Speaking of Jesus...

I had heard of Cornel West, walked by him at conferences, was intrigued by him, but I had never heard him speak. Last summer I had the opportunity to do so at the Hispanic Summer Program. HSP, started by Justo Gonzalez, provides Latina and Latino seminary students the opportunity to take a two-week course from a Hispanic professor in a setting in which they are not a minority in the classroom. Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary became one of the thirty-plus sponsoring seminaries in 2013 so that our students could participate. I was at HSP for a shorter program, called Through Hispanic Eyes, for non-Hispanic seminary faculty and administrators. Cornel West gave an evening lecture to HSP students on black-brown relationships—participants in my program, as well as people from the community, were invited to sit in on the lecture.

I expected West to be radical. His passionate critique of the status quo did not surprise me; it did surprise me when he started talking about the cross. Numerous times he called the audience to look through the lens of the cross. He declared, “and what is seen through the lens of the cross is not a proposition.”

Too often it seems that the more academic the setting the less Jesus talk there is. And that had been true of the sessions I had been in with other seminary professors talking about how to better recruit and serve Latina and Latino students. We started each day with a devotional led by one of the participants. The devotionals were good—clearly people in the group had deep faith commitments, but Jesus was not mentioned again the rest of the day. We, myself included, never said, “let’s look through the lens of the cross. How might that shape how we approach this?” We did not talk about how following Jesus related to the topic of our training.

“What most challenged me was the fact that he so explicitly brought Jesus into his talk. Why do I not more often do what he did? He integrated talk of Jesus and the cross into a topic that did not demand it.”

West did not just mention Jesus, he proclaimed him!

This was not a sermon. It was a lecture and he spoke about many things, but he also preached—and without hesitation. He asked us “Do you have the nerve to follow Jesus? Are you willing to cut against the grain?”  He stated, “You can call Alexander great if you want, but he is not great through the lens of the cross. Through the lens of the cross love and serving others is what is great.”  “The way of the cross is the way of unconditional love and truth.” He exhorted us to put the cross first, not the flag of our nation.

If West, a former Princeton University Philosopher professor and current Union Seminary philosophy professor, had not mentioned Jesus or the cross in this speech on black-brown relations, I would not have left saying, “Can you believe that? He never talked about Jesus!” Similarly, I had not ended the first day of our sessions by calling home and telling my wife, “Lynn, I can’t believe it—hours together with seminary deans, professors, and admission directors, but no talk about Jesus in relation to our topic.” It is telling that what caught my attention, what surprised me, in those days was not the lack of Jesus talk in our session, but the presence of Jesus talk in West’s lecture.

A number of things West said challenged me, left me pondering. But what most challenged me was the fact that he so explicitly brought Jesus into his talk. Why do I not more often do what he did? He integrated talk of Jesus and the cross into a topic that did not demand it—that many people would talk about without mentioning Jesus. My question is not: why don’t I talk about Jesus? I actually talk about Jesus quite a bit in classes and Bible studies. I even have a book titled Centrado en Jesus (Centered on Jesus). But it is one thing to talk with passion and conviction about Jesus when leading a Bible study, another thing to do so when talking about other topics. For instance, I frequently have conversations with people about the themes of this website without any Cornel West-like lines about the cross or Jesus. Why?

One answer could be that I have not looked at these topics enough through the lens of the cross to be able to integrate Jesus comments into my conversations. I do not think that is the case. I have thought of two other possible reasons. First, when in conversation with other Christians I think I and others assume the Jesus factor—sort of a “Well of course Jesus influences how we think about this, we are Christians.” So we do not bring Jesus into the conversation. Second, I think it is a reaction against some Christians overusing Jesus talk in clichéd ways. Not for the first time, I have reacted to some people’s negative version of a practice by abandoning the practice rather than reforming the practice. Cornel West’s example challenges me to do otherwise. It is not a call to sprinkle in Jesus talk just so I sound more Christian. Instead it is a call to bring more Jesus talk into conversation to acknowledge the reality that the point being made is influenced by Jesus and the cross, or as way of inviting reflection on how the conversation could be more profoundly Christian.

