It's Freedom Day! Today it's been exactly fifteen years since South Africa held its first non-racial, democratic elections. Fifteen years since God worked a miracle of peace and reconciliation in this land that even atheists were unable to deny. All of which makes me feel bad that I've celebrated this public holiday like most students have: catching up on work. But the day hasn't slipped by completely unobserved; I've been thinking a lot lately about freedom, and what this inspiring but slippery word really means today.
At the moment, the most obvious meaning of freedom seems to be the one exercised on Wednesday last week, when millions of us again went to the polls to elect a new government. I was amazed at the high turnout these elections received: I ended up jumping between three different polling stations because of the length of the queues. It's really great that people were so enthusiastic to participate in democracy. They were using their freedom to choose which party they would like to govern them.
The Bible also talks a lot about freedom. A verse which I have meditated on a lot in the past couple of months says "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." (John 8:36). In other words, if Jesus sets you free, you are absolutely free. That implies that true freedom is the freedom that Jesus gives. A while ago I wrote a letter to The Oppidan Press, a local campus newspaper, and closed it by saying: "I urge you to take a good long look at the people around you and find out who the really free ones are. You may be surprised at what you find." Yes, Christians are the ones who are truly free. But why doesn't the world usually see it that way? We're more likely to be labelled "legalistic" or "rule-bound" than "free". In fact, I've got a non-Christian friend who regularly complains at how meticulously I stick by rules. How can that possibly be?
Well, let me first say that it's often at least partly our own fault that people see us as being "unfree". Often we add spurious rules to our own lives and then live under bondage to them, and I'm talking as much about myself here as I am about anyone else. In my quiet time notes last week, Bill Domeris wrote that we can easily become slaves to the latest Christian fashion: if at the moment everyone is emphasizing fasting a particular way, or giving to the poor a particular way, or studying the Bible a particular way, we suddenly act as if you aren't a Christian if you don't do it like that. Whenever we do that, consciously or unconsciously, we are twisting the Good News, and giving the impression that our salvation is something we could earn by keeping laws. But as the Bible says, "If we could be saved by keeping the law, then there was no need for Christ to die." (Galatians 2:21).
But there's a far more important reason why the world doesn't recognize how free we are. It's that we're dead to sin, but alive in Christ. Non-Christians think that they can exercise their freedom by doing what they like, but we can see that by doing so, they are enslaving themselves to sin. Romans 6:15-18 clears it up nicely: "So since God's grace has set us free from the law, does this mean we can go on sinning? Of course not! Don't you realize that whatever you choose to obey becomes your master? You can choose sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God and receive his approval. Thank God! Once you were slaves of sin, but now you have obeyed with all your heart the new teaching God has given you. Now you are free from sin, your old master, and you have become slaves to your new master, righteousness."
So perhaps a better definition of freedom is this one, attributed to George Orwell: "Real freedom is being able to choose your own task-master." That's exactly what we do at election time, when we decide collectively who will rule over us. And it's what we do in life, too. Whatever we do, something or someone will be our master and I don't know about you, but I'd rather have our perfect, merciful and gracious God as a Master than anyone else. Now that's freedom!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Two deaths, two lives, one Easter
This Easter has been shaped for me by two deaths and two lives. I say "shaped for me", because God has caused these two deaths and lives to echo through my mind this Easter time, teaching me many things. I hope he's been teaching you too.
I'll start with the two deaths: both are utter tragedies, two boys' lives cut horrifically short. I heard of the first one the night before Good Friday, as I was travelling on the bus to Cape Town to spend Easter with my family. A nine-year-old kid from our church, Timmy Fick, was killed in a car accident; his parents and big brother are recovering from many physical injuries. I can't even guess at the deeper emotional injuries they must have. When the news was SMSed to me, I let out a howl and started sobbing right there in the bus.
The second death was soberly announced in the Easter Sunday services. A teenager, a regular at the youth group of my parents' church, had committed suicide just the day before Timmy passed away. I don't know if I ever met him, don't know what drove him to take his life. I also can't even guess at the anguish his family feels, and their unanswered questions.
But there's one thing I know for sure about both these boys: if they had put their faith in Jesus to take away their sins, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1). That's the incredible gift that Jesus gave us at the first Easter, when he died for our sins. I don't have words to describe how horrible their deaths are, but I also don't have words to describe the joy I have in knowing these simple facts about salvation.
Still, I find the contrast between these two boys striking: Timmy, at nine years old, had a great lust for life and a bright-coloured, clear-cut faith in Jesus. The teenager, just eight years older, just couldn't find enough hope to carry on living life; perplexity had turned his world to grey. How can just a few years do that to us? Why do we have all the answers, and all the hope in the world, at nine, and none of it left at seventeen?
This brings me to the two lives I've thought about this Easter. The first one is that of my Saviour and friend, Jesus Christ. He, after all, is who it's all about. And he's alive, unmistakably, irrevocably, outrageously alive. And he said "Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." (Mark 10:15). I now know exactly why. We often think of Christmas as a time for children, and Easter as a time for being grown-up, for being serious and thinking of the great, weighty implications of Jesus' death. And that's all right – for Good Friday. But Easter Sunday is easily as much a day to act like a child as any other. What better response is there to the incredible news of Jesus' resurrection than to go absolutely ballistic, dancing and singing and screaming and shouting with joy, just like a kid?
And so, to come to the second life that's been on my mind this Easter, my own life, that's exactly what I've done. As we came home from the Sunrise Service on Easter morning, we must have all been in a similar, jubilant mood. My Mom and her friend Gwen heard a song they loved on the radio, and turned it up so that half the neighbourhood could hear. When we got inside, I turned on the music loud again, and we kept singing and laughing over breakfast, right through to the morning service.
And that's not where I intend to stop. I've been given a message of joy to spread, and the gift of life to the full (John 10:10). I've been a child before, and I've been a teenager. I know that there are plenty of perplexing and depressing things out there in the world. I don't intend to be naive. But my best friend conquered the grave for me, and he knows the answers to all the perplexing questions I may have. So right now, the most reasonable thing I can do is leave those questions with him and enjoy the eternal life he's given me. Yes, there will be suffering, and I'll have to put to death parts of me that don't fit in with his plan. But the joy I'll have as a result makes the pain seem insignificant. There are beautiful mountains to bound over, roads to whiz along on my bike, and people to see come alive. It's my way of honouring the memory of these two special boys who died. And more importantly, it's my way of glorifying my best friend Jesus.
I'll start with the two deaths: both are utter tragedies, two boys' lives cut horrifically short. I heard of the first one the night before Good Friday, as I was travelling on the bus to Cape Town to spend Easter with my family. A nine-year-old kid from our church, Timmy Fick, was killed in a car accident; his parents and big brother are recovering from many physical injuries. I can't even guess at the deeper emotional injuries they must have. When the news was SMSed to me, I let out a howl and started sobbing right there in the bus.
The second death was soberly announced in the Easter Sunday services. A teenager, a regular at the youth group of my parents' church, had committed suicide just the day before Timmy passed away. I don't know if I ever met him, don't know what drove him to take his life. I also can't even guess at the anguish his family feels, and their unanswered questions.
But there's one thing I know for sure about both these boys: if they had put their faith in Jesus to take away their sins, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1). That's the incredible gift that Jesus gave us at the first Easter, when he died for our sins. I don't have words to describe how horrible their deaths are, but I also don't have words to describe the joy I have in knowing these simple facts about salvation.
Still, I find the contrast between these two boys striking: Timmy, at nine years old, had a great lust for life and a bright-coloured, clear-cut faith in Jesus. The teenager, just eight years older, just couldn't find enough hope to carry on living life; perplexity had turned his world to grey. How can just a few years do that to us? Why do we have all the answers, and all the hope in the world, at nine, and none of it left at seventeen?
This brings me to the two lives I've thought about this Easter. The first one is that of my Saviour and friend, Jesus Christ. He, after all, is who it's all about. And he's alive, unmistakably, irrevocably, outrageously alive. And he said "Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." (Mark 10:15). I now know exactly why. We often think of Christmas as a time for children, and Easter as a time for being grown-up, for being serious and thinking of the great, weighty implications of Jesus' death. And that's all right – for Good Friday. But Easter Sunday is easily as much a day to act like a child as any other. What better response is there to the incredible news of Jesus' resurrection than to go absolutely ballistic, dancing and singing and screaming and shouting with joy, just like a kid?
And so, to come to the second life that's been on my mind this Easter, my own life, that's exactly what I've done. As we came home from the Sunrise Service on Easter morning, we must have all been in a similar, jubilant mood. My Mom and her friend Gwen heard a song they loved on the radio, and turned it up so that half the neighbourhood could hear. When we got inside, I turned on the music loud again, and we kept singing and laughing over breakfast, right through to the morning service.
