pastoral wisdom for specific needs

Anyone who has preached to different congregations, and engaged in pastoral ministry with different kinds of people, will know only too well that the moment when a very particular situation presents itself is precisely the moment when you need to draw deeply on something very central and non-negotiable. One might almost formulate a general rule that the more specific the situation, the more what is needed is a return to core truth, however freshly stated.

N T Wright, Paul: Fesh Perspectives, SPCK, p.20

modern missionary movements

You really need to read an account of the Davey family's involvement in a French wedding. It says so much about so many things (and before anyone asks: I refuse to elaborate on that last statement).

Go here, here & here.

pastoring through worship

Justin Taylor has pointed us to a very interesting conversation between Bob Kauflin and David Powlison on the subject of worship and the possibilities for pastoring & counselling people through leading them in worship.

There are two clips: here & here.

start with a small church

Some very interesting words from Tim Keller to young ministers on where to start in ministry: a small, country church (please remember: he is speaking USA...). As part of his advice he says,

Young pastors should not turn up their noses at such places, where they may learn the full spectrum of ministry tasks and skills as they will not in a large church. Nor should they go to small communities looking at them merely as stepping stones in a career. Why not? Your early ministry experience will only prepare you for 'bigger things,' if you don't aspire for anything bigger than investment in the lives of the people around you. Wherever you serve, put your roots down, become a member of the community and do your ministry with all your heart and might. If God opens the door to go somewhere else, fine and good. But don't go to such places looking at them only as training grounds for 'real ministry.'

The whole thing is well worth a read.

the great books (xiv) - the fall & rise of reginald perrin

The classic 70s series was based on the 3 novels by David Nobbs - The Fall & Rise of Reginald Perrin, The Return of Reginald Perrin and The Better World of Reginald Perrin. I've chosen the first of those for this list but all 3 are share the same attributes: warm, moving, funny, astute and humane.

If you aren't familiar with the TV series (three in all), Reginald Iolanthe Perrin worked for Sunshine Deserts, arriving late each day because of some (increasingly unlikely) rail problem. He chose to fake his own death and escape his old life. After working on a pig farm (I wonder where Nobbs got that idea?) he returned in the guise of an old friend of Reggie's and remarried his wife (although as Reggie's old friend). Then came the whole saga of his Grot empire and then, in the final volume, an ultimately futile attempt to meet the needs of a society that was breaking apart.

I don't currently own these books but I'm pretty sure that will change before too long. Maybe too rooted in the 70s for some, they nevertheless still ring true to life, albeit without the hope only the gospel can bring.

Having been chided by our Marketing lecturer for not including a bibliography with our essays (in early '83), I chose to include these novels on the bibliography of my next essay for him, because they had spared me sorrow upon sorrow as I wrestled with (what seemed to my undoubtedly depressed mind) a topic of no value or worth for human existence (the details of which failed to lodge in my soul). Mr Dawson (for it was he) didn't spot their inclusion on the bibliography until I pointed it out to him. He grinned weakly, in a way that Reggie would have understood.

independence day

A typical 'get out' song from Bruce Springsteen, coupled with generational strife and the inability of fathers & sons to truly connect, coupled as they are by a fractured humanity. Worth a listen or two.

Here it is on spotify, so you can sing along:

Independence Day
Well Papa go to bed now it's getting late
Nothing we can say is gonna change anything now
I'll be leaving in the morning from St. Mary's Gate
We wouldn't change this thing even if we could somehow
`Cause the darkness of this house has got the best of us
There's a darkness in this town that's got us too
But they can't touch me now and you can't touch me now
They ain't gonna do to me what I watched them do to you
So say goodbye it's Independence Day
It's Independence Day all down the line
Just say goodbye it's Independence Day
It's Independence Day this time

Now I don't know what it always was with us
We chose the words and yeah we drew the lines
There was just no way this house could hold the two of us
I guess that we were just too much of the same kind
Well say goodbye it's Independence Day
It's Independence Day, all boys must run away,
So say goodbye it's Independence Day
All men must make their way come Independence Day

Now the rooms are all empty down at Frankie's joint
And the highway she's deserted way down to Breaker's Point
There's a lot of people leaving town now
Leaving their friends, their homes
At night they walk that dark and dusty highway, all alone
Well Papa go to bed now, it's getting late
Nothing we can say can change anything now
Because there's just different people coming down here now
And they see things in different ways
And soon everything we've known will just be swept away

So say goodbye it's Independence Day
Papa now I know the things you wanted, that you could not say
But won't you just say goodbye it's Independence Day
I swear I never meant to take those things away

the triumph of grace

In a previous post, I mentioned a visit to a friend who was terminally ill and of grace shining in her life.