I can imagine some of you getting nervous now, perhaps thinking, “But wait a minute Mark, there are situations in which explicit Jesus language could be counterproductive—might end a conversation.” I acknowledge that. For instance I recently read Just Mercy. The Christian author writes a book in line with Cornel West’s observations and critiques. I believe the author, Bryan Stevenson, looks at the criminal justice system through the lens of the cross, yet he does not mention Jesus or the cross in the book. I imagine that was an intentional decision. He did not want to limit his audience by using explicitly Christian language. I do not critique Stevenson’s decision. I also, however, do not think it is always the best decision. I hope that the challenge of West’s lecture will lead to me bringing Jesus up more often in conversations with non-Christians on themes like consumerism or technique. Yet, I want to point out that the events described in this blog, HSP sessions and lecture, were Christian settings. It is Christian settings I have most in mind as I write this. Let us start there in increasing our Jesus talk.

After hearing Cornel West I added this line to my daily prayer guide: “Be like Cornel West -- let my Jesus commitments and convictions be more explicitly evident.” What has happened? There have been a number of times that this Cornel West-nudge has led me to explicitly bring Jesus into informal conversations, presentations and things I have written (including a couple of these blogs)--places where I probably would not have before. It has not, however, been as much as I thought it would be or as I would like it to be--plenty of room for growth here. Just last week after a lunch-time discussion with a few students about money/Mammon I realized that although I had used a few Christian words like “faith” and “trust in God,” I had not brought Jesus and the cross into the discussion in ways I could have. This is, however, progress. Pre Cornel West I would not have even had the evaluative thought, would not have recognized the missed opportunity.

“After hearing Cornel West I added this line to my daily prayer guide: “Be like Cornel West — let my Jesus commitments and convictions be more explicitly evident.””

Does this really matter? Is it that big of a deal? Certainly there is value at the level of witness—speaking of Jesus in this way makes public my allegiance to him. Yet it is more than that. Hopefully it is true that much of what I think and say is shaped by Jesus, and I am not calling us to label every thought. For instance, returning to the seminar I was in at HSP, I am not saying that the things we discussed were not influenced by our faith commitments, nor that we should have begun every paragraph by saying “Through the lens of the cross…” Yet, I have found that bringing Jesus into conversations has changed things. It is not just window dressing. It has led me to think and say things that I would not have had I not brought Jesus explicitly into the conversation or presentation.

I wish in the midst of that seminar I would have asked, “how as followers of Jesus do we approach the issues of recruiting and serving Latino and Latina students differently than others?” This question would have brought new insights, new emotions, new convictions and new challenges into the discussion.

I invite you to join me in expressing your Jesus commitments and convictions more explicitly in areas you currently do not do so.

Talking About Peace Peacefully

The session had not gone well. It was part of the Canadian Mennonite Brethren Conference’s new pastors orientation that I helped lead about ten years ago. I had done the section on Anabaptist ethics. The segment on our peace position had turned into an argument. Although many in the room agreed with me, others attacked me. Perhaps because they felt attacked?

The next day flying out of Winnipeg I sat on the plane reflecting sadly on the session. I had used the same material that I had used in my Discipleship and Ethics class for a number of years. We looked at some biblical texts and I told my story of converting to Christian pacifism through experiencing the reality of war in El Salvador and reading Jacques Ellul. Often this class session at the seminary had an element of tension and argument because many in the room did not agree with my position, but the tension in Winnipeg had been much worse. Why?

In a moment of clarity and humility I recognized that I had done the very thing I teach against. I had operated from a bounded group mentality. I headed into the new pastors orientation with a bit of crusading zeal to move Mennonite Brethren towards being more Anabaptist. I hoped that I could use the fact that the peace position is in our confession of faith as leverage to get the new pastors to change their stance—if they were not already pacifists. Of course I sought to be persuasive, and give good arguments, but fundamentally my attitude was: this is not an option for a Mennonite pastor (or shouldn’t be). I saw those who argued against me as being on the wrong side of a clear line.

“I had practiced line-drawing judgmentalism as a way of staying on the right side of a line myself—of being included in the group of true Anabaptists.”