And that's not where I intend to stop. I've been given a message of joy to spread, and the gift of life to the full (John 10:10). I've been a child before, and I've been a teenager. I know that there are plenty of perplexing and depressing things out there in the world. I don't intend to be naive. But my best friend conquered the grave for me, and he knows the answers to all the perplexing questions I may have. So right now, the most reasonable thing I can do is leave those questions with him and enjoy the eternal life he's given me. Yes, there will be suffering, and I'll have to put to death parts of me that don't fit in with his plan. But the joy I'll have as a result makes the pain seem insignificant. There are beautiful mountains to bound over, roads to whiz along on my bike, and people to see come alive. It's my way of honouring the memory of these two special boys who died. And more importantly, it's my way of glorifying my best friend Jesus.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
(Re)creating Counter-Cultural Christlike Community
I've just come back to Grahamstown from a mind-blowing, soul-refreshing conference in Pietermaritzburg entitled "Reason and the Gospel in Varsity Outreach: Rekindling the Vision of Francis Schaeffer". In a few hours, I'll be off again to Cape Town, to celebrate Easter with my (biological) family, but now as I try to process the flood of stimulating teaching we were given at the conference, I thought I needed to blog a few of my thoughts.
Before the conference, I was concerned that it was simply going to be a rehash of Francis Schaeffer's work, which confronted the culture and worldview of the Western world with the truth of God's Word. If you've never heard of Schaeffer before, I suggest you check out http://www.francisschaefferfoundation.com/. I wondered how much relevance all his work done in the 1970s could help us now in our task of making disciples on the university campuses of postmodern South Africa. I didn't have to wonder long: Schaeffer was so ahead of his time, and his thinking so applicable to real evangelism and discipleship, that the conference was a huge blessing.
The two main thrusts of the conference were that we need to encourage people on our campuses to think with Christian minds (and do so ourselves), and that we need to create authentic, caring, Christlike communities. I could talk for ages on either subject, but what really impressed me (probably because I had never noticed it before) was the emphasis on Christlike community.
Ranald Macaulay, the main teacher at the conference, was Schaeffer's son-in-law. I was privileged to have breakfast with him on one of the mornings of the conference, and loved the way that he took a genuine interest in everyone at the table. He said that Schaeffer displayed the same concern for individuals, often spending time on his day off to take walks with young seekers who came to his home, answering their questions. Where he disagreed with them, he explained his point of view "with gentleness and respect" (1 Peter 3:16).
In one session, Ranald taught on how what he calls the "Virus of Technique" has left us alienated from each other in the modern world, and even in the Church. Basically, our use of technology (including communications media, which is perverse seeing as they are meant to bring people together) has led us to focus on 'programs' (with one 'm' and no 'e') instead of people. Our technology has insulated us from really engaging in each other's lives. And so people in our age are hungry for authentic community. But at the same time, Church has become as 'mediated' as the rest of the world, with our media star pastors, hyped music and excellent shows on Sundays, but little influence the rest of the week.
Ranald read some hard-hitting quotes which resonated deeply with me. One excellent one was this: "The choice for God now has to become one in which the church begins to form itself, by God's grace and truth, into an outcropping of counter-cultural spirituality. It is after all only when we see what the church is willing to give up by developing this antithesis that we see what it is actually for."
Once this teaching session was over, I looked around the table at the other delegates from Rhodes, and their jaws, like mine, were on the floor in amazement. This is what we'd been talking about in our C@R leadership meetings. It's the 'counter-cultural spirituality' expressed in trends like the 24-7 prayer movement and the New Monasticism. It's what we need at Rhodes to draw unbelievers to the only place where they'll find unconditional love! And if it can work anywhere, it can work in the intimate small-town environment of Rhodes University, where students are hungry to engage more deeply.
But how do we get there? That's the question that I was grappling with on the way home, and still looms large in my mind. Cell groups are meant to be doing this job of providing community, but so often they fall short as we slip into ritualized, impersonal ways of interacting. It's not something that can be implemented by a 'program'; it's a change of heart, a work of the Holy Spirit. I've seen it happen among the leaders of Christians @ Rhodes, and among the core group of Isaiah 26:8. It's starting to happen again between me and a few new friends who are thirsting for something deeper. But how do we spread this until all believers exist in this state of oneness, until it reaches beyond various disparate clusters and we form a cohesive body? How can Christians @ Rhodes, individual societies and the churches in our town work to encourage it?
I don't know. But I know that God does know, and I have a sneaking suspicion that this is what he's planning as the next step for Rhodes. Please pray with me that he shows us the way forward.
Before the conference, I was concerned that it was simply going to be a rehash of Francis Schaeffer's work, which confronted the culture and worldview of the Western world with the truth of God's Word. If you've never heard of Schaeffer before, I suggest you check out http://www.francisschaefferfoundation.com/. I wondered how much relevance all his work done in the 1970s could help us now in our task of making disciples on the university campuses of postmodern South Africa. I didn't have to wonder long: Schaeffer was so ahead of his time, and his thinking so applicable to real evangelism and discipleship, that the conference was a huge blessing.
The two main thrusts of the conference were that we need to encourage people on our campuses to think with Christian minds (and do so ourselves), and that we need to create authentic, caring, Christlike communities. I could talk for ages on either subject, but what really impressed me (probably because I had never noticed it before) was the emphasis on Christlike community.
Ranald Macaulay, the main teacher at the conference, was Schaeffer's son-in-law. I was privileged to have breakfast with him on one of the mornings of the conference, and loved the way that he took a genuine interest in everyone at the table. He said that Schaeffer displayed the same concern for individuals, often spending time on his day off to take walks with young seekers who came to his home, answering their questions. Where he disagreed with them, he explained his point of view "with gentleness and respect" (1 Peter 3:16).
In one session, Ranald taught on how what he calls the "Virus of Technique" has left us alienated from each other in the modern world, and even in the Church. Basically, our use of technology (including communications media, which is perverse seeing as they are meant to bring people together) has led us to focus on 'programs' (with one 'm' and no 'e') instead of people. Our technology has insulated us from really engaging in each other's lives. And so people in our age are hungry for authentic community. But at the same time, Church has become as 'mediated' as the rest of the world, with our media star pastors, hyped music and excellent shows on Sundays, but little influence the rest of the week.
Ranald read some hard-hitting quotes which resonated deeply with me. One excellent one was this: "The choice for God now has to become one in which the church begins to form itself, by God's grace and truth, into an outcropping of counter-cultural spirituality. It is after all only when we see what the church is willing to give up by developing this antithesis that we see what it is actually for."
Once this teaching session was over, I looked around the table at the other delegates from Rhodes, and their jaws, like mine, were on the floor in amazement. This is what we'd been talking about in our C@R leadership meetings. It's the 'counter-cultural spirituality' expressed in trends like the 24-7 prayer movement and the New Monasticism. It's what we need at Rhodes to draw unbelievers to the only place where they'll find unconditional love! And if it can work anywhere, it can work in the intimate small-town environment of Rhodes University, where students are hungry to engage more deeply.
But how do we get there? That's the question that I was grappling with on the way home, and still looms large in my mind. Cell groups are meant to be doing this job of providing community, but so often they fall short as we slip into ritualized, impersonal ways of interacting. It's not something that can be implemented by a 'program'; it's a change of heart, a work of the Holy Spirit. I've seen it happen among the leaders of Christians @ Rhodes, and among the core group of Isaiah 26:8. It's starting to happen again between me and a few new friends who are thirsting for something deeper. But how do we spread this until all believers exist in this state of oneness, until it reaches beyond various disparate clusters and we form a cohesive body? How can Christians @ Rhodes, individual societies and the churches in our town work to encourage it?
I don't know. But I know that God does know, and I have a sneaking suspicion that this is what he's planning as the next step for Rhodes. Please pray with me that he shows us the way forward.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Pray that Mvume Dandala will COPE
On Friday my digsmate James, his girlfriend Jo and I were driving to East London. As we were chatting, James mentioned that he had heard somewhere that a Methodist ex-bishop was going to run as the Congress of the People's presidential candidate. I thought about it for a moment and then laughed it off: "Naah, that's a long shot."
Well, it turned out the long shot was right. A bit later in the trip we heard a press release on the radio news announcing Mvume Dandala's candidacy. Immediately, I was excited. I met Mvume about ten years ago when he was the presiding bishop of the Methodist Church of Southern Africa. He came to preach at a church event in Springs, and my father was the superintendent minister in charge of the Methodist churches in Springs at the time. He gave an amazing sermon, dripping with passion for God's people to get out and do the work of making disciples in the world. After the sermon, he came back to our house for tea and was really friendly.
That was just a brief encounter long ago, but what I've heard about Mvume from other sources since then has only been good. He went on to become general secretary of the All-Africa Council of Churches, based in Kenya. I take that as a sign that he has a heart for church unity just as I do. He's been involved in political peace negotiations both in South Africa in the bad old days of apartheid, and in Kenya after their more recent bout of post-election violence.
