The Obama administration and the criminalization of dissent

I wrote a piece early last October laying out my thoughts as to what the Obama administration would look like, and what his presidency would bring. At some point, I intend to do a full-scale review of that post, evaluating what I got right and what I got wrong, but at this point I think I can call the shot on three connected predictions I made:  that Barack Obama’s talk of bipartisanship would be just empty words belied by a highly partisan administration, that Nancy Pelosi would run rampant, and (most worrisome), this:

I believe the approach we’ve seen from the Obama campaign to dissent and criticism will be repeated in the policies and responses of an Obama-led Executive Branch; given the clear willingness of his campaign to suppress freedom of speech to prevent criticism of their candidate, I believe we’ll see the same willingness from his administration and his chief congressional allies. This will mean a surge in the kind of the strongarm political tactics that we’ve already seen entirely too often this year. . . .

The Obama campaign’s efforts to shout down Stanley Kurtz and David Freddoso (in an effort to intimidate Chicago radio station WGN into canceling their appearances on Milt Rosenberg’s show) ought to be disturbing to anyone who cares about free speech. Of even greater concern should be the Obama “truth squads” in Missouri, where the campaign enlisted allies in public office to threaten prosecution of any TV station that runs any ads about Sen. Obama that the campaign deems untrue. Not only is this approach outrageously biased (one side’s allowed to lie, but the other isn’t?), it gets into some very grey areas about interpretation and intent, and thus raises some real concerns as to the approach an Obama Department of Justice might take to the First Amendment.

This kind of approach, like Joe Biden’s suggestion that an Obama/Biden administration might prosecute the Bush administration, is nothing more nor less than the use (or threat of use) of political power to punish one’s opponents, intimidate critics, and silence dissenters; it’s the sort of thing we’re used to seeing in Zimbabwe, not here—and as the case of Zimbabwe shows, there’s nothing, not even money, that can corrupt a democracy faster, or more severely. I’ve argued before that one of the great problems with our politics in this day and age is that we absolutize our own perspectives—we assume that our own perspectives and presuppositions are the only legitimate ones, and that those who disagree with us can’t possibly be doing so sincerely, but must be acting out of motives that are selfish or otherwise wrong. The criminalization of politics, which we’re starting to see urged by the Obama campaign, is a more extreme version of that problem, because it argues that those motives are not only wrong, but are in fact criminal in nature. The chilling effect of that sort of approach should be deeply worrisome not just to conservatives, but also to true liberals.

Unfortunately, it appears that many leftist Democrats aren’t true liberals, because President Obama has now invited just such prosecutions, and they don’t appear to be worried at all; to its credit, the Boston Globe did call out Janet Napolitano and the Department of Homeland Security for the egregious report that pretty much labeled all conservatives as potential terrorist threats, but an awful lot of Democrats seem to be just fine with it.  Indeed, many who were First Amendment absolutists who loved to wax lyrical about the importance of dissent back when there was a Republican in the White House now seem to think anyone who dares argue with the Anointed One should be drug out into the street and shot.

To repeat:  the willingness of those in power to deal with opposition by criminalizing policy differences—to use brute force as a tool for gaining and maintaining political power—is one of the things that makes places like Zimbabwe the basket cases that they are.  We cannot afford to allow such an approach to corrupt our system.  But even if concern for what’s best for the nation doesn’t restrain the Obama administration from such banana-republic tactics, enlightened self-interest should, as Matt Lewis memorably illustrated (HT:  Joshua Livestro):

There has been a lot of debate on the potential prosecution of Bush Administration officials who offered legal opinions supporting waterboarding—with some even calling for investigations of high-ranking officials like Dick Cheney. However, one thing that hasn’t been given the attention it deserves is the precedent it would set if we were to criminalize national security decisions. Hence, I’ve finally decided to test out the time machine I’ve been building in my basement—and you would be surprised what sort of things grew out of the current debacle.

