The Christian Church Is The Only Army That...

If you've been in church circles long enough, you know how this line ends.

The phrase came up yesterday in a conversation I had with a friend. He'd recently been shown the door, professionally speaking, and is now out of work. He had been working for a Christian non-profit organization, but the circumstances surrounding his departure were quite ugly. Being a close friend, I might fairly be deemed biased, but anyone with eyes to see knows where the real problem lies.

This friend is the just the most recent in a very long line of difficult departures. The entire leadership has moved on over the past five years. The CEO has been ensconced in his role for decades, but no one who works directly for the man ever lasts anywhere like as long.

The Christian Church is the only army that shoots its wounded.

Yeah, that was the phrase that came to my friend's mind, but as soon as the words left his lips I blurted out, "True, but I've got it one better for you!"

The Christian Church is the only army that allows the wounded to shoot the healthy.

Yes, that is much closer to the mark. My friend is spiritually healthy, as were many of his former colleagues. But they're all gone. It's the sick-puppy CEO who continues to resolutely steer the ship. He'll ride it right to the bottom if the board lets him. So far there's no sign that they won't.

My friend and I have both been here before. On the last pass we were in it together, part of a group of healthy families who were collectively ejected from a dying church we had hoped would revive. It did not. The dynamic is tiresomely predictable. In almost every church situation where I have found myself needing to do so, I find after inspection that the entire group of people tasked with a leader's oversight are themselves hand-picked by that same sick puppy. Be it a vestry or a board of directors, the results are usually the same when conflicts arise. The overseers fall in line behind the sick puppy. The organization (if indeed it survives at all) emerges from the storm a very much weakened vessel.

But I think something else needs to be said: We have been too hard on the church in all of this. Waaaaaaaay too hard. I've seen the exact same sick dynamics in the working world. I don't think there's anything particularly unique to the church in all of this. This stuff is what happens when humans are involved.

All those platitudes about shooting the wounded? They are well suited to describe precisely some churches and some organizations. The church I now attend does not shoot its wounded. Our pastor is a good man. As for the board? I submit that churches with healthy elders don't generally have to deal with sick-puppy pastors—because they don't hire them. That has been the case with our church, so kudos to our elders as well.

And yet. And yet we have these phrases about shooting the wounded. Why? Because we believe we were supposed to "do it better". But while our failures are a cause for sorrow both for God and mankind, it is only we humans who are surprised by our failures. God is not. Jesus clearly had no illusions that his followers were going to achieve perfection. Two scripture passages come to mind.

John 2:23-25
Now while he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Festival, many people saw the signs he was performing and believed in his name. But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all people. He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person.

Takeaway? Jesus can be trusted. The rest of us? Not so much. Myself included. In Jesus' absence we must appoint leaders. But along with Jesus we should not trust them blindly, as too many vestries and boards have done. My friend is now out of work and a Christian organization has lost a good manager. Because of a sick-puppy CEO and a blind board.*

A final thought. I have essentially equated church dysfunction with secular dysfunction, but it must be noted that Jesus himself was not as generous.

Luke 16:8b
"For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light."

Maybe we really are the only army that...

-------------------------
* Actually, one board member was not blind. She resigned in protest. God bless her for her principled stand, but her action makes the indictment of the remaining board members that much the more severe. They didn't even listen to their own peer. Sick-puppy CEO was given more credence. My friend was tarred as the sick one. Shocker? No. Business as normal. Jesus help us, your church. We weren't supposed to be a poorly managed business.

The First Documented Fool For Christ

It took me a while to find it, but Yes. I have blogged on this woman before. After that ink had dried, I didn't anticipate having more to say about this delightful soul, but here we are again.

John 4:28-30
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

These verses follow on the heels of a conversation Jesus initiated with a Samaritan woman at a well. He met her there at mid-day. She came alone to draw water at the hottest (worst) time of the day. Why? Because she was the town slut. Respectable women came together during the more temperate morning hours. Jesus isn't a local, so he shouldn't know anything about her history. Except that he does.

John 4:16-18
He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”
“I have no husband,” she replied.
Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

In the prior blog I focused on the reversal of gender roles. With Jesus' invitation, she ably performed work appropriate to a (male?) minister. And she did it while the other twelve disciples (yes, the men) went about a woman's work. All they ever brought back from that village was groceries. She went to the same village and returned to Jesus with people. (This passage is good fodder for the argument that missions work is best done by locals!)

