religion and sport

I was looking over the shoulder of my son as he completed a questionnaire the other day. It was for a study on New Zealand attitudes and values. It came from the department of a reputable university.

A statement caught my eye. Admittedly, some of the statements have the spark of inflammatory about them - quite deliberately. I understand that. But still this one is a shocker.

"Atheists and others who have rebelled against established religions are no doubt every bit as good and virtuous as those who attend church regularly."

Did you see it? Read it again - slowly...

The opening phrase identifies 'established religions' (plural!), but when it comes time to put the dagger in, the focus is exclusively on Christianity with its 'churches'. If this was the sort of objective and fair-minded survey we'd expect from a university, then the sentence should finish with "... those who attend church, mosque, temple or synagogue regularly."

A slip of the tongue? Needing to keep the word count under 25 words? Sloppy proof-reading?

I think not.

It is an example of the way our mind-moulding institutions (university, media, politics, marketing etc) have a bias against Christianity. It is in-credible that this happens in a society that celebrates a pluralist ideal in which all faiths have an equal claim to a place in the marketplace of religions. But because, I suspect, it is perceived that Christianity has had an unfair home-field advantage for too long, Christianity is often either excluded from that marketplace or, more commonly, it is included and singled-out for special critique, as in this survey. Either way, the lofty pluralist ideal disintegrates. Tolerance of every faith does not happen. In fact tolerance can become intolerant when it chooses to do so.

When in my car (or to create noise-equalisation when I nap), I tend to listen to Radio Sport. It is a talkback format, that great lubricant of the pluralist ideal in sports. The hosts preach their message of 'every opinion matters, especially yours.' We are urged to ring, to text and to facebook a message and express our viewpoint. But there is always one opinion that gets shut down quietly and quickly. If your opinion includes it, your opinion will be excluded. Try saying something critical about another talkback host on Radio Sport. In the face of such persecution of a colleague, the pluralist ideal dismantles. Tolerance of every viewpoint does not happen. In fact the tolerance can become decidedly intolerant when it chooses to do so.

Now we need to be careful with our words. I prefer plurality over pluralism. A space should be created for different faiths and viewpoints so that their truth claims can be weighed (plurality), without asserting that each faith and viewpoint has an equal claim to being true (pluralism). Follow that latter trail to its philosophical destination and you find yourself keeping the company of nonsense. A consistently-argued pluralism has no defense against nonsense. It can't. All roads do not lead to the top of the mountain.

My commitment to plurality would have me march down Queen St to protect the rights of a Muslim community to build its own mosque in New Zealand - but my rejection of pluralism is seen in the way that I don't believe that their road leads to the top of the mountain. My commitment to plurality means that I respect the importance of not creating caricatures of Mohammed - but my rejection of pluralism is linked to the way that in this society the name of my Saviour and Lord, Jesus Christ, can be so often taken in vain and it bothers nobody. My commitment to plurality has me long for heaven when people 'from every nation, tribe, people and language' gather in worship of Jesus on the throne - but my rejection of pluralism means that I acknowledge that every religion will not be represented there. It is sad that some people will not be present.

That is a sadness that gets me out of bed every morning. That is a sadness that has me longing 'to serve others in the name of Jesus' (my dad) - praying that as I do so, I might be gradually filled with the grace and truth that so filled Jesus. Bearing witness to that truth will upset the talkback hosts of this world, but if I can do it graciously and warmly, with love in my eyes and my heart, then the Spirit of God will choose to 'wing my words into the hidden depths of many a heart' for his glory. Of that reality, I am convinced.

When all is said and done, it is good to remember that this bias against Christianity is but a taste of the suffering which so many of God's people endure around the world. For them the bias blossoms into something far more bold and broad and blunt.

nice chatting

Paul

being odd

I am a bit odd.
I know it.

I don't complain about Auckland traffic
(because compared with much of the world, it is pretty good).

