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Last Thursday, the Servants Quarters community gathered to discuss 40 Days of Nothing, our walk together through this season of Lent. In undertaking 40 Days of Nothing, we have entered a season of intense, deliberate reflection, self-denial and, hopefully, transformation. We are striving to limit our consumption to the basic necessities, resisting the empty promises of the world that we can find well-being through indulging our endless wants and instead focusing on God’s promise that His grace is sufficient.
The spirit of our discussion and the character of my new friends impressed me greatly. Our discussion topic, revolving as it did around radical self-denial, is not particularly attractive on its face. On the contrary, it seems to possess significant potential to generate feelings of depression and self-pity. In my opinion, though, our time together could be best characterized as joyful. Despite the nature of the material and its serious implications, the room was filled with laughter and joking and a sense of hope. Perhaps some would suggest that it was nervous laughter, but I believe the atmosphere was born of a common sense of peace not unease. These young leaders shared thoughts and stories evidencing not only a commitment to allow God to transform them, but a willingness to share that blessing with others. I believe that was the immediate reason for the hope permeating our time together.
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When Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, February 21, the Servants Quarters community will embark on 40 Days of Nothing. As described in the Book of Common Prayer,
The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord’s passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. [Likewise, we are invited] in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.
The Litany of Penitence for Ash Wednesday calls on us to confess, among other things,
the pride, hypocrisy and impatience of our lives, [o]ur self-indulgent appetites and ways, . . . our exploitation of other people, . . . our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, [o]ur intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, . . . our blindness to human need and suffering, . . . our indifference to injustice and cruelty, . . . our waste and pollution of [God’s] creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us . . . .
Having confessed, we turn to the Lord, praying that He would restore us and accomplish in us the work of His salvation so that we may reflect His glory in the world. This is why we will undertake 40 Days of Nothing, so that we may honor our Lord by deliberately and systematically identifying and removing obstacles that impede our relationship with Him.
]]>With the passage of a little time, it’s interesting to reflect on what ideas from that weekend hold fast within me. To this point, one question posed by T.M. Moore rings more loudly and regularly in my head than anything else: “What is it about ‘everything’ and ‘without ceasing’ that we don’t understand?” He was referring, of course, to St. Paul’s instructions that we pray about “everything” (Philippians 4:6) and “without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Undoubtedly, T.M.’s question haunts me, because I pray sporadically not continually. And on the continuum between nothing and everything, my prayer life lies closer to the former than the latter. I know better. Now I have to do better.
]]>Two “giving kiosks” sit just outside the church’s chapel, next-generation collection plates that allow churchgoers to swipe their credit or debit cards and instantly send donations to the church. . . . Pastor Marty Baker has renamed the black terminals “automatic tithe machines.” “We’re just trying to connect with the culture,” Baker says. “And that’s how the culture does business. It’s more than an ATM for Jesus. It’s about erasing barriers.”
The giving kiosks do seem to have erased some barriers to giving. Since their installation in early 2005, Stevens Creek has experienced an 18% increase in donations. And they are, in some sense, helping the church “connect with the culture.” One woman “says she knew the church was the right fit for her the first time she saw the kiosks. ‘This church gets how I live,’ she says.”
As a Christian committed to helping others understand the joy of giving, I’m intrigued by Pastor Baker’s success in leading his flock to a higher plane of generosity. As a Christian trying to help the Church and the wider society understand each other, I’m encouraged that Stevens Creek is looking for ways to connect with the culture. Yet, I wonder whether there is reason for the Christian mind to be concerned with Pastor Baker’s giving kiosks.
]]> For the Christian, giving is nothing less than an act of worship, an act of surrender to our King, and an acknowledgment of His sovereignty over all.The act of giving is a vivid reminder that our life is all about God, not about us. It says, “I am not the point, God is the point. He does not exist for me. I exist for him.” God’s money has a higher purpose than my affluence. Giving is a joyful surrender to a greater Person and a greater agenda. Giving affirms Christ’s lordship. It dethrones me and exalts him. It breaks the chains of Mammon that would enslave me and transfers my center of gravity to heaven. . . . As long as I still have something, I believe I own it. But when I give it away, I relinquish the control, power, and prestige that come with wealth. At the moment of release, the light turns on. The magic spell is broken. My mind clears, and I recognize God as owner, myself as servant, and other people as intended beneficiaries of what God has entrusted to me (Randy Alcorn, Money, Possessions, and Eternity, pp.197-8).
When Christians give 10% of their income to the Church, it “symbolizes the giving of one’s whole life to God. . . . It reminds us that all we are and all we have is from God” (id. at 179). We ought to be wary of any contrivances, technological or otherwise, that may obscure the spiritual significance of our giving, and in the process, further remove us from the object of our worship.
[Pastor] Baker compares his technology to the days of the Old Testament when people stopped offering sacrifices and started offering coins. “It’s the same now with bringing plastic,” he says. “It’s an evolution -- and this will take root.”