Then, reflecting deeper, I recognized that not just was I communicating a strong sense of “ought” in a litmus test way, I also personally felt a strong sense of ought. I was trying to pass a litmus test myself and stay on the right side of a line. I imagined the true Anabaptists among the MB’s (and other Mennonites) cheering me on for addressing this issue directly in this setting. I could also, however, imagine their cheers would turn to jeers if I did not press the issue. So with that group looking over my shoulder I felt pressure to not just talk about peace, but specifically about Christian pacifism in relation to the military. I had practiced line-drawing judgmentalism as a way of staying on the right side of a line myself—of being included in the group of true Anabaptists. Although not as intense, the same dynamic had influenced my teaching on peace in Discipleship and Ethics. In a course rooted in a centered approach I had continued to approach one topic in a bounded group way.

There is enough bounded group paradigm still in my being that thoughts like “what will they think of me?” continue to pull at me. Yet sitting on that plane I knew I did not want to repeat the bounded teaching I had just done. I wanted out. I brought all this to Jesus. I rested my insecurities about being on the wrong side of line in his loving embrace. I felt liberated—and not just emotionally. It liberated me to ask: what is Jesus calling me to do in the class session on peacemaking?

As I stepped away from my litmus test of true Anabaptism and centered on Jesus I felt energy for that class session I had not experienced before.

“How can you become a more active agent of peace—no matter where you are on the just war-Christian pacifism spectrum? Think of ways that people in your communities, church, family, city, and nation trust force/power as the best means of dealing with various situations. Think critically about the myth of redemptive violence.”

Rather than seeking to get students to line up in agreement with my position, knowing that many would reject or resist, I felt a calling to seek to move everyone in the class to become more active agents of peace—no matter where they are on the just war-Christian pacifism spectrum. I decided to address underlying issues relating to the gospel and the violence-condoning world we live in. I now ask students to think of ways that people in their communities, church, families, city, and nation trust force/power as the best means of dealing with various situations. I seek to lead them to think critically about the myth of redemptive violence. Mostly what I do now in that class is tell stories of Christians (individuals and communities) that imaginatively use other means besides force and coercion to address problems (diverse situations from breaking up fights, defusing riots, VORP, stopping thieves, church conflicts, to cooperative business models). I invite students to imagine how they might do the same.

I think the material I used to share in class is valuable, and I still include it, but now as part of the pre-class reading. Students read a biblical argument for Christian pacifism by Tim Geddert  and my story of converting to that position. They also read a document by the Christian Reformed Church that argues for a just-war position. I make some brief comments on the question of the appropriateness of Christian use of lethal force at the beginning of class. I underline that there is a whole continuum of positions on that question, and encourage them to think deeply and clarify where they are at on the continuum. Then I exhort the Christian pacifists to be active pacifists, and exhort the just-war people to really practice that position, take it seriously, and not just follow wherever the governments leads in any military action. Then I say: “The previous question about whether it is appropriate for Christians to use violence to defend justice is an important one. It does, not, however capture all that is entailed by a gospel of peace. Nor do I think it is even the most important thing for us to reflect on in this class session. Therefore, for the rest of the class I want to press broader and deeper. What does it mean to be agents of peace and reconciliation in our setting today? How can we live out this calling? I believe that God calls all Christians to engage these questions--regardless of how you answered the question in the previous section.”

What has happened as I have shifted from a bounded approach to a centered approach in this class session? The tension level has decreased dramatically. I have had students tell me, “I was braced for this class session. I almost skipped it. But to my surprise, I did not feel attacked and the class was very helpful.” Of course one way to lower tension is to lower demands, to take a fuzzy approach. I have not done that. I have changed the challenge, but the challenge is there. My experience with this class session reinforces my conviction that a centered approach facilitates greater change and transformation than a bounded approach. Previously the class contributed to change in a small slice of the students in the class—those who were unsure of their position and were open to explore. For those who already were pacifists they were unchallenged—the “choir” cheering me on. And those in opposition tended to dig in their heels, or just tune out for this class session—letting the Mennonite do his Mennonite thing. Now, however, most all of the students lean in, engage the material and display an openness to apply it in some way.

“I have changed the challenge, but the challenge is there. My experience reinforces my conviction that a centered approach facilitates greater change and transformation than a bounded approach.”

Writing this blog has also led me to reflect how a different setting calls for different application of the centered approach.