I'd welcome a day when an old song is prized above a new song, particularly on Sundays
(because the lyrics so often voice a well-worn trail deep into the human heart).

I don't moan about NZ weather
(because so many people would love to have our rainfall and mild climate).

I'd welcome a day when alcohol is viewed in the same way as smoking
(because, in the face of the impact of its abuse, someone has to start saying, 'enough').

I don't worry about being in fashion
(because it costs too much money).

I'd welcome a day when patriotism is scrubbed clean from the planet
(because it causes so much damage to the mission of God in the world).

I don't linger in, or even visit, shopping malls
(because it just feeds my greed and discontent).

I'd welcome a day when Christians break free from their addiction to caffeine
(because the added revenue for mission would be enormous!).

I don't swear, choosing not to litter my speech with f-bombs and s-grenades
(because trashy talk is childish and lacks imagination).

I'd welcome a day when reality TV ceased to fascinate so much
(because it encapsulates the triviality that can keep people shallow).

WOW - reading all that and I see that I am even odder than I thought. And to think I could keep going still further?!


And yes, I know.
When all is said and done, most of these oddities are unimportant and irrelevant - well, almost...



Because I find that being willing to embrace a little oddity helps orient me to living life against-the-flow. A bit of contrariness is useful. It strengthens my resolve to be different. It provides me with practice on feeling myself to be alien. It helps me grow accustomed to the face of being a bit strange.

And that is important.

One of the great mistakes in mission today is to speak of it being about incarnation - and that's it. It is not enough to be incarnate. It is not enough to mix in and fit in and feel you are relevant to the world. It is not enough to multiply community-bridging ministries. The vocation of the people of God has always included a variation on the theme of being 'a light to the nations' (Old Testament), or 'the light of the world' (New Testament). Surely part of the consequence of these phrases is that the nations and the world are dark places - and that the people of God must fashion a life that is as different from the world as the light is from the dark. And so, yes, being 'strangers in the world' is apt (1 Peter 1.1; 2.11; the same vocabulary used of Abraham in Genesis 23).

Now I may be odd, but I am not silly.
The oddities listed above are not the ones that really matter.

What about loving my enemies? What about leading through serving? What about trading-in tolerance for personal humility? What about recognising that tithing is an outdated means of keeping 90% for myself? What about believing Jesus really is the truth and the only way to God? What about making those ridiculous beattitudes the habit of my life (Matthew 5.1-12)? What about suffering well for Jesus' sake? I'd love to be able to do that. What about repenting of the idolatry of family? What about moving next time into a cheaper, smaller house? What about being willing to be downwardly mobile with my career, if Jesus requires it of me? What about hating what Jesus hates, and not just loving what Jesus loves? On and on it goes... This is the brand of strange that I'd love to have in my life.

Yes, this second list of oddities is the important one. But then, on second thoughts, maybe I really am a bit silly. Because I do find that the first list can help build my fitness and ready me for the second list.

nice chatting

Paul

corruption

Good preaching engages both the Word and the world. It is about being faithful to a content, but also to a context. In our Langham training I like to develop this in an interactive way. Participants reflect on the big issues in personal/family life, local church life - and then life in their wider society. When we reach that last one, without exception - throughout Asia, in every single country - the C-word will be on the tip of tongues, waiting to be expressed...

Corruption.
Again I say, corruption.
Again and again I say it, corruption.

Transparency International is at the forefront of the fight against corruption around the world. While it is a fun website to navigate, the message is sobering. Their annual Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) attracts increasing amounts of global attention. It is a 'perceptions' index, ranking countries 'based on how corrupt their public sector is perceived to be'. It does throw up some anomalies. For example, people I know would be aghast at how 'clean' countries like Rwanda (score-53; 50th), Malaysia (score-49; 54th) and Sri Lanka (score-40; 79th) are perceived to be. I guess it suggests the ability of leaders to deceive onlookers (which only deepens the corruption)!