Imagine what such a leader of real integrity could do to the South African political scene right now? My mind reeled at the thoughts. But I was brought harshly back to reality when I remembered the last Methodist presiding bishop to enter political leadership, Stanley Mogoba. He became the leader of the deeply divided Pan-Africanist Congress in 1997 and while the party seemed to have enjoyed a short period of growth under his leadership, it remained pretty much divided and in political oblivion when his term ended in 2003. He seems to be remembered more for some injudicious remarks he apparently made about gays and lesbians, and for advocating amputation as a punishment for criminals, than for any good he did for the PAC or the country while leading the party. It seemed like a sad ending to Mogoba's great career of service.
I started feeling still more ambivalent when I talked with the family friends I was staying with in East London that evening. One said that men of the cloth had no business getting involved in partisan politics. Of course, it's right that the Church should be seen to transcend party politics, and the Methodist Church's current presiding bishop, Ivan Abrahams, did a good thing when he said that the church does not support any one party. As Jim Wallis in the USA loves to remind people, God does not belong to any one political party, and his people should be the ultimate swing voters, ready to vote for any party they believe best represents what is on his heart.
Despite all this, we're not going to have any Christian voice in political parties at all if we believers choose to remain outside the messiness of party politics, and Mvume has every right to get involved in a political party if that's where God is calling him. I'm sure he'd be one of the last people to suggest that COPE is the only party that Christians should vote for.
At the end of the day, Mvume Dandala, like Barack Obama, Gordon Brown and George Bush for that matter, is just a brother in Christ who has been sent into the harsh world of politics, where he requires much wisdom to retain his integrity and lead by following Jesus. So, as one of my father's colleagues said recently, we who are his brothers and sisters need to be praying hard for him. Let's not let our political leaders down in our duty to "pray... for kings and all others who are in authority, so that we can live in peace and quietness, in godliness and dignity." (1 Timothy 2:2) May our brothers and sisters in politics be able to live this way too!
Well, it turned out the long shot was right. A bit later in the trip we heard a press release on the radio news announcing Mvume Dandala's candidacy. Immediately, I was excited. I met Mvume about ten years ago when he was the presiding bishop of the Methodist Church of Southern Africa. He came to preach at a church event in Springs, and my father was the superintendent minister in charge of the Methodist churches in Springs at the time. He gave an amazing sermon, dripping with passion for God's people to get out and do the work of making disciples in the world. After the sermon, he came back to our house for tea and was really friendly.
That was just a brief encounter long ago, but what I've heard about Mvume from other sources since then has only been good. He went on to become general secretary of the All-Africa Council of Churches, based in Kenya. I take that as a sign that he has a heart for church unity just as I do. He's been involved in political peace negotiations both in South Africa in the bad old days of apartheid, and in Kenya after their more recent bout of post-election violence.
Imagine what such a leader of real integrity could do to the South African political scene right now? My mind reeled at the thoughts. But I was brought harshly back to reality when I remembered the last Methodist presiding bishop to enter political leadership, Stanley Mogoba. He became the leader of the deeply divided Pan-Africanist Congress in 1997 and while the party seemed to have enjoyed a short period of growth under his leadership, it remained pretty much divided and in political oblivion when his term ended in 2003. He seems to be remembered more for some injudicious remarks he apparently made about gays and lesbians, and for advocating amputation as a punishment for criminals, than for any good he did for the PAC or the country while leading the party. It seemed like a sad ending to Mogoba's great career of service.
I started feeling still more ambivalent when I talked with the family friends I was staying with in East London that evening. One said that men of the cloth had no business getting involved in partisan politics. Of course, it's right that the Church should be seen to transcend party politics, and the Methodist Church's current presiding bishop, Ivan Abrahams, did a good thing when he said that the church does not support any one party. As Jim Wallis in the USA loves to remind people, God does not belong to any one political party, and his people should be the ultimate swing voters, ready to vote for any party they believe best represents what is on his heart.
Despite all this, we're not going to have any Christian voice in political parties at all if we believers choose to remain outside the messiness of party politics, and Mvume has every right to get involved in a political party if that's where God is calling him. I'm sure he'd be one of the last people to suggest that COPE is the only party that Christians should vote for.
At the end of the day, Mvume Dandala, like Barack Obama, Gordon Brown and George Bush for that matter, is just a brother in Christ who has been sent into the harsh world of politics, where he requires much wisdom to retain his integrity and lead by following Jesus. So, as one of my father's colleagues said recently, we who are his brothers and sisters need to be praying hard for him. Let's not let our political leaders down in our duty to "pray... for kings and all others who are in authority, so that we can live in peace and quietness, in godliness and dignity." (1 Timothy 2:2) May our brothers and sisters in politics be able to live this way too!
Monday, February 16, 2009
O-Week: The Adventure Continues
Orientation Week at Rhodes is like a wave on a stormy day at Jeffreys Bay: you don't ride it; it rids you. The drinking crowd all have stories about nights they can't remember. (I don't quite know how it's possible to tell a story about stuff you can't remember, but many Rhodents are quite good at it.) And the Christians' stories can sometimes be just as wild.
Take Tuesday morning. I was in the Linguistics department and one of the lecturers asked me how I was. "Well, but sleep-deprived," was my answer.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's O-Week," I said.
"Oh, why did I ask?" he replied, not daring to probe for specifics.
Little did he know that the reason I was sleep-deprived was that I'd woken up before 5 that morning to take a graveyard shift in our O-Week 24-hour prayer room, after getting to bed past midnight, having socialized the evening away at an Isaiah 26:8 coffee bar. Just to top it off, I'd done a 30km training ride on my bike with my digsmate James after my prayer room slot.
As Christians @ Rhodes chairperson, I planned to spread myself out, visiting at least one evening event hosted by each Christian society. I had a wonderful time at each of these: they were all hugely blessed by God's Spirit and a bright, friendly atmosphere. People came to know Jesus, and they got in touch with friends they'll keep forever. But as usual, the highlights of O-Week were the unplanned moments when God took over and did something great.
On the Saturday, which also happened to be Valentine's Day, we had planned a Church Crawl, a walking tour to show first-years where all the churches in central Grahamstown are and what they're like, to encourage them to visit some and find one to call home. It was a great idea, but for one thing: it was raining that night.
I should have smelt trouble when on Thursday I saw that rain was forecast for the day of the Church Crawl, but I blithely thought it would probably happen at some other time in the day and not affect us too much. But on the day, it started raining in the early afternoon, and carried on and on and on and on. Meanwhile, I was praying everywhere I went, asking God to dry up the weather. As the evening drew closer, I oscillated between despair that no one would come and the thing would just be one big fiasco, and hope that things seemed to be clearing up. They didn't.
Nevertheless, about 20 people joined me under the Rhodes Theatre's porch, ready to explore. Among them were some random exchange students staying in Port Elizabeth, who had come up to Grahamstown for the weekend and decided that our Church Crawl was just the kind of guided tour they wanted. These 20 people were the most intrepid students I've ever seen! We squelched all around central Grahamstown in wet shoes, visiting all the churches on the programme with hardly any complaint about the weather.
And the stops at the different churches were wonderful. We'd asked each church to give a five-minute presentation welcoming the students and telling them what their churches were like in the most creative way possible. Some churches had audiovisual presentations; one even led us in five minutes of worship. The presentations showcased the beautiful diversity of Christ's Church, and as a friend remarked to me afterwards, you could feel the presence of God in all of the churches and their warm welcomes. On the way back, the new students excitedly chatted about which church(es) they would visit the next day.
I somehow got the feeling that God had allowed the rain to continue so that only really earnest first-years who loved the Church would be brave enough to come along with us. These people had been stretched in what they were prepared to do to find where God wanted them to be, and he blessed them greatly for it.
Then on Monday afternoon, after O-Week had finally wound up, and I was trying to slow down to the normality of termtime life, I got a random phone call saying something like "Hi, is that Ian? The university gave us your number. We're on a prayer journey, and would like to know if you have anything on that we can participate in today." I told the guy on the phone that his team could come and pray in our prayer room, and agreed to meet them to show them the way in an hour's time.
When I met them, I found out that they were from United Christian Student Association (UCSA) in Jeffreys Bay, that they were going around the Eastern Cape praying in different places, and had been led by the Spirit to stop in Grahamstown. Here they had found out that the previous week was O-Week and that it was a big event in the life of the city, so they had gone to the university administration, who had directed them to me. I told them how much of a Godsend they were, and how much in need of prayer we were. I explained that while the Christian societies had made great gains over O-Week, there were also tragic setbacks, such as the rape of a student in a local pub on Friday night. They prayed with me in the prayer room, writing encouragements on our posters on the walls and in the prayer journal we kept in the room for O-Week. They prayed for mercy for the many people here who have turned away from God, and really just strengthened us, saying that revival here would not come quickly or easily, but it will happen.
