Thanks for your comments on my recent posts. Like the rest of you bloggers, I love good feedback.
After a busy weekend in Amarillo, Texas, Michele and I are back in Connecticut. It was quite a trip. We started Thursday with a late take off at Hartford, which meant we our missed connection at Dallas (we made it to the gate just in time to see the plane moving back from the jetway). So we got to Amarillo about three hours late. But we'd made it!
Then, things got better. For one, Jerry and Kay Chism were our hosts the whole time. They couldn't have been more gracious.
Friday began with a funny wake-up call from Michele's sister, Sharlette. Then, Michele and I spent Friday and Saturday looking at what seemed like half the houses in town. But we had said we wanted to make the most of our time there, and our realtor Cheryl Jones did a great job of helping us do that.
On Friday evening, we took a break from house hunting and had a fun, relaxing dinner with Jeanette, Ken, and Janaye Danley, and Janaye's friend, David. Like a lot of us, the Danleys have moved a few times and knew just what we needed. What a nice time!
Saturday morning, we saw the house we thought we wanted. After a good lunch with Janie and Jerry Klein (Texas barbeque!), we made an offer on the house. Then, we waited.
That afternoon my folks drove over from Altus. We met them at their motel, went out to dinner, and told them all about the previous two days of looking. It was so great to be with them again. We hadn't seen them since August.
That night, Amarillo got a coating of ice. To use the words of the TV weatherman, outside it was "slicker than a greased banana." We wondered, Hadn't we just left cold country?
It was treacherous making it to church the next morning. Not all of the regulars were at the San Jacinto Church of Christ. But it was warm inside; the people were so friendly. During Bible class, the phone in the foyer rang. It was my sister Shari letting us know that she and her family didn't own a sled that could make it from Wellington to Amarillo. They wouldn't be joining us for worship. Of course, I was disappointed that we wouldn't get to see my sister and her family. But something else helped me to feel better.
Going from preacher to college teacher has made me a little anxious. I've wondered a lot about what it will be like to sit during the sermon, listening to someone else speak. Sometimes former preachers are the worst preacher critics, and I don't want to even start being like that, the misery of a ministry. But I have to say that I really like Leonard Harper, the preacher at the San Jacinto congregation. A good Bible class teacher, Leonard knows how to get people to think with Scripture, rather than simply telling them what he thinks about it. And his sermon--on the dilemma that Joseph faced when he learned of Mary's pregnancy--engaged and challenged me. From what I've seen and heard, Leonard is what every congregation deserves to have in a preacher.
After church, we shared lunch with my parents. Then, we got "the call." Our offer had been turned down. So with about two hours before our flight time, we said our good-byes to my folks and met Cheryl at the real estate office to discuss our options. It didn't look like we'd ever get over the obstacles between us and the house. But there was a second house we liked, probably the one we should have picked to begin with.
We decided to ink an offer for the second house and rush to the airport. Within an hour, we found out that all the running was in vain. Sitting at the gate, we heard a loud page. Hearing your named called by a stranger over a public intercom always gives you that grown-up feeling of being called to the principal's office. "What's happened?" we wondered. So we towed our coats and carry-ons back past the check point all the way to the ticket counter where we were told that, because of the ice, we wouldn't make it to Dallas in time to catch the last plane out to Hartford that day. We had a choice: we could spend the night in Amarillo, or we could spend the night in Dallas. But we would not spend the night in Connecticut.
So we called Jerry Chism, who thought he wouldn't see us again until next year, and asked if he could come get us. Jerry was there in a jiffy, and within an hour or so, the Bellizzis and the Chisms were munching on Domino's pizza, delivered by a guy who could have used a pair of ice skates. Was it providence?
Following several phone conversations with Cheryl, who had been on the phone with the seller's realtor, at about 10 p.m. we found out that we'd struck a deal. And, we'd have just enough time Monday morning to sign the papers and travel to the airport for a second shot at making it back to New England.
The northern part of the Texas panhandle got even more freezing drizzle on Sunday night. So we woke up Monday wondering what would happen.
What happened was, Cheryl slid to meet us, we signed the papers, and Kay and Jerry took us to the airport. Six hours later, we landed in New England with lots of stories to tell and jobs to do. But now we know a little more about what might happen next. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Christianity and Christmas
A few days ago, I got a newsletter from a writer who wants to defend and advance New Testament Christianity. Guess what one of the articles is about. Big hint: It's the December issue.
That's right, time to break out all of those arguments against anyone thinking himself to be a faithful Christian while remembering the birth of Jesus between September and the first of Spring.
The article begins with the writer's appreciation for Irving Berlin's "White Christmas." And, he says, there's so much more that's good about this season.
Snow on December 25th? That's good. Presents? Good. Families together? Good. Eating? Good. Christmas trees? They're good too.
But Christians "conducting special Christmas services"? Now that's bad! In fact, it's right to question any group who would highlight the birth of Jesus at this time of year simply (and I quote), "because we want to do so."