With the CPI 176 countries are given a score out of 100 - where 0 is 'highly corrupt' and 100 is 'very clean'. 123 countries (two-thirds of the nations listed) have a score lower than 50 which translates into them having a 'serious corruption problem'. I visit regularly the countries ranked 79, 80, 88, 94, 105, 118, 139, 157, and 172 - each one having a 'serious corruption problem'. But here is the sting in the tale. I live in New Zealand which over the last five years has been ranked:
1st= (2012)
1st (2011)
1st= (2010)
1st (2009)
1st= (2008)
This does not mean that NZ is corruption-free, but just that its public sector is consistently perceived to be the least corrupt in the world.

For the sake of the people struggling within highly corrupt societies, please take time to browse the site. Start with the 2-minute introductory video (below). Check out the Index for 2012. There is a helpful glossary on the key words. There is a facebook page to 'like'. It is possible to sign-up for a 'daily corruption news'. There is a collection of true stories. The 6 minute message from the chairperson, given at the release of the 2012 Corruptions Perception Index, is interesting.

In a previous post, I reflected on some implications of living in NZ, but working in Asia - and the conversation it sets off in my head and heart. This topic of corruption is so similar. Here are some of the realities and ironies of what I see and hear...

five realities
Corruption thrives in settings where there is 'conflict and poverty'. This is why those living in settings of relative peace and greater wealth struggle to understand corruption - but struggle we must.

snobbery

So clear is the memory of my first sighting of the phrase 'chronological snobbery' that it took me just 14 seconds to find it again - 25 years later. It comes up in JI Packer's final chapter in the book edited by Carson & Woodbridge, Scripture and Truth. The phrase originates with CS Lewis and Packer describes it like this:

'... the supposition that what is most recent will always be wisest and best, and that the latest word is nearer to being the last word than any that went before; those under the influence of this assumption do not seriously consult work done prior to our own time and that is very much to our loss' (Packer, in Scripture and Truth, 353).

Wikipedia even lists a 'chronological snobbery fallacy'! It goes like this:
1. It is argued that A.
2. A is an old argument, dating back to the times when people also believed B.
3. B is clearly false.
4. Therefore, A is false.

Chronological snobbery is a snobbery of time. But I wonder if there is also a snobbery of space, a kind of geographical snobbery. Maybe it goes something like this?

'... the supposition that what is most familiar will always be wisest and best, and that the distant word is less likely to be the last word than any word from nearby; those under the influence of this assumption do not seriously consult work foreign to their own culture and that is very much to our loss'.

Wikipedia doesn't list a geographical snobbery fallacy (well, not yet anyway?!). When it does it might go something like this:
1. It is argued that A.
2. A is a foreign argument, from a culture where people also believe B.
3. B is clearly false.
4. Therefore, A is false.

Chronological snobs forget the enduring worship imperative that calls us 'to remember'. Geographical snobs forget that 'from one man God made all the peoples of the world' (Acts 17.26) and the inherent value and equality that this ascribes to people unlike me. Chronological snobs tend either to ignore history, or to revise it to fit with our own image. Geographical snobs tend to ignore whoever might provoke us into 'seeing ourselves as others see us' (Robbie Burns) - be it the missionary on home leave, or the immigrant learning to live among us.

nice chatting

Paul

ruby sparks

It has been awhile since a movie has grabbed my theological imagination quite like Ruby Sparks. A sleepy midnight viewing on an airplane was quickly followed by a visit to United Video and a more engaged viewing on terra firma.

One synopsis of the movie goes like this: "Calvin is a genius novelist who begins to type a new novel on his manual typewriter about Ruby, his dream girl. He can't believe his eyes, because the next day, Ruby becomes a real person, and they begin to have a beautiful relationship together. If the relationship isn't perfect, all Calvin has to do is simply type the words on the page and Ruby's actions change to what he needs."

