How aware are we of our time?

I am about to launch into teaching my year 9 history class about World War One.

Even though I’m on isolation this week due to having COVID (never fear, it is the mildest case in human history) I am planning the lessons from home.

And, as we look at the causes of WW1… everything is… oddly familiar.

Militarism. Alliances. Imperialism. Nationalism. 

Europe was like a gas filled room. All it needed was a spark to ignite the conflict.

It does sound familiar…

I have little doubt that, currently, we are living in the middle of a future history lesson.

Hopefully, it won’t be the opening of the chapter on World War 3.

But how aware are we that we live in the midst of history?

With present world circumstances, it’s not too had.

We have an active war zone on the news.

We are still in a pandemic.

I’ll be able to tell my grandkids that I had COVID.

But, five years ago, would we have been so aware?

In a religious sense, how aware are we that we are in the middle of the salvation story still unfolding?

Now, of course, you can take this to an unhelpful place and project yourself, your church or your nation into a place it may not belong.

You can squeeze yourself, chapter and verse, into the book of Revelation.

Many have. And looked rather foolish in doing so.

Nonetheless, being aware that the unfolding story of God’s redemptive plan is still ongoing, can provide a useful perspective.

The difference between maths and religion

This week I observed a maths exam in a year 7 class I was coving for another teacher.

For some students, it looked like torture.

They squirmed.

They groaned.

They held their head in their hands.

If I were their maths teacher I would have been concerned.

Downtrodden even.

It was clear that some students knew very little.

The whole experience made me think of the difference between a school subject like maths and religion.

As a maths teacher, the farrowed brow of lostness is a bad thing.

The stress of not knowing the answer is problematic.

This need not be the case with religion.

Religion should welcome questions.

Religion should embrace those who are lost and searching.

These are not the signs of failure.

If anything, the complete opposite is true.

A smug confidence is something to be cautious of.

What would happen if we all had our warning-flags displayed?

 Teachers know.

As a teacher I have access to details about the students in my classes.

This includes everything from learning, language, literacy or numeracy concerns/testing results, court orders, disabilities, medical ailments, mental health issues and behavioural problems.

These, usually, are indicated by a series of coloured flags attached to the students name within the school administration/roll marking software.

As a teacher you are told to be mindful of these issues.

You are to be weary of them when you set tasks, administer tests, conduct assignments, deliver expectations and negotiate classroom management.

There are a lot of flags in most classes.

I wonder how life would be different if we all walked around displaying our flags.

Furthermore, what kind of things would trigger a public notification?

Addictions? Past hurts? Family or relationship tensions? Character flaws?

How would we treat others differently if we were aware of their past hurts?

How would the church minister to people differently if they knew they had been hurt by the church in the past?

Unfortunately, we don’t display our colours of disfunction.

But, as a church (and people in general), we should always remain vigilant to the fact that everyone - no matter how together their live and persona may be - walks around with areas of struggle, strain and brokenness.

Your planning pillars shouldn’t be a surprise

Christmas and Easter. The incarnation and the resurrection of Jesus.

This is what your church or ministry calendar should circle around.

This isn’t a groundbreaking revelation.

But, the reason I mention it is that - if you don’t do it - you tend to look rather foolish when you misalign your themes or events with the pillars of the church calendar.

When you’re examining a gospel and your misalign the start or end it is obvious.

To those aware of the liturgical calendar, it’s quite annoying.

Why?

Because it shows a lack of adequate planing.

It exposes a lack of forethought.

If you sketch things out - even roughly - 12, 8 or 6 months in advance, then you should be able to match up what you are studying/teaching/preaching about with the primary festivals of the faith.

Worse still, it gets dreadfully exposed if there are some parts of the church who do seek to have their events match Christmas and Easter.

Finally, your folly is exposed even more if, once the two central celebrations do roll around, you directly reference them in detail (which you should!), you’ll be cycling back or jumping forward a few weeks from the rhythm that you yourself have established.

A nothing post... in a good way

I've been meaning to blog for a week.

But, frankly, I've had nothing pressing to write about.

Why? 

Because I'm now teaching fulltime. And it's week 7 of terrm.

The new-profession buzz has started to wear off.

My bible reading is still moving going along regularly - I've now done Genesis 1-25, Judges and am currently in 1 Kings 1-11.

There isn't any impending church issues, wider ministry controverises or pressing pastoral conundrums which have emerged.

While I'll need to track down another job soon, have finally (offically) finished university and had my eldest have a hospital stay... Life has just... been happening. 

In many ways, I've just been living out adult-monotony. 

And, as I previously wrote, this is a good thing.

For, life shouldn't be a constant rollarcoaster.

Yet, this can be what we project online.

There's always controversy.

There's always insights or "breakthroughs."

There's always Instagramable-moments.

