Monday, 17 January 2011

Convers(at)ion

In his book “A New Type of Christian” Brian McLaren writes that he would like to shift the focus of “evangelism” in the Christian Church from counting conversions to counting conversations. The saving message of God revealed in Jesus Christ should not be reduced to an annual profit/loss equation defined by a series of “my personal decision” events. Christians in conversation open up a way towards forming genuine relationships, which in themselves will lead to conversions.

I like this way of thinking. My work as a Christian involved in Pastoral Support is conversational. I talk to people. More often they talk to me and I listen. I know that people are being lead to Christ by this: to the Christ who sat by the well in Samaria and talked to a lonely, ostracised woman in direct affront to both social conventions and the unwritten rules of “shun”. You can’t trust Jesus as saviour until you know him as friend, and the best way to make friends with Jesus is to make friends with one of his friends.

I am a friend of Jesus, his best friend actually, and I love talking about him. But I also love talking like him to people who have yet to speak with him personally.

Sometimes I struggle with this. As a school chaplain I am pressured from opposite ends of the scale. Some non-Christian teachers are suspicious of me because I represent “church and rules” in a supposedly secular environment. They appear concerned that I am there to judge or change children against their will. Yet at the same time some local Christians are suspicious of me because I am a “social justice advocate not interested in souls”. I am interested in souls, but I believe, as I am certain Jesus did, that souls come attached to stories.

The conversations of Jesus always hit the nail on the head. He got to the heart of the matter with patience and love, but without distraction. The work of God in an unbeliever’s life is more than just the decision to believe, (although such a decision is an important one). Unbelievers on both sides of the point of conversion need more of God than the cross. They need the man sitting beside the well, they need the man weeping at his friend’s tomb, they need the man turning water to wine to hide their embarrassment, they need the man who calls them out of their isolation and invites himself home for dinner.

They need the man cooking a fish breakfast on the beach.

The Pharisees hated Jesus because he came eating and drinking. He spent time with outcasts, “quality” time over meals and flagons. Jesus was a mate to many before he became the saviour of all.

As a “Christian” Pastoral Support Worker, how can I be any less?

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Why the football doesn't matter, but The Cats losing at it does.

Saturday 27th September 2008 was one of the saddest days I care to remember: the day the Cats lost the AFL Grand Final after being the best team in the country all year. It was a disappointing end to the season, and was particularly sad for my family and me as we have been Geelong supporters for all of our lives. Geelong Australian Rules Football Club is part of my family inheritance; indeed the city itself is our ancestral town in Australia, so there is quite a bit of "rip and tear" when they lose; especially as they had been such red-hot favourites that year and had won 23 out of 24 games in 2008 going in to the Grand Final, and 24 out of 26 including the premiership (by a record score) in 2007. It's one of those times when you've done all the hard work and have met 98% of the requirements for completion, but then you fall over and it's all wasted.

Our tribe was in mourning, and feeling very short-changed as well.

This is a truth that Christians need to get, even amongst themselves. Of course there is no satisfaction like the love of God, but in this world there is pain and there are other loyalties. These are not conflicting loyalties, it’s not unchristian to follow the AFL, they’re just not church groups.

Our generation is a tribal generation. Australia is a tribal nation. We have always been a people who like to form groups around the things that define us in society: be that States of Origin (to various degrees, and not limited to sport) along with Ford vs. Holden, AFL vs. NRL (and the sixteenths within). These are the denominations of the world: not “of the Flesh” per se, after all when did Anglican vs. Roman Catholic be a different form of loyalty, but of the way we think as men and women on this side of Heaven. It was on this basis that my tribe entered a time of mourning. "Sorry Business" ensued and as a group we commiserated together before gathering ourselves around our faith and looking to 2009, as we had looked to 1990, 1993, 1995 and 1996 of recent memory, with renewed hope.