She is now where she wanted to be: in the presence of Jesus, gazing upon his glory (Jn. 17:24 meant a great deal to her).

We thank God for her grace-filled life.

Rome wasn't built in a day

And nor was the earth - it took 6 days*, in fact. And maybe there's a vital lesson in there.

Could it all have been handled in a day? Of course. Nothing in the Bible suggests otherwise. But 6 days were taken, deliberately. And those days show us the value of achieving over time, of persisting in a task and working diligently and creatively towards a goal.

Things I need to learn to appreciate more.

*Please note: this post isn't engaging in any way the debate over the meaning of 'day' in Genesis 1,2. The points being made here stand, whatever interpretation you lean towards.

was his glory veiled?

I love the Kendrick song, The Servant King, so this is in no way a rant. It's simply a question, raised by one of the lines in the song.

"Entered our world, your glory veiled" is, I imagine, cognate with Wesley's "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see" and possibly draws on the statements of Philippians 2 with respect to Jesus making himself nothing (but notice Paul doesn't speak of Jesus divesting himself of divinity; he asserts rather that Jesus refused to exploit it).

My question - Was his glory veiled? - is asked in the light of John 1:14 where John declares that he and others "saw his glory" and discovered it to be "full of grace and truth".

Does he have in mind the transfiguration experience? I have to say that hadn't occurred to me until someone suggested it, but I don't find it especially persuasive.

Maybe the fact is his glory wasn't veiled by his taking on flesh but was hidden from sight by the unbelief of some who encountered him (John 1:10,11). Others, in humble trust, saw it and such see it still (2 Cor. 4:6).

And maybe that's Paul's point also in Phil. 2 - the glory of God is seen in his humility and humiliation, in his very refusal to use his position to his own advantage.

thinking out loud 1 - who can forgive sins?

It's the question the Pharisees ask in response to Jesus pronouncing the paralytic forgiven in Mark 2 (paralleled in Mt. 9:2-8 & Lk. 5:18-26). They ask, Who can forgive sins but God alone? It's a rhetorical question that expects the answer 'no-one'.

Indeed. Who can forgive sins but God? Yet the Pharisees knew that YHWH had delegated his power of forgiveness and attached it to the cultic system, presided over by the High Priest. It runs throughout the OT - sacrifices are offered and atonement is made and people are pronounced 'forgiven' (see Lev. 4:20,26,31,35 etc - the references are copious).

Was their question really a short-hand way of asking, 'Who can forgive sins but God alone (which we all know he does via the delegated authority of the Torah)?' The forgiveness is still his to give but he chooses to give it in that context.

Were the Pharisees, then, questioning Jesus' positioning of himself not so much as equal to God but as one who takes the place of the Torah?

An interesting development of this whole scenario appears in Matthew's account. There, the people praise God for giving such authority to people (anthropois). They recognise in Jesus not a usurping of God's authority but a delegation of it, to human beings (not just to this human being) and outside of the cultus. Of course, it might be argued that they knew very little and were hardly sophisticated in the finer details of Torah (no doubt the Pharisees would choose to argue along those lines). But Matthew (writing post-Resurrection) in no way writes negatively of the people's assessment, not even hinting that they were askew in their conclusion.

But does God - has God - given such authority to people? Jesus apparently believes that he has; in fact, he himself extends that authority on God's behalf to his people - "If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven" (John 20:23); "whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven" (Matthew 18:18).

But doesn't that then open up the whole matter of forgiveness to all sorts of possible abuses? Is God bound to forgive anyone whom I choose to forgive? What if that person isn't truly repentant? And will God withhold his forgiveness from someone genuinely repentant because I've decided they aren't really sincere in seeking it? Not to mention the potential for pride and an unbiblical priestliness?