These are the markers of a reality TV show. Not real life.

Real life is boring.

Real life... just happens.

When it comes to the days, weeks and months of our lives, when held up against Isaiah 40:31, we are most often walking, not running or soaring.

Christianity should be simply complicated

Christianity should be simple.

John 3:16 simple.

The most basic kids-talk simple.

Understandable to the young and uneducated.

Christianity should be complex.

PhD thesis complex.

1000 page theology texts complex.

Still intriguing well into your nineties after reading, studying and teaching the Bible for decades.

Christianity must be both - Simple and complex.

This is the gospel. 

Good news for any age.

Good news for any education level.

Good news for all.

Are all children of your profession an added challenge?

In youth ministry, you either love them or are driven up the wall by them.

They either know it all or resent the church.

They either answer everything or don’t utter a word.

They either ask the most insightful questions or try to undermine everything you attempt to do.

Now, these binary options aren’t the only places a ministers kids will fall, but they can all be true.

But, does a similar thing happen in other professions?

Are the children of teachers or school principals a polarising blessing/curse?

Are they also softened or hardened due to the experiences of their parents?

Is it the same for lawyers, doctors and garbage men?

Do they also run amuck or are they extra grateful and gracious for the peak behind the curtain? 

The place where your ministry hobby horse grows

I’ve written about ministers having hobby-horses before.

I’ve also shared the two ministry-related topics that I could ramble on about.

For me, my two hobby-horses were developed over a number of years in ministry, especially in dealing with the struggles younger guys face.

I suspect that most ministers develop their driving topic while they are still studying.

Most likely, this burning question is cultivated through an assignment, subject or research project.

Hobby-horses are inevitable. They are a result of passion.

And this passion is fired during seminary.

It is refined.

I wonder though, does a developing minister realise that they hobby-horse is growing? 

Furthermore, should a minister seek to ever align his topic-of-choice with a prospective church?

If not, do they realise - after a lengthy tenure - the influence their passion (even unconsciously) will have on their congregation?

Or, should a minister’s passion be shaped by the church they are serving in?

How long should you milk the controversy?

Controversies happen in churches.

They flare up.

Feelings are hurt.

Messages are jumbled.

Time passes…

The controversy dies down.

People start to move on.

So, how long should a church keep milking the controversy?

How long should they keep mentioning it?

How long should they keep adding “in light of what we have all gone through?”

How long should should you stop awkwardly… when you would usually drop the name “that person?”

The short answer is, I don’t know.

A nice, tight, mathematical equation would be delightful.

I’ve been at a number of churches who have ridden the wave of controversy.

Some have handled it well.

Some… could have handed it better.

No matter where on the “handling proficiency” spectrum a church finds itself, one thing is certain.

Eventually, you need to let the controversy go.

You need to put the skeleton away in the closet.

Yes, learn the lessons.

Have the conversations.

Make the appropriate apologies.

Address the issues.

But… mark a mental date when you will move on.

Then, look forward, not back.

What preaching shadow does the departure leave?

As an employee, I’ve left multiple churches. Most under good circumstances. Not all.

I’ve been involved with many churches where a staff member has left. 

Amicably. Graciously. Beloved. Disgraced. Disgruntled. Bitter. Sudden.

But, no matter what circumstances surround a departure, the one who leaves usually doesn’t stick around.

They start working for another church. They move away. They go on holiday. They take a break or a “step away.”

Either way, everyone else is left behind.

Other ministers. The congregation. Those who loved the departed. Those who are glad to see the back of them.

And another Sunday is on the way…

So, do those who leave churches consider the preaching legacy they leave behind?

Do they wonder what effect they will have on the Sunday after they are gone?

Do the ones making a hostile firing give thought to how this will shape the following Sunday? 

The Sunday service, and sermon, should always reflect - at least in part - the context it is found it. 

It should be influenced by world events.

It should be relevant to local circumstances.

It should connect with what is going on in the congregation.

I wonder, especially now that many services and sermons are recorded and accessible for anyone, do those who’ve left listen in?

Does the, now, permanence of the words spoken influence what is shared?

When the bible reminds you how much you don’t actually know

I’m currently in the first segment of a multi-year, self devised, bible reading plan.

The gist is pretty simple. I read, chronologically, segments of the bible. I start by reading the passage first slowly, then looking in depth at passages I didn’t understand.

At the moment, I’ve reading Genesis 1-25 until the end of next week.

If you asked me at the start of the year how many passages I’d be stumped by, them I’d probably guess around a half dozen.

This isn’t because I’m an Old Testament scholar.

But, I’ve got a bachelor of theology. I’ve been reading the bible for more than a few decades. I’ve written over ten years of Tiny Bible Bits. I’ve taught hundreds of scripture lessons.

I would think that I’d, at least, be familiar with much of the first few dozen chapters of the bible…

Nope.