I hope Pastor Baker is right, and kiosks carry no liabilities. But what if he’s wrong? What if giving kiosks are not entirely benign? At what cost might Stevens Creek be getting this added convenience and consistency for its congregants and enhanced predictability of income for its administrators? Is there no danger that such technology might help remove giving from the realm of worship?
One of the arguments offered by proponents of giving kiosks (and other forms of payment, such as automatic online payments or payroll deductions) is that people today less commonly carry cash or a checkbook. Instead they carry debit and credit cards. Churches that offer alternatives to cash and check thus say that they are “meeting people where they are.” I wonder if it is as simple as that.
“Giving is at its best when it’s a conscious [and deliberate] effort that’s repeatedly made” (Alcorn at 201). To the extent we give without deliberate thought, we risk depleting our giving efforts of a worshipful nature. By relieving congregants of the need to think and prepare for worship by writing a check or bringing cash, might these churches be changing the nature of giving – for the worse? To think christianly about such technology requires that we admit this possibility, doesn’t it?
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Servants Quarters 2007 is in full swing. We convened last night for the third time to continue our year-long dialogue exploring the implications of biblical stewardship principles for living in a culture captive to materialistic ideals. During this latest gathering, we planned to discuss the worldview perspectives reflected in a specific product of American culture: the critically-acclaimed and highly popular film, The Shawshank Redemption. God had other plans.
I hope and trust we were following His lead, as we shelved our Shawshank examination in favor of a spirited discussion concerning the crisis facing The Episcopal Church (TEC). In particular, we explored what it means for The Falls Church (and other parishes who only recently disaffiliated from TEC) to be wise and faithful stewards of the property with which they have been blessed – as the Diocese of Virginia and TEC press headlong into litigation aimed at reclaiming that property.
Given the dynamic and volatile nature of the situation, I abstain, at this time, from sharing my specific thoughts on the matter. What I will say is that we are striving to approach the situation with not just a Christian ethic and Christian spirituality (which no doubt are important) but also a Christian mind. We are striving to help each other “think christianly” – “to accept all things with the mind as related, directly or indirectly, to man’s eternal destiny as the redeemed and chosen child of God” (Harry Blamires, The Christian Mind: How Should a Christian Think? p.44). We are striving to “set[ ] all earthly issues within the context of the eternal, . . . see[ing] all things here below in terms of God’s supremacy and earth’s transitoriness, in terms of Heaven and Hell” (id. at 4). In one sense, that’s the primary business of Servants Quarters.
Because of that fruitful detour, we’ve decided to hold our Shawshank discussion here in this forum. All are welcome to pose questions, share observations or take issue with what I’ve written previously. (In short, I observed that (1) Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) reflected in important ways the biblical notion of how important it is to maintain an eternal perspective, while living here and now; and (2) the redemption of Andy’s best friend, Red Redding (Morgan Freeman) was suggestive of a Christian-like process of repentance.)
If you prefer specific to open-ended questions, let’s begin the discussion with the subject of beauty. What is attractive in the film? What people, places, behavior or ideas? To whom? How is it made attractive?
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First of all, I have some reservations about the Presiding Bishop’s terminology, “our story.” I have a personal testimony – the story of how the Good News first penetrated deeply into my life – which might be called “my story.” But “my story” is not “our story.” Even my wife’s story is different from mine. No two followers of Christ share the same personal testimony, but all must share the same Gospel story, the same Good News of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. To the extent Christians share a story – “our story” – that story must be defined not by us but by the person we purport to follow, Jesus Christ. This is His story, not mine, not ours.
What is God’s story?God’s story, as I understand it, is that the earth and everything in it were created by and belong to Him. We were created to be in relationship with Him and each other. Yet humans rebelled against God and now are drawn to evil through weaknesses inherent to their fallen nature. No matter what we do or how well we behave, we cannot bridge the chasm that separates us from God. Only God can restore His relationship with man, and thankfully He has done so by sacrificing His only Son, Jesus Christ, to pay the penalty for our rebellion. Through Christ’s death on the cross, our eternal Father offers forgiveness from the past, new life today and hope for the future. If we choose to accept this gift, our hope is an eternal afterlife spent with God in heaven.
Why do I think this is God’s story?This is the story of the Bible. Consistent with orthodox Christians of the last two millennia, I believe that the Scriptures “sufficiently teach God’s will for His world, and have supreme authority for faith [and] life” (The Falls Church, Our Beliefs). I acknowledge that the Scriptures are “God’s Word written,” His own words put into the mouths of men (e.g., Jeremiah 1:9; 2 Timothy 3:16). As the “supreme authority,” the Bible serves as the most reliable lens through which to view and understand the Lord’s revelation in creation, culture and conscience. Cf. Psalm 111:10 (“The fear of the Lord [i.e., obeying his statutes, precepts, commands, ordinances] is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding”).
What role does Jesus play in God’s story?