For instance, the following Associated Press story was filed on April 23, 2013, and if it sounds Orwellian, well, it is:

OBAMA ADMINISTRATION OFFICIALS TO FACE PROSECUTION

WASHINGTON—The Justice Department announced today that charges could be filed against numerous Obama Administration officials as a result of last year’s terror attack in Los Angeles. In announcing the indictments, Attorney General John Cornyn said that top officials showed “gross and purposeful negligence” by releasing perpetrators of the attacks from the Guantanamo Bay prison camp and demanding that interrogation tactics be softened against chief planner Mehmet al-Meshugeneh, who had already revealed that a major attack was being planned against a major U.S. sporting event.

“By purposefully disregarding crucial intelligence, and in releasing known participants in the plot into Saudi custody, numerous government officials took action which made the Staples Center bombing possible,” Cornyn said. He went on to note that “numerous individuals in the Departments of Defense, Justice, and Homeland Security knowingly pursued policies which would endanger the lives of Americans. They placed their political priorities above the safety of the citizens of this country, and thousands of innocent people died as a result. These people must be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

At the White House, Press Secretary Adam Brickley said that President Sarah Palin stands firmly behind the decision. “It’s not as if we relish the thought of prosecuting members of the previous administration,” Brickley said, “but, at this point, there is a clearly established precedent—set in place by the Obama Administration themselves—which says that government officials must be held accountable if they contributed in any way to major breaches of the law. In this case, the individuals under investigation do appear to have purposefully allowed these terrorists to continue their actions—prioritizing international public opinion over the lives of the American people. So, while this may be a politically charged issue, there is a real need to prosecute.”

In the end, the sort of tactics the Obama administration has now begun to employ are ineffective at silencing dissent (as the case of Zimbabwe, along with many other nations, shows)—all they really do is raise the stakes enormously.  If you’re willing to start prosecuting your predecessors, you’re going to get the same treatment from your successors unless you can manage to do one of two things:  a) overthrow the Constitution so that you can become President-for-Life, or b) never make a significant mistake.  Taken all in all, I’d say the first is likelier, and neither exactly probable.

All of which is to say that Barack Obama and his senior staff and advisors would do well to remember, and live by, an ancient piece of wisdom:

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.”

—Matthew 7:12 (ESV)

Christians should be more Christian

Remember, the three most powerful narratives on the planet are narratives of religion, narratives of nation, and narratives of ethnicity/race.  You cannot afford to forfeit that territory by talking about economics or the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  Don’t be afraid to be Christian ministers.  If you don’t use the Christian narrative to define reality for your people, then someone else will define reality for them with a different narrative.

What makes this quote remarkable and unexpected is the speaker:  Eboo Patel, a devout Muslim.  Dr. Patel, an Oxford-trained scholar, teaches a course on interfaith leadership at McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago together with a Christian woman named Cassie Meyer. McCormick being what it is, I would have expected such a course there to push lowest-common-denominatorism, but that seems to be far from the case. Judging by the fascinating article on Dr. Patel and the class in the latest issue of Leadership, “Ministry Lessons from a Muslim” (which doesn’t appear to be up online yet), he and Meyer advocate respectful conversation between unabashed truth claims.  We need to respect and love those with whom we disagree based on our own convictions, not by setting those convictions aside, and so Dr. Patel, as a Muslim, encourages his Christian students to be more Christian.  He explains this in part by saying,

If you enter a ministerial gathering as a Christian minister and downplay your Christian identity in an attempt to make everyone comfortable, as a Muslim leader, I’m immediately suspicious.  I don’t trust you.  Embracing your identity as a Christian creates safety for me to be a Muslim.

That isn’t a reaction I would have predicted, but it makes a lot of sense; after all, someone capable of neutering their own beliefs and identity for the sake of a particular goal is also perfectly capable of asking others to do the same—which, to those unwilling to do so, makes them a potential threat.  (By contrast, someone unapologetic about declaring and maintaining their beliefs either will make space for others to do the same, or else will expose their hypocrisy and other sin issues.  That’s not pleasant, to be sure, but at least such people can be dealt with straightforwardly.)

