Live Generously

So, the expression is “Monday morning quarterback”, but I’m running a few days behind schedule.  I want to make a semi-regular habit out of blogging about whatever I talk about at Seven24, more for the purpose of reflecting further on the topic than anything else.

This last Sunday we finally got our “10 Big Questions” series off the ground.  Truth be told there is a big part of me that is relieved to have it finally started.  The weeks leading up to the series were a somewhat tenuous time of uncertainty, as it was unclear for a while whether or not the series was even going to go on. Thankfully, people turned in some good questions, we were able to select ten (or so), and will be spending the rest of the summer answering said questions.  The name of the series is a bit of a misnomer, as “10 Weeks of Big Questions” would be more accurate.  There are two topics that will be given two weeks each, while some weeks will tackle multiple questions within the same topic.

We started off the series with the question, “How do I connect with God?”

I like that question because it is practical.  We were made for intimacy with our creator, yet said intimacy is some what of a learned skill. It doesn’t just happen.  It’s not the natural by-product of church attendance, nor does it result from clapping along to worship songs. We must learn the tools to connect ourselves to God, and then use these tools to develop that connection.

I also don’t like this question.  It’s not that it’s a bad question (it most certainly isn’t) nor is it a terribly difficult question to answer (fairly easy, in fact).  I don’t like this question because it tempts me to employ virtually every tired church cliche in the book in my efforts to answer it.  It tempts me to present connecting with God as something as simple as turning on the TV or poking a facebook friend.  It tempts me to present connecting with God as something entirely divorced from character formation.

It is, of course, none of those things.

That being said, one could easily make the argument that the gospel of suburban American  individualistic Christianity has led us to believe that it is all of those things.  I’ll spare you the unnecessary rant, but suffice to say that the more I considered this question last week the more taken aback by it I was.

We are, after all, talking about God here. A God who is at once infinitely greater than we are and incalculably humble. A God who holds our breath in his hands and yet desires that we would use that breath to develop a relationship with him. The fact that we can even ask questions about connecting with God is truly remarkable, if we stop for long enough to think about it.

So this last Sunday night I spoke primarily about what “connecting with God” really is, and what it isn’t.  I talked about the ways that Jesus defies our efforts to reduce spirituality to reading our Bible and attending church.  I talked about how such practices are never the point, but are a means to an end.  The end is the imitation of Christ.  If we lose sight of the end, the means lose their significance.

I played a lot of sports as a kid, and for the most part, I enjoyed going to practice.  However, on those rare weeks when, for one reason or another, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to play in that weekend’s game, the practice lost much of its significance.  It is its relevance for the game that makes practice make sense.  When such relevance is lost, the practices become bland, boring, and frustrating.

That is the problem with practice-based Christianity.  A version of Christianity that says the definition of a healthy spiritual life is consistent Bible reading and church attendance.  Or, said differently, the ends of Christianity are practices of that sort.  I myself have bought into that lie, having characterized my spiritual life by how many “quiet times” I’ve had in a given week one too many times.

Having said all that, let me seemingly contradict myself (”seemingly” being the operative word), by saying that “practices”, or “spiritual disciplines” are still hugely important to connecting with God.  Spiritual disciplines are of immeasurable benefit in helping us to further our relationship with the God of the Bible (rather than some vague notion of god that is simply a glorified version of ourselves). It is, however, their usefulness in the game that gives these practices their vitality.

That was essentially the message I tried to get across on Sunday, and it is one I believe in deeply. Without spiritual disciplines–study, prayer, meditation, worship, accountability, confession, etc.–our faith can easily descend into Prozac for the soul. However, the practice of spiritual disciplines that do not transform us and tangibly effect our lives can lead to tired religion.  Both of these not-so-good alternatives distract of from imitating Christ, and leave us looking just like the world.

I sincerely hope that this Sunday night was a hopeful time for our group.  The reality that God wants to connect with us is very good news, as is the fact that there are concrete practices that can aid us in establishing that connection.  Perhaps the best news of all is that these practices are not to be done for their own sake, but rather they are to be done because they have the capacity to form us into the image of our Creator.

Sitting at Pier View on a Monday afternoon (man, if I keep doing this so often I’m going to be like Ron Gollner and his St. Arbucks….only with smaller biceps).

I’m reading Stanley Hauerwas for my political theology class, and at the moment I’m reading a chapter out of his book The Peaceable Kingdom. It’s terrific, which is more than I can say for most of the other reading I’ve done this quarter.