The prayer team had been going around completely on faith, not arranging places to stay ahead of time. So that evening, I tried to find people who would be willing to put some of them up for the night, when I went to our men's ministry fellowship meeting at church. I got a few very kind offers, but when I called them again, I found that God had already provided them with accommodation. He's so amazing!
So I'm left now without having got much academic work done in a week and a bit, wondering at what God is doing and trying to fit all the pieces together. I can't wait to see what the final picture will look like, but what I do know is that these are just a few baby steps of obedience on the great adventure of following Jesus. Watch this space!
Take Tuesday morning. I was in the Linguistics department and one of the lecturers asked me how I was. "Well, but sleep-deprived," was my answer.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's O-Week," I said.
"Oh, why did I ask?" he replied, not daring to probe for specifics.
Little did he know that the reason I was sleep-deprived was that I'd woken up before 5 that morning to take a graveyard shift in our O-Week 24-hour prayer room, after getting to bed past midnight, having socialized the evening away at an Isaiah 26:8 coffee bar. Just to top it off, I'd done a 30km training ride on my bike with my digsmate James after my prayer room slot.
As Christians @ Rhodes chairperson, I planned to spread myself out, visiting at least one evening event hosted by each Christian society. I had a wonderful time at each of these: they were all hugely blessed by God's Spirit and a bright, friendly atmosphere. People came to know Jesus, and they got in touch with friends they'll keep forever. But as usual, the highlights of O-Week were the unplanned moments when God took over and did something great.
On the Saturday, which also happened to be Valentine's Day, we had planned a Church Crawl, a walking tour to show first-years where all the churches in central Grahamstown are and what they're like, to encourage them to visit some and find one to call home. It was a great idea, but for one thing: it was raining that night.
I should have smelt trouble when on Thursday I saw that rain was forecast for the day of the Church Crawl, but I blithely thought it would probably happen at some other time in the day and not affect us too much. But on the day, it started raining in the early afternoon, and carried on and on and on and on. Meanwhile, I was praying everywhere I went, asking God to dry up the weather. As the evening drew closer, I oscillated between despair that no one would come and the thing would just be one big fiasco, and hope that things seemed to be clearing up. They didn't.
Nevertheless, about 20 people joined me under the Rhodes Theatre's porch, ready to explore. Among them were some random exchange students staying in Port Elizabeth, who had come up to Grahamstown for the weekend and decided that our Church Crawl was just the kind of guided tour they wanted. These 20 people were the most intrepid students I've ever seen! We squelched all around central Grahamstown in wet shoes, visiting all the churches on the programme with hardly any complaint about the weather.
And the stops at the different churches were wonderful. We'd asked each church to give a five-minute presentation welcoming the students and telling them what their churches were like in the most creative way possible. Some churches had audiovisual presentations; one even led us in five minutes of worship. The presentations showcased the beautiful diversity of Christ's Church, and as a friend remarked to me afterwards, you could feel the presence of God in all of the churches and their warm welcomes. On the way back, the new students excitedly chatted about which church(es) they would visit the next day.
I somehow got the feeling that God had allowed the rain to continue so that only really earnest first-years who loved the Church would be brave enough to come along with us. These people had been stretched in what they were prepared to do to find where God wanted them to be, and he blessed them greatly for it.
Then on Monday afternoon, after O-Week had finally wound up, and I was trying to slow down to the normality of termtime life, I got a random phone call saying something like "Hi, is that Ian? The university gave us your number. We're on a prayer journey, and would like to know if you have anything on that we can participate in today." I told the guy on the phone that his team could come and pray in our prayer room, and agreed to meet them to show them the way in an hour's time.
When I met them, I found out that they were from United Christian Student Association (UCSA) in Jeffreys Bay, that they were going around the Eastern Cape praying in different places, and had been led by the Spirit to stop in Grahamstown. Here they had found out that the previous week was O-Week and that it was a big event in the life of the city, so they had gone to the university administration, who had directed them to me. I told them how much of a Godsend they were, and how much in need of prayer we were. I explained that while the Christian societies had made great gains over O-Week, there were also tragic setbacks, such as the rape of a student in a local pub on Friday night. They prayed with me in the prayer room, writing encouragements on our posters on the walls and in the prayer journal we kept in the room for O-Week. They prayed for mercy for the many people here who have turned away from God, and really just strengthened us, saying that revival here would not come quickly or easily, but it will happen.
The prayer team had been going around completely on faith, not arranging places to stay ahead of time. So that evening, I tried to find people who would be willing to put some of them up for the night, when I went to our men's ministry fellowship meeting at church. I got a few very kind offers, but when I called them again, I found that God had already provided them with accommodation. He's so amazing!
So I'm left now without having got much academic work done in a week and a bit, wondering at what God is doing and trying to fit all the pieces together. I can't wait to see what the final picture will look like, but what I do know is that these are just a few baby steps of obedience on the great adventure of following Jesus. Watch this space!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Saddle up Your Horses!
A couple weeks ago I had a moment. It was a stunningly relaxed, balmy summer Sunday, and I was taking full advantage of it, lying on my bed and listening to a CD of beautiful Christian rock I had borrowed from my digsmate. There it hit me: There's no other place in the world where I'd want to be than right now and right here with God. There's no other life I'd rather live than the one I'm living now with him. It's the great adventure of following Christ.
Now to understand this moment of mine fully, we need to back up to last year, when I was doing something pretty ordinary, writing an advertisement for a Christians @ Rhodes term service to send out to a general student mailing list. A little while later, I got a reply from the list administrator, a powerful official in the Dean of Students' office, saying that she'd seen my advert and wanted to know if we could advertise a march that the Dean of Students division was organising for right after the service. I said I'd look into it, and we did announce the march at the service. I was the only one who went through to it. It wasn't hugely meaningful for me; I don't even remember what it was for.
But the official in the Dean of Students' office now had my email address, and I'd established some kind of vague contact with her. Now you must understand that the Dean of Students division and the Christian community on campus have traditionally not been seen to have a great relationship, due to a bit of a sour history. So I was very surprised when this official emailed me a couple weeks ago, asking if Christians @ Rhodes would like to co-host an event with them as part of Anti-Alcohol Abuse Week. I thought it was a great idea, and the rest of the leadership team agreed.
Meanwhile, Joe, the Isaiah 26:8 society chairperson, had emailed me in December about the possibility of Christians @ Rhodes negotiating with the other Christian societies about doing a joint programme of Orientation Week evening events. In the past, each society had just done their own thing to reach out to first-years during Orientation Week, leaving us open to criticisms that we were just recruiting for our own societies, which according to the Dean of Students division was a no-no. I thought it was worth a try to organise a joint programme, so I went ahead and started talking with the other societies about it.
Unfortunately, by the time everyone woke up to the new year, some societies' O-Week programmes were already in place, and so we weren't able to organise one combined event for every night of the week as we had hoped. Instead, I thought of designing one poster with all the societies' activities on it, so that people could get the picture that we were working together and not trying to compete with each other. Everyone was enthusiastic about this idea.
Then when I got to Grahamstown, I scheduled an appointment with a couple of pastors to talk about the plans for O-Week. One pastor told me that he'd been pleading unsuccessfully with the official in the Dean of Students' office to let his society advertise their events on campus. However, the official said to him that if Christians @ Rhodes wanted to put up a poster, we would be allowed to do it. He suggested that we add a combined Christians @ Rhodes event to the poster as well, to make it look less like Christians @ Rhodes advertising what the different societies were doing, and more like an O-Week programme that we were sharing with the societies. I told him that I'd speak with the official and see what she'd let us get away with.
I must admit I was rather nervous, and took a good amount of prayer and false-starts before I could go up to her office and speak to her. But when we chatted, I talked about the usual animosity that there seemed to be between the Dean of Students division and the Christian societies around O-Week, and said I thought there was a way we could co-operate. I told her about the idea of the joint poster and combined event, and said I could negotiate with the societies to try to prevent clashes between their events and the official Dean of Students/SRC events. She not only allowed us to put up a poster, but also said that she would be happy for her office to stick it up in all the university residences! I thanked her, and struggled to keep my cool until I was safely out of the building. But once I was outside, I had to shout and sing and dance around for joy. With the bad vibes that usually seemed to exist between us and the Dean of Students division, this was a miracle!
So two days later, I found myself on my bed listening to music and thinking through all this. I laughed to myself, hardly believing that somehow I had gone from negotiating between the Christian societies to mediating between the Christian community and the Dean of Students division, and that now the official I had feared for so long was offering to stick up our posters for us! These are things that only God can do.
And I thought, "What other kind of life would I be living? What could be more of an adventure than this? What work is there that satisfies like serving God?" As I said to a friend a couple of nights later, I know I haven't arrived yet. I have so much still to learn, so much to surrender to God. But I know I'm on the way there, and the journey is literally incredible! God is on the move here.