At the seminary, on the issue of Christian use of lethal force, students have different centers. That, I think, leaves me two appropriate options. I could have a class in which we acknowledge that and in a respectful, non-bounded, way dialogue about our differences. Or, the option I took, leave that question and move to the level of a common center and engage the topic of peacemaking from that shared center. The gathering of Mennonite Brethren pastors is different, or should have been. There should have been a shared center of the confession of faith’s stance. It still bothers me that people were becoming licensed to minister in Mennonite Brethren churches and openly disagreed with the confession of faith’s articulation of our peace position. Even so, my bounded-group approach to that reality was not appropriate or helpful. A centered approach to the problem of having pastors who did not embrace the church’s peace position requires much more than a one-hour session at orientation. It would require conversation much earlier in the process. If the potential pastoral candidate did not affirm the denomination’s position it would be important to discern if there is openness to journey toward that position--to begin dialogue about it. If the person states firmly that he or she will not change, then I think an appropriate centered response would be to suggest the person seek a different denomination that has a center more closely aligned with the potential pastor. A session like the one I gave could be a valuable part of a process like that, but not in the way I gave it.

I advocate for taking a centered approach in all areas. It is, however, especially imperative in this area. We must talk peacefully about peace. As former student and current TA David Ewert observed after editing this blog: “The medium must fit the message. A bounded approach to peacemaking is ineffective because it is self-contradictory. Peacemaking seeks to connect rather than separate people. Therefore humility is vital to the process of dialogue.”

How might you enlarge the number of people you talk with about peacemaking and enlarge the call to peacemaking through taking a more centered approach?

The Paradox of Generosity

 

BOOK REVIEW

The Paradox of Generosity: Giving We Receive, Grasping We Lose

by Christian Smith & Hilary Davidson

This book reports the results of a carefully constructed sociological study--including both quantitative and qualitative research. In the nine different categories of life investigated, generous people had greater scores of well-being—sometimes markedly so.

The conclusion of the book states: “In offering our time, money, and energy in service of others’ well-being, we enhance our own well-being as well” (224). As a sociological study the book is first and foremost an argument with research results to back up that argument. You may think, “makes sense to me. I do not need to be convinced.” Still, there are reasons to read the book. Even if you do not find the thesis surprising you may be surprised at the width and depth of the positive impact of generosity in the giver’s life. It motivates one to generosity, but also underscores the value of encouraging generosity in those we counsel, teach and disciple. It is not a “how-to” book, but it does provide some insights on how to increase people’s level of generosity.
 
The look into people’s lives is reason enough to read the book. The stories and examples from their qualitative research allows one to enter into the lives of the generous and the un-generous. The authors use short real-life examples throughout the book, but they also have a few long in-depth case studies of generous and un-generous people. There is much to reflect on.

I regularly think back to the description of one un-generous family—“Doug and Michelle Arnold” (120-133). What especially stood out to me was the intentionality of their ungenerosity. It is not that they happened to be ungenerous, they had principled reasons for their stance. In their logic everyone should take care of their own needs. Doug and Michelle did not ask for help, and reasoned that others should do the same—work and take care of their problems. The Arnolds made an exception for natural disasters--occasionally giving small donations. And it is not just in relation to money, but generous actions as well. They live as autonomously from their neighbors as they can—live and let live.
 
Doug and Michelle openly acknowledge that their purpose in life is to make enough money to have “the good life.” According to them the good life is having financial security and enough money to support a lifestyle of leisure with modest luxuries and perhaps a weekend home by the beach. Therefore for them it is counterintuitive to give either time or resources to others. Yet as they talk about their lives there is little sense of shalom or thriving. They make a combined $115,000, but the authors observed that the Arnolds, “clearly live in a subjective state of relative deprivation, imbued with a constant sense that there is not enough money for the things they need and want” (129).
 
The question that keeps coming up when I think of this couple is: how might I reach out evangelistically to them? I mean that in the traditional sense of inviting them to a relationship with Jesus, but also in a broader sense of the gospel—good news. They are so far from living as Jesus did. How might I invite them to follow the ways of Jesus and become people of generosity who love their neighbors? I ask that question out of concern for them—so that they may experience some of the well-being this book describes, but also out of concern for our society. The way they are living their lives is not good for them, their neighbors, nor our society as a whole.