This is really cool

I don’t remember how I ended up with a year’s free subscription to Wired, but I’ve really been enjoying it; I knew it was a good magazine, but either it’s gotten better over the last couple years or else I’d never fully appreciated it before.  The serious articles are consistently very good—for instance, there are a couple pieces from the March issue that I’ve been meaning to post on, serious pieces on the roots of the financial crisis and what steps ought to be taken to deal with it, and I was fascinated by the one in the May issue on Teller and the research he’s involved in on the neuropsychology of stage magic (if that sounds geeky, trust me, it isn’t)—but my favorite articles have been some of the lighter ones.

I was particularly pleased to see the piece in the April issue on the German board game The Settlers of Catan.  If you haven’t heard of it before, you’re not alone—in America, it has a ways to go before it’s as widely-known as, say, Monopoly or Scrabble; the only people I know who’ve heard of it found out about it the same way I did, from my brother-in-law—but when they call it a “perfect boardgame” that “redefines the genre,” they aren’t blowing smoke.  It’s a fascinating and enjoyable game on every level.  As the article explains,

Instead of direct conflict, German-style games tend to let players win without having to undercut or destroy their friends. This keeps the game fun, even for those who eventually fall behind. Designed with busy parents in mind, German games also tend to be fast, requiring anywhere from 15 minutes to a little more than an hour to complete. They are balanced, preventing one person from running away with the game while the others painfully play out their eventual defeat. And the best ones stay fresh and interesting game after game.

Teuber nailed all these traits using a series of highly orchestrated game mechanics. Instead of a traditional fold-out board, for example, Settlers has the 19 hexagonal tiles, each representing one of five natural resources—wooded forests, sheep-filled meadows, mountains ripe for quarrying. At the beginning of every game, they’re arranged at random into an island. Next, numbered tokens marked from 2 to 12 are placed on each tile to indicate which dice rolls will yield a given resource. Because the tiles get reshuffled after every game, you get a new board every time you play.

The idea is that players establish settlements in various locations on the board, and those settlements collect resource cards whenever the token number for the tile they are sitting on gets rolled. By redeeming these resource cards in specific combinations (it takes a hand of wood, brick, wheat, and wool to build a new settlement, for instance), you expand your domain. Every settlement is worth a point, cities are two points, and the first player to earn 10 points wins. You can’t get ahead by rustling your opponents’ sheep or torching their cute wooden houses.

One of the driving factors in Settlers—and one of the secrets to its success—is that nobody has reliable access to all five resources. This means players must swap cards to get what they need, creating a lively and dynamic market, which works like any other: If ore isn’t rolled for several turns, it becomes more valuable. “Even in this tiny, tiny microcosm of life, scarcity leads to higher prices, and plenty leads to lower prices,” says George Mason University economist Russ Roberts, who uses Settlers to teach his four children how free markets work.

Wheeling and dealing turns out to be an elegant solution to one of the big problems plaguing Monopoly—sitting idle while other players take their turns. Since every roll of the dice in Settlers has the potential to reap a new harvest of resource cards, unleash a flurry of negotiations, and change the balance of the board, every turn engages all the players. “The secret of Catan is that you have to bargain and sometimes whine,” Teuber says.

Teuber also made the game as flexible as possible, with numerous means of earning points. Building the longest road is worth two points, for instance, and collecting development cards (purchased with resource cards, these can offer a Year of Plenty resource bonanza or straight-up points) also brings you closer to victory. Having options like this is critical. The games that stand the test of time have just a few rules and practically unlimited possibilities, making them easy to learn and difficult to master. (Chess, for example, has 10120 potential moves, far more than the number of atoms in the universe.)