And so, as an old Steven Curtis Chapman song goes, it's time to saddle up our horses and ride out into the wild unknown of God's grace. Who knows what we may find this year?
Now to understand this moment of mine fully, we need to back up to last year, when I was doing something pretty ordinary, writing an advertisement for a Christians @ Rhodes term service to send out to a general student mailing list. A little while later, I got a reply from the list administrator, a powerful official in the Dean of Students' office, saying that she'd seen my advert and wanted to know if we could advertise a march that the Dean of Students division was organising for right after the service. I said I'd look into it, and we did announce the march at the service. I was the only one who went through to it. It wasn't hugely meaningful for me; I don't even remember what it was for.
But the official in the Dean of Students' office now had my email address, and I'd established some kind of vague contact with her. Now you must understand that the Dean of Students division and the Christian community on campus have traditionally not been seen to have a great relationship, due to a bit of a sour history. So I was very surprised when this official emailed me a couple weeks ago, asking if Christians @ Rhodes would like to co-host an event with them as part of Anti-Alcohol Abuse Week. I thought it was a great idea, and the rest of the leadership team agreed.
Meanwhile, Joe, the Isaiah 26:8 society chairperson, had emailed me in December about the possibility of Christians @ Rhodes negotiating with the other Christian societies about doing a joint programme of Orientation Week evening events. In the past, each society had just done their own thing to reach out to first-years during Orientation Week, leaving us open to criticisms that we were just recruiting for our own societies, which according to the Dean of Students division was a no-no. I thought it was worth a try to organise a joint programme, so I went ahead and started talking with the other societies about it.
Unfortunately, by the time everyone woke up to the new year, some societies' O-Week programmes were already in place, and so we weren't able to organise one combined event for every night of the week as we had hoped. Instead, I thought of designing one poster with all the societies' activities on it, so that people could get the picture that we were working together and not trying to compete with each other. Everyone was enthusiastic about this idea.
Then when I got to Grahamstown, I scheduled an appointment with a couple of pastors to talk about the plans for O-Week. One pastor told me that he'd been pleading unsuccessfully with the official in the Dean of Students' office to let his society advertise their events on campus. However, the official said to him that if Christians @ Rhodes wanted to put up a poster, we would be allowed to do it. He suggested that we add a combined Christians @ Rhodes event to the poster as well, to make it look less like Christians @ Rhodes advertising what the different societies were doing, and more like an O-Week programme that we were sharing with the societies. I told him that I'd speak with the official and see what she'd let us get away with.
I must admit I was rather nervous, and took a good amount of prayer and false-starts before I could go up to her office and speak to her. But when we chatted, I talked about the usual animosity that there seemed to be between the Dean of Students division and the Christian societies around O-Week, and said I thought there was a way we could co-operate. I told her about the idea of the joint poster and combined event, and said I could negotiate with the societies to try to prevent clashes between their events and the official Dean of Students/SRC events. She not only allowed us to put up a poster, but also said that she would be happy for her office to stick it up in all the university residences! I thanked her, and struggled to keep my cool until I was safely out of the building. But once I was outside, I had to shout and sing and dance around for joy. With the bad vibes that usually seemed to exist between us and the Dean of Students division, this was a miracle!
So two days later, I found myself on my bed listening to music and thinking through all this. I laughed to myself, hardly believing that somehow I had gone from negotiating between the Christian societies to mediating between the Christian community and the Dean of Students division, and that now the official I had feared for so long was offering to stick up our posters for us! These are things that only God can do.
And I thought, "What other kind of life would I be living? What could be more of an adventure than this? What work is there that satisfies like serving God?" As I said to a friend a couple of nights later, I know I haven't arrived yet. I have so much still to learn, so much to surrender to God. But I know I'm on the way there, and the journey is literally incredible! God is on the move here.
And so, as an old Steven Curtis Chapman song goes, it's time to saddle up our horses and ride out into the wild unknown of God's grace. Who knows what we may find this year?
Friday, January 30, 2009
Three Days in Parliament
I'm happy to report that I'm back in Grahamstown and slowly settling in to digs life. It's been an exciting time, with plenty of plans milling around in my head for Christians @ Rhodes and for my Master's degree. And that's why I ended up spending three of my last days in Cape Town at Parliament.
You see, last year a woman in my parents' church who is one of the managers of Parliament's operations happened to mention to my Mom that there were a couple of areas in Parliament that were desperately in need of some linguistic research. My Mom told me, and I had an interview with the Parliament manager. After hearing that Parliament was opening early for the year, I scheduled in a few days to observe what was going on there and see if there was an area I could concentrate my Master's degree on, before I headed back to Grahamstown,.
Well, the linguistic side of things was very interesting, but I'm going to have about two years to look at that, so I thought I'd blog just about the experience of being there.
I took a bus into the centre of Cape Town on a Tuesday to go and sit in on a parliamentary committee meeting which was set up to decide whether or not to fire Vusi Pikoli, the National Director of Public Prosecutions. The bus leaves my parents' neighbourhood way early to get to town by 9am, and the meeting only started at 10am, so I packed my Bible and snuck into St George's Cathedral for a quiet time before the meeting started.
Getting into Parliament in the first place was quite a mission. I expected security checks, but nothing like what I found there. At first I called at a boom gate into the parliamentary precinct, but the policeman on duty there said I wasn't allowed in without a permit. I had heard the previous day that there was a visitors' centre, so I asked the cop for directions to that. I had to walk around a long block and through some glass doors and a metal detector before I could even report to the visitors' centre desk and ask for a permit. Then I could walk through to the building where the meeting was to be held, through another metal detector. All this time I was rather clueless about where to go and what to do. My mind cast back to those anthropologists we had talked about in class, adventurers who landed on a remote island armed with little more than a toothbrush and hunting knife, unable to understand the natives' language. Fortunately a security guard at the second metal detector saw my lostness and showed me through to the Old Assembly Chamber where the meeting was happening.
I was directed to the public gallery, where I could watch the action happen one floor below. MPs milled in and out, shaking hands and hugging each other with surprising congeniality. Then they took their place sitting in the rows of green leather benches staring each other down along the sides of the room: four rows for the ruling party on the left; four rows for the opposition on the right; chairpersons in three chairs in the middle, facing towards me. All the benches had desks in front of them with microphones, and whenever people wanted to speak, they would push a button on their desks to switch on a little red light indicating that their microphone was on.
On the first day I was there, Vusi Pikoli gave a presentation on why he should be allowed to keep his job, followed by some long question-and-answer sessions where he was grilled by the MPs. The next day Minister of Justice Enver Surty and Frank Chikane from the president's office came in ostensibly to answer questions from the MPs, but really just to give reasons why he should be fired. The whole thing was quite a charade actually, with the ANC MPs desperately scratching around for reasons to fire Pikoli and the opposition expressing its disapproval at every turn, asking Pikoli what he thinks the real motive for his suspension was. Someone's written a very good opinion piece on the committee meetings I went to, which I suggest you read if you'd like to find out more about the political issues at the meetings: http://www.mg.co.za/article/2009-01-26-tragedy-and-farce. I don't know if I could say it better, so I won't.
Two of the things that struck me about my visit to Parliament were the put-on politeness of the MPs and the genuine friendliness of the staff that I talked to. Parliamentary etiquette prescribes a very polite way of saying things: plenty of 'thank you's are said and MPs are referred to as "The Honourable" so and so. This type of language is used even when debate gets heated. Also, Chikane, Surty and some of the ANC MPs professed to be friends of Pikoli on the one hand, but harshly criticised him, arguing that he was unfit for office, on the other. I can only imagine how much he felt betrayed by this.
On the other hand, I found the parliamentary staff excellent in their willingness to go out of their way to help me. The security guard who showed me into the public gallery struck up a conversation with me the next day, showing interest in what I was doing. And on my third day in Parliament I had an appointment to interview the head of the language services division. He was wonderful in giving me a tour around the division and in introducing me to others whose work I was interested in. I had a very fruitful morning talking to them.
Why was there such a difference between the false politeness of the MPs and the friendliness of the parliamentary staff? I think it must have something to do with their respective jobs: the staff are there to serve, while the MPs are there to oversee what government does, be critical and score a few political points along the way if possible. But it was more than just a job thing; it was an attitude thing. It makes sense of Jesus' words: "You know that in this world kings are tyrants, and officials lord it over the people beneath them. But among you it should be quite different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant." (Matthew 20:25-26). If we are servants, we'll have the right attitude to leadership, and false politeness will fade away in the face of genuine interest in others' well-being. Or at least that's what my three days in Parliament taught me.