Christians need to remember that Earth is a tribal place and those coming in to the church still belong to other groups. We are in the world, but not of it, but in the world there are circles and we are still very much a part of those circles; indeed it is where our ministry lays. It is not enough to say “bah but it is only football and as Christians we have a higher calling”. Yes, we do have a higher calling, but not to the exclusion of our friends and to what is important to us. Some do not like football, and that is fair enough, but those people I am sure belong to other tribes, be they other sports, or other interests. One of the men I know from church, who supports the team which defeated Geelong on that day of blessed forgetting, consoled me that he knew how I felt as whilst he is not as devoted as I to his chosen sports he “felt strangely mournful” at the dumping of the New Zealand All Blacks from the IRB World Cup in 2007. Why should it matter so much that your national rugby team loses? Simply because it is “the team", “our team”: there is a real belongingness in that and it isn't just about the vicarious nature of following the ball in play. The team is “us out there” and we are a part of each other. Australasians are a sporting tribal people: to minister to us is to minister in and within the culture of belongingness: we must not forget that to reach our “unreached” we must be sympathetic to their cries: and we must allow ourselves to feel it when our own tribes are saddened in the fight.

I have belonged at various times to parishes of the Anglican and Uniting Churches, and in England I belonged at my local Parish Church and then to Hillsong Church London. In terms of residential identity I have been a Victorian, a Tasmanian, and a Territorian. I've lived in Kent, Norfolk, Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire; and always specifically not in London as is the local sensitivity of the Home Counties. I'm both Australian and English by heritage and have supported both nations (one at a time) in the Rugby World Cup, even supporting England against Australia when they won in Sydney in 2003. I will always support England in the cricket unless it's The Ashes. But I have never been anything other than a Geelong supporter. It's the only thing I have always been apart from a Christian, distinct from the changing denominational labels.

Yet I am all about Jesus: but I'm still in the world. The Cats is a part of the world I am pleased to be in.

I am a Christian. Not “a Christian first” as there is no comparison between my belonging to Christ alone and to my other allegiances. Neither am I “a Cat second” as there is much of higher importance in my life than my sporting tribe: however at one level I am a “Cat”, and my family (to whom I belong more than my team) are Cats too. On Grand Final day I was sad, and my family and I were sad together, especially as we were physically separated by half of the span of the Earth. On that day we found ourselves in genuine need of ministry in a way that “look to the cross” could not fix.

We got over it, it was only the end of the season and not the end of the world, but maybe in the pain we discovered an insight into how our generation works. Don’t disparage the shared culture of society’s smaller groups...much rides on the fortunes of the men on the field and we must remember as light to the world that we have a duty to weep with those who weep.

Football itself if not so big a deal of course, it's just that I suddenly found a point of intersection between Emergent Church thinking and something in my own, personal, day-to-day world. Until Heaven even solid Christians will have "lesser loyalties" to their tribes; yet not necessarily divided loyalties as we remember that Jesus is not in the same plane. When the tribe is defeated then we have a duty to mourn with those who mourn, not that it's a duty as we are often capable of feeling sad and disappointed all by ourselves. For Geelong in 2008 it was so near yet so far; all but undefeated all year, and indeed ahead for the first twenty-two of eighty minutes. Sometimes life sucks and as Christians it's good to be reminded of that.

As I often say about my own life just because I am handling this well doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. There but for the grace of God: it's good to be reminded of the grace of God so that we CAN minister to those who don't know what we do. I sincerely hope that The Church in Geelong was down at Kardinia Park on Sunday September 28th: not all of them, but some as a sign of "this is our town too, and we are sad along with you because we are part of you."

So let us be clear; to be sad about a defeated football team does not make someone less a believer in the grace of Jesus Christ: neither does it make the League (or the Game) his or her "god". There is a call for compassion to those even within "The House" who have tribal loyalties: as an Aussie bloke my key one is my football team, but we as The Church (and as local churches) must engage in the world. We are not of the world, but we are in it, and we are in it with those who are of it. We must engage with them and that will cause us pain: but pain is good when pain is shared.

There are many for whom football is their god, but from whom are they more likely to hear the grace behind the words of Jesus Christ? We who also feel sad at the events of a Grand Final day, or the well meaning (and I'm sure they are) legalist who denies the existence of football as a source of anything?

We may not subscribe to their tribe, (by which I mean the sport rather than the team: for example I could not care less for Rugby League), but there is nothing in the gospel that allows us to discount their pain. I know there were sad people in Melbourne even as there was rejoicing Manly after the NRL premiership, even as I care little for the game itself. I have seen what an England or local club loss does to the soccer fans in London, even in Hillsong Church. I believe this grieving to be a genuine and acceptable thing. "Sorry Business" in its original, indigenous form is both corporate and communal; and if a local church is indeed local then it should at the very least seek to engage in it, even if it shouldn't be immersed in it.