I can only hope that this brother means well. But if he does, then I really wish he'd take another look at Paul's Letter to the Romans. There the Scripture says that if someone wants to consider one day more special than another, then that's between him and God. And if someone decides to tell this special-day Christian that he's wrong or bad, then God wants to ask that someone, "Why do you judge your brother? Why do you look down on him? Won't each one give an account of himself?" (see Romans 14:1-12).
But, of course, Romans 14 isn't the passage quoted in the article. Instead, the writer goes to Galatians 4:10-11, which says, "You observe days and months and seasons and years. I am afraid for you, lest by any means I have labored for you in vain."
Now, I'm guessing that our writer would be among the first to say that the words of Scripture can only be understood in context, and that the immediate literary context, the surrounding paragraph, is the really critical part.
So then, what is the immediate context of the statement in Galatians 4? It appears that Christians who had gotten off to good start with God were now turning back to serve "weak and miserable principles." Their observance of special times was not something done towards God (the Romans scenario). Rather, their observance was meant as obedience to former masters who never even held the true status of "gods" (Galatians 4:8-11). It's a vast difference.
In the New Testament, the question is not, "May we observe special days?" Rather, the question is, "Why do you want to observe special days, and who is the object of your devotion?" If the practice is some kind of supplement to faith in Christ or different from devotion to God, then forget it. Don't do it. But if you want to do it because you love God, trust in his Son, and for some reason that time means something special to you, then by all means, do it to the honor of your Lord.
Now, which one of those two alternatives describes a congregation that wants to remember and honor the birth of Christ at this time of year?
That's right, time to break out all of those arguments against anyone thinking himself to be a faithful Christian while remembering the birth of Jesus between September and the first of Spring.
The article begins with the writer's appreciation for Irving Berlin's "White Christmas." And, he says, there's so much more that's good about this season.
Snow on December 25th? That's good. Presents? Good. Families together? Good. Eating? Good. Christmas trees? They're good too.
But Christians "conducting special Christmas services"? Now that's bad! In fact, it's right to question any group who would highlight the birth of Jesus at this time of year simply (and I quote), "because we want to do so."
I can only hope that this brother means well. But if he does, then I really wish he'd take another look at Paul's Letter to the Romans. There the Scripture says that if someone wants to consider one day more special than another, then that's between him and God. And if someone decides to tell this special-day Christian that he's wrong or bad, then God wants to ask that someone, "Why do you judge your brother? Why do you look down on him? Won't each one give an account of himself?" (see Romans 14:1-12).
But, of course, Romans 14 isn't the passage quoted in the article. Instead, the writer goes to Galatians 4:10-11, which says, "You observe days and months and seasons and years. I am afraid for you, lest by any means I have labored for you in vain."
Now, I'm guessing that our writer would be among the first to say that the words of Scripture can only be understood in context, and that the immediate literary context, the surrounding paragraph, is the really critical part.
So then, what is the immediate context of the statement in Galatians 4? It appears that Christians who had gotten off to good start with God were now turning back to serve "weak and miserable principles." Their observance of special times was not something done towards God (the Romans scenario). Rather, their observance was meant as obedience to former masters who never even held the true status of "gods" (Galatians 4:8-11). It's a vast difference.
In the New Testament, the question is not, "May we observe special days?" Rather, the question is, "Why do you want to observe special days, and who is the object of your devotion?" If the practice is some kind of supplement to faith in Christ or different from devotion to God, then forget it. Don't do it. But if you want to do it because you love God, trust in his Son, and for some reason that time means something special to you, then by all means, do it to the honor of your Lord.
Now, which one of those two alternatives describes a congregation that wants to remember and honor the birth of Christ at this time of year?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Write On!
Why would anyone doubt the biblical doctrine of the Fall? I mean, isn't it something we all assume all the time?
Listen to talk radio. Pick up a self-help book. Go to church. Read blogs, including the comments. Here's what you'll hear: "The world is a messed-up place, and I can explain what's wrong and what we should do about it. "
We typically differ about the answers. But that there is an implicit and pressing question is something every responsible person seems to know, even if they've never been told.
Of course, I'm one of those billions of people who thinks he knows what's wrong and what to do about it. So I write.
- - - - - -
One of the reasons I blog is because it keeps me writing. Writing something. Anything.
I don't write every day. But I sometimes think I'm supposed to. That's because, years ago, when I first started really trying to write, I came across something the great Flannery O'Conner once said. Sometime after she'd become famous, Flannery told an interviewer that she wrote every single day. It wasn't that her writing was good every day. But she knew that if she didn't write every day, then on the days when it would be really good, she might not be writing.
I'm glad Flannery wrote every day. And I think she was onto something there.
Not all media were created equal. Now that I've learned a few things about what email can and cannot do, I'm still trying to figure out what a blog is and is not good for. But for now, I keep the blog because it's like having a friend who constantly says to me, "Come on, man. Write something."
- - - - - -
Years ago I read something about the number of "pages" that a preacher preaches. The writer (probably a preacher) was trying to quantify the output of a preacher's wordsmithing work. The figure came to something like six or seven novels worth every year.
