glenn packiam's blog

Eugene Peterson on Bono, The Message, and the Importance of Good Fiction

[EDITOR'S NOTE: This is an interview done with Eugene Peterson by Dean Nelson in 2007. In one of the more rare public interviews, Eugene talks about the power of story-telling and the sweeping story of Scripture; the influence of good fiction on his approach to pastoral ministry; his journey in translating The Message; and his "connection" with Bono.]

Theology Is An Aquarium...

Last night I taught at our Sunday Night Campus on the subject of Justification. It was a great opportunity to clearly present the theological distinctions between justification, sanctification, and glorification, and to explain why the New Testament talks about salvation in past, present, and future verb tenses. The joy, the confidence that comes from knowing that our justification is a one-time declaration from God...and that it's all God's work through Christ...is amazing. To believe that while our sanctification is on-going and involves our cooperation, setbacks in our sanctification process will not undo our justification. Thanks be to God!

But along the way, while immersing myself again in Erickson's "Christian Theology" and Grudem's "Systematic Theology", and re-reading Paul's words to the Romans, it occurred to me that our theological categories can be problematic. Paul is not as clear in delineating these three phases of our salvation. And to complicate things further, there are other New Testament-inspired theological words like regeneration, redemption, atonement, reconciliation, and more. Then, as a parishioner pointed out to me earlier in the week, there is Matthew 25, in which Jesus seems to indicate that there is a certain kind of behavior that demonstrates what we have done with Christ (The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats) that determines our reward or punishment. How do all these things fit together? And why is the Gospel's first and best theologian-- Paul-- not as systematic as we'd like?

I suggest, as many others have, it's because Jesus wants more for us than information and understanding; He wants participation and firsthand, relationship-based knowledge. (Paul's favorite word for the kind of "knowledge" we are to have of Christ is the kind of intimate knowledge that you could only gain through experiencing Him.) 

In a way, then, theology is like an aquarium-- a large, massive Sea World sort of aquarium, if it's a good theology, anyway! An aquarium recreates the oceanic environment and helps us see things we wouldn't otherwise see. In a good aquarium, the salt water, the dynamic and diverse coral and "vegetation", and overall ambience help us imagine what the ocean depths are like. The living creatures are descendants of actual inhabitants of the deep seas. An aquarium gives us an accurate depiction of the ocean. 

And yet, an aquarium is not the ocean. There is more to the ocean than what an aquarium can hold. In the same way, even our best theological categories and designations are like gigantic aquariums. They are helpful depictions of God in His creating and saving work. They are useful for study and understanding. But they are not the sum total of God and His work. God is more.

But this does not mean-- as some has suggested-- that the "more" that there is to God will be contradictory to what we know and understand of Him in sound, orthodox theology. The ocean is not fundamentally or in its essence different than what we find in the aquarium. It's not as if a deep sea diver might discover that ocean water is really as sustainable to human life as oxygen or that fish actually talk or that tiger sharks are really playful puppies. No, the ocean isn't fundamentally different. It is just larger, more massive, more difficult to absorb and comprehend. In that way, God is larger than our theological designations. I don't suspect that we'll come to the end and then say, "Oh my. I didn't realize that God is actually something totally different that the attributes I studied of Him in the Scriptures and in theology." To be clear, I am not suggesting that by saying God is larger than our theology we are saying that we might find that none of our theology matters and that all roads lead to God anyway. No. An emphatic NO. I am simply saying that our theological designations are helpful and necessary. And yet they are limited. 

There is more to the ocean than what an aquarium can show; there is more to God than what theology can tell. 

So, keep the books. Study them well. They will keep you from drowning and dispel your illusions of "ocean life".

But hold them loosely. The categories and compartments are made of fragile glass.

Most of all, go diving. 

Deep.

The ocean is for exploring; and God is for knowing.

Rethinking "Every Tribe and Tongue"

[The following piece was written for Worship Leader/Song Discovery Magazine. What does it mean to "take worship to the nations"? It's a complex and layered subject...one that demands more a short piece like this. But perhaps this will be enough to get the conversation started. Here's my perspective as a worship leader who's grown up on both sides of the world. This post will link to the full article at SongDiscovery.com.]

As the famous American worship leaders returned to the table with platefuls of aromatic curries and rice boiled in coconut milk, their faces wrinkled with curious interest in something other than their discoveries at the buffet line. It was the faint lines of music drifting through the humid air. The sultry notes being squeaked out on a stringed instrument defied conventional pitch. And the light tapping on small bongo-like drums had no sense of "groove" or, for that matter, time signature. 

"Why don't Malaysians write worship songs like this-in their own style?" blurted one of the Americans. Because it's awful, is what I thought....[Click HERE to read the FULL ARTICLE]

Are Worship Pastors Becoming Extinct?

 Over the past seven years, I have served as the Director of the New Life School of Worship, a 9-month program designed to train worship leaders for local churches. We believe that to effectively prepare our students for local church worship ministry they need to be trained in more than music. They need to be grounded in theology, familiar with church history, and responsible with their handling of the Scriptures. Moreover, they need to learn what it means to be a pastor: to shepherd the people under their care. 

But it seems that some churches aren't looking for that. They would prefer a musician who can lead the "singing", oversee the tech team, and produce recordings of their original songs. None of these are bad expectations, of course. But are we looking for these trade skills at the expense of other, more essential pastoral qualities? Are worship leaders simply highly skilled technicians who have a "steady gig" at a church? 

Today's worship leader may spend more time with his Macbook than with a real book. She may be more familiar with GarageBand than the people in her band. He may be better versed with directing the choir than providing spiritual direction. 