As most of you know, a big part of my job is teaching at the college and young adult service at my church on Sunday nights. Teaching the Bible is a funny thing, because no matter how much study or practice I put in, it always seems like I actually have to give the sermon before I’m ever able to really understand what a particular passage said or what I really wanted to say about it. I’ve joked with some friends that I would be a much better teacher if I taught on Mondays. Teaching is also funny in the way that it tends to, quite literally, consume me. My wife knows that from about Saturday evening on I am rarely fully present in conversations I am having. My mind is constantly drifting to the next night’s message. This was true even this last week, as I was standing in a bar in Oceanside sipping a Red Trolley and waiting for Mike’s band to play. By Saturday night I can practically see the manuscript in my head, I can see the faces who will be there, I can even construct imaginary dialogs that I anticipate taking place when I open things up for discussion. Then Sunday night comes and goes, and I end up reflecting on the things that I said or didn’t say for the next day or so. I am a Monday morning (and afternoon) quarterback. I replay the whole thing in my head, scolding myself for mistakes and taking joy in the times when it really seemed like God spoke. More than that, though, I think through the implications of what I talked about.

Mark 11:12-25…Jesus cleanses the temple. It’s an interesting passage. Last night after I got home from church I was listening to a sermon (don’t worry, I don’t normally listen to sermons on Sunday night after attending two church services that day), and the speaker referred to that passage as Jesus’ “temple tantrum”. Say that out loud. Really, do it. It’s funny.

The passage does what so many other passages in the gospel of Mark do. It confronts us with the radical nature of Jesus’ message. And, to be honest, it does a lot to explain the temptation that a lot of Bible teachers (myself included) often feel to water down the message of Jesus to make it more sensitive to our post-modern, pluralistic, meta-narrative rejecting ears. Jesus categorically denounces the ‘appearance’ of authentic spirituality. That is offensive on a number of levels. Our society, sacred or secular, worships at the altar of appearance. Even those who claim they don’t care what people think all seem to rebel in the same ways. And yet here is Jesus, categorically cursing spirituality that is concerned only with outward appearance. Worse yet, he is suggesting that those who think they have it all together are in fact the ones most guilty of engaging in a sort of spirituality for show. That’s scary.

After leaving the temple Jesus begins speaking of things like faith in God, confidence in prayer, and mutual forgiveness. My goodness. If only we could truly learn those things. If only I myself could learn to exercise faith in God that transcends intellectual belief. If only I could manifest a faith in God that would summon in me radical obedience. Obedience beyond Bible reading, prayer, and the avoidance of the more noticeable personal sins. If only that could manifest in me a bigger heart for justice. If only that could manifest in me radical generosity. If only that could manifest in me real love for my neighbor (I realize even the tax collectors do that, but if I’m honest I realize that I need to work on loving my enemies and my neighbors). That is what real faith is. That is the sort of faith that Jesus desires to awaken in his disciples in that day and this. The faith to say mountains can be moved. The faith to say we don’t need to buy into this system of Wal Mart, American imperialism, and systemic economic injustice. Heck, faith to believe that the church need not simply be a place that provides spiritual entertainment for an hour and a half a week, but instead can be a true community of the risen that lives by radical faith and radical obedience.

As I reflect on this passage, and on the things that God has been doing in my own heart of late, those are the things that come to mind. The last thing I mean to do is blog about it as a sort of cathartic release that excuses me from action (imagine Derek Zoolander talking about volunteering to help under privileged children learn how to read), but I suppose all I’m doing is getting my thoughts on (virtual) paper to clarify my own thinking and perhaps see if anyone else is struggling through these sorts of issues.

Last Sunday night (May 4), we did something interesting at my church.  In the year and three month history of Seven24, we’d never done anything quite like it. I’ve been so tied up with school and what not recently that I haven’t been able to reflect on it until now.  Before I tell you what we did, I must preface it with the following:

Several months ago I read the book Preaching Reimagined by Doug Pagitt. While reading the book I blogged about it extensively (take a look at my archives if you are interested), and it would certainly be fair to say that Pagitt’s thoughts, along with some other factors, have certainly changed the way I approach preaching.  Pagitt says that most of what passes for preaching in today’s church is what he calls “speaching”.  It is essentially a monologue of considerable length, which the audience listens to passively.  His argument is, basically, that speaching ‘doesn’t work’.  Its boring, it’s not engaging, and most importantly, it is largely ineffective in producing life change (more on this in a minute). What he advocates (and practices at his church) is what he calls ‘progressional dialogue’.  Progressional dialog is a more interactive form of preaching.  It involves the entire congregation, or at least all those who want to participate, and allows everyone to learn from everyone’s experiences, not just those of the up front “speacher”.