I remember wondering at the time, Should someone quoting the Bible get credit for creativity? And that pre-sermon banter used by preachers to welcome visitors and promote important stuff? That counts as fiction writing?
But I digress. (Probably an effect of the Fall). For the sake of the point, let's say that the preacher doesn't "write" six or seven good novels every year. Let's say it's just one.
My question is, Why isn't the preacher publishing that? Would you crank out a novel a year and never send anything to a publisher?
"The pen is mightier than the sword." What would that guy have said about keyboards and the Internet? Have things like the Bible, the Nicene Creed, Augustine's Confessions, those ninety-five theses, the "Declaration and Address," and Karl Barth's Commentary on Romans taught us nothing?
If you haven't guessed already, I wish more preachers would put at least something in print every once in a while. Not that many are ever going to match the truly great stuff. But over the course of a year's worth of teaching, is there nothing of which the preacher can say, "But this one thing I'll polish and publish"? Preachers, maximize your ministry of the Word! Write for the Lord's sake, and ours.
Inspiration: Up to this point, everything I've ever submitted for publication in a Christian magazine or journal has seen the light of printed day. (Actually, that should be qualified by "almost." The only thing that's been turned down so far is some stuff I wrote on church-state questions; I think I'm not "right" enough about that stuff. Ooh, maybe I'll publish it here). Of course, serials among the Churches of Christ pay from nothing all the way to next-to-nothing. So the competition for space isn't exactly stiff.
Listen to talk radio. Pick up a self-help book. Go to church. Read blogs, including the comments. Here's what you'll hear: "The world is a messed-up place, and I can explain what's wrong and what we should do about it. "
We typically differ about the answers. But that there is an implicit and pressing question is something every responsible person seems to know, even if they've never been told.
Of course, I'm one of those billions of people who thinks he knows what's wrong and what to do about it. So I write.
- - - - - -
One of the reasons I blog is because it keeps me writing. Writing something. Anything.
I don't write every day. But I sometimes think I'm supposed to. That's because, years ago, when I first started really trying to write, I came across something the great Flannery O'Conner once said. Sometime after she'd become famous, Flannery told an interviewer that she wrote every single day. It wasn't that her writing was good every day. But she knew that if she didn't write every day, then on the days when it would be really good, she might not be writing.
I'm glad Flannery wrote every day. And I think she was onto something there.
Not all media were created equal. Now that I've learned a few things about what email can and cannot do, I'm still trying to figure out what a blog is and is not good for. But for now, I keep the blog because it's like having a friend who constantly says to me, "Come on, man. Write something."
- - - - - -
Years ago I read something about the number of "pages" that a preacher preaches. The writer (probably a preacher) was trying to quantify the output of a preacher's wordsmithing work. The figure came to something like six or seven novels worth every year.
I remember wondering at the time, Should someone quoting the Bible get credit for creativity? And that pre-sermon banter used by preachers to welcome visitors and promote important stuff? That counts as fiction writing?
But I digress. (Probably an effect of the Fall). For the sake of the point, let's say that the preacher doesn't "write" six or seven good novels every year. Let's say it's just one.
My question is, Why isn't the preacher publishing that? Would you crank out a novel a year and never send anything to a publisher?
"The pen is mightier than the sword." What would that guy have said about keyboards and the Internet? Have things like the Bible, the Nicene Creed, Augustine's Confessions, those ninety-five theses, the "Declaration and Address," and Karl Barth's Commentary on Romans taught us nothing?
If you haven't guessed already, I wish more preachers would put at least something in print every once in a while. Not that many are ever going to match the truly great stuff. But over the course of a year's worth of teaching, is there nothing of which the preacher can say, "But this one thing I'll polish and publish"? Preachers, maximize your ministry of the Word! Write for the Lord's sake, and ours.
Inspiration: Up to this point, everything I've ever submitted for publication in a Christian magazine or journal has seen the light of printed day. (Actually, that should be qualified by "almost." The only thing that's been turned down so far is some stuff I wrote on church-state questions; I think I'm not "right" enough about that stuff. Ooh, maybe I'll publish it here). Of course, serials among the Churches of Christ pay from nothing all the way to next-to-nothing. So the competition for space isn't exactly stiff.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Stone and the Campbells on Who is a Christian
It might be that many members of the Churches of Christ would be surprised (pleasantly or otherwise) to know how some of the earliest American church reformers, their religious ancestors, dealt with questions of Christian fellowship and unity. Here's a sampling:
"Whoever acknowledges the leading truths of Christianity, and conforms his life to that acknowledgement, we esteem a Christian." --Barton W. Stone, Biography, p. 332.
