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.
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