“Give your servant success today by granting him favor in the presence of this man.” (Nehemiah 1:11b, NIV)

As you’re probably aware, the Book of Nehemiah opens with a surprising revelation for Nehemiah.  Despite the return led by Zerubbabel and the decrees of Cyrus and Darius, the Jerusalem remains a city disgraced.  It’s wall lies in ruins, and it’s precincts are exposed and defenseless.

And as you’re probably also aware, when Nehemiah hears a report of this situation from his brother Hanani, his first response is one of prayer.  It’s a natural response for a man of faith, nothing surprising here.

But what is surprising is how, exactly, Nehemiah prays:

LORD, the God of heaven, the great and awesome God, who keeps his covenant of love with those who love him and keep his commandments, let your ear be attentive and your eyes open to hear the prayer your servant is praying before you day and night for your servants, the people of Israel. I confess the sins we Israelites, including myself and my father’s family, have committed against you. We have acted very wickedly toward you. We have not obeyed the commands, decrees and laws you gave your servant Moses.

Remember the instruction you gave your servant Moses, saying, ‘If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the nations,  but if you return to me and obey my commands, then even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them from there and bring them to the place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name.’

They are your servants and your people, whom you redeemed by your great strength and your mighty hand. Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of this your servant and to the prayer of your servants who delight in revering your name. Give your servant success today by granting him favor in the presence of this man. (Nehemiah 1:5-11, NIV)

Notice what Nehemiah says.

And notice what he doesn’t.

Nehemiah receives devastating news, yet when he prays, he’s far more interested in whom he prays to than what he is praying about.  His focus, first and foremost, is on God and his promises.  His problems aren’t even mentioned until the very last sentence of his prayer.

And when he finally does mention them, notice what he says: “Grant me favor in the presence of this man.”  You do remember who “this man” is, right?  This man is none other than Artaxerxes, self proclaimed king of kings, emperor of all Persia, hailed by his people as the god of heaven, the one who, at least according to his name, is the one true ruler.  He is the one who has the power to issue the incontrovertible decree.  He is the one who holds Nehemiah’s very life in his hands, who, with a word, can order him struck down for having the insolence to suggest he change his mind regarding Jerusalem.

Or at least, that’s how it looks to those who see with eyes of flesh.

Nehemiah, however, knows better.

YHWH, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and who through Nehemiah’s own name promises comfort, YHWH is the God of Heaven and Earth.  Despite claims to the contrary, YHWH is the King of Kings, and he alone holds life and death in his hands. No decree of man is ever incontrovertible when YHWH is involved.

And so in comparison to the greatness of his God, Nehemiah’s king is nothing but this man.

When Nehemiah prays, he keeps things in perspective.

How about you?

Is your focus on His power or your problems?

You know the feeling. Perhaps you just watched a coworker get all the credit for a project you worked together on. Perhaps the friend who always comes to you for help when finances are tight just went on an elaborate vacation while your financial situation kept you at home. Someone else just landed what you’ve been dreaming of, be it the dream job, the new home, the opportunity of a lifetime.  Whatever it is, you wanted it, they got it, and you’re left dealing with the disappointment and resentment that what you wanted just passed you by.

Welcome to envy.

So far in our series The Seven Deadly Sins of Youth Ministry we’ve looked at the ways gluttony and wrath can get in the way of our ministry.  By way of review, the traditional list of seven capital vices includes:

• superbia (pride)
• avaritia (greed)
• luxuria (lust)
• invidia (envy)
• gula (gluttony)
• ira (wrath)
• acedia (sloth?)

Today we’ll tackle invidia, also known as envy.

Beware the Evil Eye

The Latin list of seven capital vices includes invidia, often translated as “envy.” Literally invidia means “to look against” and refers to the resentful way in which the envious eye those they envy. It’s a reminder that envy is not so much about our attitude toward that which we wish was our own, as it is the resentment we feel toward those who have what we wish we had.  Greed is a warped attitude toward things. Envy is a warped attitude toward people that rises from our bad attitude toward things.

Different cultures around the world have long understood the danger of the evil eye, and have invented numerous ways to ward it off.  Superstition warns that when someone looks at you with invidia, misfortune often follows.  Sickness, calamity, droughts, floods, even death were attributed to receiving the evil eye.

Because of the dangers involved in being given the evil eye, a whole system of gestures, words and talismans have developed in different cultures to protect against misfortune.  In some cultures a dot is placed behind the ear of a beautiful person to ensure that the evil eye doesn’t bring misfortune.  In others a talisman shaped in the form of a blue hand with an eye painted in the center is warn as a ward against the danger of envy.

But in listing invidia among the seven capital vices, the church reminds us that the danger posed to the one envying is far greater than the danger to the one being envied.  Granted, envy frequently gives rise to all sorts of violence towards those who are envied, but not every time.  However, envy always does violence to the one doing the envying.

We spend so much time trying to protect ourselves from the envy outside, when the greatest danger comes from within.

