Last December I read an article over at Reformation 21 that was (as they say in current affairs TV) “a story no parent can afford to miss”. It was a brilliant and frightening piece that Stephen Nichols had written about a genre of literature that he had christened (or de-christened!) ‘Apostasy Lit’—“a genre, usually taking the form of a memoir, in which the protagonist reflects on and recants her Christian, usually of the fundamentalist variety, upbringing”.
My family and I have just returned from two weeks in Utah and Idaho—the areas in the USA (and possibly in the world) with the highest concentration of members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons). While their theology is completely graceless and works-based, it was interesting to observe the way they do things. Perhaps there are things we can learn from them.
There were only three of us in Bible study group the other morning, and the other two guys were both in sales—one in property and one in software. We were talking about how to encourage other people with the message of the Bible (whether Christian or non-Christian), about why we fail to do so, and so on.
I started to say that I sometimes find it difficult to talk easily about Christian things, especially with non-Christians, because I’m not a natural ‘salesman’ sort of personality—“Not like you two guys”. But one of my friends pulled me up short.
I retired in 2001. Back then, I had to decide how I would use my time and how I would be involved in the life of my local church, St Paul’s Carlingford. But I didn’t want to rush too quickly into new commitments, so I deliberately chose not to do anything new for six months until I had sorted things out. In hindsight, that period was most difficult. Since then, however, I’ve had a ball! Let me explain.
Following Gordon’s excellent little post on the place of confession in our gatherings, Michael Johnson asked an equally excellent question in the comments: “I realize it’s not directly related to this post’s topic, but might you briefly elaborate on how you would describe why you gather with God’s people on Sunday mornings (or whatever time you meet)?”
The only thing wrong with this question, Michael, is your opening disclaimer. It’s a very related question, so thanks for asking it!
I was recently reminded of my approaching middle age while teaching a Scripture class to a bunch of 12-year-olds. We were learning about the kings of Israel and Judah. At one point in the lesson, I told them that many of these kings were wicked, and therefore God’s judgement came upon Israel and Judah. My pronouncement was met with a set of puzzled stares. What was confusing about this seemingly straightforward statement?
Song words used to be fixed in our hymnbooks or on overhead transparencies. If you wanted to modernize “Thou o’er death hast won” or paraphrase how God is “ineffably sublime”, you had to petition your denomination for a whole new publication. Today, everyone can publish whatever and whenever they like. We cut and paste lyrics into pew bulletins and, increasingly, into the latest data projection package.
With this shift into self-publishing, we seem to have decided that all lyrics are public domain. At least, where I come from, if you don’t like the theology of something, you simply change the offending word or phrase as easily as you might change its font or colour. We want to be a little bit Hillsong, but baulk at singing to “the darling of heaven”. We adore the popular triumphalism of ‘In Christ Alone’, but are hesitant to commend its theology that on the cross “Glory died”. We subtly cross the line from being a publisher to being a co-writer with the professionals.
I’ve been thinking a bit lately about contextualization—not so much the contextualization of language (‘charms’ and ‘calms’ and so on), but the contextualization of lifestyle: becoming “all things to all people” (as in 1 Corinthians 9:22).
My thoughts were sparked by an evening we spent with our next door neighbours recently. As Dave and I were clearing things away at the end of the night, I reflected on the evening and the way that I’d approached it.
Before our guests arrived, I had chosen an outfit that approximated the style of clothes my neighbour wears, I made an extra-gourmet salad and I bought a couple of fancy cheeses. Over dinner and afterwards, I spent a lot of time talking about mortgages and extensions and consumer products. I had also talked a lot about work—the work I used to do (before kids)—in an instinctive effort to establish the kind of education and career credentials that might be taken more seriously than my current job as a full-time mum. And finally (this is the killer one!) I found myself squirming in my seat, wanting to change the subject, when they asked my four-year-old daughter what her favourite thing in the world was, and she answered, “Jesus”.
All this got me wondering what’s the difference between contextualization (or whatever word you want to use to describe doing what it says in 1 Corinthians 9:19-23) and chameleonization (or whatever word you use to describe not doing what it says in Matthew 5:13-16)?
Drawing the longest bow yet in this series, I am going to attempt to connect child-raising techniques and the history of word changes in Wesley’s ‘O for a thousand tongues’ in order to talk about contextualizing the gospel. If you’re as interested as I am in how I’m going to do that, read on.
‘Jars of clay’ is a column featuring stories about people speaking the Bible’s life-changing word in every situation. In our first-ever instalment, Karen Beilharz reminisces about the year she spent trying to introduce God to her friends. (more…)
According my trusty Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus, the following are synonyms for ‘pedant’: dogmatist, purist, formalist, quibbler, hair-splitter, casuist, sophist and nitpicker. Given that theologians study dogmatics, doesn’t that tend them towards pedantry? And if so, how could I say in my last post that church planters need to be theologians in order to contextualize the gospel?
Theologians are as risk-averse as actuaries, so how can they contextualize the gospel successfully?
Psalm 53, to be precise.
Psalm 53:5, to be preciser.
Okay, so if you really wanted to connect the gospel with the people in the community, you just know intuitively that telling them that they’re under judgement is marketing suicide. It’s a bit like selling your medicine by asking people to come along to a discussion group so that they can share about their favourite disease.
Christians who believe judgement is real often respond, therefore, by hiding the information about God’s wrath inside the fine print of their mind. After all, they reason, the Bible reserves its worst words of judgement for religious insiders.
I loved Jean’s post on the tongue-tied Christian who struggles with the snappy response to evangelistic opportunities that open up in conversations. I guess I recognized myself in the mirror.
By providence, I’d just begun reading a book on evangelism and apologetics by Greg Koukl called Tactics: A Game Plan for Discussing your Christian Convictions.
Although he talks about “controlling conversations” in a way I’m not quite comfortable with, so far, there’s stacks that’s helpful.
Isn’t it delicious to share stories with a friend, a spouse, a brother or a sister: “Remember the time when …”? Whether it’s funny stories, tragic stories, joyful moments or painful recollections, it’s the stories that bring us close—that breed familiarity, friendship and love. Shared stories are the glue of relationship.