Alexander Campbell calls the following definition his "favorite and oft-repeated":
"A Christian is one that habitually believes all that Christ says, and habitually does all that he bids him." --Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 566
This definition grew out of the criticism fired at Campbell after he published an exchange between himself and a "lady from Lunenburg." In his letter to the lady, Campbell allowed that there must be unimmersed Christians in the so-called sects. He added:
"But who is a Christian? I answer, Every one that believes in his heart that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Son of God; repents of his sins, and obeys in all things according to his measure of knowledge of his will." --Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 411
To recognize that one may habitually obey Christ even when one's knowledge is defective is to face up to the obvious; we all do it. We're all ignorant about some things. And among those things we understand very well, our obedience is imperfect. But, said Campbell, if a person habitually obeys "in all things according to his measure" of knowledge of the Lord's will, then that person rightfully calls himself a Christian. Among the early leaders of what is now called the American Restoration Movement (a.k.a. Stone-Campbell Movement) this was regarded as a valid basis for unity and fellowship.
In the context of the first definition (Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 565), Campbell warns against judging those "who would die for Christ" but who because they do not yet understand, have never been immersed. He notes that some of these unimmersed folks often show a Christ-likeness that is lacking in those who would judge them. And he says candidly that he expects to see such people in heaven. Interestingly, this comes from one who championed baptism by immersion and its importance as much as any church leader in history.
"Whoever acknowledges the leading truths of Christianity, and conforms his life to that acknowledgement, we esteem a Christian." --Barton W. Stone, Biography, p. 332.
* * * * * * * * *
Alexander Campbell calls the following definition his "favorite and oft-repeated":
"A Christian is one that habitually believes all that Christ says, and habitually does all that he bids him." --Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 566
This definition grew out of the criticism fired at Campbell after he published an exchange between himself and a "lady from Lunenburg." In his letter to the lady, Campbell allowed that there must be unimmersed Christians in the so-called sects. He added:
"But who is a Christian? I answer, Every one that believes in his heart that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Son of God; repents of his sins, and obeys in all things according to his measure of knowledge of his will." --Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 411
To recognize that one may habitually obey Christ even when one's knowledge is defective is to face up to the obvious; we all do it. We're all ignorant about some things. And among those things we understand very well, our obedience is imperfect. But, said Campbell, if a person habitually obeys "in all things according to his measure" of knowledge of the Lord's will, then that person rightfully calls himself a Christian. Among the early leaders of what is now called the American Restoration Movement (a.k.a. Stone-Campbell Movement) this was regarded as a valid basis for unity and fellowship.
In the context of the first definition (Millennial Harbinger, 1837, p. 565), Campbell warns against judging those "who would die for Christ" but who because they do not yet understand, have never been immersed. He notes that some of these unimmersed folks often show a Christ-likeness that is lacking in those who would judge them. And he says candidly that he expects to see such people in heaven. Interestingly, this comes from one who championed baptism by immersion and its importance as much as any church leader in history.
* * * * * * * * *
Yet another statement comes from Thomas Campbell, Alexander's father. In the historic "Declaration and Address," Thomas offers the following on the nature of the church: "The Church of Christ on earth is essentially, intentionally, and constitutionally one; consisting of all those in every place that profess their faith in Christ and obedience to him in all things according to the Scriptures, and that manifest the same by their tempers and conduct, and none else; as none else can be truly and properly called Christians."
We can learn from our fathers in the faith. They can press us to consider and think through Scripture with the heart of Christ so that we can (1) avoid a false emphasis and (2) identify what is truly crucial to Christian identity and life.
We can learn from our fathers in the faith. They can press us to consider and think through Scripture with the heart of Christ so that we can (1) avoid a false emphasis and (2) identify what is truly crucial to Christian identity and life.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
I Wonder
1. Can't remember where I came across this, but the question perfectly asks what I've been wondering for a while: "Is blogging a revolution in discourse, or is it CB radio?" Whaddaya think? (I promise not to quote you 10 years from now. And if you don't know what CB radio is, ask an elder).
2. Something else I've been wondering about as I get ready to move is, "Which books move with me? Which ones get given away? And which ones should go straight to the trash?" (It's like a dagger in the heart to even ask that last question, but I've collected a lot of books over the years and some just have to go). I'd be interested in other alternatives and guidelines from those who've done this recently.
3. I also wonder about how the advent of the web will impact book ownership. So far, it seems to have increased the sale of books.
4. Related to the first question: I know that there are some good examples and write ups out there already, but I'd like to hear your suggestions, ideas, experiences about using a blog in a school course.
2. Something else I've been wondering about as I get ready to move is, "Which books move with me? Which ones get given away? And which ones should go straight to the trash?" (It's like a dagger in the heart to even ask that last question, but I've collected a lot of books over the years and some just have to go). I'd be interested in other alternatives and guidelines from those who've done this recently.
3. I also wonder about how the advent of the web will impact book ownership. So far, it seems to have increased the sale of books.
4. Related to the first question: I know that there are some good examples and write ups out there already, but I'd like to hear your suggestions, ideas, experiences about using a blog in a school course.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
People from our Present Past, etc.
One of the occupational hazards of being a historian, even an amateur like me, is that you wake up one day to realize that a lot of your best friends are dead people. Also, you sometimes wonder if you would like these people more or less if you could actually be with them for a few days. I suspect that some great characters of the past weren't all that great to be around; some were no doubt better than we realize. I think that for some people, being outwardly successful and being domestically tolerable are competing principles; for others, the two work like synergy.
