How to Do the Impossible

One of my favorite lines in one of my favorite movies of all time comes in Amazing Grace when William Pitt is conspiring with his friend William Wilberforce to take over as Prime Minister of Great Britain. He will become the youngest Prime Minister in history and it is on this ground that Wilberforce protests – no one of their age has ever taken that kind of power.
Pitt grins mischievously and responds, “We’re too young to know it can’t be done – so we will do it anyway.”
And they do.

There’s this delightful story in 1 Samuel 14 about Jonathan – the son of the already doomed King Saul. His father is licking his wounds inflicted by Samuel’s scolding (and the message God’s already looking for his replacement). The Philistine army opposite them is massive in number, while Saul’s army is only shrinking with soldiers sneaking away trembling in fear.

While Saul seems paralyzed by the situation, his son seems more than ready to take action. He and his armor bearer set off to see what sort of trouble they can cause along enemy lines. Jonathan gives his sidekick (and maybe himself) a little pep talk about how “there’s no rule that says God can only deliver by using a big army. No one can stop God from saving when he sets his mind to it.” (14:6, MSG)

And so the two of them knowingly scramble up right into the arms of a Philistine patrol – crawling up a cliff on all fours, which (and I’m no military expert) doesn’t seem like the best strategic fighting posture. Jonathan knocks the guys down while his sidekick finishes them off by bashing them in the head with rocks – because he hasn’t even got his own sword.

The ruckus they cause gets the attention of the rest of the army that’s been shaking in their sandals on the Israelite side. They finally decide to get moving. Once they charge into enemy territory they find the Philistines confused by Jonathan’s not-so-sneak attack and they’re fighting one another. Soldiers who’d deserted return to their posts when they see God at work in a victory.

Later, the soldiers give Jonathan perhaps the best praise anyone could be given – “He’s been working hand-in-hand with God all day!”

Sometimes, I guess, all that’s needed for the impossible to be done is someone willing to do it. Someone to be too young or too trustful of God’s salvation or too brave or too stupid to ignore the naysayers and the fearful and the ones with too much to lose. Someone to work hand-in-hand with God, step out, and start something that’ll get the attention of the ones on the sidelines.

What are you supposed to be stepping out to do today? Are you supposed to be exploring adoption or ways to help in the modern day abolitionist movement? Is there a ministry at your church you’re supposed to be getting involved with or starting? Is there a work of art you’re meant to create or a conversation you’re supposed to have with someone?

The ones who did the impossible – all they did was step out, worked “hand-in-hand with God”, and did what everyone else said they couldn’t.

Is Traditional Church Making Us Fools?

Tags

church, church models, foolish, information, obedience

I was chatting with some English students about remedies to the problems child-brides and female infanticide in South Asia. The general consensus in the room was that people just need more education. If they knew the harm they’re doing to their children and society, they would stop and we could eradicate these horrible practices.

Ignoring for the moment the fact that female infanticide in South Asia actually happens more frequently among the wealthy and well-educated, I asked my students if they ever do something they know is wrong. They froze. I repeated the question and hastened to admit that I do things I know are wrong, I do things that are harmful to myself. My admission loosened their tongues just enough to get a sheepish admission of the same.

“So why,” I asked, “if we do things we know are wrong or harmful even though we’re educated, why do we think other people just need more education in order to stop doing wrong or harmful things?”

While sometimes more education is needed to help people make better decisions, other factors such as poverty, cultural forces, and downright human wickedness often play a part just as large as ignorance. We’re much too ready to hail knowledge as the panacea for evil. Nowhere is this extreme elevation of knowledge more prevalent than in church.

Nearly everything we do in church is geared towards giving people more information: 40-minute monologue sermons, Sunday School curriculum focused on delivering information about a piece of Scripture while asking basic comprehension questions to make sure the information has been understood. When we’re running short on time in Bible study group, the part of the discussion most likely to get cut are the three “application questions” tacked onto the end of each chapter. Usually the question, “How did last week go in applying what we talked about?” is met with awkward stares at the floor and nervous giggles until the leader gets the hint and tactfully moves on.

We’ve fallen into the same trap as my English students. We hope and believe that if only people knew more, then they’d change. If only we could increase knowledge, godly behavior would increase proportionally.

It seems we read the Great Commission as “Go into all the world and make disciples… teaching them all that I have commanded you”. We somehow forget that Jesus said to teach the new disciples “to obey” all that He commanded. He wasn’t looking for us to primarily pass along information. He wanted us to pass along obedience.

How in the world do you do that?

I started thinking about this during a recent training seminar. The trainers were there, in part, to help us think about how church meetings should look – particularly in new churches. They’re the ones who brought out our apparent misreading of Jesus’ intentions for how disciple-making should go. And they suggested a new, obedience-centric model for our meetings.