Now let me try and ruin the movie for you (!) by noting the ways in which I have enjoyed engaging with it theologically.
[NB: in doing so, I do not want to offend the sensibilities of those who will find aspects of the film offensive - allow my apologies to be over-realised in good eschatological fashion].


Firstly, take the image on the cover. The main character, the novelist, is lifting a person out of the written text. Or, as the line near the end of the movie expresses it, we have 'a human being created out of ink, paper and imagination'. In a world today where the word is being 'humiliated' (Ellul) and in a church where God thinks more highly of words than we do, I revelled in a movie which played with the power of words. Afterall God's creation of human beings was also by using words - and before that happened, 'in the beginning' (John 1.1), there was Jesus as Word.

Movies provide the opportunity to explore points of continuity and discontinuity with the gospel. For example, identify the Christ-figure in a movie and then ask how is the person like and unlike Jesus. These are the moments in our contemporary culture which provide us with 'Paul at Athens' evangelistic opportunities. And so, secondly, Ruby Sparks opens the way for a discussion on the relationship between creator and creation. The theology of God. The theology of humanity. While Calvin eschews the label 'genius' that people ascribe to him, he lives in a world of fame and glory that gives him a God-like status in the film. And in the early stages of the movie, his creation (Ruby) fills his heart with joy and love.

More specifically, this relationship invites a discussion on the way in which divine sovereignty and human responsibility relate to each other. When things sour in their relationship, Calvin is faced with the moral dilemma ('Is it moral?', his brother asks) of whether to use his sovereignty to fix what he finds wrong in Ruby. He does so - and it backfires badly. This is reminiscent of the desire which many have to see God fix all the suffering in our world. I suspect that if he did so, it might also backfire badly and create bigger problems than it solves. Calvin's abuse of his sovereignty provide the most intense moments in the film - making Ruby snap her fingers, crawl like a dog, strip and sing, and speak French. 'I am not writing about you, I am writing you' (into existence). Caught between controlling her and liberating her, Calvin is anguished and grieved by the decision to be made. He resolves this by offering Ruby a brand of free will. She leaves the house, 'no longer Calvin's creation, she was free'. It seems a long, long way from the hymn-writer: 'make me a captive, Lord - and then I shall be free'.

A third way in which the movie engaged me is the irony of Calvin, the God-figure, being surrounded by people speaking wisdom and/or reassurance into his life. A therapist. A dog. A teddy bear. A brother. A mother, a fan, a former girlfriend, Ruby herself etc.The God-figure becomes very human and requires hefty doses of Spirit-like activity. Ironic. On the opening page of her book, Hear and Be Wise, Alyce McKenzie writes of how our culture craves sages. The 1960s told us to be prophets. The 1970s focused on being therapists. The 1980s spawned church growth consultants. The 1990s celebrated coaches and CEOs. 'I am convinced that this is the era of the sage' (1). She is onto something. Calvin craves wisdom in this film. We must welcome the sage alongside the shepherd, the servant and the steward as integral to our theology of leadership.

One final fascination is the way the plotline echoes the biblical storyline. The plot of the Bible can be most easily expressed as being drawn from the good (Genesis 1 & 2), through the bad and the new, and on to the perfect (Revelation 21 & 22). I reckon there is an involuntary longing inside every human heart to indwell a story like this. And if it isn't this one, it will be a substitute one - like Ruby Sparks.

genius born of anguish

It is hard not to like Henri Nouwen, particularly as he expresses himself in words. My favourite books are In the Name of Jesus (which is compulsory reading with anyone I mentor) and The Return of the Prodigal Son with his exquisite exegesis of Rembrandt's painting of the most famous of parables. 