Finally, the game is designed to restore balance when someone pulls ahead. If one player gets a clear lead, that person is suddenly the prime candidate for frequent attacks by the Robber, a neat hack that Teuber installed. Roll a seven—the most likely outcome of a two-dice roll, as any craps player knows—and those with more than seven resource cards in their hand lose half their stash, while the person who rolled gets to place a small figure called the Robber on a resource tile, shutting down production of resources for every settlement on that tile. Not surprisingly, players often target the settler with the most points.

In addition to deploying the Robber, players will usually stop trading with any clear leader. In tandem, these two lines of attack can reduce a front-runner’s progress to a crawl. Meanwhile, lagging opponents have multiple avenues for catching up.

All of this means that players must use strategy and move smartly, but even flawless play doesn’t necessarily lead to easy victory. This is why kids can play with adults, or beginners with experts, and everyone stays involved.

“When a lot of us saw it, we thought this was the definition of a great game,” saysPete Fenlon, CEO of Mayfair Games, Settlers’ English-language distributor. “In every turn you’re engaged, and even better, you’re engaged in other people’s turns. There are lots of little victories—as opposed to defeats—and perpetual hope. Settlers is one of those perfect storms.”

If you like playing games—of any sort—and have people to play with, go pick up a copy and introduce yourself, and them, to Catan.  You’ll be glad of it.

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

With all due apologies to Inigo Montoya . . .

This is what the president promised us:

My Administration is committed to creating an unprecedented level of openness in Government. We will work together to ensure the public trust and establish a system of transparency, public participation, and collaboration. Openness will strengthen our democracy and promote efficiency and effectiveness in Government.

So, what’s he doing about it? Well, according to the Washington Times,

The Obama administration, which has boasted about its efforts to make government more transparent, is rolling back rules requiring labor unions and their leaders to report information about their finances and compensation.

The Labor Department noted in a recent disclosure that “it would not be a good use of resources” to bring enforcement actions against union officials who do not comply with conflict of interest reporting rules passed in 2007. . . .

The regulation, known as the LM-30 rule, was at the heart of a lawsuit that the AFL-CIO filed against the department last year. One of the union attorneys in the case, Deborah Greenfield, is now a high-ranking deputy at Labor.

And courtesy of Michelle Malkin:

I wrote two weeks ago about transparency killer Ron Sims, the King County WA bureaucrat nominated to the no. 2 spot at HUD by supposed transparency savior Barack Obama. Those in his backyard who know him best know the lengths Sims has gone to in order to obstruct public disclosure and stop taxpayers from finding out the truth about his office’s shady dealings.

As I mentioned in the column, blogger Stefan Sharkansky sued Sims over his refusal to release public records related to voter fraud during the 2004 contested gubernatorial election. Today, Sharkansky reports, Sims and King County settled for $225,000, one of the largest settlements for public records violations in state history.

I think someone in the administration needs to go look up “transparent” in a good dictionary.

A pastoral comment on Sarah Palin

I forgot to mention this yesterday, what with everything else going on, but I have another post up over on Conservatives4Palin.  Counsel for leaders within the church is also of value for Christians called to leadership outside the church, since I believe exercising Christian leadership in the marketplace and in government is an important form of Christian ministry.

On this blog in history: January 26-31, 2008

Whose table?
A brief reflection on the Lord’s Supper.

The Jesus heresy?
You can’t be properly Christ-centered without being Trinitarian; worshiping Jesus without the Father and the Spirit isn’t really worshiping Jesus at all.

Church as consumer option?
I’m looking forward to following up on this one by reading Skye Jethani’s The Divine Commodity:  Discovering a Faith Beyond Consumer Christianity.

Justice and mercy
On the need to affirm the justice of God, and why even his mercy is, in a way, an act of his justice.  I want to go back to this one at some point and develop it at greater length.

