My wife and I had the privilege of going to Europe a couple years ago. Upon visiting numerous grand cathedrals, I wrote this in my journal:
Most European cathedrals are museums – the most elaborate in the world. At Notre Dame in Paris, 1,000 sweaty tourists are wandering in this unbelievable piece of architecture while 40 worshipers are celebrating mass in the chancel. No reverence, just sightseeing. No worship, just flash photography. The Frauenkirche in Munich (the museum Pope Benedict calls “home”). Notre Dame and Saint Chapelle in Paris. St. Peter’s and the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. Centuries (and millenia) old, these structures are some of the greatest architectural masterpieces in the universe. They are fine destinations for family trips and tour buses full of fanny packs. There are more flashes from tourist cameras in one hour than there are worshipers in one year. In the eyes of most Europeans and many tourists, Christianity is mythology - a nice moral story to teach your children, but mostly untrue. Recently I was speaking with a non-Christian who called Christianity "mythology." It re-surfaced my European observation. Throughout the history of the church, when Christianity becomes firmly institutionalized, it often gets reduced to mythology. Quite frankly, I'm uncomfortable with America being a "Christian nation." It is all too easy for faith in the risen Jesus to become a cultural and societal phenomenon played out in political ideology. But that's for another blog post. The early Christians at Pentecost would violently disagree with such mythological treatment. Wind and fire accompanied an impassioned rhetoric that claimed a crucified criminal to be the worldwide King. A new Kingdom is advancing, subversive as it may appear. We dare not tame this radical proclamation, nor reduce it to a moral lesson in good living. I don't fault non-Christians for perceiving Christianity to be mythology. They may actually be observing things accurately. I fault Christians for reducing the most compelling narrative in the world to a cartoon-ish bedtime story reserved for Christmas and Easter holidays. God, forgive us.
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Conversations with young adults increasingly tend toward discontent over the economic challenges facing our country. I define contentment as “being satisfied with what you have.” There seems to be little satisfaction with unemployment, student loans, credit card debt, and driving a beat-up 1992 Ford Escort. Contentment is hard to come by these days, as we are in a valley of discontent. Our Great Recession will prove to be formative for the generation entering the workforce during these years. The unemployment rate among young adults is considerably greater than the current national 8.1%. As baby boomers hold off retirement, the generation entering the work force is bumping into a wall. This is creating immense anxiety and frustration. A recent Newsweek magazine article cited that in 1960, almost 70 percent of men were married, had children, and started careers by age 30. Today less than 30 percent can say the same. This generation of males may be the first in our country’s history to be downwardly mobile. Parents have always said, “I want my children to have more than I did.” But after generations of progress, there is now regression. And discontent. This is a prime opportunity for the church to bring the gospel into a generation’s most formative years. There are monuments that mark each generation, such as the Great Depression, WWII, Vietnam. Along with 9/11, the Great Recession will affect young adults for decades to come. It will inform how they see the world and how they respond to adversity. How the church responds to the discontentment of this generation will be crucial to how young adults see the church for the rest of their lives. First, this crisis is a prime opportunity to teach biblical contentment. Paul says in I Timothy 6:6, “There is great gain in godliness with contentment.” These are teachable moments in one’s life. For a generation that has generally grown up with prosperity, such anxiety is a venue for developing character. They must ask, “What do I really need? What is ‘daily bread’? Could it be that what I have right now is what I need and what God wants?” Second, the church must carefully apply the gospel. From preachers to lay members, the whole church must be prepared to speak clearly to a generation frustrated and anxious. A young adult may ask, “What does Jesus have to do with me living in my parent’s basement with an empty bank account?” Such circumstances challenge one’s identity, security, and meaning in life. A starting place to speak the gospel is to reaffirm that identity, security, and meaning are given to us in Christ (Galatians 2:2). Our worth is not in what we do, but what’s been done to us. The Son of God “loved me and gave himself for me.” This gives me worth and value, even when it seems nobody wants me. Finally, like all crises, this is a moment for faith. Faith is holding fast to God precisely in the midst of uncertainties (Heb. 11:1). Martin Luther, in the Large Catechism, relates the first commandment to such faith that “clings” to God alone. Times of anxiety and frustration are where a depth of faith is drawn out. In discontent, everything else has let us down. It is here that we find contentment in the One who never let’s us down. Some practical suggestions for engaging frustrated and anxious young adults:
While observing an ore ship on Lake Superior, fighting the NE winds out of Duluth, MN.
I set my face to the wind; My bow to the breakers. I point my nose in the untamed direction; My hull to the white-capped waves. I have seen the casualties of the tempest; Vessels rusting in the deep. But they had not my courage, nor my certainty. They knew not my compass, nor my harbor. I embark from the place of freedom. I come from the sacred port. I journey with One who has been to the distant shores. I am captained by the Keeper of all horizons. “The ship is safest when it is in port. But that’s not what ships were made for.”
- Paulo Coelho There is a time to harbor and rest. And then there is a time to set sail and face the pounding surf. It would seem much easier to sit at the port in a static state of comfort and ease. It's much hard to follow the compass into a land-less horizon. Such sailing is risky and perilous. Lest we should tremble with fear, know that the Great Commission (Matt. 28:19-20) and Great Commandment (Matt. 22:37-39) demand the dangerous. Love takes us into open seas that require the sailor to be relentless and tenacious, courageous and brave. Sail boldly, for you know the harbor from which you depart and the Captain who leads on. My latest contribution to the Regeneration blog.
There is a gap in my postings, partly due to a trip I had last week. Once a year I join five other younger pastors and we sit at the feet of older, wiser pastors and leaders. This is our professional development. Most professions have some sort of continuing education, whether a certification, a degree, or professional learning hours. I feel that my job is no different. I must always be growing.
Charles Spurgeon once said, "We work as if it all depends on us, and we know that it all depends on God." So I work my tail off. I have to be a better administrator and organizer. I have to be a better teacher and preacher. I have to learn budgeting and finance better. I have to hone leadership and management skills. I must grow in counseling and crisis care. I must mature in the spiritual disciplines of prayer, study of the word, and meditation. Yet while I work as if it all depends on me, I also know that it all depends on God. In all my working, sweating, and heavy lifting, there is grace. God does stuff that I couldn't imagine. So I continue with professional development, and God continues to develop me. |
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