The Evangelical Balloon

Trish I have been having a wonderful time in Spain.

Last year, a group of Spanish Pentecostal leaders invited us to visit their country to teach and encourage their pastors. So we set aside a couple of weeks to do that. We are so glad we did!

Naturally, we have enjoyed all the historic sites (and the foooooood).

(However, I must say that in Madrid, we waited outside the gates of the royal palace for King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia to invite us to lunch. Unfortunately, someone had failed to let the royal family know that Trish and I were in the country! That was disappointing. But other than that …)

What we have really liked is the hospitality of Spanish Christians and especially our informed and spirited conversations with them.

For example, Sunday after church, a young pastor, (who, like many pastors here, works a secular job in order to support his ministry) invited me to his home for lunch. I had no sooner sat down than he asked, “As an Evangelical, how do you view St. Augustine and the impact of his work on the Protestant Reformation?” He then brought out copies of The Confessions and The City of God, as someone might present a fine wine. His young children and wife soon joined in, occasionally offering bunny trails about trout, cheese and Hanna Montana. This went on for a couple of hours, as we slowly ate our meal.

The day before, riding from Madrid to Santander, a lively interchange broke out between the pastor and a member of his church concerning the ideological relationship between Christianity and Marxism. This was followed by reflections on Sufism and the openness of Sufis toward Christian spirituality.  In that conversation, occasional comments erupted about the nation’s best wines, the viability of the European Union, and how God was at work in the world.

Day after day, I have encountered an informed, educated and spiritually alive people who want to talk about the important issues of our times. They want to discuss the spiritual implications of globalization, the surprising explosion of Christianity in the Southern hemisphere, and what one is to make of the Charismatic renewal among ancient Christians in the Middle East. They want to understand what American Christians think about these issues, and tactfully say that they often find us (and our opinions) mystifying.

I should hasten to add that my guests are not particularly wealthy. Nor do they think of themselves as intellectuals. They are working-class Christians who enjoy learning and who want to make sense of the world in the light of their faith.

They remind me of a time when American Christian leaders talked like this.

Pastors, especially in conferences and retreats, used to converse for hours about theology and their spiritual experiences. They would quote scripture and Christian literature to support their ideas, sometimes hoping to win an argument no doubt, but mostly trying to get to know one another.

Today, pastors’ conferences usually schedule a Bible scholar early in the morning. A handful of spiritual nerds go to the session, carrying Bibles, hoping to hear something substantial. For the rest of the day, crowds will halfway listen to a cute exposition about how to grow a church or become relevant in today’s world. Over lunch, conversation will usually turn toward the economy and how it is affecting the offerings or perhaps how one may acquire the latest technological gadget to make worship interesting. Biblical and theological reflection rarely affect the conversation, one way or the other. 

In other words, serious conversation has become rare among American Evangelicals.

Now that I think about it, our culture has made it increasingly difficult to talk about anything at any depth anywhere at any time.

The last thing a contemporary American politician would want people to say about him is that he studied at a great university or that he is well read. Even Bill Clinton had to go to great lengths to cover up his sordid past as a Rhode’s scholar.  He used his bag of pork rinds as a brilliant intellectual camouflage to help him to appear common enough to become president. George W. Bush was forgiven for going to Yale because he didn’t make good grades while he was there. Even our doctors must not get too dogmatic now about medical science; they certainly can’t insist that they offer superior treatment than the quack on TV who sells Cellulite-fade-away cream for $19.95.

In such a climate, why would one possibly want a pastor who cares much about theology, history or biblical studies? Young pastors quickly learn to keep their knowledge to themselves, or chose another line of work.

American Evangelicals are in a season akin to the Cultural Revolution that China experienced under Chairman Mao.

In those days, like those we are currently experiencing, it was dangerous to be an expert of anything. One could not use “elite” vocabulary, had to belch out loud, had to stay away from classical literature, and had to refrain from demonstrating refinement of any sort. Mao insisted he was the incarnation of a dragon and that it was harmful to brush one’s teeth. So, for a decade, China quoted Mao’s foolishness and laughed at its own cultural giants.  Lao-tzu and Confucius had become decadent; the powerful peasant had become wise. No one could tell the great one that his breath stank and that his teeth were rotting because that would make them appear smarter than him.

 Similarly, it is not wise now for a pastor to quote Luther, Aquinas, Calvin, Wesley, Cyprian or Barth. It is far better to quote Bono, or even Lady Gaga; which will at least get a laugh or two.

 The spiritual giants of history fare no better. Who speaks now of George Muller or even of Watchman Nee? And is anyone interested in Francis Asbury or in William Booth?