While wrestling with some of these ideas, I’ve also been in conversation with some other people in my life that are beginning to get frustrated with preaching (or specahing, as Doug Pagitt would call it).  Some that I’ve talked to complain that preaching “doesn’t work”, meaning that it fails to really facilitate life change.  I’ve seen this to be true in my own life, as I probably listen to three or four sermons a week, and very rarely can I say one of them makes a real, tangible difference in my life.  In reality, good preaching becomes entertainment, bad preaching becomes drudgery.  And, furthermore, as I give more and more sermons, I find my ability to listen to sermons is diminishing.  I remember my college pastor warning me that something like this would happen (I believe his exact words were “the hardest thing to do once you’ve been to seminary is listen to a sermon”).  All that to say, I’ve been struggling quite a bit with the relevance/importance/efficacy of sermons in our worship services.  In a sense that is hard for me, because even though they are a lot of work, I like giving sermons.  The question, though, is not “what do I like?”, the question is “how do we as a community best become the church?” And it is that second question that has forced me to look seriously at how effectively traditional preaching accomplishes that goal.

So here’s what we did last Sunday (and if you were there you can skip this paragraph): People walked in, and instead of having our band play music, we gave everyone a Bible and a sheet of paper with some instructions, and told them to find someplace to sit either in the room or someplace nearby.  With almost complete silence in the room (there was some really quiet background music), people were instructed to study the passage in Mark that we were focusing on that night by themselves.  They were told to read the passage (Mark 10:32-45, in case you were curious) through slowly a few times, and then reflect on what they thought the passage meant.  I provided a few purposefully vague  questions to loosely guide people’s thinking, but I pretty much left them on their own.  After a half hour, we came together, and I got up like I normally would to teach, but this time I had no notes, no podium, no sermon.  Instead of teaching, I facilitated a discussion.  We talked, as a community, for about 15 minutes about how that experience was for people, and then we talked for another 25 minutes about what people saw in the passage.  There wasn’t a single time (other than the very end when I spoke for maybe four minutes) that I spoke for more than two minutes uninterrupted.  It was awesome.  People shared insights and questions, and we were even able to talk a little bit about application.  It was progressional dialog to the max, and I thought it was a very cool time.  Most everyone that I talked to afterwards seemed to like it as well, and I really felt like it was a great experience for our community.  After we were done the band came up and we closed with some music.

Now, as great as the night way, I see problems with it.  Should there be no authoritative voice of truth in the church?  Should we simply trust that the Holy Spirit speaks through everyone and let everyone have equal voice?  There are certainly those who would say no, but there are plenty who would say yes as well.  Also, there is the reality that a person who studies a passage for several hours and has some level of training will be able to draw out greater insights than someone looking at it for a half hour.  That being said, the insights that an individual may draw out themselves in that half an hour, can in many cases be much more formative that any insights a professional speacher would share.

All of this leads me to a few questions:  First, to those of you who were there: Did you like doing church that way?  Did you see any problems with it?  Would you like us to stuff like that more often? Did you feel like you left having learned something? Any other thoughts or comments? Next, to the rest of you (especially my fellow professional holy people): Have you ever conducted a service like that?  Do you think it is a good idea?  What are some advantages or disadvantages of this model as opposed to the traditional music/message/music church model?  Is this something that you personally would be more inclined to engage with?  Any other thoughts?

As you can tell, I have more questions than answers at this point…I’m just wrestling through how the church can be a place that is truly forming the community of God.

Today, to be honest, was one of those days.

One of those days that I hear people who have been preaching for a long time talk about.

It was one of those days where, if given the option, I would have gladly crawled into a hole and stayed there instead of giving a sermon.

Don’t get me wrong, my reasons for feeling that way were completely my own issues, not anyone else’s. I had no one to blame but myself.

I had a bad attitude for most of the day, I was uncharacteristically (I hope) short with one or two people today (which I feel terrible about), I was distracted, irritated, selfish, and simply not in a good place. Honestly, the last thing i wanted to do was bare my soul for 40 minutes to a large group of people. I felt like I had nothing to give.