Apt to Envy

For those of us involved in ministry that’s bad news. Let’s face it, we’re seldom on the receiving end of the evil eye. Frequently the rewards for which we labor aren’t things that can be seen, let alone envied. And that alone is enough to make us apt to envy.

I remember working at my first ministry position watching as friends from college moved on to lucrative positions and adventurous assignments while my wife and I struggled to make ends meet.  I know what it means to look at life through an evil eye.  Despite the fact that I was living my dream of ministry, despite the fact that I was making friendships that will last a lifetime, despite the fact that God was meeting our needs, it was far to easy to focus on what others had rather than recognizing my own blessings.

This kind of lopsided comparison often is as the root of envy.  We see only one aspect of the blessings that others enjoy and compare that to what we have or don’t have.  Seldom is envy the result of careful consideration of the big picture.  It’s an emotional reaction to imbalance.

So Many Things to Envy

When we think of envy, we frequently think of materialism.  Often our envy is inspired by the things, financial and material, that others enjoy and that we lack.  We judge the imbalance in light of what we feel we deserve, and resent the fact that they get what we don’t.  But not all envy is material.

It’s also very easy to envy prominence.  Whether it is the titles offered others or the recognition they receive, we frequently fall prey to the evil eye when we watch other rise to prominence while we remain in relative obscurity.  This is especially true when we begin to draw comparisons about how much such recognition is deserved.

Others envy influence. Despite Jesus’ admonition about the “rulers of the Gentiles” we have a tendency to gauge greatness in terms of our ability to bend others to our will.  Either by positional authority or persuasive power, “Does she get what she wants?” is the measure of influence.  And when others have more than us, invidia invades.

Still others envy ease. Leave the hard work and perseverance to others, give us the easy road. And when others stumble into the blessed life we’ve only dreamed of, sometimes it’s hard not to feel at least a little resentment.

The head from which other problems flow

We noted at the outset that these sins are called “capital” not because they are somehow more deserving of the ultimate human punishment, but because they stand at the head of so many other sins.  With envy, this description is apt.  Once our attention is turned from the way God has blessed us, to the blessings others enjoy, a slippery slide toward all kinds of evil begins, especially for those of us involved in minsitry.

Discontentment leads to disillusionment because as we chase after what we think we want and deserve, we frequently find that the proverbial grass is seldom greener on the other side.  We move to new roles and different ministry assignments, only to find that our problems seem to follow us.  Seldom do we realize the reason our problems come along for the ride is because we are the problem, and until the root of envy is dealt with in us well find the same discontent anywhere we go.

What’s more, bitterness and resentment poison our relationships. Where there should be cooperation and camaraderie, instead there is conflict and competition. If we’re not careful we can even find ourselves subtly sabotaging those who work alongside us. Much like Edison and Tesla our attempts to undermine each other frequently hurt our own chances for success.  And we can’t see past the stinking elephant carcass to our responsibility for our own downfall.

What’s more, frequently we allow our discontentment to keep us from every getting to the place we really qualify for success.  More often than not, real success in ministry comes as a result of longevity.  It takes time to build the kind of trust and relationships that can really make a difference in students.  But if we’re constantly moving on in search of the success we’re so certain we deserve instead of staying put and working for it, we leave before we ever even come close to what we’re looking for.

You’ve already received your reward in full.

Perhaps worst of all, though, is the warning that Jesus gives to those who engage in ministry in pursuit of public recognition. Whether it’s working for justice, sharing with the needy, praying or fasting, when we do what we so that others will notice and give us the money, prominence and influence we think we deserve, we may discover God let’s us have what we want.

We may impress someone with our hard work.

We may earn gratitude from those we help with our charity.

We very well may win accolades and gain influence with our personal piety.

And getting what we want may be the worst thing to ever happen to us.

Jesus says that those who engage in religion in order to be seen and praised by others, frequently receive their reward in full.  However that respect, gratitude and influence is only temporary. They are rewards grounded in this present age, and this age is destined soon to pass away.

It’s far better to be rewarded by the God who sees what is done in secret.

Envy, and you may get what you desire. But what God desires for you is far better…

Photo by Matt Reinbold on Flickr. Used under an Attribution-Share Alike Creative Commons License.

If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? (Psalm 11:3, KJV)

I was reminded of this verse recently while listening to a moving speech by a local educator, warning myself and several of my colleagues about the dangers that Nazism and Communism pose to area youth. His concern was that if we allow the foundations to be destroyed, we have no hope.

I was sorely tempted to include this verse in my post about the Top Six Verses that AREN’T in the Bible, as it seems like this verse is so often used in a Chicken-Littlesque warning that the foundations of Western Civilization are crumbling and if we don’t do something fast, the righteous won’t have a prayer (as if, somehow, the foundations of Western Civilization are the footing on which our faith is founded!).

