The importance of beauty in Christian ministry

Frederica Mathewes-Green has a blog post up on that subject titled “A Golden Bell and a Pomegranate: Beauty and Apologetics,” which I think deserves careful reading and reflection. A lot of it is on the specific importance of beauty in worship; she has a distinct Orthodox slant to this, which is only to be expected, but I think her basic point is right.

In worship, it’s about God, and all signs must point in His direction. An atmosphere of beauty teaches wordlessly about the nature of God. It teaches that He is not just a concept to be endlessly discussed; that at some point our capacity to grasp him intellectually fails, and we fall before him in worship. Beyond all we know and cannot know about God, he reigns in beauty. Beauty opens our hearts, and stirs us to hunger for more, to hunger for the piercing sweetness of the presence of God.

As she notes, however, this applies beyond just Christians to the ability of non-Christian visitors to perceive the reality of our worship, and thus to be drawn by it; as such, she argues (rightly, I think) that beauty is actually important in evangelism as well:

What does it take to be a missionary? You need to know your stuff, and you need to have a tender heart toward the people you are trying to reach. But there is one more thing that Orthodox Christianity would contribute to the ministry of evangelism: beauty.

Again, I don’t think this is purely an Orthodox contribution; I’ll grant, though, that they’ve continued to make beauty, according to their particular approach, a priority where too much of the Western church no longer does. As such, I do think those of us in Protestant churches, especially, could stand to learn from Orthodoxy in this respect. After all, the poet had a point when he wrote,“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
—John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”If we don’t show forth the beauty of God, we aren’t being faithful to his truth.