At any rate, I concluded then that this woman was the first documented ordained female minister of Christ. No mean feat. However, it dawned on me today that this woman has yet another title to claim. She's also the first documented "Fool For Christ".

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did."

Didn't we just say that this woman was the town slut? Didn't Jesus point out how many husbands (let alone lovers) she'd gone through? If we were to tally a list of all the things she had done, it would not be family friendly material! I don't think this point needs further explanation.

A digression with a purpose: they say Middle School is the hardest phase in childhood. We called it Junior High in my day, but both phrases mean the same thing in Latin: Hell. In those days, when I had news of interest I sometimes hoped that sharing it would improve my situation. It did not. Being the bearer of interesting news never changed my status. The news was valued, but the medium (read, me) was not.

That, friends, is how I've always met this story, emotionally speaking. When the woman at the well went back to town, in my mind's eye I could well envision her delivering the interesting news—and also how it was received. Would it change how people viewed her? Nah. They'd be curious to meet the prophet, but you can almost see the woman falling out of the camera's frame of reference as the men hurry out to the well.

But I see more clearly today how that telling of the story misses the mark. On two counts.

For starters, when I was a lonely child hoping to improve my social status, the news I shared never involved me, much less my own poor reputation. The whole point was to draw attention away from everything that exposed me as a loser. But this woman? She dove headlong into the worst parts of her life. "He told me everything I ever did." This woman was not acting like my Junior High self.

Furthermore, the villagers for their part were not behaving like my classmates of old, either. They didn't respond to the woman as my fellow classmates did to me. The news I shared back then never bought me respect or friendship. It never worked that way. But these villagers? Before it was over they clearly saw this woman in a new and different light.

John 4:42
They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.”

That is peer-to-peer communication of the sort I doubt this woman had heard in a while. To put it another way, notice that the news has been repeated back to the medium. That only happens when the medium has value. In this case, the medium is the village slut. Or was. Yes, in the presence of Jesus all the folks in that town became equals—mortals in need of a savior. Co-recipients of a priceless treasure.

Is this woman the first documented Fool For Christ? Yes, I think she is, but I now find myself moving past the initial humor in that assertion. There's heavy material here. The more I compare her actions to my puerile efforts to gain friend in an equally tight and small village called Junior High, I am struck in a sobering way by the parallels and contrasts.

Try to bring news so as to improve your reputation? Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.

Throw your reputation to the wind in order to bring no-strings-attached good news? Now you've got people's attention—and among the wiser ones you'll have gained respect as well.

This is yet another ironic case of seeking the Kingdom first, only to discover in hindsight that other good things we wanted—and failed to acquire on our own—come with the package. The irony is not that it happens that way. Jesus said that it would. The irony is that we don't follow Jesus' advice more often.

Hats off to the woman who forgot herself while heaping honors upon Jesus. She's a hard act to follow. But we really should try.

When I reach eternity, dear woman, please do me a favor and find me out. I'd like to shake your hand. And maybe you could introduce me to Jesus, too? I'd like that.

On The Sabbath, Can It Wait?

A short thought, and quickly to the point.

Luke 23:56a
Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes...

This is from the end of the book of Luke. The "They" in this verse is the women who had just seen Jesus crucified. Now it was time to prepare the body.

In many areas of life we find that there is the fast way of getting things done and there is the more elaborate method. And often the results reflect the effort. There are fast-food meals and then there are Thanksgiving feasts, which can take a whole day to prepare. The former are forgettable, and the latter can be quite memorable. But the more delightful meals come at a cost of time and effort. That's a reality my wife can wearily attest to, and even now she has put in some serious shopping time in for our upcoming Thanksgiving feast on Thursday.

So it was with these women preparing for the burial of the dead. There were things to be done. For Jesus. There were no doubt some shortcuts that could be taken, but these women would have wanted to go the extra mile for Jesus just as my wife is going the extra mile to make a wonderful meal this coming Thursday.

But of course it makes little sense to compare a Thanksgiving meal with Jesus' burial. The importance of the latter is infinitely greater. How could we possibly do justice to all that these women were feeling? To how much effort they'd be willing to put forth in order to give Jesus a good burial? The evidence from Luke's account is clear enough. These women were fanatical about Jesus. That there's just about nothing that they would not have done to make his burial the best burial they could possibly give.