As much as using it this way seems a bit of a misunderstanding at best and blatant proof-texting at worst, I have to admit there is some room for interpretation in this passage. Using the text the way my educator friend did is not as cut-and-dried out of context as the others on the list.

So I’m giving the verse a post all its own.

Before we go any farther, take a second to read all of Psalm 11, maybe even comparing a couple translations. (Don’t worry; it’s only seven verses long.) Then read the rest.

Who Said That?

David clearly begins this Psalm of trust by quoting the suggestion of panic-prone advisers.  The question this Psalm poses to these would-be sages (and by extension the reader) is this: if your refuge is in Yahweh, how can your reaction to perceived threat be to flee to the mountains?

From there he goes on to refer to the way in which the evil seem to have the upper hand in our world.  “They bend the bow” he notes, seeings in their possession the most sophisticated and perhaps most dangerous weapon of the iron age, the compound bow.  Capable of multiplying strength, it was a devastating weapon.  In a modern idiom this Psalm might read “Run for your lives, they have a nuclear arsenal, and they’re not afraid to use it!”

Only then, after showing what they have to be afraid of, does the Psalm go on to ask its oft-quoted question.

But are those the words of the cabinet of cowardice, part of the quotation of verse 1b?  Or are they the genuine worry of the Psalmist in the face of the fear presented by his advisers?

Quite honestly, opinion is divided and there is little evidence on which to make a decisive ruling.  Most modern translations include the question in the quotation, though some scholars disagree.

But as I read this text, far from a dire warning of immanent collapse, the Psalm as a whole seems to be arguing that, knowing what we know about God, this sort of fear in the face of upheaval is out of place for the true believer.

In other words, David isn’t saying “Mark my words, if the foundations give out on us, we have no hope!“  He’s actually saying just the opposite: “How dare you even suggest that we could ever be hopeless!”

How Firm a Foundation

Find that hard to believe?  Look at what he says next.

• Your world might be shaking, but God’s still on the throne; nothing will depose him!
• Nothing escapes God’s notice. He sees what is happening.
• What’s more, as long as God is on the throne, the wicked will never have the last word.
• There are two things you can count on: God will be just, and God will always do the right thing.
• God doesn’t hide his face from those who do what is right.

Even if the question of verse 3 is posed by David, it’s not a rhetorical question, despite the way it is frequently used.

What shall a righteous person do when it seems like the very bottom is dropping out of the world?

The same thing they always do; trust in God. Even though you may be profoundly shaken by what is happening, He isn’t.

Fear or Faith?

It seems so often modern Christianity seeks to motivate believers with fear.  “If you don’t stand up and start fighting back, you might wake up one day and discover it’s too late.” Almost every day I hear so-called Family Values advocates using fear to motivate the masses. Stand up, they say, against things that have little at all to do with Christianity, because if we’re not careful, we’ll wake up in a post-Christian America.

But what is our “sky-is-falling” rhetoric communicating about our faith?  Are we suggesting that somehow God can’t handle a secular society? That public discourse is the Christian’s kryptonite?

There are lots of voices advocating that we flee to the mountains.

Where’s the voice of calm assurance to remind us God is still on the throne and nothing we do will ever catch him off guard?

Isn’t this kind of proof-texting fear-mongering incompatible with a biblical faith in a God whose righteousness and justice never fail?

How dare you ask “What will we do if the foundations are destroyed?”

June 6, 1884 a 28 year old Nikola Tesla arrived in New York City after a long journey from France.  The brilliant young physicist had spent the previous year working for the Continental Edison Company, where he came to know Charles Batchelor.  Batchelor, close friend of Edison and the manager of Edison’s power company in Paris had written a letter of recommendation, introducing Tesla to the great inventor.

It was the start of a very ugly relationship.

It started with promise.  Edison quickly recognized Tesla’s brilliance. Tesla bent his mind to improving Edison’s motors and generators.  But a dispute about promised payment for the work soon had the two inventors at odds.  Tesla would resign when Edison did not only refuse to pay the bonus he had promised, but also declined to give him a raise.  And the relationship only went down hill from there.

Before long they were pursuing competing visions of the electric future.  Edison had built an electric empire around direct current. It was more versatile – at the time no one had yet invented a motor that could run on alternating current. But transmission of direct current was problematic and when by the time it reached homes the lamps it lit glowed only dimly.

Tesla argued Edison was behind the times.

Edison argued Tesla’s ideas were splendid but impractical.

It was all fun and games until an elephant got hurt.

In an attempt to prove that Tesla’s AC current was too dangerous to be trusted, Edison arranged to electrocute a Coney Island Elephant named Topsy which had reportedly killed three handlers in three years.  When the idea of hanging the homicidal pachyderm proved impractical (I’m not kidding, they really did suggest hanging the poor beast), someone suggested death by electrocution.  Edison’s technicians hooked the animal up to 6,600 volts of electricity and the deed was done.