But back to this business of people I know at a bothersome distance: Some (or most?) of them might intimidate me I think. For example: I get the impression that the philosopher David Hume would probably goof on me, with me standing there, and I wouldn't even realize it until maybe the next day, if ever. Which is not to say I think he was a bad or a mean person. But it's like he has 21 good gears, while I'm stuck with a worn out 3-speed. We would notice the difference, I suspect.
Like a lot of my other dead-n-dear friends, Kierkegaard is one of those people I'm fond of, but could never be like. I mean, he has this passion and seriousness and compulsion and honesty and wit that I'm attracted to (much like Augustine). But there are times when his romantic bent turns into absolute romanticism, and I think I'd have to say, "I hear you, Soren, but I can't go there with you." He'd probably convince me of his way of seeing, until I woke up the next morning at which point I'd get back to seeing like me.
I think that Karl Barth must have been very charming. However, I have to say that most of the time when I read him, I finally sit back, blank look on my face, and say, "Well . . . . Yeah. But how to put into practice (what to do with) what he just said, I haven't a clue." For me, the Barthian upshot never gets fired. Instead, it feels like I just read really good poetry (which is something I never do, but if I did I think I would feel like that). Would I have liked being one of Barth's students? I'm not sure.
What about you? Any folks you know across time whom you'd like to know better? ("Duh! Jesus!" was just taken by me) :-) Any others?
- - - - - -
Our little old kerosene-burning water heater finally died last night. It was replaced today with a big new electric water heater. I just wrote out the check and paid the man. I don't recommend this to anyone. But then, how nice to be able to make a few calls, and in less than 24 hours have hot water again.
- - - - - -
Many years ago, I sat in a church growth class at Harding Graduate School thinking, "It seems that the next generation of Christianity should more-closely approximate New Testament models and images of the church." Yet I kept trudging along in the ruts that had been carved out by my forefathers.
Now it seems like Generation Next is acting on the kinds of things I was thinking then. In some cases, it's not because of a studied rejection of old forms; instead it seems like they could do no other, being who they are. (How's that for an over-generational-ization?)
Anyway, at once I feel proud and hopeful, lost and untrained. It will be interesting to see what unfolds. I will be looking for new ways in which I myself will be called upon to lead or follow. And I'm learning again to not assume that a different future will never arrive.
But back to this business of people I know at a bothersome distance: Some (or most?) of them might intimidate me I think. For example: I get the impression that the philosopher David Hume would probably goof on me, with me standing there, and I wouldn't even realize it until maybe the next day, if ever. Which is not to say I think he was a bad or a mean person. But it's like he has 21 good gears, while I'm stuck with a worn out 3-speed. We would notice the difference, I suspect.
Like a lot of my other dead-n-dear friends, Kierkegaard is one of those people I'm fond of, but could never be like. I mean, he has this passion and seriousness and compulsion and honesty and wit that I'm attracted to (much like Augustine). But there are times when his romantic bent turns into absolute romanticism, and I think I'd have to say, "I hear you, Soren, but I can't go there with you." He'd probably convince me of his way of seeing, until I woke up the next morning at which point I'd get back to seeing like me.
I think that Karl Barth must have been very charming. However, I have to say that most of the time when I read him, I finally sit back, blank look on my face, and say, "Well . . . . Yeah. But how to put into practice (what to do with) what he just said, I haven't a clue." For me, the Barthian upshot never gets fired. Instead, it feels like I just read really good poetry (which is something I never do, but if I did I think I would feel like that). Would I have liked being one of Barth's students? I'm not sure.
What about you? Any folks you know across time whom you'd like to know better? ("Duh! Jesus!" was just taken by me) :-) Any others?
- - - - - -
Our little old kerosene-burning water heater finally died last night. It was replaced today with a big new electric water heater. I just wrote out the check and paid the man. I don't recommend this to anyone. But then, how nice to be able to make a few calls, and in less than 24 hours have hot water again.
- - - - - -
Many years ago, I sat in a church growth class at Harding Graduate School thinking, "It seems that the next generation of Christianity should more-closely approximate New Testament models and images of the church." Yet I kept trudging along in the ruts that had been carved out by my forefathers.
Now it seems like Generation Next is acting on the kinds of things I was thinking then. In some cases, it's not because of a studied rejection of old forms; instead it seems like they could do no other, being who they are. (How's that for an over-generational-ization?)
Anyway, at once I feel proud and hopeful, lost and untrained. It will be interesting to see what unfolds. I will be looking for new ways in which I myself will be called upon to lead or follow. And I'm learning again to not assume that a different future will never arrive.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Go and read what my former teacher John Mark Hicks recently wrote (Dec. 1) about the Lord's Supper. His blog, Professing Professor, is here.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Starting Another Chapter
A week ago last Sunday, I resigned as the preacher for the South Road Church of Christ in Farmington, CT. I told the people that I didn't want them to assume for a minute that I thought poorly of the congregation and its ministry.
