In the beginning, God said….

The word of God is his unlimited creative power. The universe and all that is in it came into being by mere utterance from God’s lips. “God said, ‘Let there be…’, and there was….” Out of nothing, something.

Man can create only out of pre-existent matter. I once worked with a man who refused to use the word create in reference to anything man-made. He argued that to create implies making something from nothing and that therefore only God can create. It was an argument of semantics, but the argument had its merits. Man can dream and design and invent incredible things, but he is forever limited to the materials at hand. God, on the other hand, speaks matter into existence.

But does God speak today? We give lip-service to his voice. We say that he speaks through his people, the Bible, the Holy Spirit, circumstances…. But do we really believe that it is truly the voice of God, or do we hear only his instrument, one speaking for God? Would I pay closer attention to the Sunday sermon if I really believed I was hearing the vox dei, the voice of God? Would I give more credence to my wife’s wise counsel if I really believed it was the creative Voice of the universe coming from her lips? How have we wandered so far out of range of God’s call?

When he finished speaking the world into existence, God walked in Eden with his finest creation, Man and Woman. They walked together throughout the garden, enjoying the cool evening breezes and the chance to talk amongst themselves. Theirs was a deep, intimate relationship, like—but far greater than—a father’s relationship with his grown children. You can almost hear Adam and Eve enjoying a good laugh with God about the names they gave the animals….

They talked about farming and ranching, sunrises and sunsets, about all they had done during the day and the thoughts they’d had. Then one day it all changed. God came for his nightly stroll, but the kids weren’t there. He wandered among the cornstalks and the berry patches and the fruit trees, calling their names and listening for the sound of their voices. All he heard was the frightened beating of their hearts thundering across the valley. Slowly, tentatively, they poked their heads above the bushes they were hiding behind. Tears—the first ever to fall on Eden’s soil—stained their cheeks.

Here we are, Lord. We were embarrassed for you to see us naked.

The all-knowing Creator choked back his own tears as he asked, Who told you you were naked? And then the story and the tears flowed together as the man and his wife told of the serpent and the fruit and their motives and their fears. But Father, they pleaded, we only wanted to be more like you. And God banished Adam and Eve from the garden…but not from his heart. And as those last words of the curse rang in their ears, the First Family walked slowly away. And ever since, mankind has struggled to hear God’s voice plainly again.

Last night in my hermeneutics class at Bethel Seminary, I ran the basic question of my last post by my professor: “Does Jesus call all of his followers to be disciples, or can one be a true follower without accepting the invitation to discipleship?” His first response was that to be a disciple means to be a follower; he noted that one Bible translation (I don’t remember which) actually uses the word follower where others use disciple.

Exegesis is the process of understanding what the original author actually wrote. Hermeneutics, which begins with and encompasses exegesis, is the process of interpreting what the original author wrote to the original audience, and determining the significance of that for us today.

I confess that my post on discipleship is not the product of sound exegesis; in fact, I stated that in one of my subsequent comments: “My conclusions (at this point) are really based on what Jesus didn’t say as much as on what he did say.” That is hardly good scholarship.

In my defense, though I want to emphasize that the thoughts I posted were intended to generate discussion (which they did) and to serve as a hypothesis for further study. I will continue to study that hypothesis, implementing good principles of hermeneutics and, I hope, thus be drawn into a fuller realization of what Jesus both desires and expects of those who call him “Lord, Lord.”

I’ve wrestled with this question over the past several years. It started when I was meeting with some buddies for accountability, prayer, mutual encouragement, and so on. One of the guys is on staff with The Navigators – a discipleship-focused organization – and he emphasizes discipleship in his ministry. Since I’ve been heavily influenced by the Navs throughout my life, I understood John’s emphasis, but the question remained, Did Jesus want or expect all those who follow him to be his disciples?