Of course, the trade side of being a worship leader and the pastoral side are not mutually exclusive. A person can be good at Pro Tools and at pastoring the people on his team. The trouble is we've lost the sacredness of the pastoral vocation. Any person who says their core role is to pray, study, and provide spiritual direction is not as "useful" to the corporation we call church. What else can you do? we ask. Then we proceed to fill so much of their time time with scheduling bands, arranging music, and working with the latest recording software that they are no longer doing any pastoral work. Musicians and singers become cogs in a wheel, things we use to fill slots. True, the administration needs to be done. And yes, musical excellence is valuable. But at what price?

Ross Parsley, the long-time worship pastor here at New Life, is fond of saying that music ministry is not about music; it's about people. Worship ministry is first a sort of a "helps" ministry that serves the Body of Christ. But more to the point, it is an excuse for us to connect with one another. Music is the table we gather around, the place where we see each other face to face, and then learn how to walk alongside one another in this life of faith.

Perhaps the question every church who hires a worship pastor-- and every aspiring worship pastor-- should answer is this: What will Jesus ask us about: the music we produced, the services we programmed? Or the people we pastored, the sheep we fed?

Take time today and think about the people on your team. Pray for them. Pick up the phone and call them. Break bread with them. Talk to them about more than the setlist. Remember your calling as a worship pastor, not a music program manager. Clear some of the clutter from your week. Maybe it's time to appoint others to do the tasks that are keeping you from your role as a shepherd. You have never met a mere mortal. Our music will not last forever; these people will.

How Mercy Triumphed Over Judgment

[EDITOR'S NOTE: As a follow-up to my last post, here is a slightly adapted excerpt from Chapter 8 of "Secondhand Jesus". If you like, you might enjoy the rest of the book! :)]

If God’s justice requires Him to judge evil and punish sinners, aren’t we all in trouble? Can’t God simply forgive? After all, isn’t He a God of love?

There is no such thing as simply forgiving, even at the human level. There is always a cost. When someone wrongs you, something is taken from you, a piece of you is gone. Sometimes it’s something physical; more often it’s something intangible, like your innocence, your childhood, your respect, your marriage. Fill in the blank. If you’ve been wronged, you are missing something you once had or should have had. That is why we instinctively feel like saying to the one who has wronged us, “You owe me!” Even our own justice system is based on the old Hebrew law of paying “an eye for an eye”—i.e., making the punishment fit the crime, requiring restitution and replacement where possible. 

We have wronged God and He—because He is just—cannot just forgive us. Someone must bear the cost. 

1 Sam. 6 tells the story of the ark of the covenant finally being returned to Israel on an oxcart from the Philistines. The people were overjoyed at the sight. There were sacrifices and songs of joy. But then the tragic happened unexpectedly.

The men of Beth-Shemesh opened the cover of the ark and looked in at the Law without the cover of blood, and they were struck dead. It's a picture of a rumor about God: that God is pleased with our own goodness; that we can handle the law without the blood. The people of Beth-Shemesh, seeing seventy of their men suddenly slain because of the wrath of God, cried out, “Who can stand in the presence of the Lord, this holy God?” (1 Sam 6:20a).

This same question can lead us on the road to salvation. In this question is a truth we have missed: God is holy. 

You see, God’s sense of justice is rooted in His holiness. To properly understand His justice, we have to recognize His holiness. To say that God is holy is to say that God is far removed from us not just by degree but in also in kind. He is not the top of the spectrum on which we lie near the bottom; He is on a spectrum wholly different than ours. He is, literally, in a league of His own. That is enough to require a mediator. But to make matters worse, we are fallen, sinful creatures. Adam was the first to attempt a life apart from God, to try to live as God instead of with Him. That sin has been passed on to the rest of us, embedded in our very nature. But we are not passive in this. By our own actions we confirm our sinfulness and our desire to rebel and live apart from God. By our own choice, we have become enemies of God.

This presents a problem on a cosmic scale. Throughout the Old Testament, there are hints and references to a “cup of wrath” waiting to be poured out in judgment on the nations. 

Psalms 75:8 says, “In the hand of the Lord is a cup full of foaming wine mixed with spices; he pours it out, and all the wicked of the earth drink it down to its very dregs.” 

In a prophecy against Judah, Ezekiel warns, "This is what the Sovereign Lord says: ‘You will drink your sister's cup, a cup large and deep; it will bring scorn and derision, for it holds so much. You will be filled with drunkenness and sorrow, the cup of ruin and desolation, the cup of your sister Samaria. You will drink it and drain it dry; you will dash it to pieces and tear your breasts. I have spoken,’ declares the Sovereign Lord” (Ez. 23:32–34).

The book of Revelation gives a glimpse into the final judgment that awaits: “A third angel followed them and said in a loud voice: ‘If anyone worships the beast and his image and receives his mark on the forehead or on the hand, he, too, will drink of the wine of God's fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. He will be tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment rises for ever and ever. There is no rest day or night for those who worship the beast and his image, or for anyone who receives the mark of his name’” (Rev. 14:9–11).

A cup in Scripture is symbolic of a person’s lot or portion in life. To be an enemy of God is to deserve the cup of wrath, the cup of ruin, sorrow, and destruction. It is our lot, and our coming portion forever. 

But God did the unthinkable. He sent His own Son—who is God forever—to come to earth and drink the cup that was meant for us. It is interesting that when James and John asked—or more accurately, when their mother asked!—if they could sit at the right and left hand of Jesus, He said to them, “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” (Matt. 20:22).

Later, in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will" (Matt. 26:39). And a second time in the Garden, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done" (Matt. 26:42).

Let this cup pass. What was Jesus’ portion? The cup of wrath. The cup of ruin, sorrow, and destruction. It was a heavy lot to have, yet it was one only Jesus could bear. Only God could satisfy the honor of God. Only God could be holy enough to take on the sin of all the world and with it all the destruction due to us. Jesus took for us the full blow, the full force of God’s wrath so that we no longer have to taste God’s judgment. 