And now sitting here unwinding at the end of the night, I look back on the night and see it as yet another reminder that I am not the one doing the giving. We had, in my opinion, a really great night tonight. The band did a wonderful job and we had two great times of worship, and I felt like we had a great discussion about one of the more famous stories in the Bible, that of the rich young ruler. Afterwards I had many more people than usual come up to me and thank me for the message and say that they really appreciated it. It was as though God knew what I needed to hear. I went into the night discouraged and feeling defeated before I even opened my mouth. And yet God was able to use me to communicate some truth tonight about the need for us as followers of Jesus to live generous lives, and it appeared that somehow the words that came out of my mouth struck a chord with people.

It reminds me of this great, albeit rather odd, little passage in 2 Corinthians where Paul is talking about a ‘thorn in his flesh’ that was given to him to essentially keep him humble. Paul says how he pleaded with God to take the thorn away, but that God replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Yet another example of the somewhat backwards yet altogether beautiful values of the kingdom of God. Power, God’s power, is made perfect, not in talent, ability, perfection, strength, or anything else of the sort. It is made perfect in weakness. Add that to the list: joy being found in self-denial, fulfillment being found in generosity, little children being the example for usefulness within the kingdom of God, grace. These radically counter-cultural values simply do not make sense apart from the reality of God’s redeeming work through Jesus Christ and his continuing work in the world through his Spirit.

Tonight it sure seemed like God’s power was made perfect in a selfish guy with a bad attitude. Tonight was one of those nights where I left thinking I could do this for the rest of my life. I am grateful to a God that takes my meager loaves and fishes and makes something good out of it, and to a community that somehow knows when their pastor needs some grace and encouragement and gives him both.

Brett and the band played this great song called “Your Love Is Strong” by Jon Foreman tonight. The bulk of the song consists of a delightfully Switchfooty interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer, and the chorus of the song seemed like an appropriate way for me to end this post, as I have experienced its truth deeply tonight.

Your love is

Your love is

Your love is strong

Last night I finished my message for this Sunday’s Seven24 (and I’m embarrassed to say that’s the earliest it’s been done in quite some time). If all goes according to plan this will be, by far, the most interactive talk I’ve ever given. Rather than walking through the passage and breaking it down and presenting it’s meaning, I’m going to lead a discussion about the passage where we as a community try to come to understand it’s broad meaning and then try to personalize it so that we can all consider how the passage should effect our lives. There will still be a decent amount of teaching, but there will be significant interaction. The hope is that the interactive format will help all of us to arrive at conclusions on our own, rather than simply having me say, “here’s what you should think about this.” It’s my hope that this can be a big step in helping all of us understand that when we come together as a community the Spirit of God is at work not just in the person on stage, but in every member of the community.  A person doesn’t have to speak for that to be true, but I think participation can help make that more evident.

The inspiration to try this new way of teaching has come largely from the book Preaching Re-Imagined by Doug Pagitt that I just finished reading. I’ve already blogged about the book extensively, but to review, Pagitt essentially argues that uninterrupted teaching (speaching as he calls it) doesn’t work, and he instead advocates what he calls “progressional dialogue”, which involves more interaction.

As I’ve considered this approach to teaching, I’ve realized that, especially with college students, the 35-minute monologue may not be the best means of communicating truth. It’s got me thinking that perhaps we as a community can work through passages of scripture together and discover truth together rather than simply having be download my perspectives.

At the end of the day the important idea is that of “implication”. What are the implications of Jesus’ life for us today? What are the implications of the fact that on Sunday nights a group of people from all around North County comes together for worship, teaching, and community? In other words, why does it matter and what are we trying to accomplish? The book I’m currently reading, The Great Omission by Dallas Willard has also inspired these questions as it has discussed the importance of discipleship and it’s absence in the church. As I’ve been working through these questions I’ve realized that what’s important is that all of us, as a community of God, understand that church isn’t just a place where we come to sing songs, listen to messages, and perhaps pick up some nice applications for our lives. Instead, we need to understand church to be a place where we are implicated into the story of what God is doing in the world. In other words, it’s the place where we gather as a community, where God’s Spirit dwells, and where we are commissioned to live missionally in the world. I’m inclined to believe that active involvement in the truth-discovery process has the potential to be a great way for all of us that are a part of the Seven24 community to understand the implications of who Jesus is and the implications of biblical truth.

I’m excited for this Sunday night. I look forward to seeing you there if you’re a part of our community, and if your not I’d appreciate your prayers.