The first third of our time would be used for fellowship and accountability. How was your week? How did you obey what we talked about last time? Who did you tell about Jesus? What questions/concerns/problems did you run into?

The second third would be used for worship and new information – a new Bible story or new passage of Scripture. The conveyance of this new information would be discussion-based to facilitate the discovery of principles by group members. (Adults learn better when they’re discovering information for themselves rather than being told.)

The final third would be used for prayer and planning. What specific principle have you seen today (a sin you need to stop or a good work you need to start doing) that you’ll apply in the next week? Who will you tell this week what you’ve learned?

They placed the weight of the meeting directly opposite to what we give weight to in a Western church meeting. You probably won’t walk out of a meeting like this with exhaustive knowledge of the outline of 1 Corinthians 1-3 or how the Hebrew tense affects verse 2 of Psalm 108. However – you might just walk out of a meeting like that obeying and sharing the principles of the story of the Woman at the Well.

Jesus said it was a foolish person who heard His words and did nothing to build their life on the truth. I’m beginning to think our traditional model of church makes it much too easy for people to remain fools. People leave our meetings thinking they’ve done what’s necessary by learning information, when what is called for by wisdom is obedience.

Do you agree that our usual church model is too knowledge-heavy? Does the idea of a more obedience-centric model make you nervous (it does me!)? What do you think about the proposed different organization of a church meeting (Bible study/fellowship time/Sunday School)? 

Sitting with Hannah

Tags

1 Samuel, God's presence, Hannah, pain, suffering

I’ve been stuck on the story of Hannah for a while – her longing for a child, her suffering through the taunts of a sister-wife and the callousness of her husband. At times, I wish she were alive so I could sit at her feet and beg her to teach me. Then my pendulum swings towards pure, mystified anger at her seeming naiveté. Her song of praise to God in chapter 2 seems more like outrageous stupidity than faithful devotion since we’re told in chapter 1 that it was God who’d closed her womb. All of Hannah’s grief – the sorrow she praises God for delivering her from – started with God Himself. A possibly irreverent question forms in my mind. Isn’t praising the one who hurt you when they finally stop causing you pain – only after you’ve cajoled and begged – a sign of an abusive relationship?

When I confessed to my spiritual director that Hannah’s situation felt like abuse by divine power, she challenged me not to move on. To stay with Hannah a little longer and dig into why I so often see God as – at best – emotionally distant and the author of misery at worst. As Hannah and I have sat together, I’ve bgun to mentally rewrite her story.

What if, instead of a sister-wife who taunted Hannah about her barrenness at every opportunity, her husband’s second wife had shared her children with Hannah? What if they’d mothered together and Hannah’s frustrated maternal longings had found a partial release through the children of the household?

What if instead of a husband who didn’t take her suffering seriously, Hannah had a husband who wept with her? Who mourned their loss together? Who didn’t use his right to take a second wife when his first was found to be barren? In short – what if Hannah had been surrounded by a community of support, love, and understanding instead of a community that tore her to shreds?

I think her story would’ve been completely different.

Why do we human beings like to pile on when someone else is suffering? We wonder aloud with Job’s friends if their illness wasn’t caused by a secret sin. Ignoring injustices that press them down, we tell the poor if they’d only work harder or make better decisions they wouldn’t be in their situation. We refuse to respond with understanding to those whose bodies or minds work differently. We parade out our successes, not caring whose failures we amplify by our boasting.

If I take out the human causes of Hannah’s suffering, her story reads differently, with much less pain. God closes Hannah’s womb, yes, but it’s much less traumatic without the heckling of her family. She seeks God and asks to be given a child – anticipating the joy of that child, she promises to give him back fully to God. God responds and gives her a son, who becomes the key spiritual leader of Israel. Hannah receives more children, but her pride and joy is the boy who’s known over the entire country as a man of God.

Of the children of Hannah’s sister-wife, we hear no more. Her taunts are silenced by the abundant blessing given to Hannah. Hannah’s callous husband seems blind to the end about what God is doing and the gift that’s been given to his wife. Hannah’s God-seeking legacy is passed on to a boy who “grows up with God” and hears His voice from a young age. Hannah seems to know God better than even Eli the old priest.

Sitting with Hannah has taught me this: God is busy giving us Himself. Sometimes that is in wondrous gifts, sometimes it is in painful situations – but both circumstances have the same end goal: a deepened understanding of God. This means I can rejoice in both because both, in their own way, are meant to lead me to seek God.

When blessing comes into the life of another, there’s no need for jealousy. When suffering comes into the life of another, I dare not ridicule. God is in both, waiting to be found in both. We can help one another find Him, or we can obscure Him. But while we are busy shaming or encouraging or resenting, know this: God is busy giving us Himself.