Question: What do we do with the fact that there have been billions of people who died before Christ came to be among us on this earth? Or what about those who never learned about the saving power of Christ? How is it fair that these never had a chance for salvation? What guidance do the Scriptures give us on this issue, and what has the historic Church said about it?
For many years I have been fascinated by the Wesleyan theological tradition — which happens to be the theological tradition of the United Methodist Church and many other denominations. And in studying this, I discovered that the historic Methodist approach to this issue is a bit different from the ideas commonly heard in the evangelical world today.
What if Christianity is not primarily about what you believe but about what you live? What if its not about your opinions but your choices? What if the Final Judgement before God is about how you lived your life, not what religious opinions you espoused — or even what religious experiences you had? What if our actions are more important than our words? What if what God really wants are people of compassion and patience and peace (in fact, a community of people committed to those ideals)? What if the most important expression of our faith is not a Doctrinal Statement signed but a life well lived, under the Lordship of Christ? What if the real evidence of faith is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22, 23)? What if God wants us to be making this world a better place — and we’ve spent our days hiding in our churches? What if the real scandal of Christianity is the huge gap that lies between our Biblical and theological knowledge, and the actual lives that we lead from day to day?
How did the clergy role manage to develop from preacher to pastor to CEO? And, is this a good thing?
John & Charles Wesley
The early Methodists, clearly saw the preaching role as of foremost importance. John Wesley was a preacher. Yes, he was certainly an organizer as well, but preaching was foremost. He traveled on horseback all over England preaching — often several times a day. Charles Wesley was a preacher. Adam Clarke was a preacher — his commentary on the entire Bible was a side project. All his learning was in the service of preaching.
Yes, the early Methodists believed in the value of “visiting house to house” but it’s clear from the way they talk about it, that they meant teaching from house to house — including the instruction of children. It was an extension of the preaching role.
The early Methodist preachers in this country were evangelists, who rarely stayed in one place for long. The leadership and (what we think of as) pastoral roles had to be fulfilled by lay leaders and class leaders and others in the local church. The task of preaching was too important — the circuit riding preacher needed to be on the move, spreading the Word to new people.
Older churches in the revivalistic model had Sunday morning services, Sunday evening services and midweek prayer services. Then there were revival meetings — often twice a year — and camp meeting in the summer.
But, somewhere along the line, clergy developed from being primarily preachers to being primarily pastors. The emphasis shifted from spreading the Word to tending the flock. Someone more knowledgeable than I might be able to say when this shift began and why.
But, here the focus shifts. It’s not about winning new people, or deepening the commitment and knowledge of the church people — it is taking care of the people you have. The emphasis now turns to meeting the needs of people — the church that does it the best has the best ministry. Attention turns inward.
It’s not that preachers can’t be pastors or pastors can’t be preachers — the issue is which role is uppermost. Which is most important? I remember an otherwise a very fine United Methodist bishop exhorting the clergy at Annual Confereence that people would forgive them their poor sermons if they truly demonstrated that they loved them. (And in my cynicism I mentally replied: “Well, you’ve never been to my house. I guess I can forgive you nothing.”) In this paradigm preaching is not important — the clergy person needs to be an excellent care-giver — and this is what will strengthen the church.
But, then the focus shifted again as people said that clergy needed to be primarily leaders. Now the insights began to come from the business world. Preacher / Pastors, now needed to be trained in organizational management. This, it was claimed, was the great deficiency in Seminary training — no classes in leadership!
Now the uppermost image was the Chief Executive Officer. The clergy person was a leader, teaching others to lead. The clergy had been reading the wrong books. The books that would be most helpful to them would be the same books that were most helpful in the business world.
And the expectations are now piled up on each other — preacher, pastor, CEO. I have read some people who say that this is the most challenging era in which to serve in the ordained ministry — the expectations are too high, and too complex. How likely is it that one person will be gifted and effective in all these areas? And, which is most important?
Maybe now that so many churches are declining and dying — and so few young people are (quite understandably) going into ordained ministry — it is time to take a new look at this. Has the church been killing itself? Yes. Of course, it has — there is simply no one else to blame.
Maybe a newer, more missional, paradigm will arise — maybe it already has. I’d like tho think so. And as the old sinks under the weight of its growing expectations and plummeting effectiveness — maybe some people will remember again how important it is to tell the story of Jesus in compelling and life changing ways. Maybe they will find the ways to do it. Maybe something good will arise out of the rubble of the failing church.
Psalm 135 is essentially a Psalm of praise. We are called into praise from the very opening “Hallelujah” (praise Yah).