Last night I finally finished Preaching Re-Imagined by Doug Pagitt, a book I’ve blogged about quite a bit in the last couple of weeks. All things considered it is a worthwhile read for anyone entrusted with the responsibility of teaching people in a church setting. I’ve discussed the book with one of my colleagues, and we both agree that Pagitt does a great job of “tearing down the wall”, but doesn’t do all that great of a job of re-building it (but then again, that’s just the way Emergent types like to do things, right? ;-)). In all seriousness, I think that was his intent…rather than providing answers, I think he sought only to encourage a deeper level of thinking about how we approach the preaching event and what roll it can play in communities of faith. He certainly accomplished that goal.

The final two chapters of the book deal largely with the importance of listening in a community of faith. Pagitt writes,

“Speaching has caused speech making to be elevated to one of an “effective” pastor’s primary skills. But for all the work involved in developing the skills required to be a good speaker, the most important one is often the most neglected. For speaking–particularly for pastors–involves knowing how to listen. And listening is not simply hearing. It’s a practice requiring interpretation, intuition, and openness.”

I completely agree with Pagitt on this. I think the reality of our present church culture today is that pastors are judged for more on how well they can speak then on how well they can listen. Furthermore, the relationship between these two skills that Pagitt is alluding to is often overlooked. I would suggest that the reality is that being a good “speacher” is important for building a large church, but being an good listener is more important to truly be a pastor to a congregation of people. I’m realizing more and more each day how much more I desire to be someone who walks alongside college students as they wrestle through the complexities of following Jesus. I was having coffee with Ron Gollner, our creative arts pastor, a few weeks ago, and he encouraged me to make it a practice of my life to try to make sure that the people around me succeed more than I do. In other words, he encouraged me to be a good listener, and be someone who is most interested in helping those in my care achieve their highest potential. What a tremendous way to live life that is! The problem is, it doesn’t come naturally to me. I like talking more than listening, and I like receiving attention more than giving it (hey, I’m just being honest here). That being said, I’m striving to take more time to listen to the students at Seven24 and see what I can do to help them grow in their relationship with Christ and realize their fullest potential. That is proving to be not only very rewarding, but also a lot of fun. I look forward to developing the skill of pastoral listening for the purpose of using my life to enrich the lives of others. I’m beginning to understand the reality that, more often than not, listening is a far more effective means of helping someone understand the reality of who Jesus is (and the implications of that reality) than talking, or even preaching.

Pagitt closes the book with this:

“Listening to the voices of others is an essential part of being the church. We were never meant to close in on ourselves. We were never meant to engage with only those who share our positions. We’ve been called to live in the way of Jesus, who sought out the ordinary, the outsider, and the unbeliever, not only to make them whole, but also to bring his followers into the fullness of life in the kingdom. For it is often in the life of others where we find God at work in the most profound ways imaginable.”

Listening is indeed an essential part of being the church. I believe that a listening community is a community that encourages active engagement rather than passivity, and it’s one that can be open to a variety of perspectives while still proclaiming truth. It is one that recognizes the value of all voices, not just the voice of the one with the microphone, and it is one that recognizes that as the church we are invited into “the fullness of life in the kingdom.” That’s a wonderful, amazing, fantastic truth, and it’s my hope that as Seven24 continues to move towards becoming a more interactive, listening community that we can find God at work in remarkably profound ways.

Next of the list of books to read before bed, The Great Omission, by Dallas Willard. I’m sure that will raise a lot of interesting issues as well. Also, I’ve been formulating a post in my head called “When the Church isn’t Christian” that is the result of some different things I’ve been thinking through, so you can expect to see that one soon (hopefully!).

First off, a brief comment on the Super Bowl….wow.

Ok, moving on.  It’s been a while since I’ve posted about Doug Paggit’s book Preaching Re-Imagined.  I’m continuing to work my way through the book, and it would be safe to say that he’s made a number of interesting arguments.  From chapter 15:

“There is something positive about telling people they need not set aside their everyday lives to interact with the things of God.  The attitude of “listen to me because this is the most important thing you will hear today” may create more centralized control, but it’s not good for the good news.”

I think Pagitt is right about this.  Too often it seems that those of us who speak in churches are inclined to tell our congregations that their church attendance is the most important thing they will do that day, while often failing to give compelling evidence to support this assertion.  Furthermore, throughout my young ministerial career I’ve been somewhat uncomfortable with the implied hubris that comes from expecting people to believe that listening to me is in fact that important.  In a sense the importance of the preaching event emphasizes the importance of the spiritual life of the pastor.  If that importance is neglected, then all who hear a particular sermon are just getting the words of man, but if a pastor is spiritually prepared then congregations can and will be blessed by the hearing the words of God.  I’m digressing somewhat here, but the point I want to make is simply that pastors, myself included, need to back up the implied assertion that their words are all that important by yielding themselves humbly to the Spirit of God.