According to the Bible, Jesus Christ plays a role unlike any other. His faithful followers’ “essential affirmation is that Jesus Christ is the Lord.” See The Falls Church, I Will Welcome You: Finding a New Home in the Anglican Communion, p.8 & n.6 (citing 1 Cor. 12:3; Php. 2:11; John 13:13; Rom. 10:9; 1 Cor. 8:6). His sovereignty is manifest:
He is the Church’s Head, her Savior, and her King. (Eph. 5:23; Luke 1:33.) Jesus is the one Mediator between God and men. (1 Tim. 2:5.) By His own confession, He is the Messiah, the bread of life, the light of the world, the door of the sheep, the good shepherd, the true vine, the Son of God, the resurrection and the life. (John 4:25-26, 6:35-51, 8:12, 9:5, 10:7-9, 10:36, 11:25.) He is the One by whom the worlds were made (Heb. 1:2), and He will be the Judge of all mankind (Matt. 25:31-46; Acts 17:31). “The Father . . . has given all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him.” (John 5:22-23.) Jesus is not just a way to God; He is not just a Teacher of the way to God; He Himself is “the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Him.” (John 14:6) (TFC, I Will Welcome You, p.9).
Is this what Bishop Schori means by “our story?”
Bishop Schori’s New Year’s Day missive comes against the backdrop of several interviews with secular media outlets, during which she “intentionally . . . avoided the language of Christian insiders . . . .” As the Presiding Bishop explains it, she tried to avoid “arrogance” and “language [that] engenders fear [and] is likely to drive people away”; she spoke instead “in language and forms that people uneducated in Christianity can understand and welcome.” Bishop Schori’s intentions and heart sure seem to have been in the right place, and there is no doubt that arrogance and fear-mongering have no place in faithful evangelism. The Book of Jude instructs: “Be merciful to those who doubt; snatch others from the fire and save them; to others show mercy, mixed with fear” (vv.22-23). The Apostle Paul tells us to “gently instruct [those who oppose the Gospel], in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth” (2 Tim. 2:25). He suggests that we treat nonbelievers with great compassion and mercy, with the understanding that they are “captive” – in “the trap of the devil” (v.26).Bishop Schori’s comes against the backdrop of several interviews with secular media outlets, during which she “intentionally . . . avoided the language of Christian insiders . . . .”As the Presiding Bishop explains it, she tried to avoid “arrogance” and “language [that] engenders fear [and] is likely to drive people away”; she spoke instead “in language and forms that people uneducated in Christianity can understand and welcome.”Bishop Schori’s intentions and heart sure seem to have been in the right place, and there is no doubt that arrogance and fear-mongering have no place in faithful evangelism.The Book of Jude instructs:“Be merciful to those who doubt;snatch others from the fire and save them;to others show mercy, mixed with fear” (vv.22-23).The Apostle Paul tells us to “gently instruct [those who oppose the Gospel], in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth” (2 Tim. 2:25).He suggests that we treat nonbelievers with great compassion and mercy, with the understanding that they are “captive” – in “the trap of the devil” (v.26).Yet, the language she chose in those recent interviews goes so far as to make me question whether Bishop Schori’s version of “our story” can be squared with the Bible’s. Perhaps I have gravely misunderstood her recent statements and thus her position. Perhaps she does believe that Jesus Christ is the only mediator between God and humankind. Perhaps she really meant “yes,” when asked by Time, “Is belief in Jesus the only way to get to heaven?”, but said:
“We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine. But for us to assume that God could not act in other ways is, I think, to put God in an awfully small box.”
Perhaps this was a “yes” cleverly veiled in nuance, reflecting a keen understanding of how to speak to unchurched people immersed in a postmodern culture. When invited in an NPR interview to clarify, perhaps Bishop Schori really was affirming the words of Jesus (John 14:6 and Matthew 11:27), the teachings of Peter (Acts 4:12) and Paul (1 Timothy 2:5 and Romans 3:21-22), and the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles (Article XVIII). Perhaps she was declaring – only in a welcoming and humble way – that Jesus Christ is the only Lord and Savior of humankind, when she said:
For Christians, we say that our route to God is through Jesus. That doesn’t mean that a Hindu doesn’t experience God except through Jesus. It says that Hindus and people of other faith traditions approach God through their own cultural contexts; they relate to God, they experience God in human relationships, as well as ones that transcend human relationships; and Christians would say those are our experiences of Jesus, of God through the experience of Jesus.
Perhaps you can find such an affirmation of allegiance to our Lord in Bishop Schori’s recent deconstruction of Jesus’ words, “No one comes to the Father except through me”:
in its narrow construction, it tends to eliminate other possibilities. In its broader construction, yes, human beings come to relationship with God largely through their experience of holiness in other human beings. Through seeing God at work in other people’s lives. In that sense, yes, I will affirm that statement. But not in the narrow sense, that people can only come to relationship with God through consciously believing in Jesus.