Yes, that was my first reaction, too. People don't need to ask me for forgiveness; they go to God through Jesus. He alone can forgive sins. Except he tells me to forgive others, not just in the passages just referred to but in a whole host of others. I am to act in a priestly capacity as authorised by God, in light of Jesus' once-for-all sacrifice for sin, the true fulfilment of the whole sacrificial system of the OT.

So what about those pitfalls - people getting forgiven when they oughtn't to be and vice versa? Well, no one ever said God's hands were tied on this matter, any more than they are tied by the 'ask anything in my name and it will be done' strand of Jesus' teaching. God is big enough to handle our fallibility.

But he has commissioned us to proclaim forgiveness in Jesus' name, somehow or other, to enact it in our relationships. And not just in terms of gospel preaching (the way some would exegete and apply the John 20 text). Jesus makes it far more personal. He enacts it in the presence of the Pharisees and God is glorified for it by the people. Torah was passing; atonement was being located in Jesus' death and forgiveness on the basis of his atoning sacrifice was to be actualised through his people, as indwelt by his Spirit (John 20:22).

thinking out loud

Occasionally, I've written down some thoughts as I've wrestled with a theological issue. I've decided I may as well post them here and benefit from the astuteness of my vast readership (at the last count it totalled 2 humans and 1 of indeterminate origin).

So, we'll kick off with the question of forgiveness.

a primer for pastoral care

I've written-up some rudimentary thoughts for the elders here on how to approach pastoral care. It, of course, doesn't say everything (err...it's a primer) and is intended to sit alongside discussions of other related topics.

But I thought it might be useful to stick it here on the blog, fwiw. All names & situations are made-up and do not in any way relate to people known to me. The paradigm was suggested by a similar approach in Mark McMinn's book, Sin and Grace in Christian Counselling.

Approaching Pastoral Care: A Creational Paradigm

John is 43 years old and is married to Anne. They have three children (17; 15 and 12). Three months ago John was made redundant. It is the third time in the past seven years he has lost his job. Anne works 25 hours as a teaching assistant at a local primary school.

During a conversation with John, he opens up and tells you he has recently felt at a distance from the Lord, that his Christian life seems stale. During the course of the conversation, he confesses to watching online pornography in the morning when Anne is at work.

How are we to approach pastoral care for John? Or, indeed, for others in a variety of situations?

A useful place to begin is the recognition that we are made in God's image. That has been taken to have at least 3 dimensions of meaning: functional, structural and relational. Those aspects can be helpful windows into the need for pastoral care and how it can be given.

1. Functional (creative/physical)
God is a creative being. He expresses his character in his works. And he has made humanity in his image, commissioning us to express his likeness through our engagement with creation. We are created to work, to form and fashion, to create and care. Where there are functional limitations (through age, illness, circumstances etc) people are affected. We were made to function. Closely allied to this is our physicality. We were created for appropriate, physical activity. The body matters.

2. Structural (Spiritual, Moral, Rational)
We were made to know God, to relate to him. We were created to promote his character through our lives. We have a conscience that, however impaired, instructs us in our relationship with God. We have emotions that are intended to be vehicles for expressing that relationship. We are made with the ability to reason and to make choices.

3. Relational
God is three-in-one; he is a relational being. People made in his image are made for relationships. Not only is that so in terms of marriage but in the fullest range of relationships. People need people because people are made in the image of God.

Those different aspects of being made in God's image are profoundly inter-related. They are not discrete dimensions of human existence; they together form one whole reality. That means pastoral care needs to be alert to significant factors across the board and then seek to help by paying attention to all 3 areas.

When faced with a person in need, we must be careful to ask questions that relate to all 3 dimensions, to get the fullest understanding of what is happening in their lives and why. Recalling John in our example above, it is clear that there are functional (his lack of employment), structural (his awareness of guilt) and relational (his role as husband and father) factors at play. It isn't hard to see how all those factors can contribute to an overall sense of need and how they mutually reinforce each other (the 'vicious circle' effect).

In seeking to care for people, we need to recognise that help may be appropriately given by attention to all dimensions of a person's being. Even where the need is primarily related to one aspect of a person's being, attention to the whole person can help to address the most pressing and causal issue.

[It's likely that we will tend to see things more in terms of one dimension than the others (that's simply an observation, not a judgement). We need to be aware of our 'default' mode of thinking and work hard to ensure we include possibilities from the other aspects of being made in God's image.]