Instead, our cup, our lot, is now the cup of blessing, symbolized in the cup of communion. The apostle Paul wrote, “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” (1 Cor. 10:16 ESV).

We switched cups! Jesus drank the cup of God’s wrath instead of us so that we can drink the cup of blessing. The cup of blessing is ours because of the new covenant. John Stott words the miraculous reversal of roles this way:

"The essence of sin is we human beings substituting ourselves for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting himself for us. We … put ourselves where only God deserves to be; God … puts himself where we deserve to be."

Again, I say, "Thanks be to God!"

Is God Angry?

The long-standing view of God is that He is an angry school master, ready to bring the full weight of His wrath upon us at the slightest provocation. His holiness, it has been thought, necessitates His rage, but somehow Jesus persuaded the Father not to smite us-- as if Christ were a poor boy begging his father not to hit his mother any more. As a counter response to this warped view, the trend in our age is to paint a picture of God as being so loving that He would never be displeased or disappointed by anything we do (as Paul Young suggests in The Shack). "God is love", we quote the Scripture, but then proceed to fill out the picture of what "love" looks like by using our human examples. But it is not human love that leads us to understand what God is like; it is God's love that sheds light on what Love is.

The pages of Scripture (particularly in the early history of Israel and in the later in the prophetic passages) are full of examples of God's anger toward sin and His destruction of sinners. There is very little doubt that God gets angry. We also understand that His anger is rooted in His justice. He can't tolerate sin and still be called "Holy". But is His anger the last word? How does His anger interact with His love? Based on both Old and New Testaments, here are some thoughts:

1. God's Love Comes First.

"But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness." Ps. 86:15 (NIV)

In Deuteronomy, when Moses is giving Israel a recap of the law and final reminders before they enter the Land without him, he reminds them that that God did not choose them because of their righteousness. In fact, as Moses goes to great lengths to remind them, they are a "stiff-necked" (stubborn) people (Deut. 9:6). But God chose them and set His affection upon them...just because (Deut. 10:15). This is grace at its clearest: God chose us before we had anything to say or do about it. Before the law was given, God chose Israel. Before they had the chance to obey, God rescued them from Egypt. As Andy Stanley points out, the law was never meant to be a means to a relationship with God; it was always designed to be proof of it. God's love always comes first; in theological words this is called the "primacy of grace". 

2. God's Anger is Superseded By His Love.

"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." Ps. 30:5 (NIV)

Before Moses restates the Law in Deuteronomy 5, he reminds them of the seriousness of the sin of idolatry. Why idolatry is such a big deal to God is the subject of a different blog, but for now what we need to notice is that God warns of a punishment by exile (Deut. 4: 24-28). If you're familiar with Old Testament history, you know that exile indeed is what they got for their sin of idolatry. But what is remarkable is how God, even while warning them of His judgment, promises His grace if they repent (Deut. 4: 29-31). He will not forsake His covenant, made to them out His love. In Deuteronomy 5, while listing the commandment against idolatry, God reiterates that idolatry will be punished to the "third and fourth" generations (which is about what they got in exile before returning to their land), but His love goes on for "a thousand generations"-- a metaphor of unending love. Even in the Old Testament, God showed Israel that His love would always supersede His anger. Punishment? Yes. But love that redeems and restores in the end? A more resounding "Yes".

3. God's Love Does Not Ignore His Justice. 

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him! For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation." Rom. 5: 8-11 (NIV)

Sin cannot go unpunished. God's justice requires it. This is maybe the biggest difference between our love and God's-- and maybe the best reason why we can't use human love as a lens for interpreting God's love: God's love is not a glossing over wrong; it is a covering over sin: a covering that, just as it did in Eden, requires bloodshed. Here is where our thinking can get weird. Jesus didn't step in and sway the hand of an angry Father. God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, because They are in Their very nature Love know that Their Love will always triumph over anger; collectively and communally They knew the only Way for that to happen: for Jesus to take on human flesh, die for our sin, and rise again, conquering sin and death once for all. The Father didn't not kill the Son for us. In Jesus' own words, "no man takes my life; I lay it down" (Jn. 10: 11, 15, 17, 18).

4. Our Enmity Toward God Is The Real Issue.

"You yourselves are a case study of what he does. At one time you all had your backs turned to God, thinking rebellious thoughts of him, giving him trouble every chance you got. But now, by giving himself completely at the Cross, actually dying for you, Christ brought you over to God's side and put your lives together, whole and holy in his presence. You don't walk away from a gift like that! You stay grounded and steady in that bond of trust, constantly tuned in to the Message, careful not to be distracted or diverted. There is no other Message—just this one. Every creature under heaven gets this same Message. I, Paul, am a messenger of this Message." Col. 1: 21-23 (The Message)

It is no longer God's anger toward us that stands in the way of our coming to God-- thanks to Jesus! It is now our anger, our choice to be a rebel, to live as an enemy of God, our refusal to bend the knee that keeps us from Him. If we are in a hostile relationship with God, it is not because He has made us His enemy but that we have insisted on making Him ours.

So, if we ask the question in the present tense-- Is God Angry?-- the answer is "no". But the answer is "no" not because He never gets angry since He is "love" (as Rob Bell more than hints at in his DVD "The Gods Aren't Angry"). The answer is "no" because His love ALWAYS finds a way to trump His wrath without violating His Justice. And that Way-- once and for all-- is Jesus.

Thanks be to God!