Greed vs Generosity

When I first lived in Honduras the extreme poverty of my neighbors changed the way I thought about normal middle class lifestyles in the United States. What before had seemed appropriate now seemed extravagant. I challenged people in my church in New York to spend less and share more with those in need. I had little success in moving people to cut back and give—probably in large part because of my bounded group religiosity that caused judgmentalism to spill out of my exhortations to give more.

When I started teaching at the seminary I decide to take a different approach.

Rather than center on the needs of the poor, I have focused on the alienating impact of Mammon and consumerism and how Christian communities can help individuals experience greater freedom from these alienating influences. And, in general, my approach has been more invitational than confrontational. My thinking is: people in the United States and Canada suffer under the burden of these alienating forces—offer them a way to ease the burden.

I am still in favor of doing that, but two things recently combined to lead me to think we must do more—including some confrontation. I think we must become more active in confronting greed and efficiency as supreme values.

Again, Honduras moved me to confrontation. Sadly Honduras is a very troubled country today. In recent years it has had the worst homicide rate in the world. Drug trafficking and gangs are commonly mentioned as the reason for the high murder rate, but it is more than that, including: corruption, high inequality, and a very weak judicial system. I could tell many stories: extortion, murder for not meeting an extortion payment, people robbed on buses, government leaders embezzling, corrupt police, gang violence. One story especially moved me when we last visited Honduras.

We were in a tiny village, in the mountains, an hour’s drive from a paved road. We enjoyed the warmth of the family’s Christian hospitality, the music of the stream flowing by, and the beauty of verdant mountainsides. Gerardo told us how much he loved living and working there. To me, it felt like a haven from the nation’s problems; I asked if that was the case. Gerardo replied that until two years ago it had been a tranquil place and they enjoyed good relations with their neighbors. But then people began losing cattle to thieves. And not just one or two cows, but ten or fifteen at a time. I asked, “how could someone sell the cattle if they were branded?” Gerardo replied, “excellent question.” They should not be able to get past the checkpoint near the closest city, let alone sell them to a slaughter house. Obviously people with power and authority are involved. They suspect a coronel. Gerardo told us that recently a young man was murdered in their village because he knew too much about how it was happening. Gerardo’s father had very recently had ten cattle stolen and they did not report it. They feared that the ones they report it to might actually be involved in the crime, and might come after them. I wondered, how can that coronel sleep peacefully at night? What drives this? The answer is a word that came up repeatedly during our trip.

Hondurans did talk about drug traffickers and gangs, but a repeated theme that kept coming up as we talked to people was greed. They saw greed as a root problem.

I left with questions:  what is the church doing about greed? What could the church in Honduras do?  What is the church here in North America doing to confront greed?

The second contributing factor happened a few weeks later when I read a book by Lisa Hamilton, Deeply Rooted: Unconventional Farmers in the Age of Agribusiness. It tells the stories of three farmers: a dairy farmer in East Texas, a cattle rancher in New Mexico, and two brothers on a farm in North Dakota. In one sense each of them is a radical, in another sense not that radical at all. They would have looked pretty normal fifty years ago. They are resisting more industrialized models of farming.

Like any farmer or any business person; they cannot ignore the bottom line. They seek to make money. Yet, all three of the farmers in the book have a higher value than making money. Greed does not drive them. Rather they are driven by concern for the land, their families, people who work for them, their communities, and people who eat their food. Rather than the most efficient way of doing things they bring in other evaluative factors. The book contrasts them with others farmers with very different practices, and different priorities. The combination of greed and technique produced distortions that are bad for the earth, bad for those working on the farms, bad for the communities, bad for those eating what they produce, and unsustainable.

It is not just Honduras, and definitely not just farming. The chemistry combining greed and efficiency as supreme value is dangerous and all too common in our society. The destructive impact of that chemistry hurts many. Just one example. Think of the financial crisis of 2008. What was at the root? Greed that utilized and trusted in efficiency/technique ended up hurting millions.

With my Honduras experience fresh in mind I put down Hamilton's book, and said to myself. “I need to start talking about this in class.”  Part of the church being salt and light in society is reflecting seriously on how to lessen greed, and lessen the almost total commitment to efficiency.

And I have. I tell these stories and exhort students to act against greed. 

I have, and I will continue to challenge students to take a stand against greed. But I am thinking that perhaps more important than confronting greed is promoting generosity.