Using this creational paradigm, how would you approach John's situation? What are the significant factors here? How do those factors inter-relate to each other? In what ways could you seek to help him?

still

Dad, the days just
go rolling by and,
somehow, I still
feel it's not right
that you aren't here
to see them.
Part of me never
wants to accept that
all memories are now
defined, limited
and cemented in
place, like the
crazy paving I
helped you lay, back
in the summer of
'78. But it

can't be denied,
and I know that
everyone has to
live in these
streets someday,
that maturity demands
an acceptance
of what is
and what is
not, any longer.
When

you came to fetch
me home from college
that last time, and
I couldn't help but
cry at the passing of
those days and the joys
of those friends,
you just told me
to do what I needed to
do, but make
sure I told you the
directions
for home - so
I hope you won't

mind that the tears
still roll
down.

Cash & Co

BBC4 can be an absolute delight - it shows the most interesting and enjoyable music programmes. Tonight I came across an old Johnny Cash show (well, a best of, from over the years). He was joined by various guests, some duetting with him (Linda Ronstadt; Joni Mitchell) and others performing solo (Neil Young, singing the beautifully, and angrily, sad The Needle & The Damage Done) and Cash himself (a superb, first-time-in-public The Man In Black).

And then there was Derek & The Dominoes (Eric Clapton & friends). When they finished their song, Cash joined them for a bit of chat and then on walked Carl Perkins and they all performed Matchbox together - what great guitar playing!

It was a riot.

why the blues matters

The blues artists....sang, giving voice to their hope for deliverance, their hope that Sunday's coming. The blues invites us not only to embrace the curse but also simultaneously to embrace the cross. To see the broken made whole, the lost found. We see the exile and the stranger make their way back home. "I was blind, but now I see," says the classic hymn. Not through some cheap happy ending, but in the identification and the defeat of all sorrow and sin in the Man of Sorrows on the cross, the most solemn minor key ever sounded in human history. In short, the blues helps us understand what theologians call redemption, all of the realities of life under the cross.

Stephen J Nicholls, Getting The Blues, pp.34,35

lights, please!

Pontefract's Christmas lights were officially turned on this evening. It's a big thing, in a small way - some stalls in the street, a podium from which someone said stuff we couldn't make out because the volume was too high and he help the mic too close to his mouth. And then there was a band! A four-piece, keyboards, lead guitar, double bass and drums, playing some old rock'n'roll classics. They were great!

I hope Santa's grotto wasn't too grotty.

Doings

Finally through the Apple App store process and promptly bought & installed on my iPod touch.

It lacks a bit of functionality so I emailed their support line. Got a reply within minutes, explaining something of their roadmap for improving the app. Impressive.

tiny colour movies

Remember John Foxx? I do - just about: Underpass. Yes; quite. Well, here's an interesting & enjoyable album of mini-soundtracks. Quite reminiscent of Vangelis and JMJ, but not in a derivative sense (Foxx was in at the start of it all).

Worth a listen.

an important question

On a recent Q&A, someone asked John Piper, "What role do you think your temperament plays in determining your view of God and the kind of Christianity you live out?"

That's a great question. It's one that I need to reflect on (but without getting too stuck inside my own navel).

For Piper's (very helpful) answer, go here - first video, about 6 minutes in.

the great books (xiii) - the lovely bones

In some ways, The Lovely Bones is best read alongside author Alice Sebold's memoir, Lucky. The latter is her account of her rape and near-death as a young college student; the former is her novel of a young girl's murder and subsequent life in heaven (we'll qualify that in a moment). Both are harrowing; both are, in their own ways, hopeful. Both are well-written; neither is maudlin or brutal.

Susie Salmon, the victim in The Lovely Bones, writes from, and of, heaven but the glimpses of it are relatively few; its concerns are more with life on earth and the impact of her murder on her family and friends. Sebold's writing on the topic is sharp and clear - almost icily so at times.

The heaven portrayed here is thin and watery; its happiness is detached and dulled. And Susie's own reconciliation with her death is via a consummated relationship in a brokered return to earth. What becomes clear, perhaps unintentionally so, is the fact that a disembodied reality cannot ultimately contain the fulness of joy we were made for.

And it will not; our adoption as sons will be completed with the redemption of our bodies.