(Originally written August 2011)
My wife and I have been attending an OPC church since the fall, and while I was familiar with much of the denomination's theology, I had never attended one of their churches regularly. One of the elements I appreciate most in their service is the corporate confession of sin and assurance of pardon. Like so many staples of a worship service which are done every week, this time has the potential to be distracted and hollow repetition, or, with an ounce of intentionality and sincerity, the essence of what meeting together is all about. There was a phrase in this past Sunday's corporate confession that struck me with its bluntness, vulnerability, and above all its truthfulness.
"We do not love each other as we should because we do not believe that you love us as you do."
That's it. If we had an inkling of the intense love God has for us, everything else- EVERYTHING- would just be overflow. It's a drum I've been beating for years, an intensely personal revelation of grace for me, and a lesson I need to continually learn. It has an organic and unstoppable overflow into the rest of our lives, and is the source of our sanctification, not merely a reassuring reminder as we tighten our boot straps and just try harder to be better. This attractive theology of self-flagellation sadly not only represents the central thesis of far too many sermons from the pulpit, but a departure from, and an invalidation of, the message we call the gospel. In one of the courses I've taken at Gordon Conwell I was asked to write a one-page synopsis of my "theology of ministry"- essentially why I do what I do for God. These truths I was reminded of Sunday morning brought this paper back to my mind, so here it is. I apologize if it feels repetitious after this introduction.
The book of Ephesians is easily my favorite book in the New Testament. Paul is incredibly concise yet thorough, theological yet practical, and in a few brief chapters frames our past, instructs our present, and affirms our hope for the future. I have returned to this book again and again and it is always a scathing indictment of where I and the church at large have gone wrong. Yet it is immensely hopeful and live giving. In it I find the paradigm for what I want my theology to be: accessible, concise, unapologetic in its conviction of sin and unflinching in its gaze at an ultimate paradise. This is why we do what we do, and here is how we do it. It contains my ideal theology of ministry, and perhaps due to the Baptist in me I have whittled it down to three points, each related to the others. The more I read the Scriptures and various writings from giants in the faith, the more I am convinced of the centrality of these three points, and how catastrophic it is if we err on any one of them. Here then, is the theology of ministry to which I currently subscribe:
Who is God? A.W. Tozer in his brief and brilliant book The Knowledge of the Holy affirms first and foremost the importance of thinking rightly about God. He likens all of our Christian doctrine and practice to a building whose foundation is its conception of God, and where it is "out of plumb" the whole structure must collapse. Though this book was written decades ago, it has only become more relevant in modern times as churches have reduced the Most Holy God into a buddy who we can call to cut us a deal if we’re in a jam. When God is not feared then sins needn’t be hidden. God is not a morality tale we can deconstruct for nuance with our post modern sensibilities. The modern cardinal sin is offending anybody, yet no one is concerned about offending God. It is only when we take a good look (as though that were possible) into the awesomeness of his majesty and justice that we begin to have an inkling that we indeed have a problem on our hands. Included in this conception is the perfect and eternal love which finds its definition in Him, and with which He individually and uniquely pursues us.
Who are We? The modern conception of sanctification seems to be something like this: Yes, it is by grace we’ve been saved, but now its up to our best efforts to stay on God’s good side and keep growing. It cries for the removal of all the filthy rags that predated our conversion, then seems to stockpile the deeds we do afterwards for a rainy day. Predictably this results in forgetting altogether where we came from, which was the reminder with which Paul begins his letter to the church in Ephesus. We were dead. Unusable. Decaying. ALL our righteousness is as filthy rags. To appreciate the gap between us and God we need to take an unflinching look at the darkest corners of our thoughts, emotions and actions. Our appreciation of Christ’s work on the cross is directly proportional to the degree to which we’ve owned our ugliest, worst sins. That is when grace is incomprehensible, when the phrase that it "saved a wretch like me" is truth felt in your bones rather than a stale piece of orthodoxy. Once we have a right conception of God, we know without a doubt we are guilty and hopeless before him. However the periodic reminder of where we came from goes far in squelching pride and reviving the gratitude for the huge debt which was paid for us.
Who are Others? Reverend Steve Macchia said in the closing lecture to this course that the word he liked to associate most with evangelism is "overflow". I would contend that if we grasped these first two concepts along with the atoning sacrifice of our Savior then all of our Christian life would be overflow. We would want to study Scripture to become more like Jesus and less like ourselves. We would want to commune with God because we’ve never experienced love like His. And we will want to treat believers and non believers alike in light of our underserved standing before the Creator. We will see that not only did God pursue us and make us his, but he imbued us with different parts of his character which are complimentary and necessary for each other to function; the body of Christ exhibits "irreducible complexity" as it were. And of course it will overflow into evangelism- not as an uncomfortable, dutiful activity, but as organic and joyful as a child inviting someone to a birthday party or sleepover. The continued recognition and affirmation of these three truths crushes self righteousness and antinomianism in the same blow. They make ministry an outgrowth of joy from our undeserved good fortune. Each point is contingent on the one which precedes it, and each will naturally overflow into the one which follows.
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