At least some reports suggest Edison took to calling death by electrocution being “westinghoused” appropriating the name of Tesla’s financial backer and the entrepreneur who was building appliances to run on Tesla’s AC power.

Like I said, an ugly relationship.

Fast forward to 1915, December 18 to be exact.  The Literary Digest published an announcement that the Nobel Prize committee had awarded the 1915 Nobel Prize for Physics to the two pioneers of electricity, Edison and Tesla.  There was just one problem. Despite the announcement, the prize went to William and William Bragg, a father-son team who had used X-rays to study crystalline formations.

What happened to Tesla and Edison?

No one really knows, though rumors abound. Many people remember Topsy, and everything else each had done in their campaign to discredit the other.  Some people say each declined the prize, refusing the very idea of sharing the prize with the other. What’s more, some suggest that each claimed they would never accept a prize if the other received it first.  Apparently, unable to make the two happy, the prize committee abandoned them altogether.

Crazy stuff, isn’t it?

But what more could you have accomplished for the Kingdom if distrust, competitiveness and petty jealousies hadn’t gotten in the way?

When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable,
But he who restrains his lips is wise. (Proverbs 10:19, NASB)

Our church is currently holding revival services with Rev. Larry and Tamla Leckrone.  That’s right, good old fashioned revival.  I count it a privilege to serve a church that still makes a priority out of revival. And it’s an honor to be a part of a theological tradition in which revival services have long had an important place.

Of course, sometimes being a part of the Wesleyan-Holiness tradition carries with it some baggage which proves less than helpful.  The Holiness tradition in general and the Church of the Nazarene in particular have a long reputation of being legalistic.  For many years the American Holiness Revivalism movement has defined holiness in terms of the things we don’t do.  We took seriously the call to “Come out from among them, and be ye separate” and frequently measured that separation in terms of the things we turned away from.

• We didn’t drink.
• We didn’t smoke.
• We didn’t dance.
• We didn’t cuss.
• We didn’t wear make-up.
• And we certainly didn’t stop the list with just five prohibitions.

Then something happened…

I’m not sure just what it was, but some time during my lifetime the list of things we didn’t do suddenly started getting shorter.  Maybe with the decline in denominational loyalty in American religion, increasing numbers of Christians from traditions who didn’t share our list were  attracted to our tradition by the radical optimism of grace.  Maybe our ears got more itchy and our preachers more obliging.  Whatever it was, suddenly the list looked a lot different:

• We don’t drink, at least not when we’re around people from church.
• We don’t smoke, unless of course we’re struggling  to give up an old habit.
• We still don’t cuss, as long as we can both agree that the occasional OMG and LMAO don’t count as cussing.
• We’ve come to grips with the fact that some barns just need to be painted.
• We don’t dance very well.
• Is it OK if we stop with the list now?

What’s more, often we’re so grateful to have left legalism behind, few these days seem to remember that the call to come apart and be separate wasn’t a mistranslation.

Why would we be willing to trade our “Heritage of Holiness” just to be rid of the legalism label?

That brings me back to Larry…

Today Larry and Tam joined our regular weekly staff meeting. As we were talking about the trends he is seeing in the larger church, he said something that really stood out to me.  He noted that God’s call to turn away from, is almost always coupled with a call to also turn unto something. Larry cited a few examples and once out of the meeting I spent part of my afternoon tracking down others.

Away From and Unto

This away from/unto pattern really is found frequently in Scripture.  It’s not always couched in those precise words, but that twofold movement is there again and again.  Clearly, we are not called to separate ourselves merely for the sake of separation.  We crucify our old self that we might be free to belong to another master.  As we turn away, we also turn unto.  Note the pattern:

• Genesis 35:2-3; Turn away from your foreign gods and turn unto Beth’El, the House of God.
• 2 Chronicles 7:14; Turn away from your wicked ways and turn unto the face of God.
• Jeremiah 4:1; Turn away from your detestable idols and turn unto Yahweh.
• Ezekiel 18:21; Turn away from all your sins and turn unto God’s righteous decrees.
• Ezekiel 33:14 & 19; Turn away from your sin and turn unto justice and righteousness.
• Daniel 9:13; Turn away from our sins and turn unto God’s truth.
• Acts 26:18; Turn away from darkness and turn unto light.
• Acts 26:18; Turn away from the power of Satan and turn unto the power of God.
• Romans 6:22; Turn away from sin and turn unto holiness.
• 1 Thessalonians 1:9; Turn away from idols and turn unto the true and living God.
• 2 Timothy 2:21; Turn away from common purposes and turn unto the honor of being used by the Master.
• Titus 2:14; Turn away from all wickedness and turn unto purity and an eagerness to do good works.
• 1 John 3:14 (and John 5:24); Turn away from death and turn unto life.

Like a House Swept Clean Yet Empty

Could it be that legalism didn’t spring from being called apart, but rather from a failure to realize we’d been called unto?