  Well, of course, some people are interested in the words and works of great Christians. Obviously, I am overstating my case.

But not by much.

In fact, if you are a Christian and do not recognize the names I just mentioned; I rest my case. You do not know them because no one thought it was important for you to know them. But because you didn’t learn about them and learn from their contributions, your Christian intellectual formation is probably weak. In that case, you are forming your thoughts by listening to the part of secular culture with which you most agree.  You may not even expect your church to offer intellectual formation or believe that a Christian should have a unique perspective on life, art, science, ethics and the meaning of world events.

How then can we expect you to have an informed Christian opinion about anything?

I am certainly not trying to insult you; you must care about intellectual formation or you would not have kept reading this blog. However, I am trying to make a serious point.

American Evangelicals have been losing influence in a growing number of fields, in part because we are not as informed as our secular neighbors. We have replaced our historical robust biblical orthodoxy with an insipid secular conservatism. In fact, we no longer understand the difference between the two. Furthermore, many American Evangelicals now view biblical orthodoxy with more suspicion than they do secular culture.  Our own history and scholarship now seems like “uppity elitism” to many of our people, which, of course, no one wants. As a result, singing Zippity Do-Da; Zippity Ay would go over better in many churches now than trying to sing A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.

Can you understand now why my conversations with Spanish Pentecostals seemed so shocking?

 Perhaps, European believers realized years ago that their countries were not churches. Therefore, they have not been as surprised as we when unbelievers do not follow God’s ways. They are not shocked that atheism, immorality or other religions exist around them. They seem to realize that there is a cost in following Christ and that becoming a believer involves actually knowing what Christians believe today and what they have believed through history. They also feel some obligation to understand what their neighbors believe and why they believe it. They know that being a witness to their neighbors involves words, deeds and attitudes.

Spaniards love to worship, and they pray fervently. But they do not substitute feeling for thinking. They want to feel God’s presence but they also want to learn Gods thoughts.

They are absolutely right: it is not enough to feel.

An honest person must understand why he believes as he does.

When one does not think, he can only feel. When what he feels is not an adequate answer for what his adversary thinks, the one who feels can only become more passionate about what he feels. His increasing passion will then require him to banish thought and, if possible, to ridicule the very process of intellectual formation.

When enough people within a given society buy into this kind of Cultural Revolution, a fool mounts the throne and wise people learn to hide their knowledge and hold their tongue.

Sooner or later though, a generation arises that prefers difficult answers to comfortable foolishness.

Europe, for example, already had its Hitler, Franco and Mussolini. These men, who promised their countries easy solutions for modern complexities, bathed the continent in blood while many believers prayed for their success. The aftermath was a wholesale departure from the faith. The humbled believers who remain serve their neighbors with a deeply rooted faith that they can capably and lovingly defend.

They serve the poor.

They do nasty work.

They seek the face of God.

They discuss serious things.

Whether church growth will come to Europe or not is God’s business. However, if and when it comes, it will be rooted in a serious search for God and not come hiding behind empty platitudes, trying to sanctify intellectual sloth.

Of course, there is a shortcut around thinking about serious things: one can market triviality and praise foolishness. One can sell sugar pills and call it medicine. One can talk in sound bites without saying anything and make a very good living doing it.

One can also keep blowing hot air into a balloon until it grows very large. However, there comes a point when the thin superficial material holding the hot air gives way.

Sometimes I think of that as I ponder the present and the future of American Evangelicalism.

Of course, I would have said none of that to Juan Carlos and Sofia had they invited me to their palace. 

Instead, I would have asked their royal majesties to pose with me for a photograph, which I would have tastefully included in this short essay.

I could then have began my blog with,

“Recently, while eating paella with the king and queen of Spain, …”

Sigh.

A Man of Quality - A Tribute to Alfred McCroskey

It is difficult to say the words, “Alfred McCroskey is dead.”

He stared down the grim reaper so many times! It had become commonplace to hear he was in the hospital and that his condition was serious, only to see him in church the following Sunday.  He was a force of nature. He was such a vibrant presence in our lives that losing him is like hearing that the last lion has died and that our world is bereft of an entire species.
   
What can I say about Alfred that will illustrate what I mean?
  
First, I will acknowledge that he was a bundle of contradictions.
   
Until the day he died, he was a marine, a cold-war marine from Alabama who ran a Christian bookstore. Nonetheless, he continually pled with us to care for the souls of those he had been trained to hate and to fight.