GCNC video

This is a catchall post for the video of the various sessions as I find it:

Tim Keller, “The Grand Demythologizer: The Gospel and Idolatry” (Acts 19:21-41)

John Piper, “Feed the Flame of God’s Gift: Unashamed Courage in the Gospel” (2 Timothy 1:1-12)

Philip Ryken, “The Pattern of Sound Words” (2 Timothy 1:13-2:13)

Mark Driscoll, “Rightly Dividing the Word of Truth” (2 Timothy 2:14-26)

K. Edward Copeland, “Shadowlands:  Pitfalls and Parodies of Gospel-Centered Ministry” (2 Timothy 3:1-9)

Bryan Chapell, “Preach the Word!” (2 Timothy 3:10-4:5)

C. J. Mahaney, “The Pastor’s Charge” (1 Peter 5:1-4)

Ajith Fernando, “Gospel-Faithful Mission in the New Christendom”

Conference Panel Discussion

Ligon Duncan, “Finishing Well” (2 Timothy 4:6-22)

D. A. Carson, “That By All Means I Might Win Some: Faithfulness and Flexibility in Gospel Proclamation” (1 Corinthians 9:19-23)

7 quick takes: GCNC edition

(GCNC being the Gospel Coalition 2009 National Conference, which I attended earlier this week, for those who might not know.  For those not familiar with 7 Quick Takes Friday, it’s hosted by Jennifer F. over at Conversion Diary.)

>1<

Of all the great preachers and all the great sermons I heard (including C. J. Mahaney’s, which was essentially a plenary session scheduled as a workshop), the one that—I don’t want to sayimpressed me most, because I don’t want to come across as a dispassionate observer doing some sort of ranking, and I don’t want to say moved or touched me most, because different messages did that differently—but the one that I keep coming back to the most was Mark Driscoll’s.  As he himself noted (and many others commented that evening), it wasn’t a typical Mark Driscoll sermon, because of the text assigned; I don’t know who was responsible for breaking up 2 Timothy or by what logic he was given 2 Timothy 2:14-26, but it was clearly a God appointment of a most unexpected sort.  If you want to look at the sermon outline, it’s up here.

What impressed me the most about this sermon wasn’t its homiletical brilliance or its practical usefulness, but rather that I do not believe I have ever in my life seen a preacher so completely submitted to—even conquered by—a biblical text.  At one point, he described the passage as an anvil on which he’d been beating his head, and he was clearly preaching under a sense of deep, deep conviction, brokenness before God, and repentance—and preaching out of that sense, bringing that powerfully alive in the room.  I’ve long respected Mark Driscoll, even though I’ve heard some harsh criticisms of him, for his devotion to the gospel, his vision for ministry, and his sheer guts (I grew up in Washington state, I know what Seattle is like); this week, I saw him model a defenseless openness to the word of God and the power of the Holy Spirit that I have never seen nor—to be completely honest—experienced before in preaching.  He didn’t have to do that, on a worldly level; I suspect he felt the Spirit driving him to, but even so, the courage that it took to lay himself that bare before the Scripture, to let the word of God challenge and convict him that deeply, and then to preach that, inspired a holy awe in me.  At some point, God is no doubt going to hit me that hard through his word; at some point, maybe he did, and I refused to stand to the mark.  When that day comes (again?), I now have his example to try to live up to.  It’s a great gift, if a daunting one.

>2<

Speaking of courage, I should also express my deep appreciation for John Piper, who summarized the main point of 2 Timothy 1:1-12 (and by extension, he argued, of the whole letter; I can’t speak for anyone else, but he convinced me) as “Timothy, keep feeding the white-hot flame of God’s gift in you, namely, the gift of unashamed courage to speak openly of Christ and suffer for his gospel.”  I appreciate him because he wasn’t just preaching about his topic, he was preaching it, and preaching through it.  He declared,

If you ask Paul, “How do I feed the white-hot flame of God’s gift of unashamed courage to speak openly of Christ and to suffer for the gospel?” he answers, By the power of God (verse 8)—the supernatural power of the Holy Spirit. And if you ask, “How do I express the fullness of this power?” he answers in 2:1, Be empowered by the grace that is in Christ Jesus. And if you ask him, “How do I receive this ongoing grace?” he answers, Timothy, this grace is coming to you right now through the word of God. God’s grace is coming to you in my words. “I have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that I might understand the things freely given me by God. And I impart them in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit” (adapted from 1 Corinthians 2:12-13).