Perhaps what appears to be a tragic lack of clarity on a central tenet of the Christian faith is actually an attempt to employ a nuanced, postmodern evangelistic style. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. Only God knows.
For the moment, let’s assume that the content of Bishop Schori’s version of “our story” accords with “the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3). That assumption only leads us to another question.
Might some “new words” that we use to reach the unchurched actually undermine “our story?”My concern is that God’s story reflects a very specific understanding of the nature of truth, and the Presiding Bishop’s “new language” seems to presuppose a conflicting notion. The Bible “speaks authoritatively not only on what things are true but on the nature of truth itself” (Douglas Groothuis, Truth Decay: Defending Christianity Against the Challenges of Postmodernism, p.60, emphasis mine). The Hebrew Old Testament word for truth, ‘emet, encompasses notions of truth as (1) faithfulness and (2) conformity to fact or reality. God is true, or faithful, to His word (cf. Psalm 31:5; Is. 45:19), and His people need to “call on him in truth” (Psalm 145:18). To conform to reality is to “contrast . . . anything which would be erroneous or deceitful” (Truth Decay, p.61).
In several passages “If it is true” means “If the charge is substantiated [i.e., established by proof or competent evidence]” (Deut 13:14; 17:4; Is 43:9). Many biblical texts include statements such as “speaking the truth” (see Prov 8:7; Jer 9:5) or “giving a true message” (see Dan 10:1) or a “true vision” (see Dan 8:26) (Truth Decay, p.61).
The Greek New Testament word for truth, aletheia, not only shares but emphasizes this notion of “conformity to reality and opposition to lies and errors” (id. at 63).
John warns of distinguishing the “Spirit of truth and the spirit of falsehood” (1 Jn 4:6). Paul says that those who deny the reality of God behind creation “suppress the truth by their wickedness” (Rom 1:18). Before Pilate, Jesus divided the field into truth and error: “For this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me” (Jn 18:37) (Truth Decay, p. 63).
Hence, at the core of “our story,” if we embrace “God’s story,” is a notion of truth that:
is supernaturally grounded, not developed within nature; . . . objective and not subjective; . . . a revelation and not a construction; . . . discovered by inquiry and not elected by a majority vote; . . . authoritative and not a matter of personal choice (Harry Blamires, The Christian Mind: How should a Christian think? p.107).
In sharp contrast stands the postmodern notion of truth that has influenced, if not overtaken, American culture. For postmodern thinkers, truth:
is no longer something knowable by anyone who engages in the proper forms of investigation and study. Truth is not over and above us, something that can be conveyed across cultures and over time. It is inseparable from our cultural conditioning, our psychology, our race and our gender. [T]ruth is simply what we, as individuals and as communities, make it to be – and nothing more. Truth dissolves into a host of disconnected “truths,” all equal to each other but unrelated to one another; there is no overall, rational scheme of things (Truth Decay, p.20).
While I merely touch the surface here, a more thorough study would confirm that the biblical concept of truth:
collides with postmodernist notions of the social construction of reality and the relativity of truth. . . . The Bible does not present truth as a cultural creation of the ancient Jews or the early Christians. They received truth from the God who speaks truth to his creatures, and they were expected by this God to conform themselves to this truth (id. at 64).
Listening to Bishop Schori’s “new words,” I hear more than a faint suggestion that those words presuppose a postmodern concept of truth. When the bishop said, “We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine,” did she mean to suggest that there are other vehicles to the divine that are the equal of Jesus? That people may reject Christ and choose another path to salvation? How about when she says:
“For Christians, we say that our route to God is through Jesus. That doesn’t mean that a Hindu doesn’t experience God except through Jesus. It says that Hindus and people of other faith traditions approach God through their own cultural contexts.”
This statement even more strongly suggests that God’s truth is not universal, true for all cultures and all times, but is “simply what we, as individuals and as communities, make it to be – and nothing more.” Is this the truth upon which Bishop Schori would ground “our story”? If so -- if their “truth” is just as true as our “truth” -- why does Bishop Schori believe we should evangelize at all?
If not, if Bishop Schori takes Jesus Christ at his word – “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6) – I would hope that she would choose some other “new words” that “reach the unchurched” without sacrificing the heart of His message. Never would I claim to have discovered absolutely all truths, let alone to have absolutely mastered them. Nor would I ever claim that any Christian person, church or denomination perfectly practices or embodies the truths they comprehend. Only an all-knowing, all-seeing God can know and embody absolutely all truth. But surely we can know something of the truth. Do not common sense and evidence tell us that some claims are truer than others, however elusive complete knowledge of all truth may be?
With that understanding, it is difficult to see the arrogance in saying, “The Bible tells us that salvation is through Christ alone, but we, mere created mortals, cannot say for sure how salvation might come to those who pass away without reaching the age of reason or ever hearing the Gospel.” I think and hope that this approach is true to God’s story, defending the biblical notion of truth as absolute, universal and authoritative, while unashamedly proclaiming Jesus Christ as that truth – without arrogance.