If generosity increases, greed will decrease. Clearly, lessening greed and increasing generosity is good for others. In the absence of greed Gerardo’s family would still have all their cattle. Yet, right in line with a central paradigm of the Discipleship and Ethics course, ethics as gift, God calls us to give not just out of love for others, but also out of love for us. Last summer I read a book by sociologists Christian Smith and Hillary Davidson called The Paradox of Generosity: Giving We Receive, Grasping We Lose. The title communicates the main point of the book. It is not, however, just a reflection or a sharing of wisdom. The book reports results of a carefully constructed sociological study based on both quantitative and qualitative research. In the nine different categories of life investigated, generous people had greater scores of well-being—sometimes markedly so. The conclusion of the book states: “In offering our time, money, and energy in service of others’ well-being, we enhance our own well-being as well” (224).

So I encourage you, as an act of love, exhort others to turn away from greed and practice generosity. And perhaps one of the best ways of moving others to generosity is to increase our own generosity.

Let us be open to how God’s Spirit may lead us to generosity of time, money or possessions today and in the days to come.

Busyness vs. The Disciplined Pursuit of Less

A new year invites reflection. What to change, what to stop doing, what to start?

For some, becoming more active, adding something new would be life-giving. Many, however, are overwhelmed, burdened with too much to do. Being too busy hinders us from living as the people God created us to be. For that reason I included a class on “busyness” for the first eight years I taught Discipleship and Ethics. It felt, and feels, important. Yet I dropped it from the course.

Why?

The simplest answer is that there were other topics I wanted to include. Something had to come out. Combined with that I had the sense that if we worked at the other themes in the course we would address many of the factors that contribute to busyness today. Yet, perhaps, more honestly, the reason I pulled it from the course is that I never figured out how to teach it. The class on freedom from busyness was the one I changed most. From small tweaks to radical overhauls I don’t think I ever taught it the same way twice. Perhaps I gave up.

I think, however, an even deeper reason I dropped it is that I felt uncomfortable addressing the topic. How could I call for change in an area in which I was so burdened myself? My sense was, on this topic, I was in worse shape than most of my students. I do not mean to imply that I no longer struggled with Mammon or technique or others themes from the course. But at least in all the others I could point to progress. In 2006 I had little sense of progress in the burden of living with the sense that there was more to do each day and each week than I was able to do.

I have made some progress since 2006, yet it continues to be the area in which I struggle the most—feel the greatest lack of shalom. What progress I have made comes from weaving together various threads: journaling, therapy, spiritual disciplines, talking to friends, saying “no” more often. In this blog I will share one thread I found helpful last year.

Pursuing the Essential

A former student, Kristin Fast, recommended the book, Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. The author, Greg McKeown, contrasts two types of people that he calls Non-Essentialists and Essentialists. A Non-Essentialist commits to virtually everything without exploring. An Essentialist explores more options, but commits to less . . . "distinguishes the vital few from the trivial many” (21, 48). What follows is not so much a book review--I skipped sections and skimmed much of the book. Rather, I offer a few insights and quotes I gleaned from the book that provide helpful tools for dealing with the burden of having too much to do.

If our brain is like a search engine, “good opportunity” will bring up many options. A more advanced search asks three questions: “What do I feel deeply inspired by?” “What am I particularly talented at?” and “What meets a significant need in the world?” (22).

“There are three deeply entrenched assumptions we must conquer to live the way of the Essentialist: ‘I have to,’ ‘It’s all important,’ and I can do both.’ ... To embrace the essence of Essentialism requires we replace these false assumptions with three core truths: ‘I choose to,’ ‘Only a few things really matter,’ and ‘I can do anything but not everything” (31).

“The faster and busier things get, the more we need to build thinking time into our schedule. . . When did you last take time out of your busy day simply to sit and think?” – not just a few minutes to think over the day’s to-do list, or zoning out in a meeting thinking about a project (68).

“[The] non-Essentialist avoids saying no to avoid feeling social awkwardness and pressure. . . [An] Essentialist  dares to say no firmly, resolutely and gracefully” (137). How?

- Separate the decision from the relationship – denying the request is not the same as denying the person (137).

- “Focus on the trade-off. The more we think about what we are giving up when we say yes to someone, the easier it is to say no” (138).

- “Make peace with the fact that saying ‘no’ often requires trading popularity for respect” (138).