You see, last year a woman in my parents' church who is one of the managers of Parliament's operations happened to mention to my Mom that there were a couple of areas in Parliament that were desperately in need of some linguistic research. My Mom told me, and I had an interview with the Parliament manager. After hearing that Parliament was opening early for the year, I scheduled in a few days to observe what was going on there and see if there was an area I could concentrate my Master's degree on, before I headed back to Grahamstown,.
Well, the linguistic side of things was very interesting, but I'm going to have about two years to look at that, so I thought I'd blog just about the experience of being there.
I took a bus into the centre of Cape Town on a Tuesday to go and sit in on a parliamentary committee meeting which was set up to decide whether or not to fire Vusi Pikoli, the National Director of Public Prosecutions. The bus leaves my parents' neighbourhood way early to get to town by 9am, and the meeting only started at 10am, so I packed my Bible and snuck into St George's Cathedral for a quiet time before the meeting started.
Getting into Parliament in the first place was quite a mission. I expected security checks, but nothing like what I found there. At first I called at a boom gate into the parliamentary precinct, but the policeman on duty there said I wasn't allowed in without a permit. I had heard the previous day that there was a visitors' centre, so I asked the cop for directions to that. I had to walk around a long block and through some glass doors and a metal detector before I could even report to the visitors' centre desk and ask for a permit. Then I could walk through to the building where the meeting was to be held, through another metal detector. All this time I was rather clueless about where to go and what to do. My mind cast back to those anthropologists we had talked about in class, adventurers who landed on a remote island armed with little more than a toothbrush and hunting knife, unable to understand the natives' language. Fortunately a security guard at the second metal detector saw my lostness and showed me through to the Old Assembly Chamber where the meeting was happening.
I was directed to the public gallery, where I could watch the action happen one floor below. MPs milled in and out, shaking hands and hugging each other with surprising congeniality. Then they took their place sitting in the rows of green leather benches staring each other down along the sides of the room: four rows for the ruling party on the left; four rows for the opposition on the right; chairpersons in three chairs in the middle, facing towards me. All the benches had desks in front of them with microphones, and whenever people wanted to speak, they would push a button on their desks to switch on a little red light indicating that their microphone was on.
On the first day I was there, Vusi Pikoli gave a presentation on why he should be allowed to keep his job, followed by some long question-and-answer sessions where he was grilled by the MPs. The next day Minister of Justice Enver Surty and Frank Chikane from the president's office came in ostensibly to answer questions from the MPs, but really just to give reasons why he should be fired. The whole thing was quite a charade actually, with the ANC MPs desperately scratching around for reasons to fire Pikoli and the opposition expressing its disapproval at every turn, asking Pikoli what he thinks the real motive for his suspension was. Someone's written a very good opinion piece on the committee meetings I went to, which I suggest you read if you'd like to find out more about the political issues at the meetings: http://www.mg.co.za/article/2009-01-26-tragedy-and-farce. I don't know if I could say it better, so I won't.
Two of the things that struck me about my visit to Parliament were the put-on politeness of the MPs and the genuine friendliness of the staff that I talked to. Parliamentary etiquette prescribes a very polite way of saying things: plenty of 'thank you's are said and MPs are referred to as "The Honourable" so and so. This type of language is used even when debate gets heated. Also, Chikane, Surty and some of the ANC MPs professed to be friends of Pikoli on the one hand, but harshly criticised him, arguing that he was unfit for office, on the other. I can only imagine how much he felt betrayed by this.
On the other hand, I found the parliamentary staff excellent in their willingness to go out of their way to help me. The security guard who showed me into the public gallery struck up a conversation with me the next day, showing interest in what I was doing. And on my third day in Parliament I had an appointment to interview the head of the language services division. He was wonderful in giving me a tour around the division and in introducing me to others whose work I was interested in. I had a very fruitful morning talking to them.
Why was there such a difference between the false politeness of the MPs and the friendliness of the parliamentary staff? I think it must have something to do with their respective jobs: the staff are there to serve, while the MPs are there to oversee what government does, be critical and score a few political points along the way if possible. But it was more than just a job thing; it was an attitude thing. It makes sense of Jesus' words: "You know that in this world kings are tyrants, and officials lord it over the people beneath them. But among you it should be quite different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant." (Matthew 20:25-26). If we are servants, we'll have the right attitude to leadership, and false politeness will fade away in the face of genuine interest in others' well-being. Or at least that's what my three days in Parliament taught me.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Make Sure the Yoke isn't on You
This weekend I had a tough decision to make, and turned to the Bible for some sound advice. One of the verses I looked up was this one:
"Don't team up with unbelievers." (2 Corinthians 6:14, NLT)
Or, as the more literal ESV has it, "Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers." Now this is a well-known verse, which in my experience used most of the time to discourage Christians from dating non-believers. You know the drill: "No, Johnny, you can't go out with Jenny, no matter how hot she is, because she's a non-Christian."
"But what if our relationship ends up leading her to Christ?"
"With respect, Johnny, it's more likely it'll end up leading you the other way. Just trust God's Word on this one. You can't be unequally yoked. It just won't work."
Yes, I've said that speech too. And it's true; it's a good one. But is 'teaming up with unbelievers' limited to romantic relationships? Does it mean that I can't even be on the same soccer team with an unbeliever? What on earth does this verse mean? That's what I was wondering.
I had a couple of days of angst about it before I decided to fire up my e-Sword and figure out once and for all what this whole 'unequally yoked' deal is all about. In the Greek.
So here it is: the Greek word for 'unequally-yoked-with' is heterozugeo. If you're sharp, you'll notice that the hetero- part is the same prefix that we use in words like 'heterogeneous' and 'heterosexual' to mean 'other or different'. So that's pretty clear. Being unequally yoked has to do with being connected to people different from you in the sense that they don't believe in Jesus.
The other part, -zugeo, comes from a word that means, um, well, 'yoke'. Now unless you were born in the time of the Voortrekkers you're unlikely ever to have seen one of these things. Apparently a yoke is a big piece of wood that fits over the necks of two oxen pulling an ox-wagon or, more to the point, a plough. So picture you as one of the oxen, and an unbeliever (or a few) harnessed on the other side of this yoke, and you'll get some idea of what the verse is talking about. I took three things out of this (not so comfortable) image.
1. Being 'unequally yoked' is about when you're working together for the same purpose. Oxen are yoked together to pull a wagon or plough a field or otherwise make themselves useful. If you're just hanging around with unbelievers, hoping that you can witness to them and bring them to Christ, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, if we're not around unbelievers, how are we meant to make disciples as Jesus told us to? But if you're working together with unbelievers on something like a business partnership where you've got some common goal, then you may be 'unequally yoked'. Advance to point 2 to find out if you are.
2. Being 'unequally yoked' is about being tied down. After all, if you're an ox, and you're yoked to another ox who wants to turn right, you've gotta turn right with it! It's easy to see how this could be a problem for believers. If you're in a partnership where you're obliged to do something with another person, and he or she starts doing things that don't honour God, you're stuck. This is, I guess, why romantic relationships with non-Christians are not a good idea. Our partners may put us in a position where it's a choice of their way or the highway, and their way involves some dodgy stuff. But on the other side, if you're working together with non-Christians in such a way that you're not obliged to do anything you don't want you, you're fine.
3. Being 'unequally yoked' gets you nowhere. Try to picture a little ox on the right hand side of the yoke, and a huge one on left hand side. Where do you think they're going to go? The big, strong ox will probably pull the wagon and the little ox towards the left, and they'll keep going round in circles. Not so helpful. Neither is teaming up with unbelievers if you're working toward a common purpose, and tied down to each other.
Obviously, it's impossible to get away from all unbelievers, and a bad idea too, as we've seen. So in this world we've constantly got to be checking our relationships to see if we're getting 'unequally yoked', in unhealthy relationships with unbelievers. So ask God to help you make sure that the yoke doesn't get onto you!
"Don't team up with unbelievers." (2 Corinthians 6:14, NLT)
Or, as the more literal ESV has it, "Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers." Now this is a well-known verse, which in my experience used most of the time to discourage Christians from dating non-believers. You know the drill: "No, Johnny, you can't go out with Jenny, no matter how hot she is, because she's a non-Christian."
"But what if our relationship ends up leading her to Christ?"
"With respect, Johnny, it's more likely it'll end up leading you the other way. Just trust God's Word on this one. You can't be unequally yoked. It just won't work."
Yes, I've said that speech too. And it's true; it's a good one. But is 'teaming up with unbelievers' limited to romantic relationships? Does it mean that I can't even be on the same soccer team with an unbeliever? What on earth does this verse mean? That's what I was wondering.
I had a couple of days of angst about it before I decided to fire up my e-Sword and figure out once and for all what this whole 'unequally yoked' deal is all about. In the Greek.
So here it is: the Greek word for 'unequally-yoked-with' is heterozugeo. If you're sharp, you'll notice that the hetero- part is the same prefix that we use in words like 'heterogeneous' and 'heterosexual' to mean 'other or different'. So that's pretty clear. Being unequally yoked has to do with being connected to people different from you in the sense that they don't believe in Jesus.