In fact, when I consider all this church does and what its prospects can be, I'm amazed. I have never known a congregation with a greater level of knowledge and zeal for the Word than they have. And when it comes to responding to a challenge--like conducting last summer's Vacation Bible School--they reveal how adequate God has made them.
But I've decided to leave Connecticut to become the next director of the Bible Chair in Amarillo, Texas. This ministry serves Amarillo College, a two-year school with over 10,000 students.
Having grown up among the Churches of Christ in Southwest Oklahoma, I've heard about Bible chairs since way back when. But I know it's not a familiar term to everyone.
"Bible Chair" refers to a fairly unique concept of Christian work that is carried out on a college campus. It offers courses in religion that are accredited by the college, and its teacher is regarded as a member of the faculty. The financial sponsorship for the chair comes from interested churches and individuals. So it operates much like an endowed chair of Whatever Studies at Anygiven College.
Bible chairs typically have a facility that is adjacent to the college campus. The chair at Amarillo is no exception. The building includes a large classroom, offices for secretary and director, a library, and a student lounge.
That part may sound a little bookish. But the work of a Bible chair is more than merely academic. It also has a spiritual and whole-life emphasis. Working from a list of purposes written by Jerry Klein, one of the previous directors, I would include the following goals as part of the holistic vision for the Bible Chair at Amarillo College:
In fact, when I consider all this church does and what its prospects can be, I'm amazed. I have never known a congregation with a greater level of knowledge and zeal for the Word than they have. And when it comes to responding to a challenge--like conducting last summer's Vacation Bible School--they reveal how adequate God has made them.
But I've decided to leave Connecticut to become the next director of the Bible Chair in Amarillo, Texas. This ministry serves Amarillo College, a two-year school with over 10,000 students.
Having grown up among the Churches of Christ in Southwest Oklahoma, I've heard about Bible chairs since way back when. But I know it's not a familiar term to everyone.
"Bible Chair" refers to a fairly unique concept of Christian work that is carried out on a college campus. It offers courses in religion that are accredited by the college, and its teacher is regarded as a member of the faculty. The financial sponsorship for the chair comes from interested churches and individuals. So it operates much like an endowed chair of Whatever Studies at Anygiven College.
Bible chairs typically have a facility that is adjacent to the college campus. The chair at Amarillo is no exception. The building includes a large classroom, offices for secretary and director, a library, and a student lounge.
That part may sound a little bookish. But the work of a Bible chair is more than merely academic. It also has a spiritual and whole-life emphasis. Working from a list of purposes written by Jerry Klein, one of the previous directors, I would include the following goals as part of the holistic vision for the Bible Chair at Amarillo College:
- To provide opportunities for intellectual and artistic self-expression in a Christian setting.
- To allow students the opportunity to participate in intramural sports on campus, through membership in Kappa Chi, the college-sanctioned group associated with the chair.
- To sponsor retreats, picnics, ski trips, and other activities designed to build friendships and a sense of community among the students.
- To train and develop Christian leaders.
That's a tall order. But it's a mission that a Bible chair is perfectly situated to accomplish.
I have to say that a big reason that I feel positive about this change has to do with some people I've recently met in Amarillo. The first person I talked with was Kay Chism, the secretary for the San Jacinto Church of Christ, under whose auspices the Bible chair operates. Kay was friendly and helpful from the very first.
The search committee who contacted and interviewed me consisted of two good men: John Dannelley and Jerry Chism, Kay's husband. Whenever you look at another job thousands of miles away, you depend on those people on the other side. Jerry and John could not have been better.
Becky Hugg handles all sorts of administrative tasks at the Bible Chair. We've already met and emailed back and forth. I've been told by everyone that I will feel fortunate to have her as a co-worker.
I've known Ken and Jeanette Danley for many years. Ken and I both served churches in Connecticut. About the same time I came to the Ward Street Church in Wallingford, he began as the minister for the Whitney Avenue congregation just a few miles down the parkway from Wallingford. Years later, when he was working for the BIC Corporation, Ken was the deacon of education at Ward Street. From there, he went on to become the children's minister at Amarillo Central Church of Christ. When the Danleys moved to Texas a couple of years ago, I never dreamed I'd be reunited with them there.
Earlier I mentioned Jerry Klein. For many years Jerry served as the director of the Bible Chair. He's been handling the fall semester teaching responsibilities while maintaining his work as one of the ministers for the Comanche Trail Church of Christ. He's also done a lot to help me so far, and has pledged to lend his assistance as I get started.
What an array of great friends (present and future) and co-workers!
The immediate future? My plan is to continue with the South Road congregation through the end of the year. We'll make the move shortly after the first of the year. Then, school starts at Amarillo College on January 17th.
With a ministry to wrap up, a house to sell, a house to buy, a cross-country move to make, a new work to begin, and some major holidays in between, we feel overwhelmed. If you don't hear from me at this blog anytime soon, you'll understand why.
Finally, I want to ask you to pray for South Road, for the Bible Chair ministry at Amarillo, and for my family. So long for now.
You can check out the Bible Chair's website here.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Getting ready for school
My older daughter is nearly halfway through her junior year of high school. So you know one thing I'm thinking about: college.