]]>This is not front-page news because the New York Times editors are concerned about church splits. I doubt they would have covered Martin Luther if the Reformation were going on today. This is front-page news because the Times can use it to make Christians look bigoted. . . . What I . . . take issue with is the Times and other critics telling us we are bigots. I have been in those prisons and seen our people ministering to AIDS victims over the years. I don’t see these critics there. I see our people doing this day in and day out.
]]>In any event, it’s telling that the Times would choose to draw attention to something like this rather telling you what is really behind it. In leaving the Episcopal Church, many of these congregations are enduring public scorn and potentially devastating financial loss—including the loss of their church buildings, pastors’ pensions, and so forth. Why? Because, in conscience, they must remain true to Scripture and their convictions. The issue is orthodoxy, not homosexuality.
]]>Fundamental to a liberal view of freedom is the right of a person or group to define themselves, to speak for themselves and to not be dehumanized by the definitions and distortions of others. This right we request even of those who differ from us. . . . The core issue for us is theological: the intellectual integrity of faith in the modern world. It is thus a matter of faithfulness to the lordship of Jesus, whom we worship and follow. The American Episcopal Church no longer believes the historic, orthodox Christian faith common to all believers. Some leaders expressly deny the central articles of the faith -- saying that traditional theism is “dead,” the incarnation is “nonsense,” the resurrection of Jesus is a fiction, the understanding of the cross is “a barbarous idea,” the Bible is “pure propaganda” and so on. Others simply say the creed as poetry or with their fingers crossed.
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The great revolution of thought which happened in Europe over three centuries ago, associated with Descartes in particular, was the attempt to grasp truth as it were from scratch: by doubting everything, we would see what we could be sure of and build out from there. We would know the facts, and the facts would set us free – free from God, free from any responsibility except to our own self-interest. There’s a straight line from Descartes to Dawkins: we can doubt God, but we can’t doubt the facts, the empirical evidence. And the results of that arrogant attempt to possess truth are all around us, etched in the horrors of the twentieth century and now already the multiple follies of the twenty-first, as we in the West blunder blindly on . . . . And meanwhile the worm in the apple has hollowed it out more or less completely: the ‘truth’ which we thought we knew has been eaten away not just in theology and philosophy but in its heartland of physics, by Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, and in its deeper heartland of the human being, where Descartes began. We have become a society paranoid about truth: so we make each other fill in more and more forms, and set up more cameras to spy on each other, to check up on one another because we want the truth, we want an audit trail, we want more and more Enquiries and Judicial Reviews and Investigations, but we can’t get at truth because Descartes’ experiment has itself made it impossible, has generated a world of suspicion and smear and spin.
]]>But if the world has tried to have truth without grace, the church has often been tempted towards grace without truth – as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it, ‘cheap grace’. God has become a benevolent old softie, ready to tolerate everything, to include everyone, to throw away all those unpleasant old moral standards and say it’s all right, do your own thing, if it feels good it must be OK.
[God] is no longer distant. He is no longer unknown. He is no longer beyond the reach of our heart. He has become a child for us, and in so doing he has dispelled all doubt. He has become our neighbour, restoring in this way the image of man, whom we often find so hard to love. For us, God has become a gift. He has given himself. He has entered time for us. He who is the Eternal One, above time, he has assumed our time and raised it to himself on high. Christmas has become the Feast of gifts in imitation of God who has given himself to us. Let us allow our heart, our soul and our mind to be touched by this fact! Among the many gifts that we buy and receive, let us not forget the true gift: to give each other something of ourselves, to give each other something of our time, to open our time to God. – Pope Benedict XVI, December 24, 2006
Luke 2
The Birth of Jesus
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register.
So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Shepherds and the Angels
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."
So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
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As someone who voted in favor of separating from the Episcopal Church and affiliating with CANA, the critics’ sweeping accusations include me within their aim. Harold Meyerson accuses me of deciding that not “all men were created equal.” A writer for the Diocese of Washington has hypothesized that I may have been motivated by “naked bigotry,” and he seeks an explanation of why I “favor--or, at the very least, acquiesce--in depriving Nigerians of rights that Americans enjoy.” Father Jake says that I “probably” am a bigot and issues the following challenge: “Please explain how ordaining gays and lesbians can trouble your conscience, yet throwing them in jail does not.”
I suspect that these gentlemen would prefer to hear a response from someone in a position of formal leadership at my church. I am in no such position. As is true with respect to all I write but bears emphasizing at a time like this, I speak only for myself – not for CANA, The Falls Church (TFC), my friends, or my wife – just me.