The Mountaintop in The Valley

What an awesome privilege it is to worship God at any time of the day or night. Here I am in worship on my futon in the middle of a wet November day and experiencing the awesome power of God’s Holy Spirit present in my life when all the darkness is seen to blow away. Here in what should have been one of the lowest and most helpless periods of my life is God present and abundant in His grace and favour towards me. Never again will I doubt my confidence in God, and never again will I doubt my confidence in my confidence in God because He is mighty and awesome to save and I have experienced it and been able to step up and seen Him do it, to see Him in this place and to know that I am big enough in His strength to allow Him to do this through me.

The Intercessory Power of Worship

I have a theory, and that theory is that many local churches are free of all the stuff that Warfare Intercessors think they need to bind and cast even though these congregations do not bind and cast. I believe that this is because our worship is powerful and effective in sending the demons packing.

James wrote that the fervent prayers of the righteous are powerful and effective. But what about the fervent praise (and worship) of the righteous?

My local church is, in context, a powerful and effective local Church.
• In March 2007 it has somewhere in the region of 8000 participants across five service times in three locations and two countries, as well as its weekly social (connective) events.
• In the calendar year of 2006 it saw over 6000 decisions for Christ, both first time and recommitment.
• It has raised the identity of Christ and His Church across both the Christian and secular communities of Europe, impacting leaders in many spheres of business, finance, education, health and service industries.
• It directly supports social and community work among some of the poorest people of Mumbai (India) and Kasisi (Uganda), along with work in the United Kingdom and special projects across the world.
• It prays weekly for the needs of its people, and has heard reports of the effectiveness of those prayers in healings from cancers and many other physical and mental illnesses, release from financial distress and debt, and provision of employment/housing/visa/friendship for its contingent of young visitors from the Commonwealth.
• It continues to expand, and has a vision for new endeavours: empowering individual Christians to influence their own spheres and championing the cause of the local church across Britain and Europe.

We proclaim a gospel of grace, of a righteousness accredited to individual Christians because of their acceptance of Jesus Christ as Saviour and Lord. We are saved by grace, and out of that grace we do works; but our righteousness is that of Christ by virtue of divine exchange.

So, how does a local church which does not wave banners and march around its streets, does not have all-night prayer vigils, does not have “prayer warfare” or “prayer counselling” or “deliverance ministry” teams, manage to be so effective in the face of demonic opposition? Christ tells us we are righteous, our world sees us as powerful and effective (in context): yet this takes place without what some would describe as “fervent” prayer.

Repentance is the first place of revival. Revival planning is not about casting and loosing powers over Norwich, but about humility and contrition in the Church. God commands a blessing when the church is united. Hillsong is a place of humility, contrition towards grace (and confidence beyond it), servant-heartedness, and unity behind the cause of Christ.

Bridal forms of Intercession.

In late 2002 and early 2003 I had the privilege of joining with a small group of strategic-level prayer warriors in East Anglia, living on site with them and travelling with them to various parts of the East of England to take part in local, strategic warfare. During this time we became aware of a move in prayer circles that God was revealing a new form of intercession, which was to be known as “Bridal Intercession”. The word came from God that it was time for the intercessors to come down off the ramparts and to come into the throne-room of God: the time for battle was at an end, the time for intimacy with the victorious Lord was beginning. (In no way was this a suggestion that “the War” was over because only the return of Christ as King of Glory will ultimately bring destruction to the reign of satan on Earth.) Prayer was to move away from “pulling down strongholds” and shift instead to “calling down Heaven”. The Bride was to take off her boots and put on her slippers.

The idea was circulated that when a stronghold is pulled down, the demons are sent to the pit and the Church stands victorious in the rubble. When Heaven is called down, the demons flee from the presence of the Living God under their own conviction, and the Church stands victorious in the Shekinah. In both cases the work of satan is utterly destroyed, but only Brides get to spend time with the King in His glory, the warriors just get to step across the rubble and go home. God was bringing refreshing to His armies, stepping in as He did in the days of Israel and Judah to glorify His own Name and accept the praises of His people, (or His People.)