I came across an interesting set of figures for various colleges and universities. The list can help prospective students get a feel for where they stand when in comes to their SAT scores. By the way, only one school affiliated with the Churches of Christ appears in the list. That's because my source (the N. Y. Times) reports on only those schools that accept fewer than 50% of their applicants.
What follows is a short, representative list. It gives the following: (1) The name of the school, (2) the percentage of applications accepted by that school, and (3) the range of the middle 50% of SAT scores among those accepted (i.e., excluding the top and bottom 25% of the SAT scores). Take a look:
Boston College, 32%, 1240-1410
Emory, 39%, 1300-1460
Harvard, 11%, 1400-1580
Notre Dame, 30%, 1280-1470
Oberlin, 37%, 1250-1440
Pepperdine, 27%, 1110-1310
Rice, 22%. 1330-1540
U. N. C., Chapel Hill, 36%, 1190-1390
U. of Tennessee, 44%, 1000-1230
Vanderbilt, 38%, 1270-1440
Yale, 10%, 1400-1560
The school on the list with the most number of applications? U.C.LA. with 43,199! How'd you like to be at the bottom of that stack?
I came across an interesting set of figures for various colleges and universities. The list can help prospective students get a feel for where they stand when in comes to their SAT scores. By the way, only one school affiliated with the Churches of Christ appears in the list. That's because my source (the N. Y. Times) reports on only those schools that accept fewer than 50% of their applicants.
What follows is a short, representative list. It gives the following: (1) The name of the school, (2) the percentage of applications accepted by that school, and (3) the range of the middle 50% of SAT scores among those accepted (i.e., excluding the top and bottom 25% of the SAT scores). Take a look:
Boston College, 32%, 1240-1410
Emory, 39%, 1300-1460
Harvard, 11%, 1400-1580
Notre Dame, 30%, 1280-1470
Oberlin, 37%, 1250-1440
Pepperdine, 27%, 1110-1310
Rice, 22%. 1330-1540
U. N. C., Chapel Hill, 36%, 1190-1390
U. of Tennessee, 44%, 1000-1230
Vanderbilt, 38%, 1270-1440
Yale, 10%, 1400-1560
The school on the list with the most number of applications? U.C.LA. with 43,199! How'd you like to be at the bottom of that stack?
Friday, November 04, 2005
Decisions, decisions
A few days ago, I got an e-mail prayer request from a long-time friend. This person is thinking about going into a challenging ministry that would sometimes bring the threat of violence. The message included this statement: "I know that God is good; but I also know that He is not safe."
That very same day I came across this line by C.S. Lewis: "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
The idea that God's best might be the harder way, that it might even bring a cross . . . I struggle with that. There have been times when I've regretted being so tough on myself, seeing later that taking the harder way was more noble only in my mind. At other times I've been ashamed that I took the easier way, seeing later that I had dodged an opportunity to act like Christ in his unselfishness.
This is why we're told to pray for wisdom. We don't have the insight we need in order to make most subtle distinctions. If this is right, then praying for wisdom is sort of like the referee getting a look at the replay of a close call. After reviewing the play, the decision is usually a lot easier and is made with more confidence. I think that the passage of time, a good night's rest ("Let me sleep on it"), and talking with respected friends can also serve the same sort of purpose in our decision-making.
- - - - - -
"Think globally, act locally." Along that line, one thing that seems clear enough is that the future of Christianity will be increasingly eastern and southern (think hemispheres) and non-white. So I'm curious about what western, northern, Anglo churches should do or do differently in order to make the most of a sea change like that.
At the same time, it seems like maybe God is dropping the world on the doorsteps of the churches in America. I remember hearing Evertt Huffard talk about this. The other day, wandering around in a Hartford neighborhood, I came upon an all-Vietnamese video store(!)
I already knew that there were some Brazilians in Hartford. But I didn't realize how many. Brazilian flags everywhere, in the windows of apartments, hanging from rearview mirrors of cars parked in the street. Brazilian stores and restaurants. For a minute it seemed like an out-of-the way neighborhood in Sao Paulo.
Meanwhile, a huge percentage of Churches of Christ in the U.S. are almost entirely white and middle class, any immigrant status of the members left behind for at least a generation.
What to do? There's that need for wisdom again. . . .
That very same day I came across this line by C.S. Lewis: "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
The idea that God's best might be the harder way, that it might even bring a cross . . . I struggle with that. There have been times when I've regretted being so tough on myself, seeing later that taking the harder way was more noble only in my mind. At other times I've been ashamed that I took the easier way, seeing later that I had dodged an opportunity to act like Christ in his unselfishness.
This is why we're told to pray for wisdom. We don't have the insight we need in order to make most subtle distinctions. If this is right, then praying for wisdom is sort of like the referee getting a look at the replay of a close call. After reviewing the play, the decision is usually a lot easier and is made with more confidence. I think that the passage of time, a good night's rest ("Let me sleep on it"), and talking with respected friends can also serve the same sort of purpose in our decision-making.