And yet Luke ends this verse with a very pointed statement:

Luke 23:56b
...But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.

Now I said I would keep this short, and I will. Not much really needs to be said. I simply have three questions. Questions we should all be asking ourselves.

#1 Do I honor the Sabbath as carefully as these women did?

No.

#2 When I don't, am I working on something more important than giving Jesus a good burial?

No.

#3 When I don't, are my circumstances more urgent than the need to perfume Jesus before his body began to stink?

No.

I guess I have room to grow, here. How about you?

Evangelicals For Trump

I guess it was six years ago that I abandoned the title Evangelical. Time flies.

I guess there isn't much I wish to say here except that I'm glad I began those divorce proceedings six years ago. Dealing with the fact that Evangelicals helped put Trump into office is painful enough. The pain would be worse, however, if I didn't have so many years of space between myself and that label.

Evangelicals For Trump is a true headline. Thank God I don't have to own it personally.

The Risk That Comes With Rights

Luke 17:11-19
Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

As I read this passage the other day, I found myself reflecting on the question that Jesus himself felt needed to be asked: Why is it that only the despised Samaritan has returned to give him thanks? Why, indeed?!?

It's a question I want to return to, but let's first digress for a moment to consider another question: Why were nine (I presume?) Jews hanging out with a despised Samaritan in the first place? Why, indeed?!?

The answer to that second question is pretty clear: shared suffering forges solidarity among people who wouldn't otherwise be mingling. Suffering is the ice-breaker in the party of life.

We've all seen this happen in small ways. A snowed-in airport, a long line at that terminal counter. As the minutes stretch into hours, the ordinary barriers break down. Conversations begin. But when the weather breaks and the delayed planes finally arrive? The passengers resume their solitary journeys.

Our story here follows a similar trajectory that differs only in scale and significance. We have not indifferent travelers but rather bitter enemies. Not delayed planes but rather a shared life-threatening and socially alienating illness. The alliance is dissolved not by the arrival of planes but rather by the arrival of miraculous healing.

The final distinction between the plane analogy and our ten lepers reaches into the heart of the question that Jesus asked. The folks at the airport amicably part ways in order to reach different (but neutral) destinations. Our lepers, however, have parted ways on a plane tinged with moral significance. Our story ends with nine Jews heading to Jerusalem. And one Samaritan heading to Jesus. (I'm going to assume the other nine lepers were Jews, but I grant this is an assumption.)

When reading this passage in the past, I have focused simply on the lack of gratitude that the nine Jews displayed. Here I ask a disquieting question: Is it possible that the Samaritan was different from his peers not because he was, out of the gate, a more grateful person? Is it possible that his better choice was driven at least in part by (relative to his fellow travelers) a poorer set of next-move options?

Here's why I ask that question. The nine Jews (once free and clear of leprosy) had something that the Samaritan did not have. Status. Privilege. When they went to the temple, they were going to a place where they were welcome. They were, after all, Jews. The Samaritan, by way of contrast, was (needless to say) not a Jew. What does that tell us about his ordinary options? Perhaps it is good to return to another passage for a reminder.

John 4:19-20
“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”

This passage is from a conversation Jesus had with a Samaritan woman at a well. It should be noted that she blurts out this locale-of-worship observation immediately after she perceives that Jesus is a Jewish spiritual leader. In other words, the question of where one worships was very much a hot-button topic between Jews and Samaritans.

Does that reality inform our thoughts when we revisit the options facing our ten lepers? I think so! Prior to the healing, none of them was welcome in Jerusalem, let alone the temple. After the healing? Nine of them were welcome. That, we must acknowledge, tips the balance more than a bit. It's probably not such a wonder that it is the Samaritan who suddenly decided to return to thank Jesus. He wasn't welcome at the temple anyway, but he knew he was welcome with Jesus.

In suggesting this I am not seeking to detract from what our Samaritan did! He made the right choice! No, my preoccupation here lies with the disquieting suspicion that I, like nine Jews so many years ago, have too often found myself in hot pursuit of things that in and of themselves are not bad—but which are nevertheless a poor trade for time at the feet of Jesus.

It must be said, before proceeding, that the nine who proceeded on to the temple were following Jesus' explicit instructions. And yet! Jesus is disappointed that nine lepers followed his instructions. Jesus saw the Samaritan's choice as the better one. And notice that Jesus didn't remind the Samaritan of his to-do list item. It's not even clear if the Samaritan ever returned to the temple at all!

