I don't know how many of you caught this headline this past week. The Barna Group released released this nugget about Christians (both clergy and laity) struggling with the concept of "Christian maturity." So I wondered how I would answer the question, "How do you define Christian maturity?" Ah, but maybe an even better question would be, "How would John Wesley define Christian maturity?"
"Christian Perfection."
There. That was easy.
Now all that's left is living it.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Why I'm a United Methodist (and other thoughts)
When God called me to the ministry I was living in a town that had three churches - a predominantly Spanish-speaking Catholic church, a single-family Baptist church, and a United Methodist congregation. Coming from the polar opposites of Mormonism and store-front Pentecostalism, all I knew about the Methodist church was that, along with all other mainline churches, it was a Church of Laodicea. Lukewarm and nauseating to God. (sigh)
But I had to go to church, so off to the Methodist church I want every Sunday. Even though the pastor was way too liberal. An Illiff grad. One Christmas Eve he read from some of the Gnostic gospels. (shudder)
But it was while attending this church that I heard God call. "OK," I said, "But, Lord, you're gonna have to lead me, 'cause I don't know what it means to be a pastor. Just, please, not the Methodist church!" This seemed like a good deal to me, and one that I was sure God agreed with!
But in God's unfathomable wisdom, by many circuitous twists and turns, He led me here. But many times it hasn't felt like I fit. Square peg, round hole. But one of the things the Methodists did was introduce me to John Wesley. Wow. And after I read the first fifty-three sermons, I started on the rest of his writings. Man, this guy got it. And the more I read, the more I felt the witness of the Holy Spirit, teaching me, convicting me, encouraging me. This stuff was righteous. If this was what Methodists believed, I was home!
Problem was, I couldn't find many Methodists who did believe this. Or many who even admitted reading Wesley. Oh, there were lots of books telling them what Wesley taught, and what Wesley thought, and what Wesley would teach or think if he were here today, but nobody read Wesley.
So today there are even more books on Wesley, but when was the last time you just read Wesley? If you're a United Methodist, your doctrinal standards are 1) the Articles of Religion (and the Confession of Faith), 2) John Wesley's Notes on the New Testament, and (drum roll, please) 3) the Standard Sermons. There's no simple Small Catechism, or Wesminster Confession, there's 53 (or 44, if you're a lightweight) Sermons to inform the way you understand your Christianity.
So that's why I'm chasing Wesley. I want to imitate him as he imitated Paul imitating Christ. Well, OK, maybe not in every detail of his life, but I'll be happy to die with my bills paid and enough money to pay for a modest funeral in my pocket, having spent my life in winning souls.
But I had to go to church, so off to the Methodist church I want every Sunday. Even though the pastor was way too liberal. An Illiff grad. One Christmas Eve he read from some of the Gnostic gospels. (shudder)
But it was while attending this church that I heard God call. "OK," I said, "But, Lord, you're gonna have to lead me, 'cause I don't know what it means to be a pastor. Just, please, not the Methodist church!" This seemed like a good deal to me, and one that I was sure God agreed with!
But in God's unfathomable wisdom, by many circuitous twists and turns, He led me here. But many times it hasn't felt like I fit. Square peg, round hole. But one of the things the Methodists did was introduce me to John Wesley. Wow. And after I read the first fifty-three sermons, I started on the rest of his writings. Man, this guy got it. And the more I read, the more I felt the witness of the Holy Spirit, teaching me, convicting me, encouraging me. This stuff was righteous. If this was what Methodists believed, I was home!
Problem was, I couldn't find many Methodists who did believe this. Or many who even admitted reading Wesley. Oh, there were lots of books telling them what Wesley taught, and what Wesley thought, and what Wesley would teach or think if he were here today, but nobody read Wesley.
So today there are even more books on Wesley, but when was the last time you just read Wesley? If you're a United Methodist, your doctrinal standards are 1) the Articles of Religion (and the Confession of Faith), 2) John Wesley's Notes on the New Testament, and (drum roll, please) 3) the Standard Sermons. There's no simple Small Catechism, or Wesminster Confession, there's 53 (or 44, if you're a lightweight) Sermons to inform the way you understand your Christianity.
So that's why I'm chasing Wesley. I want to imitate him as he imitated Paul imitating Christ. Well, OK, maybe not in every detail of his life, but I'll be happy to die with my bills paid and enough money to pay for a modest funeral in my pocket, having spent my life in winning souls.