To characterize my vote to leave the Episcopal Church and affiliate with CANA as an act of bigotry is to miss the point entirely. The overriding purpose of the vote called by my parish leadership, as I understand it, was to hold a referendum on the state of the Episcopal Church – to decide whether the denomination has so parted ways with biblical Christianity that we, in turn, must part ways with the denomination. As explained in Part I of this essay, my vote in favor of leaving the Episcopal Church is my witness to the supreme authority of Scripture for all of life and the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the one and only Mediator between God and humankind. Choosing to leave, of course, raises the ancillary and less important question of where to go. My parish leadership thoroughly reviewed the options, recommended that we affiliate with CANA as a transitional entity, and presented to the congregation the question of where-to-go in the same resolution as the question of whether-to-go. Part II explains why I voted for this package resolution, despite concerns about the Nigerian bill. In short, these concerns were insufficient to overcome my concerns about the Episcopal Church’s leadership’s abandonment of core tenets of the Christian faith.
Before implicating me and the great majority of my fellow parishioners in a parade of horribles, let’s consider the specific resolution put before us by TFC leadership. It stated, in relevant part, that:
[1] The Episcopal Church has departed from the authority of the Holy Scriptures and from historic Christian teaching on the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the only Lord and Savior of humankind; [and thus 2] The Falls Church shall sever its denominational ties with The Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Virginia and [3] affiliate with [CANA].
As I briefly explained in another essay, I accept the premise: there is plentiful, sobering evidence that the denomination’s leadership not only has effectively abandoned Scripture as the supreme authority for life, but seems to have no reservations about denying the uniqueness of Jesus Christ. These are not inconsequential matters at the edges of Christian doctrine about which the church – even those of us from the Anglican tradition – can agree to disagree. Reflecting the biblical understanding that “All Scripture is inspired by God” (2 Timothy 3:16), all Christians confess, through the Nicene Creed, that the Holy Spirit has spoken through the prophets. For the same reason, our Book of Common Prayer repeatedly refers to the Bible as the “Word of God” or the “Word of the Lord,” and the Episcopal catechism (BCP p.853) teaches that Scripture – not man – defines truth:
Q. How do we recognize the truths taught by the Holy Spirit?
A. We recognize truths to be taught by the Holy Spirit when they are in accord with the Scriptures.
See The Falls Church, Can Two Walk Together, Except They Be Agreed?, pp.3-4. Nonetheless, the Episcopal Church’s 2003 and 2006 General Conventions rejected resolutions that would have affirmed that Scripture is the Church’s supreme authority. See id. at 12; The Falls Church, I Will Welcome You: Finding a New Home in the Anglican Communion, p.2.
From its outset, Anglican teaching has clearly accepted the biblical understanding that Jesus Christ is the only Lord and Savior of humankind. Affirming the words of Jesus (John 14:6 and Matthew 11:27) and the teachings of Paul (1 Timothy 2:5; Romans 3:21-22) and Peter (Acts 4:12), Article XVIII of the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles proclaimed:
They also are to be had accursed that presume to say, That every man shall be saved by the Law or Sect which he professeth, so that he be diligent to frame his life according to that Law, and the light of Nature. For Holy Scripture doth set out unto us only the Name of Jesus Christ, whereby men must be saved.
Even so, the Episcopal Church’s 2006 General Convention rejected a resolution that would have declared a “commitment to Jesus Christ as the Son of God, the only name by which any person may be saved,” and would have “acknowledge[d] the solemn responsibility placed upon us to share Christ with all persons when we hear His words, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.’” See I Will Welcome You, p.9. In two subsequent interviews (summarized here), the denomination’s recently elected leader certified the convention’s rejection of this non-negotiable tenet of the Christian faith.
I understand that many sincere people of faith disagree with my assessment of the evidence. But for those of us who have concluded that the leadership of the Episcopal Church has unrepentantly forsaken core matters of Christian faith, separation from the denomination becomes imperative. We are not to “be yoked together with unbelievers” (2 Corinthians 6:14).
About those who depart from “the teaching of Christ,” we are warned: “Do not receive into the house or welcome anyone who comes to you and does not bring this teaching; for to welcome is to participate in the evil deeds of such a person.” (2 John 10-11.) The Apostles’ instruction is eventually to keep away from him and have nothing to do with him.
Can Two Walk Together, p.16 & n.14 (citing Romans 16:17; 2 Thessalonians 3:6, 14; 2 Timothy 3:5; Titus 3:10). Yet there are those, including Bishop Lee of Virginia, who would have us ignore this teaching as well, all in the name of maintaining unity in the church. See, e.g., Statement from Bishop Lee, Unity through Diversity, Dec. 10, 2006 (urging congregations contemplating leaving the diocese to preserve, defend and maintain unity within and through diversity), available at the diocese’s press room; Letter from Bishop Lee to Truro Parishioners, Dec. 6, 2006 (“ vote for the unity and mission of the church, therefore remaining one with your diocese . . . . Until the Day of Judgement, the wheat and the weeds will grow together as Jesus promised in the Gospel”). A resource published and commended by the Diocese of Virginia claims that:
A great variety of interpretations of Scripture has coexisted in the Anglican Communion. Unity has been based rather on common discipline, common worship, common prayer, shared reverence for and discussion of Scripture, and common allegiance to the Bishop.