In short, I am wondering how often my rights and privileges can be a hindrance to something that is even better still. Can anything beat falling down in a grateful heap at feet of Jesus? No. But if I'm not careful, my choices may suggest otherwise. In fact, they often do.

A Special Kind of Manure (II of II)

I thought I had covered the topic here, but our story continues...

Luke 17:1-3
Jesus said to his disciples: “Things that cause people to stumble are bound to come, but woe to anyone through whom they come. It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. So watch yourselves.

“If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them.

This story is familiar enough to most of us, but something about it jumped out at me during our church service yesterday morning. Here's why. In my last post I shared what I had discovered after researching Jesus' cryptic words about salt in Luke 14. But there were a few nuances that I left out. "Oh, well," I thought to myself, "the post was already too long, so I'll just let that go."

But here I was in church, and the selected text for the sermon was from Luke 17. I'm not there yet in my own reading, but the two passages aren't far apart. What's more, the thoughts our pastor shared were strongly reminiscent of the thought that I had left out of my prior post on salt.

So what did I leave out? This.

When applied properly, salt will kill surface weeds while allowing more deeply rooted plants and grass to thrive.

That phrase (from this same article I quoted in my last post) kept rattling around in my head over the past few days because it hints at a role that goes beyond fertilization. If salt clears weeds, it's also a disinfectant for soil. It roots out bad stuff. That's why I sat up and took note when my pastor, working with this passage in Luke 17, began to say the very same thing with different words.

For starters, the pastor drew our attention to this: "So watch yourselves" is not an instruction to be taken individually.

Whops! I didn't know that!

Jesus meant for these words to be understood as instructions for a group to apply collective. As in, we need to (together!) watch ourselves. I need to watch not only myself, but also my neighbor! The next sentence works well with this new understanding. If during my vigilant watching I see that my neighbor has sinned against me...

Yes, this all made sense. What's more it resonates deeply with the notion that we as a church are to be (in a fuller sense) salt in the earth. That's the notion I had left out of the prior post. Yes, as manure we do help bring forth life, but it's more than that. As a disinfectant in the manure, we also keep the soil free and clear of weeds.

And just as I was sitting there, reflecting on the proximity of these two passages from Luke (coincidence?) and on how the pastor's comments applied so tightly to this notion of the church being salt in the earth, he suddenly and emphatically asserted something that yanked me back into the sanctuary where I sat.

"If we as a church are going to be light and salt, we need to..."

In light of the thoughts running through my mind, his choice of words was so shocking that I actually lost how he finished the sentence! Be that as it may... there it was. Salt had inserted itself directly into this sermon on Luke 17.

And so I resolved myself to do this last insight justice and get it down as an additional reflection. Perhaps these two posts together will prove worth their salt.

Out of the Compost Pile and into the Ground (I of II)

Luke 14:25-35
Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.

“Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’

“Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.

“Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is fit neither for the soil nor for the manure pile; it is thrown out.

“Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

This story is familiar enough to most of us, but something stuck out and left me puzzled. Stated as a question, it goes like this: "What was that again about the manure pile?"

I have a water softener in my house, and it uses vast quantities of salt. When I clean the retaining tank out on my driveway, the place where the salty gook flows to quickly becomes an agricultural wasteland. No shock, right? Salt is well-known as a great way to ruin farmland. So... come again about that manure pile? Why on Earth (this turns out to be a pun) would I put salt in a manure pile?

Well? Shoot. You tell me! If it's a pile with no intended use, why would I bother salting it? And if it's going to be used as fertilizer, why again would I throw salt into it? That would make it useless as fertilizer!

Thus began the investigation. My first discovery was that googling things like Jesus salt of the earth is not going to give you any satisfactory answers. I find that gap a bit puzzling, seeing it doesn't require a rocket scientist to ask this question. But let's digress for a moment and look at the ordinary explanations you'll find. They start and end with comments like this: "Salt is also important as a preservative and a seasoning." Even my NIV Bible says that. ONLY that. On and on. Here's a screenshot of the kind of stuff you'll see near the top a google search...

So this repeated mantra regarding preservatives and seasoning is all great—so far as it goes—but it says absolutely nothing about Luke's manure pile.

Why?

I think the short answer to that question is that everyone is working primarily with Matthew's version of the same text. Here's how it reads:

Matthew 5:13
“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet.