Rethinking The Way We Worship (Reflections on Deuteronomy 12)

It is probably not surprising to you that God has an opinion about the way we worship. As is the case with so many other things, God is not only interested in our doing of a particular thing but in how we are doing it. Obedience is not just about right action or right result; it's also about right "way". Jesus was obedient, even to death on the cross. The central temptation of Jesus was to get Him to do God's work in the Devil's way. Much has been written about the three temptations Jesus faced in this regard, from Dostoevsky to Eugene Peterson.

When this principle is applied to worship, however, the discussion usually becomes about physical actions: God wants us to lift our hands, dance, clap, etc, we say. And that may be true. The one who made us just might know something about what helps engage our whole being in worship. But I read something in Deuteronomy today that made think of a few other "ways" our worship must be:

"Do not worship the Lord your God in the way these pagan peoples worship their gods." Deut. 12:4 (NLT)

The Book of Deuteronomy puts a great emphasis on avoiding idolatry. Even Deuteronomy 12 opens with an injunction to destroy pagan shrines and every trace of idolatry, echoing a theme that has surfaced several times in the preceding chapters. But God doesn't stop there. It wasn't enough to not worship idols; they were not to worship Yahweh in the way pagans worshipped idols. So, what were the ways pagans worshipped their gods? Are those ways still prevalent in how people in our culture worship success or fame or wealth? In what ways was the worship of Yahweh to be different from pagan worship? Based on Deuteronomy 12, here are some thoughts on the way we worship our God:

1. Be Communal Not Privatized
The first thing God says about His "way" of worship as opposed to the pagans is about place. "Rather, you must seek the Lord your God at the place of worship he himself will choose from among all the tribes-- the place where his name is honored." That specific place is where they are to bring their burnt offerings, sacrifices, tithes, sacred offerings, offerings to fulfill a vow, voluntary offerings, offerings of the firstborn of their flocks (vs.6, 10-11). You get the point. But in case you missed it, Moses goes on: "Be careful not to sacrifice your burnt offerings just anywhere you like. You may do so only at the place the Lord will choose within one of your tribal territories" (vs. 13-14a). 

In John 4 Jesus helps us understand that there is nothing inherently sacred about a geographic location anymore. It is worshippers who worship in spirit and in truth that the Father is after. But wherever those worshippers gather in His name, there He is. And every gathering has a place just as every family has a home. Place matters because that’s where the gathering is. By specifying a location for their worship in Deuteronomy, God was teaching Israel that worship was not a private matter. They could not freely offer sacrifices anywhere they liked. It had to be at the chosen place within their tribal territory. Their worship was to be in the context of their tribe-- or in our language, community.

There is something dangerous about our tendency to privatize or individualize everything. When worship becomes privatized it becomes vulnerable to error-- false worship, wrong thinking about God; moreover, it becomes anemic. Our worship must not only remind us that we belong to God, but that we are His people, we are part of His tribe. This is likely why Jesus' chosen word for the His new people was ekklesia, the gathering or assembly, a word that conjures images of a city gathering with purpose. Much can be said about our current trend toward meeting with a few friends just like us in a home and calling it "church", but that must be saved for another blog. For now, it will do to start us thinking in a more communal or corporate way about worship.

2. Honor Life, Don't Desecrate It
Moses continues by telling them that could eat meat so long as the blood was drained: "But you must not eat the blood. You must pour it on the ground like water" (vs. 16). From Leviticus 17, we know that "life of every creature is in the blood". Blood was for atoning for sins, not for eating or drinking. Wrapped in this strange command is an instruction about the sanctity of life.

By telling Israel not to eat the blood of an animal when they joyfully ate its meat as part of their worship celebration, God was teaching Israel not to let worship make them self-indulgent. It's as if He was saying, "Don't get so caught up in the joy of worshipping Me that you forget about others, that you think your life is more valuable than theirs." Later in Israel's history they would be rebuked for celebrating great sacred festivals and feasts at the expense of the poor and the needy (Amos 5). Our worship, while being communal, must not be insular. Life is precious: the Life that was given so that we might truly live, the lives that are suffering without that Life, and the lives that are trivialized and extinguished by genocide, abortion, abuse, and injustice all around the world. Worship must lead us to honor life and to protect it.

3. Involve Our Children, Don't Sacrifice Them
Toward the end of the chapter, Moses adds a very specific detail about how pagans worshipped their gods, one that Israel had to avoid:  “You must not worship the Lord your God the way the other nations worship their gods, for they perform for their gods every detestable act that the Lord hates. They even burn their sons and daughters as sacrifices to their gods” (vs. 31). When Moses talks about what Israel was to do with their children, the two ways come into sharp contrast: “You must celebrate there in the presence of the Lord your God with your sons and daughters and all your servants” (vs. 12a). In Yahweh worship, children are included in the celebration; in pagan worship, the children are sacrificed. 

How often do we aim to serve God, to worship Him, to bring Him honor, but do so at the expense of our children? Far too many servants of Yahweh—pastors, missionaries, marketplace ministers—are sacrificing their children to carry out their work for God. This is how our culture works for its gods of wealth and success. But our God does not want to be worshipped in that way. His way of being worshipped means that we bring our children into what we are doing for Him. We are to talk with them when we are “at home and when [we] are on the road, when [we] are going to bed and when [we] are getting up (Deut. 6:7).

It's good that we are learning to put away idols and idol worship. Now perhaps it's time we rethink the way we are attempting to worship God, so that we aren't doing it the way the ancient pagans did. The way we worship matters immensely to God.

When Bottom-Line Thinking Ruins Everything

This year was supposed to be the year my football team broke out of their rebuilding phase and rose to challenge the Patriots, Colts, and Steelers for the right to represent the AFC in the SuperBowl. Instead, we have sunk to cellar, hoping to crawl out with a new head coach who is younger than his best veterans and without a Pro Bowl quarterback who was supposed to be the second coming of John Elway.