Starting at the beginning (sort of)
It all started with a nervous breakdown. Mine. Well, it started with God saying, "Let there be..." but I don't think I want to go back that far. But maybe a little further back then the NB. So...
I was raised in the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Reorganized Mormons, one friend called us. OK, not Brigham Young Mormons, but rather the Joseph Smith III kind. The Book of Mormon being the main commonality. So there were stories of the Nephites and Lamanites, and the struggle between good and evil, and it was all so, well..., mythical. But it was also very Gnostic. That is, we had the secret truth, and everybody else was wrong. God loved us more than others, because we accepted the Truth.
I guess it was about the time I was 7 (what, 1965?) that the Jehovah Witnesses started stopping by every so often, asking Mom if she wanted help understanding the Bible. She was raised German Reformed by parents who valued right thinking, done dispassionately. Yeah, the Chozen Frozen. She went to a Kathryn Kuhlman crusade in '45 at the age of 19, and experienced a "strangely warmed heart". She also put a $5 bill in the offering, and when her father found out he forbade her to ever "...dabble in that nonsense again!" She left home shortly after that, moving out to Denver to start her new life on her terms. That's where she met Dad, and being a dutiful wife of the '50's, converted to his religion.
So twenty years after her "new birth" experience, she had to admit that what she was hearing taught at church was neither what she remembered being taught as a child, nor did it resonate with that almost forgotten part of her soul that had come alive at that crusade many years ago. But she also understood that what the Witnesses were spouting wasn't any more right. She became aware of a spiritual hunger, one that wouldn't go away.
A co-worker invited Mom and Dad to a Bible study in her home. Well, the lady said it was a Bible study. In fact, it was a group of pentecostals looking to suck in more unsuspecting souls into their dellusion. (OK, that's tongue in cheek. Read Wesley's sermon on Enthusiasm.) So by the time I was 11, I had become (gasp!) a Pentecostal. One of those who believed that we had the secret Truth. (Didn't I write that earlier???) Only this time we had proof. We SPOKE IN TONGUES. See? That proved it.
Fastforward from age 11 to age 26. Failed marriage. Life adrift. New wife. Got fired from job because I couldn't keep my office organized. (undiagnosed ADD.) A great deal of self-loathing and little sense of self-worth. Depression?? Oh, yeah. Which was when I finally let God get hold of me at a very basic level. And after helping get on my feet, He spoke to me.
I was raised in the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Reorganized Mormons, one friend called us. OK, not Brigham Young Mormons, but rather the Joseph Smith III kind. The Book of Mormon being the main commonality. So there were stories of the Nephites and Lamanites, and the struggle between good and evil, and it was all so, well..., mythical. But it was also very Gnostic. That is, we had the secret truth, and everybody else was wrong. God loved us more than others, because we accepted the Truth.
I guess it was about the time I was 7 (what, 1965?) that the Jehovah Witnesses started stopping by every so often, asking Mom if she wanted help understanding the Bible. She was raised German Reformed by parents who valued right thinking, done dispassionately. Yeah, the Chozen Frozen. She went to a Kathryn Kuhlman crusade in '45 at the age of 19, and experienced a "strangely warmed heart". She also put a $5 bill in the offering, and when her father found out he forbade her to ever "...dabble in that nonsense again!" She left home shortly after that, moving out to Denver to start her new life on her terms. That's where she met Dad, and being a dutiful wife of the '50's, converted to his religion.
So twenty years after her "new birth" experience, she had to admit that what she was hearing taught at church was neither what she remembered being taught as a child, nor did it resonate with that almost forgotten part of her soul that had come alive at that crusade many years ago. But she also understood that what the Witnesses were spouting wasn't any more right. She became aware of a spiritual hunger, one that wouldn't go away.
A co-worker invited Mom and Dad to a Bible study in her home. Well, the lady said it was a Bible study. In fact, it was a group of pentecostals looking to suck in more unsuspecting souls into their dellusion. (OK, that's tongue in cheek. Read Wesley's sermon on Enthusiasm.) So by the time I was 11, I had become (gasp!) a Pentecostal. One of those who believed that we had the secret Truth. (Didn't I write that earlier???) Only this time we had proof. We SPOKE IN TONGUES. See? That proved it.
Fastforward from age 11 to age 26. Failed marriage. Life adrift. New wife. Got fired from job because I couldn't keep my office organized. (undiagnosed ADD.) A great deal of self-loathing and little sense of self-worth. Depression?? Oh, yeah. Which was when I finally let God get hold of me at a very basic level. And after helping get on my feet, He spoke to me.
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