It is a song of worship and it calls us into an attitude of worship. As Adam Clarke says: “It is an exhortation addressed to the priests and Levites, and to all Israel, to publish the praises of the Lord.”
The opening verses are an exhortation to worship. Verses 3-5, and 6, 7 extol God’s greatness. Verses 8-12 remind the people of Israel of God’s saving acts in their history: their deliverance from Egypt and the defeat of legendary kings. Then, they are called again to praise.
Remembrance has a significance for our faith. It is good to recount for ourselves the answered prayers we have experienced — and the unexpected blessing of God on our lives. The Bible is a book of remembrance: recounting the deeds of the Lord God in times past, as a way of illuminating our lives in the present. We know God through what God has done. For Christians, it is the story of Jesus — before any other — that calls forth our praise. And, so it is that in this psalm, the remembrance of God’s deliverance in the past, calls forth praise.
I remember the morning (many years ago) when Psalm 135 became memorable to me. I started reading and meditating on this psalm on a stormy morning. There was a thunderstorm raging outside. And, I slowly read these lines: “He it is who makes the clouds rise at the end of the earth; he makes lightnings for the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses.” (v.7 NRSV) So, now, when I read this again, I am reminded of that morning.
But, for now, let’s begin at the beginning. Notice how it starts.
There is a lion roaring, but only the prophet can hear. I said that the opening editorial note in the book of Amos (1:1) already raises an issue for me. The issue is: Who speaks for God? It may not be the person we thought was authorized to do so. Which also brings to mind another question: ‘To Whom (if anyone) does God speak?’” The prophet is the one who sees what others do not. There is an interesting detail in the way Amos 1:1 tells us about this prophecy: Amos spoke what he saw. “The words of Amos… which he saw….” Amos conveyed the sense of what he saw. But, in Amos 1:2 it is more a matter of what he heard:
The very opening words of the book of the prophet Amos raise a question for us. The question is this: Who Speaks for God?
The scholars often remind us that the prophets were people who spoke for God. Thus, they were primarily forth-tellers, not primarily fore-tellers. It is a point that needs to be repeated often. The word prophet does not mean “someone who predicts things.” It really means “someone who speaks the Word of God.” The prophets enabled the people to hear what God was saying to them at their own particular place and time in history.
For some reason, in the popular mind, prophesy has become connected with prediction. When popular preachers speak of what they call “Bible Prophesy” they are most often referring to Bible Apocalyptic: like the highly symbolic material in the book of Daniel or the book of Revelation. But, this is not the heart of prophesy. The heart of prophesy is: “Thus says the LORD.”
There are times when God seems absent. It seems that direction and blessing are gone. We have no sense that our prayers are being heard. We may be in a time of stress and trial, where there seems to be no relief in sight. Service that formerly brought us joy becomes dry and unrewarding. And we ask: Why?
Christian readers need to continually remind themselves: the Old Testament believers had no developed doctrine of the afterlife. In much of Christianity the idea of the afterlife — of rewards and punishments in the world to come — dominates the thinking of believers. In Christianity, this has become such a commonplace idea we must consciously remind ourselves that it is missing (for the most part) from the thinking of the Old Testament writers.
It’s not just Christians who may be surprised — or even shocked — by the absence of this theme. There are some observers who have theorized that religion exists as a way of addressing the fear of death. If that were the case, it would be impossible to account for the Jewish religion in Old Testament times (or: the religion of the ancient Greeks at the time of Homer, either. Just read The Iliad sometime.).
Because the believers of Old Testament times had no developed doctrine of the afterlife, they tended to see the issues of right & wrong / rewards & punishments as playing themselves out in this life. For example, you can see this clearly in the book of Proverbs: do right and things will go well for you, do wrong and you will suffer.
Forgiveness — the pardon of sins — is a central issue in Christianity. Jesus has made it so — and has taught us to pray: “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”
Yet, it is also such a difficult issue. When there is a deep wound, the pain is still there, and the anger still arises. In times like this, we wonder: do the words mean anything? When time and time again, you have to pray “Lord, give me the grace to forgive my enemy” you have to wonder if there is ever hope for you. There have been many times, when I have wondered this about myself. And, I know I’m not alone in having this problem.
Those people who have done things that have caused wounds — especially those who have done it quite deliberately and knowingly — are hard to forgive. Many people have been treated unfairly and unjustly. People have been abused. And, the problem with forgiveness is that it seems to say that all that was okay. To let go of the anger and the outrage seems to give in to injustice — to give permission for the abusers to do it again.