I think he was the world’s most reluctant Charismatic. He never gave up his Reformed Presbyterian theology and preferred its way of worship.  However, his sphere of influence was, almost without exception, within Pentecostal and charismatic circles.
   
He had a hard time with baby boomers. Sometimes that included me, whom he deeply loved.
   
Once, when pontificating about the damage inflicted upon the world by baby boomers, I remarked sarcastically that, “yes, all of us baby boomers were at Woodstock, Alfred. We were all there; taking drugs, practicing free love and playing rock music.” Without missing a beat he replied, “ I know. At least you all wanted to be there. I wanted to be there too – to call the cops on your crazy generation!”
   
How delighted I was when I learned that Alfred’s first contact in Moscow was a long-haired hippie, who had become a Christian after listening to Jesus Christ Superstar.  I often pointed that out to Alfred. Believing in God’s sovereignty as he did, I wanted him to notice our Lord’s sense of humor to have given him baby boomer colleagues all over the world. 

As we all knew, even as a missionary Alfred never ceased to be a marine.

Once, while addressing a group of Pentecostal leaders about to get on the plane for Russia, he barked: “listen, this is not a sight-seeing tour. You will do a little bit of that, but just remember that while you are looking at monuments, I will be trying to show the love of Jesus to the damned communists!”
  
I could hardly believe my ears. So I turned and asked Gerhardt Richter, “Did Alfred really say that?” To which Gerhardt replied, “Don’t worry about it. Jean will let him have it all the way to Moscow!”
   
The friendship that Alfred and I shared revolved around two things: a commitment to missions and a love for doctrines and practices of historical Protestantism.  We both loved the classical hymns, the great theologians and the Lord’s Table. The only problem was that I was a Wesleyan and he was a Calvinist.  So we never lost an opportunity to argue about things like free will and sanctification. I once remarked that although he thought liked a Calvinist, he certainly evangelized like a Wesleyan. He responded that the Lord had designed him that way.

It was difficult to win an argument with Alfred.

The reason he didn’t run with Calvinists too much because he was so open to the contemporary work of the Holy Spirit. That didn’t please many Presbyterians of his generation. Nonetheless, he would sometimes call me after a Charismatic worship service where he had heard some song or sermon he felt had misrepresented sound biblical teaching.  The words of the Reformers would roll off his tongue and then he would lament the sloppy theology of my generation. (Then usually go on to comment on our politics as well.) Had you been listening to our conversation, you might have believed he was utterly opposed to tongues, prophecy or any other spiritual phenomena.

Nonetheless, once, when he got sick, he called to say that he was flying to Phoenix to attend our healing service.  When he got there, he said to the congregation; “Look, I didn’t fly all the way out here for prayer. I can get prayer back in Florence. I came here to get healed. So you people do what you do. I need to get back to my work in Russia.”

At that, our Hopi and Navajo ladies ladies surrounded him and prayed. When they were finished, he thanked them, flew back to Florence and went on with his work.

I think sometimes Alfred desperately tired to hide his tenderness. He wanted us to think he was gruff and blunt. So he carefully constructed that perception. However, if he actually thought he had offended us, or discovered we were hurting about something, his tears came quickly and his words would grow soft and kind.

We were friends for twenty-five years.

We met at a mission’s conference in Marietta, Georgia, chatting over coffee. He told me he wanted to put a million Bibles into the hands of the Russian people. So I impulsively blurted out: “well, then move to Nashville and let us help you.”

“O.K. I think I will!” he responded.

He and Jean moved to Nashville just as Christ Church was beginning to connect to the world. We had been a regional, and rather provincial congregation. So we did not have deep ties to the globe or even much desire to form such ties. All we knew was that the Lord was opening up all sorts of connections for us within the Soviet Union. Our hearts just kept opening up to the needs of the Russian and Ukrainian believers. At the center of this work was the old cold-war marine, believing God for funds to launch his mission into Russia.  It should be added that Alfred never manipulated people to supply his funds. He believed in God and God did not fail him.

You know the story about that powerful evening at Christ Church, when so many great ministries were birthed in the space of a few hours. He was one of the people who stepped forward to announce his dream.

“I believe God wants me to plant a thousand churches in Russia before I die!” he said emphatically.

To the day he died, he claimed that I laughed out loud.

“You did laugh," he insisted. "You laughed just like Sarah when the angel told her she would have a son. You laughed. You weren’t even subtle about it!”

Well, if I did laugh – and I will concede that perhaps I did – the laugh was on me. Year in and year out, Alfred and Jean plugged away at that vision. They trusted God, the made friends throughout the Russian Republic, and they have encouraged hundreds of young people – and some not so young -- to start churches.