McKeown presents the analogy of a camp counselor who put the slowest hiker at the front and worked to help him go faster (lighten his pack, encourage him)—something I did as a camp counselor. The idea being that any little improvement you can make to the slowest hiker will allow the whole group to get there sooner. “Essentialists don’t default to band-aid solutions. Instead of looking for the most obvious or immediate obstacles, they look for the ones slowing down progress. They ask, ‘What is getting in the way of achieving what is essential?’” (187). Piling on many quick-fix solutions vs. removing obstacles to progress.

“If we create a routine that enshrines the essentials, we will begin to execute them on autopilot.” Rather than dedicating lots of energy to prioritizing every day and fighting to do essentials, initial energy is used to create the routine (187).

The Non-Essentialist’s mind is spinning, stressing about the past and worrying about the future. The Essentialist focuses on the present, what is important right now, enjoys the moment (218).

After a day of leading a seminar McKeown returned to his room. “I felt a sudden pull in a million directions. Everything around me was a reminder of all the things I could be doing: check my e-mail, listen to messages, read a book I felt obliged to read, prepare the presentation for a few weeks from now, record interesting ideas that had grown out of the day’s experiences, and more. It wasn’t just the sheer number of things that felt overwhelming, it was the familiar stress of many tasks vying for top billing at the same time. As I felt the anxiety and tension rise I stopped. I knelt down. I closed my eyes and asked, “What is important now?” After a moment of reflection I realized that until I knew what was important right now, what was important right now was to figure out what was important right now!” (He ended up journaling about his day, connecting with his family, and get things in place for the next day) (221).

May you and I in this year ahead have the wisdom to discern the essential from the non-essential, and in the security that comes from resting in God’s loving embrace may we have the courage to say “no” to the non-essential.

I Once Was Lost

 

Book Review:

I Once was Lost: What Postmodern Skeptics Taught Us About Their Path to Jesus
By Don Everts and Doug Schaupp

There is much to critique about many evangelistic approaches. In my first months as a campus minister with Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship at Syracuse University I did a lot of critiquing of the methods of other Christian groups on campus. Then a mentor said to me, "fine Mark, you have good critiques of their way of evangelizing, but what are you doing? Do you have an alternative approach you are actually practicing?"

This is a book that helps me imagine alternatives to the methods I critiqued.

The pragmatic side of me loved this book. It is not just theory; it contains a lot of “how to’s” illustrated with examples. The part of me that has grown skeptical of formulaic “how to” lists did not react too strongly because the practical emphasis of the book is rooted in a very different paradigm of evangelism. In large part that is because it is based on careful observation of and listening to people who have converted. I had hoped for thicker narratives of these people. The subtitle of the book mislead me, but actually it is exactly right. The book is not so much about postmodern skeptics, but it is the lessons learned from them. The thesis of the book is that “one trick” evangelism does not work well because it treats all people as if they are in the same place. 

In essence, for example, it is of no use engaging a person as if they are a seeker if they are not even curious about Jesus. I thought the first threshold was especially important, moving from distrust of Christians to trust a Christian. The other four thresholds were: 2. Moving from complacent to curious, 3. Moving from closed to being open to change in their life, 4. Moving from meandering to seeking, and 5. Crossing the threshold of the kingdom itself.

I appreciate that they emphasize the importance of an actual call to take this last step. Many, I think, are hesitant to make an explicit call. In part out of reaction against the “one trick” packaged evangelistic techniques, and in part because of how it goes against the grain of our tolerance-as-supreme-virtue-society. Yet, if we are going to move people from fuzzy to centered they do need to turn to the center at some point. Calling for conversion feels much different in their approach because it is not seen as the goal of every conversation with a non-believer. If the person is only at threshold two, don’t make the call of threshold 5. It is a short book (132 pages), easy to read, many illustrative stories, and includes not just description of the stages, but also suggestions on how to engage non-Christians at each stage.

On one hand, by emphasizing process the book takes away a lot of the un-natural, uncomfortable, alienating feel of evangelism. On the other hand by identifying thresholds and calling Christians to work to lovingly help people move from one threshold to the next it maintains the evangelistic imperative that often seems to get lost when the emphasis is on process rather than on one-time contact evangelism focused on “praying the prayer.”