I’m not suggesting that faithful preachers didn’t try to communicate the fact that we are called not only away from, but also unto; after all, our unofficial theme song starts with the words “Called unto holiness...”  But could it be that we somehow found it easier to focus on the away-from’s and in so doing forgot about the unto’s?

Could it be that the resulting form of godliness, devoid of power, was so dissatisfying and dysfunctional that in turning our backs on it, we left behind our call to holiness along the way?

Could it be that by focusing on our own traditions rather than transformation, we’ve created the precise situation Jesus warned about in Matthew 12:43-45?  In turning away from we sought to sweep out our houses and put things back in order. But by neglecting to turn unto the life of the Spirit, our houses were left empty and ready for a party of demons to move in.

If what Jesus said about such a person is true, if their final condition really is worse than their first, then maybe the effects of such powerless legalism really is worse than turning our backs on holiness altogether.

The good news is we don’t have to choose between slavery to sin and a pseudo-holiness doomed to failure by it’s lack of power.  He who called us to turn away from sin is also faithful separate us unto Him; if we will remain in Him, He will accomplish His purpose in us.

Where has your life gotten off track?

Have you forgotten you are called to turn away from…?

Or are you trying to turn away from on your own power?

This Lenten season has me thinking about the ways in which the attitudes long recognized as the seven capital vices can poison and sabotage our ministries.  We’re looking at each of the vices in a series we’re calling The Seven Deadly Sins of Youth Ministry.  By way of review, the traditional list of seven capital vices includes:

• superbia (pride)
• avaritia (greed)
• luxuria (lust)
• invidia (envy)
• gula (gluttony)
• ira (wrath)
• acedia (sloth?)

Today I’d like to consider the vice of ira known in English as wrath, rage or anger.

The Sin of Wrath

Somehow I wonder if it is really necessary to even attempt to define wrath and anger. It is such a universal emotion and one you no doubt will be familiar with.  Yet its ubiquitousness should not be mistaken for harmlessness or acceptability. Quite the contrary, scripture warns clearly of the destruction that so easily wrought by wrath.

• The Wisdom literature of the Old Testament warns that wrath leads to folly, quarrels and evil.
• Paul acknowledges that it is possible to be angry without sinning, but if we choose allow anger to smolder rather than letting it burn itself out, our bitterness becomes a weakness which the devil can exploit.
• Jesus goes as far as to warn that wrath can be as destructive as murder and to give voice to anger is to risk hell.

But what exactly is wrath, and what distinguishes it from the kind of anger in which we do not sin?

In Galatians 5, Paul warns that fits of rage are the natural outflow of a life centered on self. When that is contrasted with the righteous anger of Jesus at the way profiteers had commandeered the Court of the Gentiles for their own commercial enterprises.

“Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it ‘a den of robbers (Mark 11:17, NIV).’”

Note that Jesus’ anger was not inspired by any insult or injury done to him.  Quite the contrary, “When they hurled their insults at him,” Peter notes, “he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats (1 Peter 2:23, NIV).” Righteous anger is our response to the injustice done to others, not our reaction to the hurts inflicted on us.

Unrighteous anger, however…

Frequently anger is a self-defense mechanism.  Some have suggested that anger is to the emotions what pain is to the body, a natural reaction which alerts us that something is wrong and motivates us to do something about it.  It’s often a reaction to perceived injustice or an infringement of our rights.  Like a dog raising its hackles when a stranger encroaches on its territory, anger causes us to bristle and push back when others trespass against that to which we feel entitled.

Righteous anger is the moral outrage we feel when we witness injustice perpetrated against others.

Sinful wrath is our urge to fight back when others wrong us.

So how does wrath compromise our ministries?

Ministry in the Age of Entitlement

It’s not uncommon for youth ministers to complain about the challenges created by our consumer culture. Altruism is a tough sell in a society that teaches careful consumers always ask “What’s in it for me?”

But that’s not the kind of entitlement I’m talking about.  It’s not just our students who operate with a view to their rights and privileges nor is it only from their parents that they inherit this trait.

My question isn’t how often do you find yourself struggling to minister to an attitude of entitlement, but how often do you find yourself struggling to minister from an attitude of entitlement? For as much as our students’ consumer mentality complicates ministry, our own whats-in-it-for-me mentality complicates things far more.

But that’s just other youth workers, right?  You don’t have any problems with wrath do you?

• How often do you respond to criticism by becoming defensive?
• How often do you complain (to others or to yourself) about the injustice of unreasonable expectations?
• How often does unfair criticism drive you to depression?
• How long do you harbor grudges when asked to do something that’s not in your job description?

Kenosis as the Antidote to Wrath

Ministry in the Way of Jesus is far different. As important as clear job descriptions are to helping lay out the organizational structure of your leadership team, they should not be used as a bill of rights for the minister. Certainly responsibilities outlined therein are indicative not exclusive.  Our people regularly serve the church in ways that go beyond their paying job, so should we.