Church as a missional community

One of the things that holds the church back in this culture, I believe, is that we think of it as a place. We have the idea that we go to church, we have church, and then we leave church and go back into the “real world”; which, however common it is, is completely unbiblical. We may talk about the important truth that we are the body of Christ, the covenant people of God, but we haven’t really grasped that fact until we realize it’s just as true on Monday afternoon as on Sunday morning. The church is not a place; the building’s just something the church has to enable it to do certain things, most notably to gather to worship God. The church is all of us together, and we are every bit as much the church when we’re out buying, selling, working, playing, and the like as when we’re standing together on Sunday morning singing. Together, we carry out the central part of our mission, worshiping God, but we also prepare for the rest of it—which happens out in the world at large. That’s part of really being the church, that we are as much the church when we’re apart as when we’re gathered together.The problem is, we lose that when we let our walls define us. “Oh, those walls? That’s the Presbyterian church. And those walls over there, that’s the Free Methodists. And those walls down the road, that’s the First Church of the Brethren.” And those walls define out—everyone not within them doesn’t belong there. But Jesus didn’t define the church by walls, he defined us by our mission in this world—by, as you might say, the form which our daily lives are to take as the expression and outworking of our worship of him. It’s a mission which (like so many things) has three parts, which we can see in his farewell to his disciples in Matthew 28:16-20 and Acts 1:6-8.First, go into the world. The church is not defined as a group of people who all like to worship in the same way, though you wouldn’t always know it from the way we do things; nor is it defined as a group of people with the same cultural expectations, though if you look at the way so many churches tend to segregate by age, you might come to think otherwise; nor is it defined as a group of people who all believe the same things, though our longstanding denominational boundaries could give you that view. The church is defined as a group of people who have obeyed Jesus’ call to go. For some people, that means packing up and moving across the world; for more of us, it means sending and supporting those people, while at the same time remembering that we too are missionaries when we go down the street to buy milk. Wherever God leads us, whether Outer Mongolia or here in northern Indiana, that’s our mission field; wherever we are, we’re his missionaries. That’s what defines us as the church—not the details of our beliefs, not the details of how we do church, but the fact that we are a people on the way, following Christ in mission on the road to his kingdom. That’s why my other denomination, the RCA, defines its mission this way: “Our task is to equip congregations for ministry—a thousand churches in a million ways doing one thing—following Christ in mission, in a lost and broken world so loved by God.” That’s the church: a community of people, a community of communities, “following Christ in mission in a lost and broken world so loved by God.” That’s what Jesus meant when he said, “Go.”Next, he says, “Be.” Specifically, he says, “You will be my witnesses.” Note that. He doesn’t say, “You will do witnessing”; he says, “You will be my witnesses.” We’re not just called to “save souls,” we’re called to share the life Jesus has given us with the people around us—and not just with our words, but by the way we live our lives. As St. Francis of Assisi put it, “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” That’s not an easy standard; our lives are to be sermons on the word of God, backed up by the things we say. Our call as disciples of Christ is to go out into the world and live in it as he did—talking with others about our Father in heaven, and just as importantly, showing his love to those around us in every way we can think of. We are called to do the work he did: to feed the hungry; to care for the sick; to welcome the outsider; to defend the oppressed; to lift up the downtrodden; to love the unlovable; to break down the barriers between race and class and gender; and to speak the truth so clearly and unflinchingly, when the opportunity arises, that people want to kill us for it.After all, what’s a witness? Look at the justice system, which depends on witnesses—on people who have seen something important and are willing to tell others what they saw. That’s what we’re called to be. We too have seen something important—we have seen the work of Jesus Christ in our lives and the lives of others, through the power of the Holy Spirit—and we too are called to testify to what we’ve seen. In our case, though, our testimony is to be not only the things we say, but everything we do, the way we live our lives, because our lives must provide credibility for our words; a witness who isn’t credible convinces no one. To be witnesses, to bear witness to Jesus with our lives, means that at every point, our lives are to reflect the love and testify to the truth of Jesus Christ.Which is impossible, for us; but what is impossible for us is possible with God. That’s why Jesus says, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” and then says, “and you will be my witnesses.” Unfortunately, though, when the Holy Spirit fills us with the love and the grace and the power of God, we don’t stay filled; as the great evangelist D. L. Moody put it, we leak, and so we need to be constantly filled and refilled by the Spirit. That’s one reason we’re called to gather together each week to worship: when we spend time focusing on God, both by ourselves and together as a church, we open ourselves up for his Spirit to change our hearts and our lives, so that more and more we will be the people, and the church, he calls us to be.So, Jesus says, “Go”; he says, “Be”; and he says, “Do.” Specifically, he calls us to do his work: as his disciples, to make more disciples. Our mission as the church is to go out into the world, not to hide behind our four walls—to live, in full view of the world, lives powered and guided and changed and being changed by the Spirit of God—so that people will be attracted by our example and thus be drawn to follow Christ as we follow him. We are God’s light in the window, calling home those who have wandered far from him, giving direction to people lost in the darkness; but when people come, it isn’t enough just to get them in the door. It’s our call at that point to nur­ture them as we nurture ourselves, to give them a place by the fire and feed them, body and soul, to share our life with them, and to disciple them so that they, too, can take up the call in their turn.Now, this isn’t just a matter of teaching people to believe true things; by itself, that’s not discipleship. Discipling people is a matter of teaching them true things so that they will go out and live true lives. Our call and our purpose as disciples of Christ is to become like him: to think with his mind, to love the world around us as he loves it, and thus to act as he would act, to follow him in his mission in this lost and broken world so loved by God; and to do that, we need to place ourselves under the authority of his word, to obey his commandments and learn from his example. That’s why preaching and teaching are central to our life as the church, not just because we learn things, but because God builds what we learn into our lives, using it to form and shape us as his disciples.Finally, Jesus says, “Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” This is, of course, a promise, but it’s also a framework and goal for our mission. We remember that Jesus is always with us by his Spirit, that we are never alone, without comfort, guidance, protection, or care; but we also remember that there is an end to this age, and that we don’t know when it will be. We remember that Jesus is with us to comfort us, yes, but also to challenge us; he’s with us not only for our sake, but for others’ sake and his own, to enable and empower us to be Jesus to the people around us. We remember that his purpose is in part to prepare us for the end of the age, when he will come again, and to use us to prepare others. We remember that he is with us, not to make us comfortable inside our four walls, but to take us beyond them to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted and comfort those who mourn, to proclaim liberty to the captives, to declare the year of the Lord’s favor—and to warn of the day when his judgment will come—so that when we come home to his kingdom at last, we will hear him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter into the rest I prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.”

Song of the Week

I’d meant to post this earlier in the week—it’s perhaps my favorite Pentecost hymn; a former colleague of mine in Denver, the Rev. Dr. Tom Troeger, wrote the text.

Wind Who Makes All Winds that BlowWind who makes all winds that blow—
Gusts that bend the saplings low,
Gales that heave the sea in waves,
Stirrings in the mind’s deep caves—
Aim your breath with steady power
On your church this day, this hour.
Raise, renew the life we’ve lost,
Spirit God of Pentecost!