That work is accomplished now.

Alfred ran the race. He finished his course. He kept the faith.

As I think about Alfred and his legacy, one word comes to mind: “quality.” He was a man of quality. He used his powers and talents to the fullest to advance goodness in the world.

Great men are not always good men, and good men are not always great men.

A great man is one that alters history in some significant way. He leaves a mark etched in the minds and on the customs of a people. His words and deeds reverberate through time, leaping out from the narrow constraints of his own generation.  Alexander was great because what he accomplished was so far reaching that history itself has become inconceivable without him. 

Goodness also leaves a mark, but it is not always obvious. Nearly everyone can remember some grandparent or and uncle – perhaps even an usher at church – who seemed invisible against the crowd but who, in retrospect, left a mark of sanctity and grace upon their world.

Bob Dylan once said of Jesus, “He unleashed His power in an unknown hour, when no one knew.”

That is the way goodness works, without regard for either humanity’s praise or for its condemnation.
We praise goodness but tend to ignore it. We are more attracted to greatness. That is evident in the things we study and the things we neglect.

Steve Jobs died a few weeks ago and the world acknowledged his passing with editorials and commentaries. He left a void that is not likely to be filled any time soon.  Jobs was obviously great. He altered our technological and social landscape as much as legends like Ford, Edison and Disney. So Jobs deserves the attention.

In contrast though, Alfred McCroskey’s death is scarily unnoticed, except by his family, a handful of friends in Nashville, and a few people in Florence and the surrounding area. When we lay his body down, it will be in a common place without any sort of ostentatious monument to mark the spot.  Not only that; he lived and worked in the same kind of obscurity.

When I was younger, I fretted over the fact that even in Christian circles, greatness trumps goodness. How many church conferences have I attended in which powerful speakers with nothing to say rose to speak to invisible men and women who were changing the world! But with the passing of time, one realizes that the obscurity is often a weapon. God has stealth fighters, people who require obscurity in order to do great things.

And yet, it is not true to say that Alfred has no monument. We are his monuments. The thousands of Russians in churches across that vast and great country are his monuments.  As he worked, powerful dictators and bureaucrats, churchmen and policemen kept walking on and then off the great stage. They were unconcerned about an old marine who kept flying to obscure places in the Russian tundra and steppes, leaving a word here and a book there – like God’s own Johnny Appleseed – moving on before the plant he had left broke the surface, traveling far away before his fruit became visible.

The oaks of righteousness that now dot the Russian countryside are his monuments.

I have written these words because for over a year I have been scheduled to speak to a group of pastors in Spain. I decided to keep my appointment. I too want to finish well. In fact, Alfred’s life has played no small part in forming my determination to finish well. Therefore, my ongoing work is also a part of Alfred’s monument.

So Alfred has the monument he desired.

But more is coming.

Soon the books will be open.

On the great and terrible day of the Lord, when the secrets of men’s hearts are laid bare; when history’s great and good men pass one by one before the judgment seat of Christ, it will not be a day to glorify the likes of Napoleons and Caesar. Many of the great minds of philosophy and the innovators of industry and finance will be scarcely noted. But a few people that day will be crowned. They will be people who were once faithful in little and have been made masters over much. These invisible hinges of history; these small and seemingly insignificant individuals; these people of quality who work to push time toward its apex and fulfillment, will finally be revealed and acknowledged.

Among them will be a marine from Alabama, a faithful father and husband, a missionary and a friend.; but above all, a servant of God and a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ.

My dear, dear friend:

“Go rest high upon that mountain.
For your work on earth is done.
Go to heaven a shoutin’,
Love for the Father and the Son. “

Ancient - Future

     I often speak and write about two things which especially seem to get me into trouble with fellow believers: globalization, the fact that the world’s peoples are now culturally interpenetrated among one another throughout the globe; and, the importance of practicing an “ancient-future” as opposed to a “secularized” faith.


         Perhaps later I will write about the spiritual implications of living in a globalized world. For now, I want to write a blog or two about what I mean by "ancient-future." A few words on that subject may help clear up where I stand on the subject. At very least, an explanation may offer my critics more effective and accurate ammunition than what they have been using so far.

         The concept of ancient-future faith has theological implications, of course. However, it is the way the concept affects worship that seems to provoke people the most. So, let’s focus our attention there.

         First, ancient-future worship is intentionally “other than” a contemporary experience. It deliberately leads us out of contemporary culture, not in order to glorify the past, but in order to help us experience eternity. It is the experience of "tasting of the powers of the world to come," as the Epistle to the Hebrews puts it.