The trouble began months ago when a teary man in his mid-sixties simply said he was firing one of best friends because "it was time". Pat Bowlen's joint press conference with Mike Shannahan, his Superbowl-winning coach of 15 years, was the most crying I've ever seen in the NLF-- except of course for the time Brett Favre retired...the first time. Pro football, as we are reminded every offseason (which should be called "contract dispute season") is a business. And in any business, the bottom line is what matters most. Friendships are good; team loyalty counts for something, especially during the season. But in the end, players, coaches, owners, and VPs must produce or be fired. 

America's pastime, baseball, now marred by multiple steroid scandals, is carnage on the altar of bottom-line thinking. Is it really surprising that the immense pressure to produce godlike statistics to match their godlike salaries has driven so many pro athletes to Performance Enhancing Drugs? Teams want to make more money; to make more money you have to win more; to win more you need the best coaches and players; to get the best players you've got to pay them the best salaries for their position. And when you pay them that much, they better produce. And when there's that much pressure to produce, vocational purity is lost. There is nothing sacred or pure about the game anymore. There is no longer anything special about being a baseball player or a football player or a basketball player. It's all just a business.

Such thinking is all around us. A few years ago, my wife and I took our daughter to a pediatrician that many of our friends recommended. At first, we appreciated his efficiency, the way we got in and got out. But after a few visits, he seemed more willing to write a prescription for Amoxicillin than to listen to our concerns. We began to feel like we were being herded through the office and rushed through an appointment so the maximum number of patients could be seen each day. In short, it seemed our pediatrician had reduced his vocation of caring for children and attending to their health to simply a business. And the more patients he had, the better his bottom line. Eventually we left and found a different pediatrician who was more willing to take her time with her patients, one who was running her business but preserved the purity of her vocation.

Bottom-line thinking has a way of undoing our best intentions. I know because my vocation is not immune to it. Pastors are tempted to evaluate their work through the same grid as pro athletes and pediatricians: as managers of a business. Our bottom line, though it could be measured in dollars, is more often measured in people. Because of that, it seems purer. And to some degree it is. It's better to evaluate a church by the lives it is affecting than by the money it's bringing in. But still, it's a way of reducing the richness and complexity of our calling as pastors into something as static and unreliable as numbers. Worse, it often leads us to justify a way of doing ministry that looks nothing like Jesus simply for the sake of reaching more people. The proof of the pervasiveness of that thinking is in popular church campaign slogans like "Reach the Lost at Any Cost."

It might be worth noting that Jesus didn't reach the lost at any cost. When the rich young ruler walked away sad because he wasn't about to sell all he had and give it to the poor, Jesus let him. When the prodigal son left home, the father didn't run after him. To top it off, Jesus seems to have made a concerted choice to avoid a more popular and potentially more effective approach to reaching people simply because it was less personal. The two large cities in Galilee of Jesus’ day were Sepphoris and Tiberias. Sepphoris, Galilee’s capital, was only a few miles from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. Both cities were centers of activity and influence. Both were within view of the places Jesus frequented. Yet neither is mentioned in the stories of Jesus. (Tiberias gets a passing mention of people coming in boats form Tiberias to look for Jesus.) Instead, Jesus, as Eugene Peterson suggests, worked out “his way of life in the intensely personal and God-oriented small towns of Capernaum, Chorazin, and Bethsaida.” It wasn’t that He didn’t have any other options. He most certainly did. Could it be that Jesus chose these more personal settings on purpose? It seems consistent with the rest of His ministry approach. When Jesus did set His face toward Jerusalem it wasn’t to perform a spectacle at the Temple, as Satan had earlier suggested He do; Jesus went to Jerusalem, to the epicenter of culture, to die. These are certainly not the choices of a person driven by the bottom-line of producing more or reaching more.

To be sure, all vocations have an element of business. We are to be shrewd managers, faithful stewards, making the most of what we have been given. It's not wrong to get paid for what you do...even as pastors. (Paul makes a strong case to young pastor Timothy about the merits of rewarding those who serve as elders, governing the affairs of the church, in particular those who teach.) And it's not wrong to watch the bottom-line in your business. But at some point, too much attention to the bottom line corrupts the purity of any vocation. We must ask ourselves not simply how well our business is doing, but how well we are doing business. Are we losing the purity of our vocation-- as doctors or lawyers or pastors or athletes-- because of an obsession with the bottom line? The bottom line is one piece of what we do as a professional in any field. But if the bottom line drives our decisions and shapes our vocation, we will find ourselves in the place my beloved Broncos are in: ruined.

The New Sunday Night Service at New Life Church

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Since launch the service on Sept. 13, 2009, we have made a few tweaks, both to the service order and the preaching element. I have adjusted this blog to now reflect those changes as of Nov. 15, 2009]

The word's out: New Life is launching a Sunday Night Service. I know many of my blog readers don't live in Colorado Springs, but I thought the best way for me to share my heart for this service would be to blog about it. 

The pastor's challenge is to let his heart and mind be full of the way things should be while his hands and feet are firmly in the reality of how things are. We are always fixing our eyes on Christ and trying to follow Him and His ways, all while working with the particulars of the soil of our field. This means that not everything will line up with a list of ideals. It also means that we will get dirt under our fingernails. Yet we labor to be on this earth as Christ was, to be carriers of the Divine, acting out His Kingdom and the values of that Kingdom here and now, on earth as it is in heaven. We deal in the subversive, beginning with where culture is but undermining it with a Love that is not of this world. So, here are some of the values that will shape the service and the culture of the Sunday Night Campus.