This notion bears little resemblance to the unity in Christ of which Paul spoke – “unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God” (Ephesians 4:13), unity with “one faith” (v.5). As the leaders of The Falls Church put it, the unity envisioned by the diocese – “unity through the ‘yoke’ of denominational affiliation – without regard to shared belief, and even in the face of obvious disbelief”:
is neither Anglican nor Christian. It would transform the Church into a less-than-Christian organization, which we perceive that the national Episcopal Church has now become . . . (I Will Welcome You, p.15).
To remain affiliated with the denomination is to be complicit in its serious doctrinal error. It is to submit to, if not endorse, teaching that rejects Scripture as supremely authoritative. It is to submit to leadership that denies Jesus Christ as the one and only Mediator between God and humankind. For evidence of complicity, one only need look at the accusations of bigotry that triggered this essay. Critics explicitly or implicitly accuse those of us leaving the Episcopal Church for CANA with complicity in every word uttered and deed done by the Archbishop of Nigeria.
Consider also the denomination’s response to news of our votes to disaffiliate. “This is a handful of congregations of a total of nearly 7,200, the vast majority of which are engaged in healthy and vital ministry,” said Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori. Paragraph two of the Episcopal News Service press release highlighted the fact that Sunday’s defection involved “eight of Virginia’s 195 congregations” and “about 8,000 of the diocese’s roughly 90,000 Episcopalians.” The implication invited by the presiding bishop and her news service: the other 187 Virginia congregations and 82,000 Episcopalians support the denomination’s leadership and teaching. I refuse to be counted in this way as one of the denomination’s supporters.
This discussion may seem like the long way around to answering accusations about my vote to affiliate with CANA, but it is the only way around to the question. There really is no other way to provide an accurate account. This is the context in which the decision to affiliate with CANA was made. This was the source and urgency of my conviction to dissociate from the Episcopal Church. The issue of where-to-go, while not unimportant, was minor compared to the issue of whether-to-go and why. Issues of sexuality and civil rights, while important, are lesser than questions concerning the nature and authority of Jesus Christ and the Holy Scriptures.
Contributing to the lesser importance of where-to-go is the fact that our destination, by nature and design, is impermanent. Regardless whether The Falls Church were to affiliate in the immediate term with Nigeria, Uganda, Rwanda, etc., that relationship will be temporary, lasting only until a new US province of orthodox Anglicans can be formed. See Mary Springmann, Vestry Registrar, Truro Church, Why CANA? (describing CANA as a “transitional entity with built-in flexibility to move to a permanent orthodox American structure”). TFC’s rector, John Yates, paints this picture:
Ages ago, before the world was born, the great battle began when the Prince of Darkness rebelled against the one, true king. It has raged ever since. Among the many vessels commissioned by our glorious king to engage in this holy war, was our own good ship “Episcopalian.” Not nearly as large or conspicuous as many, still we have admired her beauty and been proud to serve in her crew.
Tragically, now, she is sinking. Great leaks have developed, she has rusted and rotted. The captain and officers seem unaware. “All is well,” they cry as the waters rise, the ropes give way and the rudder comes loose. . . . Now, look! Other ships in the great Anglican fleet have noticed our perilous condition and sent little lifeboats with supplies and fresh materials – little rafts from the ship Rwanda (A.M.i.A.), Nigeria (C.A.N.A.), Bolivia, Kenya, Uganda, and elsewhere. Their ships are led by strong and able captains. “We will help you,” they shout to us. “Let us carry you for a brief time to a sheltered place where we will help you build a new ship that will bring great joy to our king. Bring whatever tools and supplies you can, but don’t be encumbered. This is a moment for courage and faith!”
In evaluating the available lifeboats, my parish leadership considered ten or so factors similar to those set forth in this summary by Truro’s vestry registrar. Our senior warden’s explanation of the leadership’s rationale for seeking shelter in CANA, the lifeboat offered by the Church of Nigeria, was thorough and reasonable. I do not repeat his explanation or defend their decision in this essay, which is intended to provide my perspective as a member of the congregation of The Falls Church. Although the accusations against Arbishop Akinola gave me serious pause, I ultimately found those accusations to be an insufficient basis to reject my leadership’s recommendation.
I am disturbed by the Nigerian bill’s proposals to curtail the freedoms of speech, association, expression, assembly, and religion – freedoms so critical to the health of a democracy. Governments ought not restrain their citizens’ freedom to advocate in favor of – or against – homosexual practices – in Nigeria, Britain, Sweden, Canada or elsewhere. After our congregational vote, Archbishop Akinola explained that the Church of Nigeria, likewise, believes that “there are genuine concerns about individual human rights that must be addressed both in the framing of the law and its implementation.”