I have concluded that the answer to that question is No. Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus was followed by a great many people – throngs, multitudes, crowds. Seldom did Jesus condemn them for following, though he did acknowledge that following alone would not earn them entry into the kingdom of heaven. (“Not all who call me Lord, Lord will….”) Also, his words on discipleship usually included a conditional statement: “If anyone wants to be my disciple, [then]….” I can’t think of one time that Jesus condemned a follower for not being a disciple. (By the way, I grew up thinking Jesus had only 12 disciples – a fallacy I learned in Sunday School, no doubt! In reality, he had many, from whom he selected 12 and appointed them to be apostles. See Mark 3:14 and Luke 6:13. Of course, Matthew 28:16 refers to “the eleven disciples” [emphasis mine].)

What I find particularly intriguing, though – the statement that causes me to question my own conclusion – is the last command Jesus gave: to go and make disciples. Apparently his desire is for disciples, not just followers. Given all that he said about suffering and persecution, it’s clear Jesus knew that if his word was to be spread, it would require the commitment of a disciple, not merely a follower. It would mean dying to self, leaving family and friends and home and job behind, and maintaining a singular focus on building his kingdom.

All of this, I think, has great importance for how I approach my role as a minister of the gospel.

• I need to recognize that there will be a lot of Christ-followers who will be content with that position – to be one of the crowd around Jesus. Like Jesus, I need to believe that that’s okay, even as I recognize that those are not the people who are going to get the word out.
• I need to recognize that discipleship is primarily a relationship, not a program. Jesus spent three years training his disciples in the “everydayness” of life. How can I practice, teach, or expect any less? I love how 1 Thessalonians 2:8 describes Paul’s relationship with that church: “…we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives.”
• I need to recognize – and teach – that discipleship is costly. It requires great commitment from both disciple and “discipler”. It will entail persecution (though little in our American life can compare with the persecution our brothers and sisters in other parts of the world endure). It will require sacrifice…of home, family, friends, career, reputation perhaps….
• The key job of a disciple is to make more disciples. According to Matthew 28, Jesus was addressing his disciples (or rather, only the remaining 11 apostles) when he said to “go…make disciples.” After all, a primary principle of reproduction is that it takes one to make one; that is, we reproduce after our own kind. A follower cannot make a disciple, only a disciple can.

Corollary to all of these things is the realization that, if I want to be a disciple who makes disciples, then I need to focus the vast majority of my time and energies on “my” disciples. That doesn’t mean I neglect the followers, but my focus needs to be on those who want to be disciples. Jesus set the example of this, often withdrawing from the multitudes to spend time with his disciples, often going off with just The Twelve, sometimes only with the Inner Circle of three, and maybe on occasion hanging out with just one or two of them. And, of course, he often got alone with God, something I also need to do. These are examples I need to follow.

I spend a fair amount of time over at Todd Rhoades’ Monday Morning Insight and find the discussions riveting, to say the least. But I thought I’d post a few thoughts here to see if anyone from there wants to jump on.

Many of the conversations over at MMI end up being arguments for or against “Purpose Driven” and “Seeker Sensitive” methodologies. So here are some questions I’d like to hear some answers to – and I would really be interested in contextually-accurate, biblical support.

1. Should church be for believers or should it be open and inviting to non-believers – an evangelistic experience, if you will?

2. With which of the following statements do agree more? Why?

• The book of Acts prescribes for us what church should look like and what it should entail (including leadership structure, methodologies, and so on). It should be a manual for how we ought to “do church” today.
• The book of Acts describes some of what transpired in the early church, but was not written as a how-to manual for the church.

3. Is a congregational form of church governance biblical? Why or why not? If not, what would you say is a biblical form?

4. When the Bible is silent on a topic, which of the following (if either) would more closely express your belief?

• If the Bible doesn’t expressly permit something, it should be forbidden.
• If the Bible doesn’t expressly forbid something, it should be permitted.

Thanks for playing! Check back every now and then to see what people have said and what else I may write.