So imagine my delight when my friend Charles Hewlett put me onto a series of three radio programmes out of Canada broadcast in January, entitled Genius Born of Anguish. The series is based on a book by the same title, while the radio programmes can be located here. I've listened to the series twice. Allow me to engage with these talks from the perspective of four images associated with Nouwen in them.

the grand canyon (talk #1 from the 32.50min mark)
The Grand Canyon is a wound in the earth and yet as you enter into that wound, a beauty is experienced and a healing force comes from its depths. Likewise there can be 'a deep incision in the surface of our existence which becomes an inexhaustible source of beauty and understanding'. It is from here that Nouwen's ideas on the 'wounded healer' originate. Confess our struggles. Embrace the loneliness. Let them surface and watch how this helps us enter into the struggles of others with greater empathy.

the flashlight (talk #2 from the 22.00min mark)
Nouwen had time as a professor at both Yale and Harvard, the ambition of many before and since. And yet he was dreadfully unhappy in both institutions. He discovered 'an unremitting need for affirmation and affection' which the competitive, celebritous academic world could not requite. 'My whole being seems to be invaded by fear'. He survived by escaping to the Genesee Monastery in upstate New York. His reflections there revealed 'a radical self-knowledge and honesty (that) shines a flashlight into his own soul and lays bare what was there, including its complexity'. Much of his uniqueness as a writer on spirituality lay in his willingness to expose the inner complexity. 'He could be deeply personal without being exhibitionist'. It is as if people began to see their own darkness by the light of his own flashlight exposing his own soul.

the brick wall (talk #2 from the 38.20min mark)
There came a point where it was clear that Nouwen was heading for a breakdown. Fueling this all the time was his own sexuality. He was a gay celibate priest who never 'came out' because the priestly vocation was too precious to him. But the thorn in the flesh remained ... and intensified. His wounds grew deeper. 'God and love seemed further away than ever'. As the founder of L'Arche, Jean Vanier, expresses it, 'Henri was lonely - but also lost'. He hit the brick wall and had a breakdown. At this time (1985) Vanier invited him to the first L'Arche community in France. Nouwen remained in these communities until his death ten years later.

the trapeze artist (talk #3 from the 27.00min mark)
He found a 'new exuberance' within L'Arche, comprising people like the 'gift' of his new friend Adam - who could not speak, could not walk, could not eat by himself, or bathe by himself. It was within this community that Nouwen 'found a home for his restless heart'. He recalls the story of going to the circus as a young lad. On seeing the trapeze artists, he exclaimed to his father, "Now I know what my vocation is, Dad". He spent a summer travelling with the circus, admiring the one on the trapeze who jumps and takes flight. But then he recognises that the real hero is the one who catches. Not the risk-taker, but the one who grabs you. "Into your hands I commit my spirit". He is to take the risk - but he can trust God to catch him. This is how life is lived fully. Risk. Trust.

nice chatting

Paul

four years with langham

This week marks the end of my fourth year working with Langham Preaching. My focus has been on the countries of Asia and the Pacific. Our purpose is not just to train preachers, but to train trainers of preachers - so that a movement can spread, like a 'benevolent virus' (as Chris Wright describes it).

The role to which I was appointed was developed because the work in Asia was not moving ahead like the other regions of the majority world. Four years ago there were just two countries in Asia where the work was established. Today there are nine such countries, with the possibility of a tenth to be explored later today when I fly from Hong Kong to Manila.

As visual evidence of this progress under God's gracious hand, here are photos of groups of people from five of those countries who have moved to the 'training of trainers' stage. I will leave the countries unnamed for security reasons...

nice chatting

Paul

caught and taught

They say preaching needs to be both caught and taught. Both are needed and both have been integral to my story in preaching. I have wondered if the British preaching tradition leans me towards being 'caught', while the American tradition has been built more around 'taught'.

catching

The first preacher to engage me, in my early teens, was Charles Warren. I remember him at Union Church in Mussoorie and when the Warrens moved to New Delhi (at roughly the same time as we did), I remember him at Delhi Bible Fellowship. From the same Wheaton College vintage as Ruth and Billy Graham and Jim and Elizabeth Elliot. It is one thing to love preaching; it is quite another to love the people to whom you preach. This preacher demonstrated this truth to me. The quintessential shepherd. No one would say he was spectacular, but the unspectacular preaching of an authentic shepherd pays dividends within God's economy. Yes, I caught something from Charles Warren - and then I married his daughter (Barby).