The other part, -zugeo, comes from a word that means, um, well, 'yoke'. Now unless you were born in the time of the Voortrekkers you're unlikely ever to have seen one of these things. Apparently a yoke is a big piece of wood that fits over the necks of two oxen pulling an ox-wagon or, more to the point, a plough. So picture you as one of the oxen, and an unbeliever (or a few) harnessed on the other side of this yoke, and you'll get some idea of what the verse is talking about. I took three things out of this (not so comfortable) image.
1. Being 'unequally yoked' is about when you're working together for the same purpose. Oxen are yoked together to pull a wagon or plough a field or otherwise make themselves useful. If you're just hanging around with unbelievers, hoping that you can witness to them and bring them to Christ, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, if we're not around unbelievers, how are we meant to make disciples as Jesus told us to? But if you're working together with unbelievers on something like a business partnership where you've got some common goal, then you may be 'unequally yoked'. Advance to point 2 to find out if you are.
2. Being 'unequally yoked' is about being tied down. After all, if you're an ox, and you're yoked to another ox who wants to turn right, you've gotta turn right with it! It's easy to see how this could be a problem for believers. If you're in a partnership where you're obliged to do something with another person, and he or she starts doing things that don't honour God, you're stuck. This is, I guess, why romantic relationships with non-Christians are not a good idea. Our partners may put us in a position where it's a choice of their way or the highway, and their way involves some dodgy stuff. But on the other side, if you're working together with non-Christians in such a way that you're not obliged to do anything you don't want you, you're fine.
3. Being 'unequally yoked' gets you nowhere. Try to picture a little ox on the right hand side of the yoke, and a huge one on left hand side. Where do you think they're going to go? The big, strong ox will probably pull the wagon and the little ox towards the left, and they'll keep going round in circles. Not so helpful. Neither is teaming up with unbelievers if you're working toward a common purpose, and tied down to each other.
Obviously, it's impossible to get away from all unbelievers, and a bad idea too, as we've seen. So in this world we've constantly got to be checking our relationships to see if we're getting 'unequally yoked', in unhealthy relationships with unbelievers. So ask God to help you make sure that the yoke doesn't get onto you!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Correction, or On Sour Grapes and Puckering Mouths
In a couple of recent blog posts, I've been raging on like a minor prophet about how South Africans share a collective responsibility for the recent xenophobic violence and our government's reticence to deal more toughly with Mugabe and his cronies. But while I was on holiday, my father said something that made me change my thinking a little.
We were discussing Ezekiel 18:2-4, where the Lord says, "Why do you quote this proverb in the land of Israel: 'The parents have eaten sour grapes, but their children's mouths pucker at the taste'? As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, you will not say this proverb anymore in Israel. For all people are mine to judge both parents and children alike. And this is my rule: the person who sins will be the one who dies."
The old proverb means that the children will be punished for the actions of their parents. A group would be punished for the actions of those in the group. There was collective responsibility, and collective punishment in Old Testament times. But Ezekiel prophesies about a time when each person will be accountable for his/her own sins; there will be no more collective responsibility. My father pointed this out to us.
In Jeremiah 31:29-30, God cites the same proverb and repeats that it will not be used any more for the same reason. But here this dawn of individual responsibility for sins is associated with the beginning of the new covenant which God negotiated with us through Jesus.
So it seems we don't need to worry that God will judge all of us South Africans for what some people in the government and on the streets have done. But he will judge us for our individual attitudes towards those in need. Seems we still have a lot of repenting to do!
However, that must not stop us from interceding for those in our nation or city who have done wrong and are under judgment. Paul gives us a good example when he says "My heart is filled with bitter sorrow and unending grief for my people, my Jewish brothers and sisters. I would be willing to be forever cursed cut off from Christ! if that would save them" (Romans 9:2-3). Paul would be willing to take his people's sins on himself. And that's exactly what Jesus did when he took our sins on the cross.
These two are brilliant examples for us to keep crying out to God for our people who don't know him, asking that he would save them from their wickedness. There are plenty of others in the Old Testament: Moses, Nehemiah, Daniel. So let's do what they would have done and pray earnestly for our people.
We were discussing Ezekiel 18:2-4, where the Lord says, "Why do you quote this proverb in the land of Israel: 'The parents have eaten sour grapes, but their children's mouths pucker at the taste'? As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, you will not say this proverb anymore in Israel. For all people are mine to judge both parents and children alike. And this is my rule: the person who sins will be the one who dies."
The old proverb means that the children will be punished for the actions of their parents. A group would be punished for the actions of those in the group. There was collective responsibility, and collective punishment in Old Testament times. But Ezekiel prophesies about a time when each person will be accountable for his/her own sins; there will be no more collective responsibility. My father pointed this out to us.
In Jeremiah 31:29-30, God cites the same proverb and repeats that it will not be used any more for the same reason. But here this dawn of individual responsibility for sins is associated with the beginning of the new covenant which God negotiated with us through Jesus.
So it seems we don't need to worry that God will judge all of us South Africans for what some people in the government and on the streets have done. But he will judge us for our individual attitudes towards those in need. Seems we still have a lot of repenting to do!
However, that must not stop us from interceding for those in our nation or city who have done wrong and are under judgment. Paul gives us a good example when he says "My heart is filled with bitter sorrow and unending grief for my people, my Jewish brothers and sisters. I would be willing to be forever cursed cut off from Christ! if that would save them" (Romans 9:2-3). Paul would be willing to take his people's sins on himself. And that's exactly what Jesus did when he took our sins on the cross.
These two are brilliant examples for us to keep crying out to God for our people who don't know him, asking that he would save them from their wickedness. There are plenty of others in the Old Testament: Moses, Nehemiah, Daniel. So let's do what they would have done and pray earnestly for our people.
Being the Bridegroom’s friend
Sunrise. The bridegroom gets up and says to me, "Thus begins the day." It’s his day, his bride’s day, their wedding day. Soon there is a flurry of activity as we all get into our wedding clothes. The other young men in the bridegroom’s entourage descend on the house we’re staying in. His future brother-in-law brings breakfast. As we eat, each of us offers the bridegroom some encouraging words. We crack a few jokes. We ask if he’s feeling nervous, but he says he is confident. All that separates him from his beloved is a walk down the aisle. When the time comes, we rush in convoy across town to the chapel. The bridegroom has come.
It’s been a while since I last blogged, and Christmas, a holiday at Jeffreys Bay and much water has flowed under the bridge since our epic trip up to Harare, Zimbabwe for the wedding of two of my friends. Nevertheless, I thought I owed you, friends, an account of how it went up there. It was an amazing time.
I’ll start with the trip up. I flew up from Cape Town to Johannesburg and met Steve and Ros, two of my friends, up there. And that’s where all the fun started. Suffice it to say that entering Park Station in Johannesburg is like entering a parallel universe where African time (and African efficiency) rules. Our bus was one and a half hours late leaving from Joburg, and although the border crossing was fairly smooth, we were five and a half hours late by the time we reached Harare. And that makes 20 hours on a bus. We dubbed it ‘a wedding bus’ because most of the people on it were not in fact Zimbos going home, but South Africans going to different weddings in Zim. Obviously there are more crazy people like us than we thought. We comforted each other through the trip now and then by saying "This is an adventure!" And it was.
So we arrived in Harare at the dodgiest bus depot where you have to cling to all your luggage in case it decides to grow legs, in the rain, while many of our friends were enjoying the bride's kitchen tea and so could not pick us up. Thank God for Ros’s friend’s father who got us out of there to a place where we could sit and plan our next move. There were a few more communication mishaps and no one seemed to know where I was meant to be staying, so our friends Jess and Emma took me back to their family's home, where I slept (fairly comfortably) on the lounge floor.
The next day Ros and one of her Zim contacts came to take us to Danai Children’s Home, to deliver the supplies we had collected in South Africa for the home. That was one of the most joyful experiences of the trip. The children’s home was a normal suburban house and many of the children were away on Christmas holidays, but most of the babies and toddlers were still there. It was great to see that they all looked well-looked-after, despite all the difficulties of keeping a home afloat in Zim’s collapsed economy. Steve and I had a great time playing with the boys, and the staff were hugely grateful for all the nappies, food, clothes and medicines we brought up.
Jess had found out that I was meant to be staying in the house that Jono had borrowed for himself and some of his friends to stay in around the time of the wedding, and so in the evening he drove Steve and me there. It was great to see my old accountability partner John there.