Fire who fuels all fires that burn—
Suns around which planets turn,
Beacons marking reefs and shoals,
Shining truth to guide our souls—
Come to us as once you came;
Burst in tongues of sacred flame!
Light and Power, Might and Strength,
Fill your church, its breadth and length!

Holy Spirit, Wind and Flame,
Move within our mortal frame.
Make our hearts an altar pyre;
Kindle them with your own fire.
Breathe and blow upon that blaze
Till our lives, our deeds, and ways
Speak that tongue which every land
By your grace shall understand!Words: Thomas H. Troeger
Music: Carol Doran

FALCONE, 7.7.7.7.D
© 1983, 1985 Oxford University Press, Inc.

“The great challenge in this decade . . . is social revival.”

So says David Cameron, leader of the British Conservative Party, who has brought about a considerable transformation in the party of Thatcher, a transformation he describes this way: “We used to stand for the individual. We still do. But individual freedoms count for little if society is disintegrating. Now we stand for the family, for the neighborhood—in a word, for society.” It seems to be working, since the Conservatives (or Tories) mopped the floor with the ruling Labour Party in local elections held across Britain two weeks ago—Labour even lost in London.David Brooks certainly thinks there’s cause and effect here, and sees a lesson the Republicans need to take to heart. Brooks wrote in last Friday’s column,

The British conservative renovation begins with this insight: The central political debate of the 20th century was over the role of government. The right stood for individual freedom while the left stood for extending the role of the state. But the central debate of the 21st century is over quality of life. In this new debate, it is necessary but insufficient to talk about individual freedom. Political leaders have to also talk about, as one Tory politician put it, “the whole way we live our lives.” . . .These conservatives are not trying to improve the souls of citizens. They’re trying to use government to foster dense social bonds. . . .They want voters to think of the Tories as the party of society while Labor is the party of the state. They want the country to see the Tories as the party of decentralized organic networks and the Laborites as the party of top-down mechanistic control.

As Brooks notes, this isn’t an isolated phenomenon, as center-right parties have risen to power recently in Germany, France, and Canada, among other places; the question is, as he puts it, “whether Republicans will learn those lessons sooner, or whether they will learn them later, after a decade or so in the wilderness.” I don’t know if his analysis is right or not; but it needs to be considered. Carefully. Given that the direction he suggests is one that would suit John McCain well, I hope the McCain campaign is listening, and will give his analysis that consideration.

Politics in a nutshell

I’ve been reminded several times recently of the line (I forget who said it) that the difference between conservatives and liberals is summarized in Brown v. Board of Education. In Brown, if I recall correctly, the Court said that changes should be made “with deliberate speed”; conservatives emphasized deliberate, liberals emphasized speed. As a thumbnail sketch of the two political philosophies, it’s not bad.

(As a side note: it works for churches, too.)

Explanations aren’t excuses

The Atlantic has a piece up today titled “Burma’s Days,” which is essentially a thumbnail sketch of why the behavior of the military junta that rules Burma (and renamed the country Myanmar nine years ago), deplorable though it may be, makes perfect sense in light of Burmese history and culture. It’s a useful piece for the information in it (and a more useful one yet for the links to other articles), but it’s also an irritating example of the tendency among Western intelligentsia to look for excuses for foreign dictators. People who condemn the Israeli government for breathing will look the other way at Mugabe’s efforts to depopulate Zimbabwe or calmly explain how the Burmese military should be excused for diverting aid from cyclone victims because “they have reason to be suspicious about their neighbors and outside powers.” (And of course, those who wouldn’t make those particular mistakes may yet have a soft spot in their hearts for the corrupt rulers of Saudi Arabia, or be perfectly content with the generals running Pakistan; this is a game both left and right can play, and have.) Why is that?I suppose I can understand the Realpolitik approach that says, essentially, as long as dictators don’t give us any trouble, we should let them run their countries however they want; I don’t like it, and in the long run, I think it’s self-defeating (to borrow from Barack Obama on Pakistan, if we choose to promote stability instead of democracy, we tend to wind up with neither), but at least I can see the logic. But what on earth moves our journalists and public intellectuals to find excuses for these thugs? That, I just don’t get. (As you can see, I go with “Burma” over “Myanmar.” The latter is probably closer, as far as I can tell, to what the Burmese people call themselves—not that we let that bother us with places like Hungary—but I have two related reasons for not using it. One, the name change came from the junta, which is an illegitimate government, and therefore in my opinion is likewise illegitimate; and two, it’s not just my opinion. I had, for several months several moves ago, a landlord who was in exile from Burma due to his activities with the opposition; he called his country Burma and himself Burmese. He knew a lot more than I do, and had a lot more reason to care, so if it was good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.)