The second preacher to engage me, in my late teens, was Bill McGregor. I had returned to NZ for my final year at high school - and then university - and in those crucial years I sat under Bill's ministry at Mt Albert Baptist Church. Bill is a Scot. The Scots seem to have a head start on the rest of us. Not just the accent - but there tends to be a power and a presence and a warmth in their preaching. The 'Big Mac' (as I affectionately refer to him) is no exception. It was while seated by one of the purple pillars at Mt Albert - ironically, on a night when the Big Mac was not preaching - that God arrested me and called me to be a pastor. Yes, I caught something from Bill McGregor - and then my brother (Mark) married his daughter (Anne).

Barely twenty years of age and a third preacher captivated me. I was off to the States to discover whether the many letters to and from Barby were going somewhere. At the airport I was nervous (not helped by the Erebus disaster happening the night before!). Barby and I went together to the Urbana Mission Convention - with 17,000 other students. For 50 minutes each morning I found myself spellbound by the Spirit as I listened to a talking head way down there where the basketball rim usually was in that cavernous arena. John Stott was expounding Romans 1-5. The clarity. The simplicity. The memorability. Yes, I caught something from John Stott - and he had no daughters!

It is caught. Warren. McGregor. Stott. All before my 21st birthday. There is an aspirational ingredient in preaching. You see it in someone and you are compelled to cut and paste it into in your own life.

[A little hiatus follows. Three years at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (TEDS) building convictions were followed by five years at Georgetown Baptist Church testing convictions. None of the convictions needed to be discarded, although finding ways to contextualise them without compromising them was the great challenge. Then in March 1989 things shifted. Not only did JO Sanders visit me in my study, unannounced, with a message from God that it was 'time to paint on a broader canvas' - but I attended a seminar by OMF's Denis Lane based on his book, Preach the Word. It was a seminar on learning how to preach].

teaching
Preaching is taught and I benefited from the teachers at TEDS. The Carsons and the Larsens were Gamaliels for me. However teaching the subject myself is what proved crucial in my own development.

By the 1 January 1990 I found myself on the staff at the Bible College of New Zealand (now, Laidlaw College). Within a few months I was facilitating a simple 12 week TEE course, affectionately known as POP (Principles of Preaching). Within a couple of years I found myself inheriting Ian Kemp's preaching class. POP evolved into a two year journey through two separate 36-hour courses. They were remarkable times. In one year 92 students were enrolled in the two courses - both of which were electives in the curriculum. Laidlaw's current NT specialist, Dr Mark Keown, was in my very first faltering class and he wrote me a letter of encouragement at the end of the year which still proves precious to me.

Then at Carey Baptist College, the journey in teaching preaching continued. I inherited a University of Auckland homiletics course before developing twin courses in the college's new BAppTheol curriculum. As I taught I began to think my own thoughts and develop my own convictions. Like Philips Brooks' 'truth through personality' no longer being sufficient in the twentieth century. Brooks suggests there to be just two horizons in preaching - text and preacher - when we really need to reckon with 'listener' and 'world' as well. The preacher has four horizons to explore, not two. Or, like the view that biblical exposition is all we need. It is most certainly the staple diet - but is it all we need? No, there is a place to develop a tool-kit for biblical preachers which enables them to be flexible as they preach in different contexts with different listeners and working with different genres.

These college-based teaching experiences - together with dozens of church-based weekend seminars over the years - proved to be the delight in my working life. I had discovered my sweet spot under God's good hand. When I trained preachers I felt God's pleasure.