These aren’t ordinary words, Timothy. They are God’s words. You were with me on the beach in Miletus. Do you remember what I said as I left? I said, “I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, which is powerful to build you up [in courage!] and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified” (Acts 20:32).

The answer, Timothy, is that you feed the white-hot flame of unashamed courage to suffer for the gospel by preaching to yourself the foundational truths of this letter. And you feed the courage of your people the same way. God has ordained that his sovereign grace comes to you with power for unashamed courage through my God-given words.

(That, note, is from the posted text, not a transcript.)  Now, it’s one thing to say those words, and there are other preachers who could do that.  It’s something else again to preach them as if you believe them, not only in theory, not at some point in the future, not as a possibility, but for that moment, for that sermon, for the people to whom you’re preaching—and that’s what the Rev. Dr. Piper did, passionately, in the expectation that what he was preaching about, God would do in us.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much in the crosshairs of a sermon in my life, and I’m not sure I ever will again.

>3<

I’m very grateful to have been present for C. J. Mahaney’s talk, but I have both a confession and a small regret about that.  I was there looking forward to his listed topic (he’d originally told the organizers that he would speak on “Trinitarian Pastoral Ministry”), but that’s not what he spoke on; he actually spoke on “The Pastor’s Charge,” from 1 Peter 5:1-4, and if I’d known that, I probably would have been in another workshop.  I’m glad I wasn’t, though.  I do regret the fact that I had too much blood in my caffeine stream—I’d only had one can of Pepsi and no tea all day, which just wasn’t enough caffeine at that point, and I would have known that if I’d thought about it—and so I had a hard time shifting gears mentally to catch up to the Rev. Mahaney; I even started to crash a bit early on.  By the grace of God, though, he sent me a second wind, and I’m grateful for that gift, because it was a beautiful and encouraging message on shepherding God’s flock; I’ll definitely be meditating on this going forward, and I plan to watch the video so that I can catch things I missed in my initial mental sluggishness.  Jared Wilson asked on Twitter, “Anyone else feel like Mahaney was preaching specifically to them?” and I think it’s safe to say that many of us there did—probably most of us, at one point or another.

I particularly appreciate this—he was quoting someone, but I didn’t get down whom:  “The shepherd must know he is one of the Shepherd’s needy and loved sheep.”  Amen.

>4<

After Tim Keller’s address on Acts 19:21-41, which opened the conference, the thought crossed my mind that I could go home right then and the conference would have been worth the money.  I had no intention of doing anything that silly, of course, but if I had, it would have been.  I’ve done a bit of posting on some of the idols in our culture, and in the church in this country, but before Tuesday afternoon I’d never thought quite so starkly about the fact that Paul always challenged the idols of the people to whom he spoke, and that we cannot expect to see the transforming power of the gospel in our churches if we don’t do the same.  As Ben Patterson likes to put it, we can’t just tell people what to say “yes” to, we have to tell them what that means they have to say “no” to.

The Rev. Dr. Keller did a brilliant job of laying out what it means to discern, expose, and destroy the idols we face—in our own lives, no less than in the church and the culture—and how we do that; and he was unsparing in warning us of the risk we take in so doing, making the point multiple times that idolatry in all its forms is violent at its core.  As radical feminists would say of patriarchy, idolatry is founded on violence, and rests on violence for its legitimation.  There was a lot of wonderful material in his message, but I think I most appreciated his prescription for dealing with idolatry:  rather than trying to hack away at the loves that have become idols in people’s lives, help them to love Jesus more, and thus restore those other loves to their proper place and proportion.