Well, the next day dawned and it was time for the wedding. The service was at the chapel of the private school where Kath and Jess have been teaching, set among beautiful white buildings and lush, green lawns. It was brilliant to meet some old friends in the parking lot outside, people like Bryan and Phiwe. Inside, a little choir of schoolgirls was rehearsing "Take My Life and Let it Be" for the service. The music was wonderful, with our friend Anne playing the piano and two violinists accompanying her. They played "Ode to Joy" as Kath came down the aisle, looking radiant and (as we said to each other later) "very much like Kath". Of course, Jono wasn’t looking shabby either. Jono and Kath had chosen two very apt Bible verses for the ceremony, Romans 12:1-2 and 1 Peter 1:5-7. The minister, an elderly relative of Kath’s, preached a rambling sermon, but one thing stood out clearly: this was no ordinary couple, because they had chosen not to conform themselves to the pattern of this world, but instead to build their relationship around Christ.
The reception was in Kath’s parents’ huge back garden. When we arrived, everyone was standing on the lawn, talking in clumps and sipping punch while waiters walked around with trays of snacks. After a while the rain came down and chased us all under a marquee where tables had been set out for the meal. I was seated at a table with Lauren, Steve, John, and Jerry and Sarah, both of whom I hadn’t seen for a long time, as well as some others.
It was a true wedding feast: the food was so incredible that for a while we found it hard to believe we were in a starving country. For starters there were springbok carpaccio, pâtés and plenty of other things to put on bread. The main course included lamb on the spit, Zanzibar chicken and beef, and there were little brownies and pecan nut pies for dessert, as well as a range of cheeses. Interspersed with this were all the usual speeches and toasts and a litany of thanks for different relatives who had brought up different parts of the meal from South Africa with them.
One of the best things about the reception was that it was long and leisurely, starting at noon and stretching into the evening, allowing plenty of time to catch up with old friends. When many of your guests have come a long, long way for the wedding, you might as well make it last. There was a great vibe as families and friends came up and danced together, and I’m glad to report that Jerry and Steve did an excellent rendition of "The Shower" on the dance floor. Jono and Kath must have left at about 6:30pm, and we left a little later, at 7, to go back to the borrowed house minus the bridegroom and some of the groomsmen who’d been staying there.
As you might have gathered from my intro to this post, I felt many times during the trip as though I were in one of the Bible’s parables about a wedding. One scripture that I identified with a lot was John 3:29-30, where John the Baptist says "A bridegroom’s friend rejoices with him. I am the bridegroom’s friend, and I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less." Of course, the bridegroom he was talking about was Jesus, and his bride is the people he has redeemed, his Church.
Now, the bottom line of this lesson is that it’s not about me. At the wedding it was my friend the bridegroom’s day, and I was there to support him and celebrate with him, not to receive any recognition for myself. I might have spent much time and money getting there and enduring such a hard journey, but I didn't need or deserve any recognition for that, because it was a privilege to be there. In the same way, when we serve God, it’s not about us. We may have sacrificed a lot of time, money and effort to serve, but that’s not the point. The point is that we have the amazing privilege of seeing what God is doing to win people to himself, and partying with him when it happens. Our egos must stay out of the picture. We must never claim any of God’s glory for ourselves.
All in all we had a valuable time in Harare. Among other things, it was good to see for myself in more detail how dire the situation in Zim is, but how people are managing to survive through God's grace alone. Let's keep praying for them! The journey back was just as arduous (and late) as the journey there, but I was back with my family for Christmas, enjoying another celebration as the Bridegroom's friend.
It’s been a while since I last blogged, and Christmas, a holiday at Jeffreys Bay and much water has flowed under the bridge since our epic trip up to Harare, Zimbabwe for the wedding of two of my friends. Nevertheless, I thought I owed you, friends, an account of how it went up there. It was an amazing time.
I’ll start with the trip up. I flew up from Cape Town to Johannesburg and met Steve and Ros, two of my friends, up there. And that’s where all the fun started. Suffice it to say that entering Park Station in Johannesburg is like entering a parallel universe where African time (and African efficiency) rules. Our bus was one and a half hours late leaving from Joburg, and although the border crossing was fairly smooth, we were five and a half hours late by the time we reached Harare. And that makes 20 hours on a bus. We dubbed it ‘a wedding bus’ because most of the people on it were not in fact Zimbos going home, but South Africans going to different weddings in Zim. Obviously there are more crazy people like us than we thought. We comforted each other through the trip now and then by saying "This is an adventure!" And it was.
So we arrived in Harare at the dodgiest bus depot where you have to cling to all your luggage in case it decides to grow legs, in the rain, while many of our friends were enjoying the bride's kitchen tea and so could not pick us up. Thank God for Ros’s friend’s father who got us out of there to a place where we could sit and plan our next move. There were a few more communication mishaps and no one seemed to know where I was meant to be staying, so our friends Jess and Emma took me back to their family's home, where I slept (fairly comfortably) on the lounge floor.
The next day Ros and one of her Zim contacts came to take us to Danai Children’s Home, to deliver the supplies we had collected in South Africa for the home. That was one of the most joyful experiences of the trip. The children’s home was a normal suburban house and many of the children were away on Christmas holidays, but most of the babies and toddlers were still there. It was great to see that they all looked well-looked-after, despite all the difficulties of keeping a home afloat in Zim’s collapsed economy. Steve and I had a great time playing with the boys, and the staff were hugely grateful for all the nappies, food, clothes and medicines we brought up.
Jess had found out that I was meant to be staying in the house that Jono had borrowed for himself and some of his friends to stay in around the time of the wedding, and so in the evening he drove Steve and me there. It was great to see my old accountability partner John there.
Well, the next day dawned and it was time for the wedding. The service was at the chapel of the private school where Kath and Jess have been teaching, set among beautiful white buildings and lush, green lawns. It was brilliant to meet some old friends in the parking lot outside, people like Bryan and Phiwe. Inside, a little choir of schoolgirls was rehearsing "Take My Life and Let it Be" for the service. The music was wonderful, with our friend Anne playing the piano and two violinists accompanying her. They played "Ode to Joy" as Kath came down the aisle, looking radiant and (as we said to each other later) "very much like Kath". Of course, Jono wasn’t looking shabby either. Jono and Kath had chosen two very apt Bible verses for the ceremony, Romans 12:1-2 and 1 Peter 1:5-7. The minister, an elderly relative of Kath’s, preached a rambling sermon, but one thing stood out clearly: this was no ordinary couple, because they had chosen not to conform themselves to the pattern of this world, but instead to build their relationship around Christ.
The reception was in Kath’s parents’ huge back garden. When we arrived, everyone was standing on the lawn, talking in clumps and sipping punch while waiters walked around with trays of snacks. After a while the rain came down and chased us all under a marquee where tables had been set out for the meal. I was seated at a table with Lauren, Steve, John, and Jerry and Sarah, both of whom I hadn’t seen for a long time, as well as some others.
It was a true wedding feast: the food was so incredible that for a while we found it hard to believe we were in a starving country. For starters there were springbok carpaccio, pâtés and plenty of other things to put on bread. The main course included lamb on the spit, Zanzibar chicken and beef, and there were little brownies and pecan nut pies for dessert, as well as a range of cheeses. Interspersed with this were all the usual speeches and toasts and a litany of thanks for different relatives who had brought up different parts of the meal from South Africa with them.
One of the best things about the reception was that it was long and leisurely, starting at noon and stretching into the evening, allowing plenty of time to catch up with old friends. When many of your guests have come a long, long way for the wedding, you might as well make it last. There was a great vibe as families and friends came up and danced together, and I’m glad to report that Jerry and Steve did an excellent rendition of "The Shower" on the dance floor. Jono and Kath must have left at about 6:30pm, and we left a little later, at 7, to go back to the borrowed house minus the bridegroom and some of the groomsmen who’d been staying there.
As you might have gathered from my intro to this post, I felt many times during the trip as though I were in one of the Bible’s parables about a wedding. One scripture that I identified with a lot was John 3:29-30, where John the Baptist says "A bridegroom’s friend rejoices with him. I am the bridegroom’s friend, and I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less." Of course, the bridegroom he was talking about was Jesus, and his bride is the people he has redeemed, his Church.
Now, the bottom line of this lesson is that it’s not about me. At the wedding it was my friend the bridegroom’s day, and I was there to support him and celebrate with him, not to receive any recognition for myself. I might have spent much time and money getting there and enduring such a hard journey, but I didn't need or deserve any recognition for that, because it was a privilege to be there. In the same way, when we serve God, it’s not about us. We may have sacrificed a lot of time, money and effort to serve, but that’s not the point. The point is that we have the amazing privilege of seeing what God is doing to win people to himself, and partying with him when it happens. Our egos must stay out of the picture. We must never claim any of God’s glory for ourselves.
All in all we had a valuable time in Harare. Among other things, it was good to see for myself in more detail how dire the situation in Zim is, but how people are managing to survive through God's grace alone. Let's keep praying for them! The journey back was just as arduous (and late) as the journey there, but I was back with my family for Christmas, enjoying another celebration as the Bridegroom's friend.
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