Later this week it will be four years since I joined Langham Preaching. I have had the privilege of being involved in more than forty training events in twelve countries, mostly at the grassroots among people with limited education and resources. It is a whole new world for me. Crossing cultures. Changing languages. Shaping a training programme that is not just understood by these people, it must be able to be passed on by them to others. And in it all the convictions remain constant, even as the skills continue to develop.

It is taught. BCNZ. Carey. Langham. But the point is that it is as I teach it myself that I am learning how to preach.

nice chatting

Paul

ratana: the prophet

It seems to be the season for a binge on NZ history, particularly Maori history. After the exhilaration of Fairness & Freedom and then Keith Newman's eye-opening Bible & Treaty - I thought I'd read Newman's earlier book, Ratana: the prophet. 

This is the story of a Maori leader who experienced an extraordinary encounter with God which led, initially, to a spiritual ministry of healing and prophecy, inspired by the Gospels, all around the country. The case which is made for this to be an authentic ministry is compelling. Ratana himself claimed to be the fulfillment of an 1881 prophecy in which 'there is a child coming who will bear in his right hand the Holy Bible and in his left hand the Treaty of Waitangi. If the spiritual side is attended to, all will be well on the physical side' (249). This 'physical' side captures then the second half of his life as he gives himself to seeking justice for Maori: 'First unite under Ihoa (Jehovah/God), then turn your attention to the Treaty of Waitangi' (146).

In 1940, '100 years after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, the followers of TW Ratana had grown to become New Zealand's largest and most influential Maori religious community' (210). For much of a generation, through the 1950s-1970s, the four Maori seats in Parliament were held by members of the Ratana Church and in the 2006 Census, adherents to the Ratana church were roughly comparable to the Baptist church (50,000+). Here is how the story began:

While he was fishing with his family in 1918 two large whales had surfed to the shore in an extraordinary spectacle. The first whale lay quietly on the sand resigned to its fate, representing the Ture Wairua - the spiritual works which embraced the Bible, the challenge to tohungaism (superstition) and an extraordinary healing ministry. The second whale, symbolising the Ture Tangata or physical works, had thrashed about violently before escaping back to the ocean. This represented Ratana's redoubled effort to deal with Maori land grievances through the Treaty of Waitangi. Having been rejected by politicians and royalty, he would now work towards becoming the government and creating change from within. (136)

defined by disaster

The history of Aotearoa-New Zealand can be retold in a minor key. Every couple of decades a disaster seems to strike which pours a deep sadness into a generation of Kiwis and adds to our self-understanding as a nation. The Pike River mine disaster prompted me to post on this theme a couple of years ago. Then just two months later - rather than the customary two decades - there was the major Christchurch earthquake. The sadness did not just pour into a generation, it flooded.

A session this week with those in the Arrow Leadership course gave me the opportunity to revisit this topic, particularly the implications of this story for the people of God wanting to embed themselves in this country and live distinctive lives with distinction. I was glad to have my ideas topped-up by theirs and offer here ten implications, even opportunities, for the people of God.

the invitation to lament
The psalms make it clear that the lament is an integral part of the way we are to engage with God in worship. Not only does the sheer volume of lament psalms suggest this, but so also does the honesty and poignancy that we discover in them. They give us words with which to cry out to God and disasters provide the opportunity so to cry.

the presence of God
As surely as Psalm 23 follows Psalm 22 (lament), so also must the affirmation of the presence of God follow the invitation to lament. 'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me' (Psalm 23.4). Many, many people will testify to the reality of this presence at the very height of the disaster's impact.

the possibility of wisdom
I take the wisdom offered in Ecclesiastes seriously: 'It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting' (7.2). There is more wisdom to be found at a funeral than at a party. Attending funerals forces me to audit my life and answer the big questions. There is a funeral spirituality that is good for the soul. To confront death contributes to wise living.