>5<

The pastoral application of his message made itself known that evening in one of the random conversations I had (and at any event like this, the random conversations are among the joys of being there); I wound up talking with a woman who was worried about a friend back home who I guess has been doing some heavy wrestling with despair.  As we were talking about this woman’s concern for her friend and her efforts to be an agent of grace in this friend’s life—she was really struggling hard to find a way to pierce the armor of her friend’s despair—we remembered the Rev. Dr. Keller’s comment about people who say that they know God has forgiven them but that they can’t forgive themselves:  he argued that people who talk that way do so because they’re in thrall to an idol, and the idol of course won’t forgive them because idols never do.  What you need to do, he contended, is to identify the idol, expose it, and destroy it.  When this came up in our conversation, this woman’s face lit with a joyful smile, because she knew what her friend’s idol was, and that word showed her what she needed to do to set her friend free to really hear the gospel of grace.  I’m praying for her for the success of her ministry.

>6<

I greatly appreciated the panel discussion Wednesday evening, for a lot of reasons.  One rather odd one is that Ligon Duncan, one of the participants, has a massive pulpit presence—I don’t know that he’s actually that big a man, but the way he’s built, and with that deep, powerful Southern voice of his with his grand, grave cadences—which I think combined with his reputation to work against him with some of the folks there (judging by the semi-sotto voce conversation going on behind me through the first chunk of his message); he doesn’t exactly project humility in the pulpit, and it was good to see the humble side of him in the evening conversation before he rose to preach the next day.

More than that, though, there was a lot of experience, and a lot of humble wisdom, and a lot of hard-earned lessons up on that stage that evening, which the participants shared in a remarkably open fashion.  It was comforting to hear from these successful veteran pastors that times of brokenness and failure aren’t necessarily disqualifying, but that brokenness and failure are among the things God uses to make us useful; coming just a few months after I heard Craig Barnes say much the same thing, and combined with their firm testimony that Jesus will never abandon us in such times—and that if we will rely utterly on him and his word, that will be enough—it came as a real word of grace.  There was a note of rue in Crawford Loritts’ voice as he quoted an old proverb (one I’d never heard before) to the effect that “God never uses anything that comes to him together,” and went on to describe suffering as God’s marinade for our souls; but there was also a deep faith that had learned to trust God through suffering, and I greatly appreciated it.

>7<

One of the real blessings of this conference was the way in which I felt, time and again, Paul’s heart for Timothy—not just indirectly, but coming from the speakers and directed toward us, and especially those of us who are younger in ministry.  John Piper really set the tone on that, and it carried through the whole conference, in various ways.  (In Mark Driscoll’s case, as a younger preacher who felt the challenge of his assigned text deeply, he really preached his text as Timothy, as the one receiving the message, rather than from Paul’s position.)  Other than the Rev. Dr. Piper, I think I felt it the most strongly from Ligon Duncan, speaking on 2 Timothy 4:6-22, as he shared Paul’s appeal with us to do everything possible to be sure we cross the finish line.  He didn’t soft-pedal the fact that that isn’t easy; as Paul did for Timothy, he made no bones of the truth that just because we’re faithful to God doesn’t mean we won’t be opposed, doesn’t mean we won’t be betrayed, doesn’t mean we won’t be abandoned and end up alone.  After all, that’s what happened to Paul, and it’s what happened to Jesus, and if we’re following in their footsteps, why should we expect any different?  But the saving grace is that Jesus has been there, and so he was with Paul in his suffering, and he will be with us as well when those times come; his Spirit will be with us, through whom he will give us what we need to run the race, to fight the good fight, to cross the finish line, if we will just rely on him.

 

What math class taught me about pastoral ministry

Show your work.  Process matters—it’s more important that you tried to solve the problem the right way than it is that you got the right result, because it’s more predictive of whether or not you’ll get the next answer right, and the one after that, and the one after that.  What matters isn’t coming to the right conclusion by whatever method works for you, but whether or not you understand the real problem and how it works; shortcuts may seem to work at first, but in the long run they just mess you up and put you behind.

Pastoral ministry likewise isn’t primarily about getting the “right answer” to produce the desired results; it isn’t about whatever seems to work.  Rather, it’s about all the things that lie behind that. Read more