Perhaps, however, there is a better way for a community to receive God’s truth. Perhaps communities of faith will be more edified and more equipped for the work of ministry by tackling difficult questions and truths in a more communal fashion.  This would create more of a discussion style format rather than a straight “speaching” format. I also believe it could create more focus on the implication of the message of the Scriptures, rather than the application that we are often compelled to focus on (and which can easily descend into “three steps to a better life” type sermons).  Such a methodology, I believe, requires increased intellectual engagement from everyone in the room during a church service if it is going to be effective.  That being said, I think that the communal discovery of truth in a way that focuses on implication could be tremendously beneficial to the spiritual vitality of communities of faith.

After taking this last Sunday off, I’m looking forward to resuming Seven24 this Sunday, and trying to create a teaching time that is more interaction-focused and implication-focused.  That is proving to be a difficult task, but I believe that if this is the direction God wants our community to go He will make that evident this Sunday night. It is my hope and prayer that by decentralizing “control” at Seven24 I can encourage a level of engagement with a text, and engagement with the person of Jesus Christ, that would be virtually impossible for our congregation if they are passive observers to the preaching event rather than active participants.

Originally published January 24, 2008

“PowerPoint makes people stupid.”

That’s what Rick Beaton, the professor for my Biblical Organizational Leadership class at Fuller, said in the middle of a lecture yesterday…a lecture which featured an abundance of PowerPoint slides.

Rick went on to explain how numerous studies have shown that PowerPoint discourages engagement and encourages passivity. I pondered the truth of these words as I sat passively slumped in my chair. I enjoyed the lecture, but I wasn’t engaged. Rick promised there’d be no more PowerPoint.

All of this got me thinking about “speaching”. I wonder, does speaching do the same thing to congregations? Does the lengthy, uninterrupted presentation of one individual’s thoughts that have been prepared in isolation from the rest of the community similarly encourage a sort of passivity and intellectual disengagement on the part of churchgoers? Does it stifle creativity? Does it hinder growth?

Doug Pagitt would argue that the answer to all of those questions is a resounding “yes”. Furthermore, he would argue that the presentation of sermons in churches that are focused primarily on application further dull the minds of the listeners. This is quite a scandalous thought, given the extreme focus on application found in many sermons, my own included. I know that I want to make time spent listening to what God’s given me to say worthwhile for my audience, so I endeavor to give them something that they can apply to their lives when they walk out the door. The problem with this, according to Pagitt, is that in a sense I have done myself work that instead should be the job of the entire community. I have read the Scriptures, prayed through the Scriptures, wrestled with the Scriptures, and come out on Sunday night with a message that amounts to a sort of “do you see what I see?” presentation. Pagitt suggests that instead when the church gathers we ought to be more focused on the implications of the text. We should present the text and then ask our congregations, “what do we do now?” This promotes intellectual engagement and encourages a more communal focus. Similarly, it breaks us out of passive “PowerPoint” mode when we gather, and promotes dialogue.

To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about this idea. I’m all for encouraging people, whatever their faith may be, to wrestle with the implications of Scripture, particularly in a group setting. That being said, I would argue that on some level it is the job of the pastor to break down a text so that it’s truth can be more fully grasped by the congregation. Let’s be honest, my job allows me the luxury of spending ten or fifteen hours researching the meaning of a text, something the average churchgoer is simply unable to do. Is it not reasonable for members of my congregation to thus expect me to give them some applications from the text that come from my hours of study? I think we would be doing the church a tremendous disservice if we disregard application altogether.

However, I do think Pagitt is on to something when he emphasizes implication. He rightly says that implication challenges people to take their own faith seriously. They can’t just sit and zone out in front of the “PowerPoint” of a speacher when they are being implicated into the story. They can’t zone out when they know that the thinking hasn’t been done for them and that they are going to have to wrestle with some questions along with their brothers and sisters in the church community. As Pagitt says, “Application is about how a piece of information fits into your life. Implication is not about fitting; it’s about redefining. It’s not about value-added suggestion; it’s a call to see the story and join in it.” Perhaps that is what all of us really need. We don’t need quick fixes to fit neatly into our lives…we need to see the story and have our lives fundamentally reoriented around the part that our church communities play in that story. The challenge is determining how we who work in ministry professionally can best engage our congregations intellectually and invite them out of passivity and into the part God has for them to play.

Yikes…lots to think about…