"God showed up"

Would you ever use the phrase "God showed up" to describe a church service? Why or why not? If you heard someone say it, what would you think they were referring to?

I've heard this phrase or variations on it a number of times in different contexts and it seems to mean very different things amongst different flavours of Christianity.

High church: we celebrated the eucharist.

Charismatic: we had a really rocking praise and worship time and/or prayer time.

Biblicist: at least two or three of those that attended were gathered in the name of Jesus.

Any other suggestions?

Sunday morning

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.
Is this your Sunday morning? The fact that you're grinning from recognition ("it's funny because it's true") shows that services like this are still liturgical, even if the pattern of worship is not written in a book for everyone to read.

Freed to love: why (rich) Christians need to think about climate change

For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’

Galatians 5.13-14.

Freedom is ordered towards love; we are free in order that we might love, and in love become slaves to one another. Christian liberty is the freedom to do good to my neighbour. Central amongst the goods I might do for my neighbour is echoing the divine call to enter into this very freedom to love. And so part of my free service will be inviting my brothers and sisters into the service of those around them: "Let us serve our neighbours and do good to everyone, especially to the household of faith!"

Yet this service is not exhausted by issuing such an invitation. There are many other ways of serving one another as well as proclaiming the good news of freedom in Christ. To be of service to my neighbours, some of the good things I can do will require more specific knowledge of my neighbours and their condition and context. Do they need food? Do they need to learn how to fish for themselves? Do they need to have their fish stocks protected from illegal fishing? Do they need medical aid? Do they need a healthcare system that delivers better care? Do they need a friend they can trust? Do they need a society in which trust is prized and protected? What fear or guilt is oppressing them? Is a fearful society confusing their ability to discriminate between threats? Are they a victim of crime? Is corruption undermining the rule of law in their community? Are they addicted to self-destructive behaviours? Does their society encourage them towards the idolatry of greed? Towards superficiality of judgement? Does their lifestyle (and that of their society) contribute to reducing the freedom of others to love and serve?

The answers to these questions will not be easy or simple. They will not be found only by studying the scriptures (though that will of course be part of it!). To love our neighbour, we have to pay close attention to the world and how it works, including the disputed areas.

At stake is the relation of knowledge to ethics. Saint Paul prayed that the Philippians’ love would "overflow more and more in knowledge and depth of insight" - knowledge of God and the good news of Jesus, yes, but also knowledge of one another and the world in which they are called to love. We cannot love our neighbours without some attempt at understanding them, their history and gifts, their situation and the world which we share, including its threats and possibilities.

For example, Christians amongst areas ravaged by AIDS will need to come to an opinion about whether HIV leads to AIDS or not (this is hotly contested in parts of Africa, and there are campaigns against the use of retro-viral drugs, and shoddy pseudo-scientists throwing mud into the air). Christian parents will need to come to an opinion about the benefits and costs of immunisation (where again, confusing signals have often been sent by the media based on poor scientific work). And Christians with influence in energy, in public policy, or those with carbon-intensive lifestyles and with global neighbours who live in drought or flood-prone areas will sooner or later have to have some kind of opinion on climatology and carbon.

Not every Christian is able or obliged to answer every conceivable question about how to love our neighbours, or to evaluate the variety of threats and opportunities we focus upon. But Christians do need to think carefully about which sources of knowledge are trustworthy, and what we do with that knowledge. Will we trust the IPCC and the national scientific bodies of thirty-two nations when they tell us they have over 90% confidence that human activities (particularly those in developed nations) are significantly contributing to changes with very serious negative effects now and increasingly into future decades (particularly on the world's poorest peoples)?

God doesn’t give us an exhaustive list of who we are to trust and how far. But that doesn’t mean the question is morally irrelevant or that refraining from the discussion is the best use of Christian freedom to love. This may not be the only or the greatest moral issue of our time, but it is a very significant one.