We talk seasonings and preservatives because these interpretations still suit modern sensibilities, and Matthew's text conforms to the interpretations we understand. Salt. Taste. Surely Matthew is talking about table salt, right? Of course! And so from this text we arrive at these sorts of images and expressions...

Those of us who were exposed to Christian books in the eighties might even remember a pretty popular book titled Out of the Saltshaker and into the World. It was a good book, but where salt is concerned it only reinforced the prevailing understanding as captured in the above image and text.

But is table salt the whole story? Not even Matthew can be reconciled (only) to that interpretation, because we don't throw table salt gone bad out onto the roads and pathways where people walk. What do we do with that part of the verse? Enter the preservative angle. The notion that salt can be used to keep food from going bad is still with us, even if the practice disappeared with the advent of the refrigerator. (The phrase "salted pork" hasn't left the English language just yet!) Several of the disciples were fishermen, so perhaps Jesus was imagining a scene from a local fish market?

And that is where our creativity comes to rest. We presume that Jesus is saying that we are, by extension of the analogy, a source of preservation and/or seasoning for our culture and the world around. That's the understanding I grew up with, and that's what you'll find on Google if you don't refine your search.

End of story? No! Luke doesn't make this reading of the text very easy to arrive at. Luke mentions manure and soil. That ain't fish and salted chips. What on Earth is Luke talking about? Let's not settle for those other answers. Let's keep digging. (Ya gotta love these earthy puns...) Here's what me and Google found out together on the deeper dive...

Jesus calls us to be the manure of the Earth.

(Ironically, the above article came out just a few weeks ago! No planning on my part with that. I was just reading the gospel of Luke...)

Yes, that's right. We're not a dainty enhancement to the dinner table. We are not a preservative for dinner meats. No, my friends. We're an additive to manure. The details behind that realization are kind of boring—the stuff only a farmer could love—but here's a paragraph from that link that sums it up well enough for our purposes:

An old article in the journal Biblical Archaeology, “Salt, Soil, Savior,” stands the test of time. Eugene P. Deatrick, former head of the soils department at West Virginia University, argued that in Matthew 5:13, Mark 9:50, and Luke 14:34–35, Jesus was speaking not primarily of salt’s household use but of its agricultural use. According to Deatrick, several kinds of salt are found in Palestine that are different from the kind we’re familiar with. There is rock salt, salt evaporated from Dead Sea water, salt pits (Zeph. 2:9), and more. Additionally, Deatrick writes that “agricultural literature abounds in references to the use of salt as a fertilizer.” In quoting another source, he noted that “the value of salt in small quantities appears to have been known in ancient times—Cato, Virgil (and others) record its power of improving herbage of pastures.”

Let's digest that thought one more time. Jesus didn't say we are a good table spice nor even a good preservative. He said we are good fertilizer, a valuable addition to the manure pile. And once we've made our peace with that aromatic conclusion, the phrase "salt of the Earth" makes even more sense than it did before. It becomes plain English instead of poetic license. (And oh-by-the-way it also reads fine with Matthew's rendition. The fertilizer that isn't useful? It gets spread around underfoot and walked on by farm workers. So much for table salt and fresh fish.)

Does the fertilizer imagery change our takeaway from this passage? Absolutely! Jesus wasn't really talking about food, but about life, and as God's fertilizer we are now not merely agents of preservation and improvement of life. No, it's more than that. We're God's agents to bring forth new life where there was no life before. That should be a great encouragement for all of us because life doesn't always feel very much like a banquet. Frequently it feels more like a desert. It's comforting to me to remember that some soil brings forth life only after the arrival of manure.

Becky Pippert should have titled her book Out of the Manure Pile and into the Ground. It doesn't sound as catchy (and the book-cover artwork would prove problematic!) but that would have been a lot more accurate. And let's face it. In light of what Jesus said in the verses that precede Luke 14:34-35, why should we be surprised? If we're carrying crosses, turning our back on family allegiances, and counting the cost... did we really expect to be on display in a beautiful glass saltshaker, sitting on a clean table?

So here's to the faithful work of manure, my friends. Fertilize the ground where you're laid.

1 Corinthians 3:7 (with a bit of poetic license of my own)
So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters [nor even the one who fertilizes] is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.

Postscript: I hadn't planned on a follow-up to this reflection, but as it turns out, I have something more to say on this topic!