.  

So, for me, the mid-term evaluation is about intangibles, the hard-to-measure things: the quality of relationships, for example.  I think my mid-term grade is pretty good.  But finishing well is what counts.  As a track coach friend, now retired, used to tell his distance runners, “No one counts whether you win the first half of the race.”

The Meaning of an Honorary Degree

So, I just discovered the flap over President Obama’s upcoming honorary degree from Notre Dame University. Evidently, a significant number of bishops find this development objectionable.

What does an honorary degree mean? Does conferring one suggest that the granting institution accepts carte blanche everything the conferee stands for?  I certainly hope not.

Can we recognize significant contributions of people with whom we have ideological differences on other matters?  I certainly hope so. 

I fear that the “either-or” posturing that seems to have overtaken so much of American public life is a very bad omen.  I know, it’s not new, but it’s still worrisome.  I think what is new is that every one of these scrapes winds up on cable news, with reporters fanning the flames of false controversy with internet “tell us your opinion” surveys.

I can almost hear one objection: “What has Barack Obama done that warrants an honorary doctorate from Notre Dame?”  I’ll leave that question to Notre Dame to answer.

Where the Action Is?

Occasionally I hear someone mention what has become a commonplace about ministry: let’s find where the Holy Spirit is at work and work there as well.  It reminds me of a song from the sixties, or perhaps the seventies, a song about going where the action is.  

I enthusiastically agree with this sentiment.  It has affinities with Lesslie Newbigin’s writings on the missio Dei and is a good reminder that we in ministry follow the lead of the Master, rather than a corporate (or other) marketing plan.  I’m not criticizing marketing plans either, just trying to get at what I think is a crucial and quite controversial idea.

For s0me time, I’ve been reading a sermon of John Wesley as part of my morning prayers and reflection.  Today I read “On God’s Vineyard.”  If you want a good summary of what Wesley thinks about Methodist doctrine, read the first section.  As we prepare for our annual conference business, particularly the constitutional amendments, I wish we all would read it.  But annual conference is not my business this morning.

One part of the sermon caught my eye and put me on a certain flight of fancy that I have been having for awhile.  Wesley writes,  “Many sinners were thoroughly convinced of sin, and many truly converted to God.  Their assistants increased [i.e. the assistants to the Wesley brothers], both in number, and in the success of their labours.  Some of them learned: some unlearned.  Many of them were young...” (emphasis added).  Young preachers.  Young leaders of the movement.

Conventional wisdom says that being the senior pastor is where the real action is.  If you’re not the pastor, but a staff member, say a youth director, then you’re a little bit out of the real action.  It is not uncommon that youth directors with strong pastoral gifts are encouraged to “grow out of” youth ministry into something closer to the real action.  It may be changing, but it used to be fairly common that people who are not very good at being pastors were appointed to campus ministries.  

But what if the real, apostolic, missional action is among the young?  What if we flipped conventional wisdom on its head?    

Those of us who work with young people have been watching a trend.  Most young people who feel called to ministry do not want to pastor already-established congregations.  They want to start their own churches or go into some other kind of ministry instead of the local congregation.  

We’re talking in United Methodism all the time about starting new churches.  What if the youth group in one’s own congregation was seen as the new church start?  I’m not playing semantic games.  What if the youth director were part of a new apostolic generation?  

I’m not necessarily saying that people my age and up are not “where the action is.”  But it is a sad truth that many congregations are controlled by people who treat the church as if it were their own religious club.  The label “United Methodist” may be on the sign or above the door, but little of the lifeblood of Methodism flows through its veins.  

A significant factor in the growth of Methodism historically has to do with the calling and nurture of the young.  Young people took ownership and leadership.   John Wesley understood this critical point.   Those of us who are no longer young would do well to pay attention.