Christian freedom does not mean that we are released from the responsibility to consider carefully the effect that our habits, actions and beliefs have on those around us. Quite the opposite: we are liberated from the intolerable burden of having to save ourselves or our world, and given many opportunities to do all kinds of good. Let us use our freedom in order to love.

No mumbling the liturgy!

I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation;
    see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
I have not hidden your saving help within my heart,
    I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
    from the great congregation.

- Psalm 40.9-10, NRSV

I once visited a congregation which made frequent use of thoughtfully prepared congregational responses (often what people mean when they refer to a service as "liturgical"). I joined in reciting the responses in what I considered a regular voice, pitched for the size of the room and the number of people. As is often the case, many of the congregation spoke the lines almost under their breath. After the service, I was quietly admonished by one regular congregation member who informed me that he found my volume distracting. I realise that speaking together is a skill that can take some practice to work well, but I was somewhat at a loss at this response. Apparently, he wasn't commenting on my adopting an unusual rhythm or strange emphasis, merely the fact that others could hear what I said.

Communal responses, though often addressed to God in prayer, are just as frequently exhortations addressed to one another. I've always assumed that if we're going to use them (and I think they are excellent when done well, for all kinds of reasons), then we may as well not pussyfoot around. In such situations, I'm not just speaking to myself, or even to my neighbour, but am addressing (and hope to be addressed by) the congregation.

And so when the opportunity to speak of God's faithfulness and salvation amongst the congregation arises (whether in song, liturgical response, testimony, public prayer, scriptural reading or whatever), don't be shy. Open your lips and speak up!

How to start an argument

Recently, I've been blogging a little on climate change and it has understandably at times produced some lively discussion. However, Anthony (known to regular readers as the guy who jumps in to answer every question offering points, though in his spare time an Anglican minister) has decided he doesn't have enough controversy in his life and so has decided to open a discussion of church music.

He has some good thoughts on the practicalities of song selection and their role in a service. His post is worth reading, particularly if you have anything to do with serving congregations musically.

For whom are we disrobing?

"The reason we eschewed formality in church services was because that was what WE on the inside wanted (or some of us, anyway) - the missiological reason was in fact only a justification for it."

Michael ponders the current reasons for anti-formality in some Sydney Anglican churches. Go on over to his post to contribute to the energetic and interesting discussion.

O'Donovan on reading

Reading is the act which opens us to the voice of Jesus’s witnesses, and so to history, to the world, and to the empty tomb at the world’s centre. Reading should be the core moment in all our liturgy, the heartbeat that gives life to the sacraments, the preaching and the prayers. Reading should be at the focal point of our church buildings, so that what we see first is not an altar, not a pulpit, but a lectern. Reading should be the lifeblood of our preaching, so that every new sermon we compose springs from a study of the Scripture that is for us as though for the first time, new, vital, surprising. Reading must be the rhythm of our life, the daily beat of the Gospel which gives order to the flurry of undertakings all around it. Reading schools us in self-denial and flexibility, emptying out the imaginations of self-generated visions and filling us with the thoughts of others. Reading accepts the divine violence upon the world that has given us life, but offers no violence back to the messengers through whom the news of that life comes to us.

Oliver O'Donovan, "Saint Mark, violence, and the discipline of reading: a sermon"

I am astonished when church services are confined to a single short reading to make more time for preaching (or singing, or coffee). This usually means the congregation rarely hears the Old Testament and what it does receive frequently lacks much context. Worse is when a "reading" from an extra-scriptural source is regularly substituted for the Bible. I am all for introducing congregations to the riches of Christian thought through the ages, but not as a substitute for Scripture. Using a lectionary makes more and more sense to me as a liturgical discipline of regular, systematic, extended engagement with the actual words of Scripture.
Thanks to Æ for posting this sermon. He also points out that a book of O’Donovan’s sermons, “The Word in Small Boats”, will be published by Eerdmans in the northern Spring of 2009.