It is my view that my local church is such a People, a company of worshipping Brides who celebrate their love by the Husband in their songs of worship and their lives of utter submission to the Cause of Christ: to love God and to love people. We don’t require a company to march around our house on a Sunday, any power or authority that will not submit to God is blown away by the power of the worship of the house: not the music, the worship. The heart-attitude of the believers in Christ in the House brings glory to God and He delights in this praise: not for the sake of “doing Bridal Intercession”, but simply because that is who we are, as the Church of Jesus Christ we are the Bride of our beloved Lord and Saviour and we delight to have him come to visit. When he does, the adversarial forces run away.

The Handwriting of God

God writes the first 10 commandments on stone.
God writes on the plaster wall at Belshazzar’s feast.
Jesus writes in the dust.

Where else does God WRITE in writing in the Bible: and what does it mean?

Things Damien learned at Hillsong Servant School

The challenges that God has placed upon my life in the past six months, both within and without Ministry School, cannot be adequately summed up in typed words: His grace and favour to me have been beyond anything I have experienced so far in my life, and that extends to the things He has allowed me to learn.

In limiting myself to a page of typed summary I have chosen to focus on the one key thing that “pings at me” the most as I review my notes: I need to get started so that God can take what is in my hand and use it to His glory. He did this with Zerubbabel (Zechariah 4.6), He did in with Paul (1Corinthians 3.6), and He did it with Jonathan and the anonymous Armour-Bearer (Numbers 14). It is this last story that has most impressed me as it was the understanding that Gary Clarke brought out of this text, that God can use me mightily even when I am anonymous and “hidden” to the peripheral world (and even the Church), which was the thing I most needed to hear.
• God will increase what I do: if I do nothing then He has nothing to multiply, if I am nothing then He has no-one to replicate.
• Action with sacrifice gets God’s involvement: I need to be prepared to risk God not acting so that I can give Him something to use when He does come through for me. (I come through for Him by taking the initiative, either in the role of Jonathan and getting out from under the tree of boredom to act, or in the role of armour-bearer by committing “heart and soul” to the initiative of my leader.)
At present I am serving on two teams in the life of Hillsong Church London: New Christians-Discovery, and Because We Can. In my life beyond Church I am in transition in a number of ways, but in all of these (and at Church) I have taken the wisdom of God and the college to “just get in there” and am seeing Him begin to move in what I have already commenced.

Away from this key message I am constantly reminded that leadership is about servanthood, and that its main task is people-development. Servanthood is about serving people, the Greek words used in the New Testament refer to the role of leaders (diakone and episkope) as servants. Indeed everything is about people, God’s answer to every need in the church was people (Acts 6) and it still is today: indeed, as Mark Wilkinson spoke into Hillsong at a Sunday service in 2003, God’s treasure is people (Matthew 6:21).

The task of God’s leaders, whatever their role in the life of the congregation, is to connect people with the cause and focus of God Himself: the cause of Christ. His own life’s purpose was to show the Father to the world, John 14.31(msg), and the focus of his ministry was people themselves. Our motivation comes about through these two things, a deliberate focus on people and the cause of getting them connected to God and His Church. As Christians it can be nothing less.

Beyond that is the message that I am wonderful (Psalm 139 as read to us by Martin Houghton-Brown), and that I need to back myself, believe in myself, and get over myself. Once I am out of the way then it is easier for me to focus on other people, and to begin to do something that will bring glory to God and fulfilment to my spirit: I am free to get better at relationships, and be better set up to handle the twists and turns of life with my scenario-planning Father. It’s much easier to do “Selah, then move on” when my focus is on God’s wonderful and fearful creation, and not on my own shyness or the events of my life at work. This is both liberating and empowering: I’m ready to get on board with God and trust Him to see this through until the end.

27th March 2007.

Oracle

I want to speak as an Oracle of God, not asking him for stuff but instead speaking His word into the situations in my world. Like Peter is Acts 3 I want to command the lame man to get up and walk, not command the Lord to heal: nor to inquire of Jehovah Ropheka whether healing is His will. (It is more than God’s will it is God’s nature.)

To be an Oracle of God I need to walk closely with Him, to know His will by knowing His word and His nature: these done by prayer and study. I want to be the light and salt: to reflect and infuse into the peripheral world what Jesus has directed into me.

An Oracle declares the divine will of God. As a Christian I can do this as overflow and output of my personal intimacy with Him: my union with His will and purpose.