That’s not to suggest that we (or they) shouldn’t also be willing to set reasonable, responsible and healthy limits on what we agree to do.  But to respond, even to oneself, to any need with “that’s not in my job description,” and you’ve already fallen short of the example of Christ.

Ministry in the Way of Jesus isn’t best described as “adequately fulfilling expectations.”  Paul never said “I am striving to ensure all obligations entailed in my employment are being satisfied.”  However he did say (more than once, in fact) “I am being poured out like a drink offering.”  Ministry isn’t about protecting one’s rights, it’s about laying them down in order to serve others.  Even when he was carefully outlining the rights of an apostle, Paul did so not to insist on them, but to surrender them.  Likewise Paul reminds us that it was in an emptying of himself (which Paul called a kenosis) and becoming servant that Jesus accomplished our salvation.

And he suggests that every follower of Christ is called to have the same mindset.

What does that mean for ministry?

• Your job description is not exclusive. Yes, there are things that you can’t do in order to faithfully fulfill your duties to family and church, but there shouldn’t be things you won’t do because “they’re not paying me for this.”
• Your rights are not what’s at stake. Anytime you find yourself thinking “How dare they do that to me; I deserve better than that” beware. You’re venturing into wrath.
• Your honor is not what must be defended. It’s easy to take student’s misbehavior as an insult to your honor.  But it’s not your honor that matters, it’s His.

So what about you? Have you been emptied?

Is your idea of “servant leadership” doing nice things for other people so they will let you have your way?  (Just so you know, that’s not servant leadership, it’s manipulation.)

Or are you striving to lay down your rights so that you might be free to serve like Jesus served?

One way leads to wrath, the other can change the world.

Lent is a season of reflection and repentance, a time to do a hard reset on our priorities and fix our minds on things above, not on earthly things. But we’re youth workers, right? Of what do we have to repent?

(OK, at least some of us are youth workers. I realize I have plenty of readers who aren’t actively involved in youth ministry. If that’s you, you’re more than welcome here too.)

In light of that question, I’d like to take a closer look at how we do ministry, as well as how we live our daily lives, to see if there isn’t still room for repentance this Lenten season. To that end, I’m starting a new series on some of the attitudes and actions that threaten the effectiveness and Christlikeness of our ministry. I’ll be addressing them under the rubric of the seven deadly sins, starting with the sin of gluttony.  But first a word about the sins in general.

What are the Seven Deadly Sins?

We should probably note that the list of seven deadly sins is not actually a biblical list. You can’t turn to the fourth chapter of 2 Hezekiah and find them listed, in order. This list is the result of theological reflection on the teaching of scripture, rather than a fixed set established in scripture itself. What is more, while in modern discussions the set of seven deadly sins is fairly consistent, early on different theologians had different lists, some of which even featured eight deadly sins.  So really, that’s a good question.

In fact, the name “deadly sins” itself is a bit of a misunderstanding. It comes from the modern, rather than literal, understanding of the word capital. When we talk about capital crimes, we speak of those crimes for which the prescribed punishment is death. Eventually this connotation to the word capital lead to the list of capital sins being called deadly.

But “deadly” is not the original meaning of the word capital; capital comes from the Latin adjective capitalis, which meant related to the head. Over time, capital came to mean “that of primary importance,” but that is not the sense of the word when used in relation to these sins. We call these sins capital not because they deserve the severest penalty, but rather because they are the head, the source, of so many other sinful actions and attitudes.

What are the seven deadly sins? For the purpose of this series of posts, we will use the traditional list:

• superbia (pride)
• avaritia (greed)
• luxuria (lust)
• invidia (envy)
• gula (gluttony)
• ira (wrath)
• acedia (sloth?).

I list the Latin terms here because, like capital, the connotations of English translations have experienced some drift in meaning over the years.

The Sin of Gluttony

I always feel awkward talking about gluttony because it is sometimes the most visible of the seven deadly sins, and it’s one that I very apparently struggle with. Never trust a fat guy who says he wants to talk to you about gluttony. Yet obesity is not always a sign of gluttony, nor is a svelte figure proof of innocence.

At its heart, gluttony comes down to eating away that is not mindful of our obligations to others. The common sense of gluttony as overindulgence is just one of the ways that people eat mindlessly. Over-consumption in one place often means famine elsewhere.

Yet it is frequently noted that eating too much is only one of five ways that Thomas Aquinas says we become guilty of gluttony. It’s equally gluttonous to eat too expensively or too daintily, thereby spending inordinate resources to satisfy our rarefied appetites, resources that could have been used in service to others.

Paul condemns the sin of gluttony in Philippians 3, when he writes:

For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things (Philippians 3:18-19, NIV).

As long as we eat in such a way that our appetites rather than reason dictate our consumption, we are guilty of gluttony.  It’s easy to understand how the individual practice of gluttony can damage a community, and the many ways it can give rise to other sins. But how can a youth ministry be guilty of gluttony?