PERSONAL
One of the main reasons Pastor Brady and the team decided to launch this service is to create a smaller environment for worship and community. We're looking for ways to make a big church not just "feel" smaller, but to actually be smaller. My hope is to be more than a service host. I want be a pastor. I want to build relationships with people who make this service their home and help them grow in the Lord. I want us to learn to be attentive to what God is doing in each other's lives so that as we gather each week we "recognize each other as companions along the way of the cross".

SACRAMENTAL
What I'm most excited about is gathering at the Lord's Table every week. As we prepare to celebrate the Eucharist about 20 minutes into the service, we'll participate in a liturgical confession from the Book of Common Prayer. We'll be saying words that have been said by the Church for hundreds of years, and in some cases, longer. Then, after our corporate confession, we'll go to tables on the sides and gather the elements as the worship team continues to sing. From there, you can either go to our prayer team, stationed along the edges, to receive prayer and ministry as you receive the elements, or gather in clusters with friends and family to receive the elements together. Of course, if the Lord is doing something deeply personal in your heart, you can gather the elements, find a corner and receive them on your own. To conclude our time of prayer and ministry at the Lord's Table, we'll stand to pray together the Lord's Prayer. 

For those who have never experienced the power of liturgy, this will be wonderful introduction to an ancient practice. For those who are from a liturgical background, this will all seem familiar but out of order (it is!). I pray these familiar actions and words become meaningful in a fresh way.

CONVERSATIONAL
In Working the Angles, Eugene Peterson describes the Greek word hodegete in context of the more familiar word exegete. Both have as part of their word the idea of "leading". But while exegesis focuses on "leading the meaning out of the text", hodegesis is the process of "leading people into the text." An exegete is an explainer; a hodegete is a guide. Both, of course, are necessary. Hodegesis is seen in the way Philip gets in the chariot with the eunuch and helps him understand the Isaiah scroll he's reading, and how it speaks of Christ. 

So, in a similar way, each talk will involve an exploration of the text so that we, with the Holy Spirit, can learn how to enter the Scriptures and to let the Scriptures enter us. The talks will follow the same sermon series as the Sunday morning services. Each one will use the same text and convey the same key points, but will have a slightly different expression and feel. I will preach about 36 times a year and have others from our teaching team do the rest. 

INCARNATIONAL
This is a fancy way of saying that we believe that God is present in ordinary people in the midst of ordinary situations. While we should-- and we will-- set apart special times and moments to encounter God, we believe He is with us all through the week. Our gatherings are a way of creating space, making room, for God. The songs, sermon, conversation and liturgy are all ways that we call attention to Him in our midst as a congregation. But the hope is that this habit of paying attention to God in the service will train us to be attentive to Him in the more ordinary moments and conversations.

This is also a nice way for saying we like laughing, eating, and enjoying one another. (And we hope the lobby reflects it!) There's something spiritual about it, though not in the conventional sense. OK, now for the nitty-gritty!

Details:
Sundays, 5:30pm-7:00pm
Location: The TENT, New Life Church
Launch Date: September 13, 2009 

Matthew Fallentine will be leading worship, and I will serve as the pastor of the service. The flow is roughly as follows:

Invocation Song/Welcome
Worship
Eucharist Confession
Receiving of the Eucharist with Prayer/Ministry
JoyTime (Offering and OT/NT Readings)
The Talk
Benediction

How to Get Involved:
There are loads of ways to serve and get involved. The Leadership Team will involve men and women who who lead small groups, pray for people as we gather at the Lord's Table, greet people at the door, take up the offering, set-up the lobby, prepare coffee and coordinate snacks, prepare the communion elements, and other little things. I am in the process of forming a core team who will help lead these areas.

But to start with, you can email me at gpackiam@newlifechurch.org.
You can also follow the service on Twitter: @NLCSundayNight. (If you're not on Twitter, it's an amazing way to communicate to a targeted group of people in a concise way, with highly intelligent "tagging" and "searching" features.) For us, it will be a great way to get updates and details on the service and the Leadership Team.

New Christmas Song: "Gloria (Mary's Song)"

In the spirit of the holiday season, I thought I'd post a new song I wrote for an Integrity Christmas project that will release next year. The song is from Mary's perspective... imagining her emotions, borrowing from her song in Matthew. This demo is just a rough recording I did on good ole GaragaBand with the wonderful Bekah Ham singing on it. Feel free to use it if you'd like. 

Click on the link below to hear the song....the lyrics and chords are below.

Download Christmas song (mary) 3 

"Gloria (Mary's Song)"

Words and music by Glenn Packiam

Copyright 2008, Vertical Worship Songs

VERSE 1:

C                        G/B

Staring at the stars tonight

Am7                     Em7

Feeling so alone inside

F                      C/E                             Dm7

I’m not sure You are here with me

 

C                        G/B

Carrying this child in me

Am7                        Em7

Is it true, how can it be?

     F                                  C/E                   Dm7

Is this Your plan to save humanity?

 

CHORUS:

                          F            F4  C

            Singing Gloria

                        F F4            C

            In the highest

            (repeat)

 

VERSE 2:

C                       G/B

Suddenly an angel’s voice

Am7                        Em7

Singing to the world, “Rejoice!”

F                       C/E                                    Dm7

Light of God, breaking through the clouds

 

C                               G/B

Now behold the baby’s face

Am7                        Em7

Picture of the Father’s grace

F                      C/E                    Dm7

God is here, night is over now

 

CHORUS:

                          F            F4  C

            Singing Gloria

                        F F4            C

            In the highest

            (repeat)

 

BRIDGE:

G                        F              C

My soul magnifies the Lord

       G                     F                        C              G

My spirit rejoices in God, my Savior

G                F               C

I’ll magnify the Lord

        G                     F                      C/E            Dm7

And I will rejoice in God, my Savior

The Arrogance of Pluralism

Whenever the subject of Christianity comes up, at some point, some angry bloke will eventually say, "Man, Christians are so arrogant. I mean, how can you believe that there is only one way to God or heaven? How can you be so sure that you guys are right? That is so arrogant and judgmental."