Turns out the list of things to look deeper into is actually fairly extensive.

Genesis 4, 5, 6:18, 9:18-27, 10, 11:10-32, 12:10-20, 14, 16, 18:16-33, 19, 20, 21:8-21, 23, 24 & 25.

In a way, I’m a little disappointed. I feel like I should know more.

But, at the same time, it’s refreshing to be reminded that I - in fact - know far less than I often suppose.

It’s a good reminder, especially if I’m still going to have another half century of following Jesus - and thus reading the Bible - ahead of me, that there’s still a lot of things I need to dig into and a lot more to learn.

The question every Christian private school must wrestle with

Leading up to the new school term I’ve had a number of interviews about teaching positions for the upcoming year.

Included in this merry-go-round has been a series of conversations with private or independent Christian schools.

Near the end of each interview I’ve asked the following question…

In light of the cost of your tuition, how does your school reconcile the social justice gospel mandate to include and reach out to the poor, widow, orphan and downtrodden?

I think every wealthy Christian church or school must wrestle with this question.

How to they balance their wealth and/or privilege with a God who especially cares and caters for the least?

How do they reach out to the poor when none, realistically, are within their school or congregation?

How do they give a message of indigenous reconciliation or acceptance, when none in their midst are Aboriginal or Torres Straight Islander?

On most occasions, the schools I’ve had a chat with have been honest and admitted (unsurprisingly) that this is an issue they struggle with.

The challenge, constantly, before churches and wealthy Christian institutions must be the gospel of uncomfortable generosity, compassion and justice.

Why?

Because within these places are some of the people who can, and will, make a dramatic difference in the social justice movement.

They just need their eyes and hearts opened to see and feel the need…

The test of Christian maturity you’ll inevitably face

Do you need to know all the details?

I can think of a number of occasions when the details of a situation have not been shared with everyone.

Everyone in a family doesn’t need to know about what is happening within a marriage.

The children shouldn’t know every detail of their parents lives.

The congregation shouldn’t know every detail that plays out behind-the-scenes.

People don’t need to hear about the mental health issues of their staff members.

Some issues should remain private.

A good indicator of your Christian maturity will be not knowing. And, inevitably, you’ll be in a situation when you don’t know…

Because you don’t need to know all the details.

Sometimes, not knowing is because it’s none of your business.

You need to be ok with that.

Sometimes, not knowing is because the leadership of the church has handled it internally - with appropriate checks-amd-balances. 

You need to trust them.

Sometimes, not knowing is because letting certain information out - whilst involving nothing illegal - will harm others physically or emotionally.

A mature Christian… a mature adult… will understand this.

A child will struggle with it…

2021 Best of…

12 months ago I asked… How do you sum up the dumpster fire that was 2020?

Well, you could pose a similar query to 2021.

This year COVID put me in isolation for a fortnight and resulted in me prac teaching online for three weeks.

I finished my Education/Arts degree (majoring in Roman Antiquity, minoring in geography).

Now, with my studies completed, I’m officially unemployed (hopefully never to read another gas meter again!) and now navigating the waters of finding a teaching position.

This year, like the last few, blogging was down depending upon my study schedule, nonetheless here’s the Rambling highlights of 2021…

Why not reject one more?

Should you pair up dating leaders?

Should you review and rewrite the past?

Disunity starts with the convinced tribe

The danger of having to hit a sermon-time-limit

The secret which helps your points breathe

The secret hack of meeting new people at church

You have to be close enough to see the bones

Should a preacher wade into the waters of controversy?

How do you minister to those on the edges of the arguments?

Preaching should come at a cost for talented ministers

The message virgin converts need to hear

You’re not meant to BE Jesus at your work

What role should death play in modern evangelism?

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation about evangelism and, somehow we got onto the role of death.

I assume it was because, for the first time in living me,our, death is - again - a threat in the West due to COVID.

So, can Christians, once again, use the looming shadow of death as an evangelistic tool?

For decades, the idea of death being an imposing, threatening menace in the West has been somewhat removed by increased comfort and modern medicine.

Sure, death still existed. Obviously.

And death still occurred. Even in the young.

Death would still strike in moments of disaster and tragedy just as much in 2019 as it would in times gone by.

And yet… infant mortality is at its lowest. Life expectancy is at its highest.

So, what - if any - role should death play in evangelism?

Of course, if you’re going to speak about judgement, then death will be a part of the discussion.

If you’re going to press the importance of the resurrection, then pointing out that ever human has and will die may be an important launching point.

But, what of the sudden threat of death - one that can legitimately strike next month or year?

Is this message more powerful now, in a COVID world, than it has been since, say, the AIDS epidemic or the World Wars?

I suspect, in some places! The message may hit closer to home.

But, should death be our message?