Gluttony as Over-consumption

We’ve already noted that at its heart, gluttony is over-consumption that is unmindful of its effect on others. Youth ministries can do that as easily as individuals. Without careful oversight, any single ministry of the church is capable of exhausting the resources of a congregation as a whole.

In some ways, I can see that I myself am guilty of this error. Before moving to Middletown, I served as the full time youth pastor at a small Nazarene church in Illinois. At the time, the congregation averaged about 80 each Sunday in worship. Every Tuesday we averaged over 40 at Agape, our midweek worship service for teens, many of whom we brought every week to our suburban church from the inner city in our vans.

A ministry of that size required resources — finances, volunteers, energy, facilities, transportation — that our small church cheerfully and sacrificially provided. It was exciting to see how God was bridging cultural barriers and reaching students with the gospel.

But in retrospect, I can see now that the disproportionate consumption of resources by the youth ministry in comparison with the church as a whole was unhealthy and unbalanced. Yes, it was a ministry for the church to give so much, so sacrificially to serve teens who had little to offer in return, and it was a blessing to do so. But it eventually lead to burn out for the church.

Facilities, finances, energy, attention, personnel — all are limited resources in the church. Say what you want about God owning the cattle on a thousand hills and the hearts of an army of volunteers; as true as that is, it’s often hard for any given ministry to liquidate those assets.

As a ministry, are you operating on the assumption you’re entitled to as many of those resources as you can appropriate for your own ends? Or do you make decisions on how to utilize the limited resources of the church in a way that is mindful of its effects on the other ministries?

When scheduling trips are you mindful of how commandeering the congregation’s fleet of vehicles will effect the other ministries that need them?

When planning your ministry night, are you mindful of how playing group games in the gym affects the pre-teens meeting in the room on the other side of the wall?

When conflicts arise over sharing resources, are they settled by asking “Who got on the schedule first?” or “How can we do what’s best for both groups?”

Gluttony as Gourmandise

St John of the Cross writes in the Dark Night of the Soul (as opposed to the Dark Knight of Gotham, assuredly an altogether different matter) about the issue of what he calls “spiritual gluttony.”  Spiritual gluttony is a very natural danger, he writes, given the real delight and pleasure that believers find in spiritual disciplines.  Like gourmandise, the relish a gourmand finds in an excellent meal, we seek this delight in our times of devotion to God.

The problem arises, however, when we submit to devotion in pursuit of the delight, sweetness and satisfaction it brings, rather than out of a simple, faithful obedience to God.  Even our spiritual disciplines can become an avenue for indulging our desire for pleasure. In regard to the danger this attitude can pose to prayer and other devotional activities, St. John of the Cross writes:

They have the same defect in their prayer, for they think the whole matter of prayer consists in looking for sensory satisfaction and devotion…. When they do not get this sensible comfort, they become very disconsolate and think they have done nothing…. Once they do not find delight in prayer, or in any other spiritual exercise, they feel extreme reluctance and repugnance in returning to it and sometimes even give it up. For after all, as was mentioned, they are like children who are prompted to act not by reason but by pleasure (Dark Night of the Soul, 1.6.7).

Like over-consumption, this is a danger not just for individuals, but for youth ministries as well. How do you measure success in your ministry? Number of hands raised in worship? Net weight of tears sopped up by the tissues hidden behind the altar? Total number of minutes spent verklempt by people in the pews or number of lyrics choked off prematurely by the emotion of the song leaders on stage?

It’s easy to gauge the success or failure of our ministry events by how they make us feel. Yet if we communicate that the ability of something to evoke emotion is the measure of it’s spirituality we risk leading students to question the value of perseverance in prayer even when it seems like God is hiding his face.

What’s more, when the sweetness of devotion is enough to convince us of our spirituality despite obvious disconnects in our obedience to Christ, we risk leading students into a multitude of errors. When we, in the words of John of the Corss,  “strive more for spiritual savor than for spiritual purity and discretion” we offer worship that is less than pleasing to God. Don’t believe St. John and I? Listen to God says through Amos:

I hate, I despise your religious festivals;
your assemblies are a stench to me.
Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them.
Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
I will have no regard for them.
Away with the noise of your songs!
I will not listen to the music of your harps.
But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream! (Amos 5:21-24, NIV)

Is your ministry focused on making people feel spiritual, or is it a passionate pursuit of His reign, and His justice?

Gluttony as Self-Centeredness

Spiritual gluttony as emotional gourmandise leads us to the final aspect of gluttony that can plague any ministry, namely an inordinate focus on self.  Gluttony in the individual happens when we seek to indulge our own appetites without regard for our fellow humanity.

Gluttony in youth ministry occurs when we begin to focus on our own needs and our own wants and fail to recognize the needs of the world around us. There’s lots of talk about attending churches and ministries where “I can be fed.” But if I focus simply on who feeds me, without joining hands with those who seek to feed the world I am a glutton.