Even without the benefit of this later clarification, I was not convinced, at the time of my vote, that Archbishop Akinola supports such restrictions. Claims that he does originate from two reports of the Church of Nigeria’s Standing Committee (here and here), each of which contains one line generally supporting the proposed bill. It is true that the archbishop signed these reports. It is also true that the reports fail to qualify the church’s support for the legislation in anyway. Before condemning the man, though, let’s consider what else we know about him that might enhance our understanding of the situation.
We know that Archbishop Akinola is respected as a “man of peace [whose] leadership is a model for Christians around the world” (Time Magazine, April 30, 2006). We know that he “is primarily an evangelist and a pastor whose desire is to see all people come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ” (Letter from Martyn Minns, March 3, 2006). We know that he “face[s] burdens of ministry at home both ponderous and persistent” (World Magazine, Dec. 16, 2006), burdens of a nature unknown in our country. In northern Nigeria, Islam and Christianity are “at war” (id.). As northern states began adopting Sharia law – law that calls for the stoning of homosexuals – Akinola “called on the government to suspend oil receipts and supplies. ‘Time has come to call the Shariah governors to throw Shariah off our land,’” he said (id.). When Muslims rioted in February 2005 in response to Danish cartoons unflattering of Mohammed:
Nigeria was hit hardest: In the north rioters killed more than 120 Christians, burned about 40 churches, and destroyed hundreds of shops and houses. Reprisals by Christians in southeast Nigeria killed about 100 Muslims and left perhaps thousands homeless (id.).
We know that Archbishop Akinola, ministering in this alien cultural milieu, is “working overtime to lower the religious and ethnic tensions in Nigeria and to care for those who have been traumatized in the recent strife” (Minns Letter). The very Standing Committee reports upon which Akinola’s opponents rely demonstrate a breadth of ministerial concerns that belies any claim that this is an intolerant homophobe obsessed with oppressing people based on their sexual orientation. These reports express the Church of Nigeria’s concern with child trafficking; the riotous “destruction of lives and property” triggered by the Danish cartoons; “attacks on and assassination of clergy”; “frequent . . . hostage taking . . . in the oil producing area of the Niger Delta”; the unethical diversion of funds away from HIV and AIDS patients; fighting bird flu; the obedience of all citizens, “especially the three tiers of Government,” to the “rule of law”; the efficiency and trustworthiness of the police force; educational policies; administration of the census; corruption of the electoral process; the care of Nigerian pensioners; etc.
Finally, we know that, prior to our congregational vote, the archbishop attempted to clarify his position on the proposed Nigerian legislation, explaining that:
he believes that all people – whatever their manner of life or sexual orientation – are made in the image of God and deserve to be treated with respect. “We are all broken and need the transforming love of God . . . . Jesus Christ is our example for this. He refused to condemn the woman caught in adultery [and] instead . . . said, ‘Go now and sin no more.’ That is an essential part of the message of the Gospel and the teaching of our congregations.”
CANA statement, Dec. 7, 2006. Some who disagree with Akinola’s adherence to biblical teaching on the underlying issues of same-sex conduct construe this clarification as non-responsive, Orwellian doublespeak. I find this interpretation untenable when one more fully considers the reputation and past performance of the man who is speaking and the circumstances in which he ministers. When looking through that lens, one can reasonably and fairly conclude that the archbishop does not offer unqualified support for the proposed Nigerian legislation. Pointing to Jesus’ refusal to condemn the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11) as an example, Akinola indicates a reluctance to condemn those who practice homosexuality. He observes that they “need the transforming love of God,” implying that compassionate healing – not jail sentences imposed through the criminal justice system – would be the proper response of the Nigerian people. He embraces the biblical understanding that “all people – whatever their manner of life or sexual orientation – are made in the image of God and deserve to be treated with respect.” By this statement, did the archbishop intend to imply opposition to the proposed restrictions on homosexuals’ fundamental rights of speech and association? Detractors, I’m sure, would vigorously dispute such an interpretation, perhaps attributing this sentiment to nothing more than political expedience. I admit that he was less clear than I would have hoped. But when the time came to cast my vote, I chose to take into account what we know about Archbishop Akinola and the dangerous circumstances in which he ministers so faithfully, and give him the benefit of the doubt on this point. I trust and hope that this was the correct decision. The archbishop’s more recent statement, in which he acknowledges “genuine concerns about individual human rights” being threatened by the proposed law, suggests that it was.
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In summary, to those who claim that my vote to leave the Episcopal Church and affiliate with CANA is a vote for bigotry: you’re missing the point. My vote was cast in support the primacy of Scripture and the uniqueness of Jesus Christ – not against sexual practices, in the United States or Nigeria. While the attention given to this issue no doubt is a product of our cultural obsession with all things sexual, it should be equally clear that our decision to leave the Episcopal Church and join CANA is rooted in our fidelity to the Word.
ADDITIONAL RESOURCES
Matthew Thompson has amassed an extensive collection of resources on the proposed Nigerian legislation.
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