         Secondly, ancient-future worship does not deny that we live within a contemporary culture. For this reason, traditionalists -- those who worship the past  -- do not tend to appreciate the concept any more than do those who worship the present. Ancient-future faith is not traditionalism, in that it does not seek to reproduce the past by reviving ancient practices for their own sake, as though the past were more sacred than the present. Ancient-future worship acknowledges that contemporary music and contemporary settings may be as sacred or as holy as ancient ones. So, our quest is not about reverence for the past, present or future; it is about the pursuit of timeless and eternal things.

         Thirdly, ancient-future worship does not fear spiritual intimacy. That is to say, it is an “incarnated” spirituality rather than a form of  "worship" which encourages a spectator response. It insists that worship involves physical movement, emotion, and one’s full and focused intellectual attention. It defines worship as the process of directing one's entire being toward the risen Christ in praise of the Creator, through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. It is a type of “work” rather than a form of leisure. In ancient-future worship, one is consciously digesting words, attitudes, concepts, (and even the physical elements of bread and wine) into one's being. In other words, worship is a part of one’s deliberate and conscious pursuit of God. The product of this “work” (the New Testament word “ liturgia,” often translated “ministry” literally means “the work of the people) is the personal transformation, or sanctification of the worshipper. That is to say, authentic worship brings a person who has trusted in Christ under the governance of Christ, which over time results in the formation of the character of Christ within him or her.

In worship, one deliberately leaves secular space behind and intentionally enters sacred space. He turns his attention from all that is the world, not because the world is evil but because it is incomplete. Indeed, when the worshipper leaves that sacred space, he or she deliberately reenters secular space, as an ambassador of heaven and as a priest of God appointed to serve a dying world.

Why is it important to remain mindful of the past or to envision the future in our worship? Because our faith teaches that we are timeless beings and that when we worship we gather with the saints of all ages and places. We are small parts or a great spiritual movement that stretches through time and space.

Ancient-future worship is an acknowledgement then of the presence of both past and future within the present moment.

We are mindful of the past because we follow an ancient faith; one that offers us the accumulated treasures of practices and thoughts of those who preceded us. We use this inheritance to learn how to express our own devotion to God.

We acknowledge the future because we are steadily moving toward the culmination of God’s work in the world, namely the summing up of all things in Christ, the Redeemer and Lord of Creation.

We are also mindful of the present moment, that is to say the contemporary culture.

Ancient-future worship may employ video or the latest praise chorus but does not chose such things because they are new and cool. We use them because they are the offerings of God’s people who are alive in this moment.

At the same time, ancient-future worship may draw upon practices from the third century, not because the practice is old or spooky but because that practice may offer a way to root our awareness of God to something other than our present mood or contemporary fads.

Ancient-future does not revolve around a “seeker.” It does not discard the need to connect with a person who is new to the faith. Neither does it eliminate authentic worship in order to evangelize. The presence of God can be disturbing to one who has lived his or her life within a secular time and space. The very notion of “sacred” is strange to contemporary man or woman. Nonetheless, it is an encounter with the presence of God that awakens the soul. Therefore, comforting or not, God must be experienced.

It is quite different to view worship as something God has defined (and the ages have confirmed) rather than something believers create and continually adapt to meet their own needs. 

To say it again: Ancient-future worship is primarily about drawing people into the experienced presence of God rather than about gathering seekers into church by demystifying the experience of worship.

What we hope for in the practice of ancient-future worship is not that people will leave the church saying, “that was the best music and preaching I ever experienced,” but rather, “God is surely in that place.”

In the Book of Ezekiel, God says that he has this against the priests and prophets, that they have eliminated the difference between that which is sacred and that which is profane (secular).

I have heard Christian leaders say passionately that we need to stop viewing things as either “sacred,” or “secular’ because in the New Testament, everything is sacred.

But everything is not sacred! If everything is sacred (set apart, holy), then nothing is really sacred. And if nothing is sacred, then there is no place in this time or space where I can go that is not under the control of the world, the flesh and the devil. Everything and everyone bows the knee to the spirit of the age, including the saints. Without sacred times and places, there is no “tasting of the powers of the world to come.”

Secularization of worship is a self-inflicted spiritual impoverishment. It produces a generation that no longer knows the ways of God nor recognizes the presence of God.

It is the wrong way.

It doesn’t lead to a good place.

I have decided to walk another way; on the path the saints have walked.   

Why? Because time is running out for me I want to become a saint.

So I don’t have any more time for cute.

I need God.

And so do the seekers.

In my opinion, this is precisely what they are seeking.