the closeness of smallness
New Zealand is such a small country. These disasters grab the national psyche partly because it is the norm for everyone to be impacted in some personal way. While the other implications may be true in other countries, there is something more unique going on with this one in NZ... Everybody knows somebody who suffered, or who died. So the disaster does not remain on the screens, or in the headlines, over there. It comes in. It comes right into peoples' living rooms and sits with them.

the experience of story
Disaster unleashes the story in peoples' lives. It lubricates the lips to get moving. Simply ask a room full of (suitably-aged) people, 'Where were you when you heard about Tangiwai?' Even the shy ones get talking. The reminiscing is good for everyone. It surfaces memories. It moistens eyes. All sorts of intriguing personal angles emerge.

the fellowship of suffering
This one is linked to the previous one! Meeting together at the point of sadness seems to build a deeper fellowship than meeting at the point of gladness. Weakness is a stronger glue than strength. 'There is a grief deeper than pain, just as there is a joy deeper than happiness'. When disaster strikes, people who rarely talk with each other, wondering aloud what on earth they might have in common, suddenly discover that it is the essentials of life and death which they share - and that is a lot and it is enough.

the division of history
The telling of global history from a Christian perspective was, for centuries, a BC:AD affair. More recently it has been revised to become BCE:CE, so as to show less bias towards the Christian story. But all this global history is eclipsed when disaster strikes and the timeline of a personal history takes over. The 'before' and the 'after' has, as its point of reference, the precious life of the one who is lost. And history can never be the same again.

the shock of dissonance
'NZ is one place I'd love to visit'. In the eyes of the wider world, it is a beautiful country. Despite our problems, there is a deposit of pride for our nation. Just listen to Kiwis rabbit-on when they are homesick overseas! Sometimes we even refer to it as 'God's own country'. I don't know about that one. But in our story there is so much that is desirable - and so when disaster strikes, it feels so dissonant. It can be such a shock.

the subversion of control
So much about science and technology is geared towards an increasing understanding - and therefore, control - of our natural world. The performance of weather forecasters has improved markedly over the years. The knowledge around earthquakes, volcanoes, and cyclones is growing all the time - but if we knew then what we know now, could the sadness of Tarawera, Napier, Tangiwai, Waihine, or Christchurch have been averted? Possibly - but more probably not. However one thing is for sure: these disasters remind us again and again of our powerlessness in a world where, with a knowledge that is growing all the time, we fancy ourselves.

the opportunity for sanctuary
Disaster creates opportunities for God's people. The opportunity to serve with compassion. The opportunity to be quiet and calm and strong - for others who feel noisy and turbulent and weak. The opportunity to create times and spaces for reflection. The opportunity to be the 'city of refuge', to be the safe place, the safe people - the sanctuary among whom rest can be found and lament can be expressed. The opportunity to 'trace the rainbow through the rain'. The opportunity to host the reassuring presence of God and offer it to others.

nice chatting

Paul

from text to sermon

For twenty years in a college setting, I used the metaphor of the body to describe the movement from text to (expository) sermon. It works OK. Head. Skeleton. Flesh. Ligaments. Wings... Ramesh Richard and Richard Bewes are two people who helped me work on the body.

But over time I have become dissatisfied with the body.

During these four years with Langham, working more in a grassroots setting across a dozen countries around Asia and the Pacific, I have been experimenting with a different metaphor. The map. Here is a summary sheet I developed for a seminar in Australia. (NB: just click on it and it should become readable).

The key components of this metaphor are:
the country: the sermon in a sentence (determined by the 'big idea' in the text)
the states: the main points of the sermon
the cities:  three of them in each state: explanation, illustration, application
the global: placing passage/sermon in wider biblical context (biblical theology)  
the flag: a prevailing image for the sermon
the anthem: the pulse and purpose of the sermon

It isn't perfect! Like any metaphor, it has its limitations. And it isn't being used in every country (but some do love it!). Here are some of the reasons why I prefer it to the body...