What’s a guy to do? With the advent of the internet, the ease of blogs, and the mass-distribution capabilities of e-mail, our ability to disparage people quickly and easily has risen to new heights…or rather, fallen to new lows. In fact, one could argue that e-mail is an online WMD (weapon of mass destruction). Should you decide to read on, let me note here that this blog is written from the perspective of an evangelical Christian, who accepts the Bible as God’s word to humanity. A few years ago, I served on the board of a large church (not Saddleback or Willow Creek-large, but large nonetheless – around 3,000 people each weekend). During my three-year term, there was some pretty significant conflict revolving around the new Senior Pastor and a small group of people (maybe 1-2% of the congregation) who felt he wasn’t doing a good job. The board itself was divided, as well – and more significantly, though it was still a minority (maybe 25-30%) who voiced concerns. Unfortunately, the board chairman led the charge. It was a rough time – for the church, for the board, for the pastor, and for me personally. The pastor ultimately resigned (under some compulsion) after only two years at the church. Several times during my three-year tenure on the board, I received e-mails that gave me great concern. Many of those were between board members who chose that medium to discuss the relative merits and demerits of the pastor and what we as a board ought to do about the situation. At best, I think those were unprofessional and unhelpful. At worst, they were malicious and sinful expressions of division and disunity – even to the point of character assassination. One of the biggest problems with e-mail is the ease with which a simple communication can be disseminated broadly and to an audience it was never intended to reach. Whether it’s in the church, business world, or personal life, each of us needs to consider the possible impact of what we write getting into unintended hands. A common slogan during WWII was, “Loose lips sink ships.” Maybe we need to update that for the 21st century and apply it to e-mail. The reputations of good people can easily be destroyed by “loose fingers” on the keyboard – even when what those fingers write is untrue. Fortunately, there are ways to deal with people who cannot or decide not to control their tongues and typing. In the business world, someone who sends an inappropriate e-mail can be reprimanded or even fired. In the church, there are also appropriate means (see Matthew 18 and others). But what if the e-mail is anonymous? Several times during my tenure on the church board, I received anonymous e-mails. On the plus side, they generally were calling out the board itself for not shutting down the few who wanted the pastor gone. In that regard, I shared their sentiments – perhaps feeling them even more strongly since I was continuously frustrated in my attempts to do just that. On the other hand, a couple times they accused the board in general – and by implication each board member – of being too full of pride and “power” to “do the right thing” and step down from the board. Little did the writer know how many times I had written my resignation, only to be talked out of it by my father, by others on the board, and even by the embattled pastor.

At least once I responded to an anonymous e-mail, inviting the sender into dialog, to a board meeting, or even to a non-anonymous discussion via e-mail. My responses were, it seems, in vain. I have a lot of problems with people hiding behind the veil of anonymity. Perhaps the biggest problem I have is that they seem to believe the lie that they will not be held accountable for their words. Yet Jesus was quite clear that we are responsible for our words (see Matthew 5:22 and context).

So the question is, how should we in the church respond – if at all – to “virtual hate mail”? Todd Rhoades posted this at his MMI blog, and it created a fair bit of discussion. I would offer a few options…and welcome others.

-Delete. Some people favor this carte blanche solution. If the e-mail isn’t signed, it doesn’t get read. But what if it’s a positive comment? Or what if there is both positive and negative? What if the negative is written in a truly helpful, uplifting manner? There has to be some leeway here, I think.

-Read and respond. This is at the other end of the spectrum and has similar problems. I can waste a lot of time just reading what amounts to so much trash, let alone responding. And what if the message I’m responding to is just plain irrational? I’ve found it virtually impossible to have a rational, electronic conversation with an irrational, anonymous writer.

-Send a “canned” response. For example, “We have received your e-mail and would like the opportunity to respond to your comments. However, your choice to remain anonymous precludes us from doing so. If you desire a response, please provide your name …” [and whatever other identifying information may be appropriate, such as phone number or mailing address].

-One pastor I know has delegated the job of “screening” his mail and e-mail to help him avoid hearing too much of the bad stuff. His intent is not to look at life (cliché alert!) through rose-colored glasses; rather, he understands about himself that too much negative will hurt his ability to minister. This goes along with the public figures who don’t read the newspaper reports about themselves – they know that not everything they would read (good or bad) is true. I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone, but there’s some wisdom in it.

-Another pastor who was facing pretty significant abuse from a handful of people in his church went so far as to read some of the e-mails from the pulpit. Again, this isn’t for everyone or every situation, but it could be a good start for dealing with extremely negative, anonymous notes.

I’d like to know how others handle the problem of VHM – Virtual Hate Mail.