Should our evangelism be punctuated by death?

I don’t think so.

Surely, even if the shadow of death is more impending than in generations, our primary message should still be about life.

Life to the full.

Eternal life.

Life over death.

Even in a COVID world.

Or a world with AIDS

Or with World Wars.

Or the Plague.

Christianity should always be, at the core, about life and hope. Not death and fear.

Does chronologically misaligned prayer still work?

Earlier this week I had a job interview for a teaching job.

At approximately the some time, someone else in my small group was also having a job interview.

The both of us mentioned this to the members of our small group, many whom passed on best wishes and prayer.

But, there were a few who passed on their well-wishes too late.

By the time they sent a message, the interviews had both already concluded.

This made me wonder, what did God do with that prayer?

In theory, prayer uttered out of time sequence shouldn’t be a great problem.

God exists outside of time.

He can honour a chronologically challenged prayer since He hears the heart, mind, motivations and words of the one praying.

Outside of the clock.

He can move in alignment with the prayer, despite the prayer not having left their lips yet.

But… if unchronological prayer works, how long is it effective?

A few hours?

The same day?

Up until the point that the prayer discovers the result?

Nonetheless, prayer - in part - is about transforming the one who up is lifting up the prayer.

It is a way to show support for a fellow believer.

This works at any time.

If you want to sing to Jesus, don’t point it here

My last post mentioned one of the differences between Catholics and Protestants - the former especially mark their first partaking in communion.

But, if you want a simple way to recognise a Catholic Church, you need look no further than the cross.

In the Catholic tradition, they have a crucifix, with a representation of Jesus still upon the crucifixion beams.

The difference was triggered in my mind last Sunday when someone mentioned that we should direct our singing to the cross.

The trouble with this, for Protestants, is that the cross is now empty.

As a symbol of the resurrection, the cross is vacant.

Ditto for the tomb.

So, singing to the cross would be singing to an, albeit significant, symbol.

The cross, now, two pieces of wood that point us to the sacrifice of Jesus.

If you want to direct your worship to Jesus, outside of the Catholic tradition, the cross is not the place to point it…

What do you gain by knowing the first time you had communion?

I never knew when my first communion was.

I can guess a location.

Probably.

Whilst communion is significant, as a Protestant, it's just not something that you mark as a memorable occasion.

Even for the first time.

The same thing will be true for my children.

They won't be able to say when they first had communion.

But their cousins can.

Or at least they will be able to find a certificate marking the occassion.

Do Catholics gain something by making such a big deal about their milestone sacraments?

Do Protestants lose something?

How does internal silence effect prayer?

For the last fortnight I've been walking the streets reading gas meters - a job I haven't done for the last five years.

Weirdly, this is very cyclic since it was a task like this that resulted in this blog.

Now I'm back walking the streets with nothing more than my thoughts.

As the hours pass your mind drifts to strange places. 

Lately my mind has laboured about those who have no internal dialogue. It's a genuine thing. For real.

I wonder what effect this has on prayer.

I ponder this because when I pray while meandering the suburbs, it can - frankly - sometimes feel like I'm talking to myself.

But, I know what that feels like.

I chat with myself.

I argue with myself.

I bicker with myself.

And, this is, apparently, normal.

But, how does prayer feel for those who are unfamiliar with the feeling of internal chatter?

Is prayer improved because they don't tune out of prayer as often?

Do they feel more connected because they only primarily communicate with those who are in attendance?

Is prayer more difficult because they are unfamiliar with nattering into the ether (which prayer can feel like)?

Just like my conundrum about evangelising believers with amnesia, I suspect I'll never find someone who fits the demographic to ask how the situation works.

But. I would be intrigued find out how it works and, more importantly, how prayer is different...

You’re not meant to BE Jesus at your work

It’s not uncommon to hear that you’re meant to BE Jesus.

In your home.

In your workplace.

Amongst your family and friends.

I have a few problems with this…

First of all, you don’t need to be Jesus. Christendom already has one. He is enough.

Jesus is enough Jesus for your home, work, school or social circles.

Second, I’m not convinced this is what the New Testament actually teaches.

Paul wanted to be like Christ. Not Christ.

We are to be Christ’s ambassadors. Not Christ.

We are to be His witnesses. Not Christ Himself.

Third, this BE Jesus theology can actually be quite dangerous.

Being Jesus is how cults start.

Being Jesus moves power and authority to a dangerous, man-centric, place.

Fourth, when you elevate yourself to BE Christ, then you set yourself, and those around you, up for failure

For, you will fail.

You will sin.

You will let others down.

The real Jesus won’t do that.

Finally, we already have a role.

In our homes.

In our workplaces.

Among our friends and family.

our role is to people to Jesus.

This is our job.

This is our ministry.

This is our part.

That is enough.

Because Jesus is enough.