- - - - - -
"Think globally, act locally." Along that line, one thing that seems clear enough is that the future of Christianity will be increasingly eastern and southern (think hemispheres) and non-white. So I'm curious about what western, northern, Anglo churches should do or do differently in order to make the most of a sea change like that.
At the same time, it seems like maybe God is dropping the world on the doorsteps of the churches in America. I remember hearing Evertt Huffard talk about this. The other day, wandering around in a Hartford neighborhood, I came upon an all-Vietnamese video store(!)
I already knew that there were some Brazilians in Hartford. But I didn't realize how many. Brazilian flags everywhere, in the windows of apartments, hanging from rearview mirrors of cars parked in the street. Brazilian stores and restaurants. For a minute it seemed like an out-of-the way neighborhood in Sao Paulo.
Meanwhile, a huge percentage of Churches of Christ in the U.S. are almost entirely white and middle class, any immigrant status of the members left behind for at least a generation.
What to do? There's that need for wisdom again. . . .
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Spades, shovels, and a swimming good time
For a few decades now, evangelical Christians of all types have been moving away from the tack that says, "Let's authenticate the Bible with archaeology." But back in the heyday of William F. Albright--the real Indiana Jones--it was common to find Bible-confirming archaeological news in the pages of Christianity Today magazine, the vanguard of modern American Evangelicalism.
A lot's happened since then: Albright died in 1971. About the same time, social currents and political events in the United States cast a heavy shadow on previously-trusted authority. Perhaps never again will Americans believe something just because a father figure announced it. (Think: from "Father Knows Best" to "The Simpsons").
Maybe people at church began to notice that whenever a new discovery seemed to confirm some aspect of biblical history, unbelievers didn't rush in to be baptized.
Maybe some began to rediscover that, even in the first century, Christian faith did not depend on or wait for direct access to historical foundations: "Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy" (1 Peter 1:8).
And maybe the likes of William Dever, whose more-recent and influential writings on archaeology run counter to Albright's positive interpretations, have put a dent in all the enthusiasm over "something just discovered."
Whatever the reasons, the enterprise called "biblical archaeology" looks a lot different than it did in, say, 1965.
But I have to confess, as someone who grew up going to church and who's now come to some sort of grown-up orthodox Christian faith, I still get a kick out of the occasional story about a team that's recently unearthed evidence that what the Bible casually asserts is exactly the way it was. That is to say, while I don't trust in biblical archaeology news, I do like it.
And here's the latest: the Pool of Siloam. You know, Jesus said to the blind man, "Here's mud in your eye. Now go and wash in the Pool of Siloam"? Well, for a long time it was regarded by some as a metaphor only: the man was sent there by Jesus and, as John 9:7 explains, the name of the pool means "sent."
The strictly-metaphorical understanding of "the Pool of Siloam" fed the idea that John's Gospel has little connection to any real history surrounding Jesus. According to this view, the Fourth Gospel is not the selected biography that modern readers would naturally take it to be. Rather, it's more like a spiritual fantasy, a narrative about Jesus where, unlike in the Book of Revelation, the constant symbolism shows up incognito.
Hmmm. Meanwhile, it turns out that the Pool of Siloam really was there. And you can read about it here. Go ahead, take the plunge.
A lot's happened since then: Albright died in 1971. About the same time, social currents and political events in the United States cast a heavy shadow on previously-trusted authority. Perhaps never again will Americans believe something just because a father figure announced it. (Think: from "Father Knows Best" to "The Simpsons").
Maybe people at church began to notice that whenever a new discovery seemed to confirm some aspect of biblical history, unbelievers didn't rush in to be baptized.
Maybe some began to rediscover that, even in the first century, Christian faith did not depend on or wait for direct access to historical foundations: "Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy" (1 Peter 1:8).
And maybe the likes of William Dever, whose more-recent and influential writings on archaeology run counter to Albright's positive interpretations, have put a dent in all the enthusiasm over "something just discovered."
Whatever the reasons, the enterprise called "biblical archaeology" looks a lot different than it did in, say, 1965.
But I have to confess, as someone who grew up going to church and who's now come to some sort of grown-up orthodox Christian faith, I still get a kick out of the occasional story about a team that's recently unearthed evidence that what the Bible casually asserts is exactly the way it was. That is to say, while I don't trust in biblical archaeology news, I do like it.
And here's the latest: the Pool of Siloam. You know, Jesus said to the blind man, "Here's mud in your eye. Now go and wash in the Pool of Siloam"? Well, for a long time it was regarded by some as a metaphor only: the man was sent there by Jesus and, as John 9:7 explains, the name of the pool means "sent."
The strictly-metaphorical understanding of "the Pool of Siloam" fed the idea that John's Gospel has little connection to any real history surrounding Jesus. According to this view, the Fourth Gospel is not the selected biography that modern readers would naturally take it to be. Rather, it's more like a spiritual fantasy, a narrative about Jesus where, unlike in the Book of Revelation, the constant symbolism shows up incognito.
Hmmm. Meanwhile, it turns out that the Pool of Siloam really was there. And you can read about it here. Go ahead, take the plunge.
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