As ministries, on what do we focus? Keeping the parents happy? Keeping the students well fed? Sanctuaries filled with participants? Social calendars filled with events? Or are we part of the Church, the Body of Christ, who gives herself for the life of the world?

One of my favorite hymns of all time isn’t all that old.  Written by Dr Elton Trueblood (from nearby Richmond, Indiana in fact) Thou Whose Purpose Is to Kindle concludes with this stanza:

Thou, who still a sword delivers
Rather than a placid peace
With Thy sharpened word disturb us,
From complacency release!
Save us now from satisfaction,
When we privately are free,
Yet are undisturbed in spirit
By our brothers misery.

Discerning words for a gluttonous age.

“Brethren, while fasting bodily, let us also fast spiritually. Let us loosen every bond of injustice. Let us destroy the strong fetters of violence. Let us tear up every unjust writing. Let us give bread to the hungry and let us welcome the homeless poor into our houses, that from Christ our God we may receive the great mercy.” (Stichira, Wednesday of the First Week)

As I was reading Alexander Schmeman’s phamphet Great Lent: A School of Repentance yesterday, I came across this sticheron, written to be used as part of Orthodox worship on Clean Wednesday, the first Wednesday in the Great Lent.

Unlike the Western season Lent, which begins on Ash Wednesday and runs for 40 days, not counting Sundays, up until Easter, Great Lent, as celebrated by the Eastern Orthodox church, begins on Clean Monday and runs for 40 consecutive days, including Sundays, up until Palm Sunday.  The Eastern and Western branches of Christianity do not calculate their holy days in the same manner, and frequently celebrate Easter Sunday on different weeks.  Interestingly, this year the two seasons coincide, and Clean Wednesday fell on March 9, along with Ash Wednesday for the Western church.

Details of liturgy aside, this hymn reminds us of an important truth about this holy season.  Lent is not just a physical fast; it is a spiritual house cleaning.  And it is not just our own houses that we clean; we are called to act for justice in our larger communities.

What bonds of injustice will you loosen?

What fetters of violence will you destroy?

What unjust writing will you tear up?

How will you bring bread to the hungry?

Which homeless poor will you welcome into your home?

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say

‘That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo’s rhyming, said Pippin. ‘Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Frodo. ‘It came to me then, as if I was making it up, but I may have heard it long ago.  Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years before he went away.  He often used to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door,” he used to say. “You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is know knowing where you might be swept off to.”‘ (From J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Book One, Chapter 3)

Perhaps my favorite quote of my favorite book of all time (as long as like Tolkien, you view the Lord of the Rings as a single book).  This quote unlike any other captures the mystery of adventure and the thrill of travel.

I’ve always loved to travel, and I’ve been blessed to do quite a bit of it.  My parents were great travelers, and they made a priority of introducing my brother and I to the adventure of the Road.  I remember well the excitement of the adventure, the thrill of new discoveries, and especially the anticipation before departure.  Packing our clothes and camping gear the day before, working late to load the car and secure the camping chest and canoe to the car top carrier, putting clothes in the back seat for the next day.

I especially remember laying down at night in my own bed, wondering what new place I would wake up.  We’d leave early, mom and dad carrying our sleeping bodies to the car, laying us on pillows and setting out while we were still in our pajamas.  Eventually the movement of the car and the sound of passing traffic would stir us from our sleep and you’d open your eyes to a horizon you’d never seen before.

And so, on the night before a journey it was always a struggle to fall asleep.  Mom and Dad would tuck us into bed, but the excitement of knowing the journey was about to begin would keep me up at night.  Rarely did I have a clear idea of where we were going or what we would be seeing; all I knew was that it was the eve of an adventure and I couldn’t wait to see where the Road would sweep us off to next.

Those memories are the best way to describe what I’m feeling right now.  No, my family isn’t set to depart on vacation.  We’re at the the outset of a journey of a different kind.  We’re standing on the doorstep, wiggling our toes in the cool spring water, ready to set our on the journey of Lent.

Oh, I’ve gone on plenty of Lenten journeys before.  In all the fifteen years of my ministry, Lent has been an important part of my personal religious observance, and it has often been something I stressed and shared with my teens.  But this year is different. This year my entire church is joining me on the journey, as we participate in a special series called Ashes to Fire. And everyone knows journeys are always better in the company of fellow pilgrims.

But it’s more than that.  It’s also the fact that my family will be joining me as well.  We’ve tried to teach the Lenten fast to our children in years past, and my oldest Brenden has observed it several times.  But this year is different.  More of the boys understand what we’re doing, and Ashes to Fire will become part of our shared devotions.

I’m not sure exactly where this journey will take us.  I’m not sure what new horizons are going to open up.  But I am thrilled to be setting out on a great adventure.

The Psalmist writes:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baka,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools.
They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion. (Psalm 84:5-7, NIV)

Our hearts are set on pilgrimage. Are yours?