The Christian, ruffled by the sudden demise of his popularity, bites his tongue and goes home discouraged. Left to his own thoughts, he ponders some potential contradictions: 

Didn't Jesus say "Judge not lest you be judged"?

Aren't Christians supposed to be loving and humble?

Maybe I don't have any right to say that Jesus is the ONLY way.

For anyone who has ever wrestled with such thoughts or suffered through such accusations, here are two simple things to consider:

• No Major Religion in the World Would Claim that All Religions Are Equally Valid

Growing up in a Malaysia, I was surrounded by friends who believed differently than I did. My classmates were Hindus, Buddhists, and Muslims-- and a handful of Christians. In my younger years, there were precious few conversations that remotely resembled a discourse in comparative religions. But when friends had to miss a party to burn incense at an ancestor's grave, or skip food because it was Ramadan, or come to school with white, ashy powder on their foreheads, we all understood. We had different beliefs. Moreover, these beliefs were deeply held, and a significant part of our heritage.

As I got older, I found the courage to occasionally try to witness to a cab driver. I remember one occasion when a Buddhist man argued that his religion was far older than mine and therefore more superior. These conversations were friendly-- for the most part-- and all ended the same way: each leaving the other completely unconvinced.

But to my best recollection, not once in a conversation with a devout follower of another religion did a person ever say that all religions are the same.

There are fundamental differences that neither party are willing to ignore. A Muslim's god is not characterized by love and could not have come to earth. A Buddhist god is not personal. A Hindu's god...well, there are millions to choose from.

The claim of exclusivity is not unique to Christianity; it is common among the major religions of the world.

So, the belief that all religions are the same is itself a new kind of religion. A religion, after all, is a belief system that provides a framework for life and its meaning or lack of. From what source does this person derive his belief that all religions are the same? Certainly not from the religions themselves. On what basis can he defend it? None, except that it is the popular worldview of his day. (Let's see, we're standing on a long-held, historic belief, and he on a modern one...hmmm.) Unless, of course, he thinks that he sees more than you do. Read on.

• The Belief That All Religions Have Some Truth But Not the Whole Truth Means That You Think You Have the Whole Truth 

People like to say that there are good things to glean from every religion, that each contains a morsel of truth, but is inaccurate on its own. Their favorite analogy is the blind men grasping different parts of an elephant, each describing his experience as the ultimate truth. The one who has the tail says an elephant is like a snake; the one who has the trunk says that an elephant is sturdy as a pipe; the one who has the tusk says an elephant is like a smooth horn with a sharp point, etc. The problem-- as Timothy Keller in The Reason For God so eloquently points out-- is that this story is told from the perception of one who is not blind, one who sees what an elephant really looks like.

In other words, to say that all religions are only partially right, that truth unfolds progressively through the eras of each religion's birth, is to say that you are the apex of religious history. You are now more enlightened than Confucious, Buddha, Mohammed, or Jesus. What they saw in part, you see in totality. Now, no peace-loving, Oprah-watching, politically-correct hipster is going to admit to that, but that is essentially what they are saying.

So, the question is not how arrogant Christianity is to make exclusive claims-- and, by the way, it does (read John 14 for a refresher course). The question is really how arrogant is Eckhart Tolle or Oprah or anyone else who tries to say that all religions are the same and taken together give us the full spiritual truth?

After all, isn't it arrogant to look at thousands of years of belief and practice by the major religions of the world, and dismissively say they are all the same? Isn't it arrogant to show up in 21st Century America and claim something none of these ancient, non-Western religions have ever claimed?

As it turns out, pluralism is the arrogant belief system-- not to mention one full of horse crap.

Blessed are the Powerless

Almost every Friday, I play basketball at a ridiculously nice health club. I’m not a member because I don’t think membership fees to health club should cost as much as a car payment for a brand new Lexus. But some friends of mine have made arrangements to reserve the basketball court every Friday at a really nominal price. As it turns out, the court is hardly used—I suspect the members of the club aren’t members because they actually want to break a sweat—and so outside reservations are welcome.

 

This is how it came to be that I and about 15 other pastors and college kids trample the hallowed grounds of the rich and powerful every Friday morning. You should have seen the looks we got when we first started showing up in the parking lot with Honda Accords and beat up Jeeps and Japanese cars that were probably made shortly after World War II. The moms in overpriced luxury SUVs weren’t sure if they had pulled into the right place. Nevertheless, after a few weeks, people went on with their normal routines: men in sweater vests in the lobby continued sipping lattes and swapping business cards and women in designer warm-ups carried on with their morning workout before a quick trip to Pottery Barn to buy a much needed candle for $24.99.

 

People love feeling powerful. In our day, as in every previous generation, there are an abundance of opportunities to accommodate that urge. Money is chief among them. I once heard a millionaire say that he is at the point that he never asks “How much?” anymore; he only cares about “How long?” He’s so rich the price is irrelevant, just don’t waste his time. That’s power.

 

But the rich are not alone in their quest for power. Even in my middle-class suburban life, I have added things that give me the illusion of power. I drive an SUV in hopes that I will be more powerful than the winter elements. I have a great retirement plan and robust life insurance so that I can feel more powerful than the uncertainty of what is to come.

 

None of these are bad things in themselves. But pursuing them in order to feel powerful will be prove to be misguided. After all in God’s economy, it is better to be powerless.