Doctrine in a nutshell (or two)

HT: Ray OrtlundAnd I never get tired of this song.Creed

I believe in God the Father,
Almighty Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth,
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
Born of the virgin Mary,
Suffered under Pontius Pilate
He was crucified and dead and buried.And I believe what I believe
Is what makes me what I am;
I did not make it, no, it is making me—
It is the very truth of God and not the invention of any man.
I believe that He who suffered was crucified, buried and dead;
He descended into Hell and on the third day, He rose again.
He ascended into Heaven where he sits at God’s mighty right hand.
I believe that He’s returning to judge the quick and the dead of the sons of men.ChorusI believe in God the Father,
Almighty Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth,
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son, our Lord.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
One Holy Church,
The communion of saints,
The forgiveness of sins,
I believe in the resurrection,
I believe in a life that never ends.ChorusWords and music: Rich Mullins/Beaker
© 1993 Edward Grant, Inc./Kid Brothers of St. Frank Publishing
From the album
a liturgy, a legacy, & a ragamuffin band, by Rich Mullins

The genius of Bach

Bach : music :: Shakespeare : playwriting. Not only in terms of genius, but also in the fact that the power of the work comes through no matter what you do with it (whether it be Nazi-era Richard III or “electronic Bach”). As Jan Swafford writes in Slate,

His music tends to work in all versions, I submit, because the notes-qua-notes are so good. Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky, or [your favorite composer here] were constantly concerned with the instruments that played or sung their work: great notes, too, but intimately bound to their media. In The Art of Fugue Bach didn’t seem to care what the medium was; it would work no matter what. A lot of his music—not all, but a lot—is like that: incomparable notes, regardless of avatar. . .Bach universalized what he called “the art and science of music” by the power of gripping melody, rich harmony, towering perorations, intimate whisperings, explosive joy, piercing tragedy.

That’s why, as Swafford writes, a work as demanding and formal as The Art of Fugue can still end up at the top of the best-seller list (as Pierre-Laurent Aimard’s solo-piano version did this spring): just because it’s Bach at his best. Genius has that kind of power.HT: Alan Jacobs

Belated thoughts on prayer

Over a month ago now, Barry put up a post on prayer asking, essentially, if prayer changes things, why does so little seem to change? I meant to respond at the time, but for a variety of reasons, didn’t get to it; but then I was reminded of his post during a conversation last week with several colleagues in ministry. The question of why our prayers so often don’t get the answer for which we hope is a live one for most pastors, and it’s one for which I don’t have any kind of truly satisfactory answer; but I do have two thoughts.First, I don’t believe that prayer changes things. I believe God changes things. I don’t believe there’s power in prayer, I believe there’s power in the God to whom we pray. I do believe Pascal was right, that prayer is the means by which God gives us the dignity of causality—of doing something other than just passively absorbing his actions—but even if in prayer he allows us a voice in what he does, that doesn’t mean there’s any power in us or our actions, let alone enough power to compel him to do as we want.Second, I’m learning to trust that God knows what he’s doing. One of my colleagues last week, musing on all the times God has not given him what he’s prayed for, made a statement to the effect that “I’ve come to see all those refusals as my salvation.” Experience had taught him that God was right not to grant him his requests. The longer I go, the more times I see in my own life where that’s clearly the case, and the more I learn to trust him for his “no” as well as his “yes.”So why doesn’t God heal more? Why don’t we see people raised from the dead? I don’t know. I’ve been a part of churches where that happened; I’ve seen remarkable healing take place right before my eyes as I and others prayed. I’ve also been a part of other churches that were, as far as I could tell, no less faithful in following God—but prayers for healing were rarely granted. I don’t know why. I don’t suppose I ever will know why. Maybe it has something to do with challenging our modern emphasis on cure over care, which has certainly reached the point of being theologically problematic. But whatever the reason, I’m learning to trust God who has promised that whatever we may bear in this life, in the end, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”