If the church is the bearer of the presence of the kingdom through history, it is surely not as the community of the righteous in a sinful world. To imagine that would be to fall victim again to the seduction of the vox populi against which the prophets testified and of which the cross of Jesus is the final repudiation. The presence of the kingdom is a hidden presence, hidden in the cross of Jesus, but precisely in its hiddenness it is revealed to those to whom God through his Spirit grants the gift of faith. If we say—as we must—that the reign of God was present in Jesus, that it was present in his living, his dying, and his risen life, we have to go on to say that in a secondary, derivative, but nonetheless real sense the reign of God is present (hidden yet revealed to eyes of faith) in the community that bears his name, lives by faith in his person and work, is anointed by his Spirit, and lives through history the dying and rising of Jesus. It is a sinful community. It is, during most of its history, a weak, divided, and unsuccessful community. But because it is the community that lives by and bears witness to the risen life of the crucified Lord, it is the place where the reign of God is actually present and at work in the midst of history, and where the mission of Jesus is being accomplished. This affirmation is not made as the conclusion of a survey of the history of the church and its present reality. On the contrary, it is made as an integral part of the confession of faith. Because I believe in one God the Father, one Lord Jesus Christ, and one Holy Spirit, I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church. And I believe that the reign of God is present in the midst of this sinful, weak, and divided community, not through any power or goodness of its own, but because God has called and chosen this company of people to be the bearers of his gift on behalf of all people.
Kristyn and I arrived home last night from a lovely and refreshing couple days in Fort Worth (including a great stay at the Rosen House Inn). While there, we made sure to stop by the public art project Beauty in Becoming by my sister, Lynne'. We were at the dedication in 2022, but it’s cool to see how it’s settling into the fabric of Trinity Park.
The reign of God is a reality that can only be announced in parables. It is a “mystery,” at once both hidden and revealed: the characteristic language of parable…. The announcement of the kingdom will not of itself automatically open [people’s] eyes to its presence, for the reign of God is present under the form not of power, but of weakness. It is strictly a mystery, a reality that remains hidden unless it is revealed by the action of God. […]
The supreme parable, the supreme deed by which the reign of God is both revealed and hidden, is the cross…. Here is the supreme parable: the reign of God hidden and manifest in the dying of a condemned and excommunicated man; the fullness of God’s blessing bestowed in the accursed death of the cross. Who could believe this unless it was given to them by an act of God’s sovereign grace? To know the power and the wisdom of God in the weakness and foolishness of the cross is not an achievement of ordinary human discernment. It is not the work of “flesh and blood.” It is the gift of God to those who are called to receive it (1 Cor 1:24). That the cross is indeed victory and not defeat is made manifest in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. The resurrection is not the reversal of a defeat but the manifestation of a victory.
A great deal of the substance of the Western Christian tradition—its liturgy, theology, and church order—was formed during the long period in which Western Christendom was an almost enclosed ghetto precluded from missionary advance. Church and people were one society struggling to maintain itself against a superior power. There was little possibility that the church could see itself as a society sent out in mission to all peoples.
currently listening: What’s Going On by Marvin Gaye
Currently reading: 100 Poems to Break Your Heart by Edward Hirsch 📚
currently listening: Abbey Road by the Beatles
For me there is one spiritual mass I must fly over daily in order to catch the Spirit: morning prayer. My morning prayer isn’t long. It takes about fifteen minutes. But it is a sacrament of my sanctification. I set aside a quarter of an hour at the beginning of each day in order to set the whole day apart for the Lord. In turn, the Spirit sets me apart for the work of the ministry and sets me on the right path for a day full of direction and power. […]
Morning prayer is a fusion: prayer led by Bible reading, and Bible reading led by prayer. We pray the Scriptures, they pray in us and through us. The Scriptures inspire petition, confession, “groans too deep for words,” personal reflection, praise, joy and deep confidence to face the rest of the day. […]
Neglect of morning prayer isn’t caused by distractions. Distractibility is a symptom of a deep infection. The infection in me is my desire not to be set apart for ministry, not to be directed by the Spirit, not to be empowered to do ministry. It is, most specifically, my desire to swerve from the Way of the Cross, to set myself apart, to set my own agenda and to gather power from other sources. My refusal to do morning prayer is the Old Adam inside me, kicking against the sanctifying work of the Word and the Spirit.
Jesus specifically directed us to follow him in his life’s general direction, the Way of the Cross. Lest we object to bearing the cross as pietistic nonsense in a world of “scientific” management principles and psychological method, simply observe that virtually all the trouble that the best, most talented pastors get into comes from not following the Way of the Cross. The best and the most talented in the pastoral ministry and in denominational hierarchies harm themselves and harm the church most through their unrestrained ego and unwillingness to step off the high places. Sexual sin gets the press, but ego sin kills the church. […]
The power to do pastoral ministry and its central focus, that which gives every aspect of it meaning, lies specifically in the everyday, concrete following of Jesus, led by him on the Way of the Cross. That is how we become parables of Jesus and deliver him to the people we meet. […]
Here’s what the pastoral ministry is for me: Every day, as I go about my tasks as a pastor, I am a follower of Jesus. I am therefore a parable of him to those I encounter. The parable of Jesus works the power and presence of Jesus in their lives.
Pastoral ministry is a life, not a technology. How-to books treat pastoral ministry like a technology. That’s fine on one level—pastoral ministry does require certain skills, and I need all the advice I can get. But my life as a pastor is far more than the sum of the tasks I carry out. It is a call from God that involves my whole life. The stories I read helped me to understand my life comprehensively. My life, too, is a story, and it is the narrative quality of my life that makes my ministry happen. Others see and participate in the story as it is told. I have discovered that when I follow Jesus in my everyday life as a pastor, people meet Jesus through my life.