 

In the book of 1 Kings, there is a strange story that is somehow included in the book. 1 Kings is largely the account of the kings of Israel and Judah. It describes the rise and fall of good and wicked kings. Yet spliced into these stories of powerful rulers is a character who doesn’t seem to fit. First off, it’s a woman. In the light of the heavily patriarchal ancient world obsessed with its dominant male heroes, taking time to record the events of a woman’s life seems trivial. Furthermore, she’s not just a woman, she’s a widow. In that day, a woman’s hope of survival was linked to her ability to land a good husband, one that was strong, healthy, and able to provide. God had made provisions for widows to be cared for specifically because if He didn’t they would have no hope. What is the widow—a symbol of complete powerlessness in the ancient world—doing in this historic record of Israel and Judah’s most powerful men?

 

When we meet her she is out gathering sticks to cook here last meal for her and her son. Yet she obeys Elijah’s instruction and gives him a small cake she’s baked with the last of her oil and flour. Miraculously, the flour and oil never run out. Later, her son gets ill and stops breathing. The prophet proceeds to raise him from the dead. These events stand in stark contrast to the vulnerability of those whom the world considers powerful. We are eyewitness as wicked kings fall prey to famine, leprosy, loss in battle, and even treason within the ranks. Their wealth, armies, position, and power did not prove helpful in their time of need. Yet this obscure little widow, who simply hopes in God and in the man of God because she doesn’t know where else to turn, is protected and preserved through famine, poverty, and disease.

 

The problem with money or status or success is that it becomes easier to fool ourselves into feeling powerful because of those things. The truth is, no matter what position we hold or things we possess, we are in the end powerless. The rich are no more immune to disease or tragedy than the poor. The powerful are still powerless over forces of a global economic crash or a terrorist strike. We are not as powerful as we think we are.

 

It’s a good thing to recognize that early. Step 1 for any addict is to admit that he is powerless over his addiction. We would do well to follow the same course. Once we admit that we are ultimately powerless, we can turn to God, and depend fully on Him. Only God has the ability to prevent and to redeem. You may recall in an earlier blog, I made the case that redemption is more powerful than prevention. God can do both. That means that even what He does allow—by virtue of giving us free will—He can still work through it for our good and for His glory. Now that is power.

 

Blessed are the powerless for their hope is in the Lord.

Certainly Not Faith

As we were driving to dinner, I made some off-the-cuff remark to my wife that eventually became the dominant discussion of the evening. And most of the next day. No, it wasn’t something negative about her. How could I possibly? Shame on you. OK, yes, I have in the past spoken without thinking and hurt a person’s feelings. Maybe once or twice. But this was not one of those occasions. This was a fleeting observation I had hurriedly distilled into theory and was now foisting upon my dear wife.

“ A Christian is not nearly as certain as an atheist, for a Christian at least concedes that he may be wrong about the existence of God.”

And so the discussion began. Never one to give up on a theory without repeated reasonable attempts at defending it, I tried to explain. “An atheist clings to certainty. He is certain that there is no God. To admit that there might be is not to be an atheist.”

“But what is a Christian except a person who believes that there, in fact, is a God?” she countered. She had gotten quite good at rebutting my nonsense and forcing me to use something other than volume and tone to validate my statements. As the next 24 hours unfolded, there were other conversations and activities, other words being read and discussed, many trivial, some ideological. But at its end, here are some thoughts that rose to the surface—or maybe, more accurately, sank into our hearts.

Faith is an admission of mystery. The fact that faith has shown up at all on the scene means that much is unknown—perhaps unknowable, at least for now. And it also means doubt was lurking nearby. Faith is not called on when our senses have defined our reality. We don’t need faith to tell us that burnt toast tastes bad or that a fire is hot or that an elephant is larger than an ant. We have our senses for that. We need faith when the light is dim, when the horizon is foggy, when we are “seeing through a glass darkly.” We summon faith in our hearts at precisely the moments when our senses fail and uncertainty prevails. The presence of faith is in itself a confirmation of uncertainty.

The great contribution of faith is that it gives us sight. And often, faith produces in us a kind of certainty. The temptation is to run with that newfound certainty and pretend the mystery never existed in the first place. “Of course there is a God! How could there not be!” But we must always remember that it is faith that provides a sense of certainty, and not the other way around. Faith helps us take a step; it doesn’t make the ground more firm.

It’s easy and increasingly popular to swing to the other end and vilify faith and certainty as the genesis of genocide and global terrorism. After all, wasn’t Hitler acting on a certainty of faith that the Jews had to be eliminated? Aren’t the Ayatollahs teaching and encouraging terrorists with a doctrine of holy certainty that the infidels must die? Mark Buchanan, in Your God is Too Safe, leads a reader through these questions, explaining that neither doubt nor faith is inherently toxic. It’s the fusion of pride with either that makes a person go mad. A doubter proud of his earthy, street-wise cynicism is a fool with no hope of growing up. A man or woman of faith, whose pride in their faith has made them glib and callous is prone to mistakes—costly, dangerous, mistakes that will harm others and themselves.

So, a humble faith then is what is needed. A humble faith is one that has to be called on daily. It does not simply stand guard impervious of doubt. A humble faith is one that belongs to a person all too aware of doubt. As for my original claim that an atheist is the one guilty of strong certainty, I suppose it depends on which atheist you ask. (I am covertly admitting that I don’t really know. Don’t tell my wife.) But as for us, Christians, let us remember that we are people of humility and faith—which is another way of saying that we are people of mystery, people who are acquainted with uncertainty, familiar with doubt. We are people who understand that mystery is the context in which both faith and doubt thrive. And while we daily choose Faith, grabbing him by the collar, raising him to his feet, asking him to stand firm, we may, in the course of doing so, rub shoulders with Doubt. And there is our confirmation that we are in the right place.