VillagePastor

Remembering Tommy... and Mystery

For long stretches of life, we can go on with our lives fairly innocuously. Life simply pursues its course, and we observe basic rules of life - that evil does not pay and success comes to those who are tenacious, aiming to live well before God.

And then, as Thielicke puts it, something happens that “sounds like a broken axle in this smoothly rotating machine of life.”  We are confronted with something we cannot explain; dark enigmas that are hard to shake.

One of those stared at me a week ago Sunday. My wife, Heather, handed me the phone, with a look that said things are not right. And they were not. Not at all. For on the other end was a message I still can make no sense of.

The news was in regard to a young man I knew while in Holland. Most of you will have never heard of him. He was not successful by many of the world’s standards. He had little money. No college degree. No major position in a firm. No interview with Barbara Walters. No pedigree that would necessarily impress others.

In fact, he was born in a place of no reputation, Angola - a place where conflict and fighting have occurred for so long, both sides have long since forgotten what they were fighting about. He was born Francisco Manuel Thomas. Friends called him Tommy. From the very start, life wasn’t easy. His mom died when he was a young boy. He lost his father, and was picked up off the street and thrown into the war - a war he had no desire to be a part of. Eventually, he refused to participate in combat missions against the innocent, and he soon faced the inevitable consequences of torture and death. But in a strange twist of events, Tommy befriended a guard by giving him his watch, and to Tommy’s surprise, the door was left open.

So he escaped, and eventually reached freedom as a stowaway on a ship that entered into Rotterdam. From there, Tommy made his way to Wassenaar, where I was pastoring an international church, and our paths crossed one day. Something deeply impressed me about this young man, though I wasn’t sure what it was. He was a survivor. That much I knew. And I also knew that his decision to call Jesus as savior was real, and shortly thereafter, I was privileged to be part of his baptism.

Tommy thrived in our church. His life was transformed by Jesus, and he radiated the love of Jesus wherever he went. In time, he met another refugee, an attractive and fiery gal from Iran, who had also escaped and made her way to Holland. And she too eventually met Christ, and her life was changed. Tommy and Afshan were inseparable - best friends, survivors, soul-mates, supporters to each other. For the days were sometimes hard. Having no official status in The Netherlands, they lived under the constant threat of deportation.

In 1999, Heather and family and I moved back to America. Our last night in Holland, we devoted the evening to being with Tommy and Afshan. They had long since become family. We cried, knowing we might never see each other again. We knew God’s hand was on them—but we had no idea where God would lead. But then, two incredible things happened. First of all, Afshan was able to gain safe passage to the States. And Tommy eventually followed, and shortly after, Tommy proposed, and they married each other and settled in Seattle.

It was an amazing story of grace - and then it got better. Afshan gave birth to a baby girl, and Tommy became a most loving father. He knew loss, and he was going to shepherd this little girl while Afshan worked and he went to school. I talked to Tommy just three weeks ago. He had that great laugh, and we talked about seeing each other soon. I was due to buy him running shoes. That was always my contribution - because he was an avid runner. In fact, his body mirrored Olympians. Tommy was just about as committed to his body as he was to his soul. The sum of it all was that he was just plain committed to life. He lived it, loved it, exuded life - and whenever we were around Tommy, something inside us was again ignited. And we would ask, “How could a man with such a painful past become so resilient, so enthusiastic, so incredibly warm and funny, and challenge us all to be more like Christ?”

A week ago Sunday, he went for a run, as he did every morning, only to never return home. Tommy collapsed in the midst of his workout and died of sudden heart failure. We thought he was just on this side of 30, but he was actually 37. This was the message on the phone.

Like all deaths, we have grieved. But I must say, this one has left me numb. I understand more deeply John Donne’s remark, “Any man’s death diminishes me.” When a person dies, something inside all of us dies. Any person’s death makes us smaller, less than we were before, because the body of Christ is a map of interconnections. It comes with the risk of connection; the deeper our connection with each other, the deeper the sense of subtraction. Many of us were linked with Tommy in profound ways. He was part of the body of Christ, and he owned a piece of our hearts. Our grace is knowing God powerfully fills the holes of the heart. Rest in the Father’s strong hands Tommy. I look forward to seeing your bright smile once again.

Message: When Hell Breaks Loose

Here's last week's message...

Download message: When Hell Breaks Loose

Message: It Takes a Village

Looks like it's working! Here's another from this month, still in Nehemiah:

Download message: It Takes a Village

Message: Practicing the Presence of God

Trying out this podcasting thing. Here's a recording of one of my messages from our current series on Nehemiah which was titled "Practicing the Presence of God."

Download message: Practicing the Presence of God

Musings from the City of Brotherly Love

I'm here in Philadelphia, a city still in mourning over Monday night. Nonetheless, I am certain the meetings I am part of, the Evangelical Theological Society, will help bring life back to the city. After all, this is where the action is. Okay, so I am exaggerating. To be honest, probably almost no one knows we're here, except some hotels and a few rental car agencies. These are the kind of meetings bartenders hate--but then, some of the papers could drive one to drink. It's here that papers are presented by academicians, with "on the edge of your seat" titles like "The Exegetical Significance of the Athnach". I'm serious. Not to be outdone, Daniel Leavins presented his "Runaway Lamed? Can the Preposition L mean 'away from' in Biblical Hebrew.” And then there was Victor Copan's "MAQHTHS and MIMHTHS: Exploring an Entangled Relationship". You can begin to understand why I served on a panel titled "What the Church Needs from Seminary Graduates". When the mic was passed to me, I replied with one word - - “REALITY!!!!” No wonder the church feels disconnected at times. I really wonder if some of these guys ever walk in a church. But actually, most do, and some even write some pretty impressive papers. It's just that if they do not ultimately reach the person in the pew, if they don't contribute to what it means to live a radical Christ-like life, you kind of wonder the point. Still, even here, I am reminded the seminary and the church desperately need each other. One of the redeeming things out of this time here is the books at 50% off; and that leads me to Nigel Wright's incredible A Theology of the Dark Side: Putting the Power of Evil in its Place. If you are long past This Present Darkness, and want something substantive on sin and darkness, it is hard to find a better read. I enjoyed it as much as Plantinga's Not the Way it is Supposed to Be. Here's one excerpt to take with you.

As the human race expands in size and involvement in personal and corporate sin, so the power of darkness grows. Conversely, when humans shun sin, the power of darkness is weakened. Its only power is the power of deception and its ability to draw its own energy from disordered humanity.

That is a huge and powerful and largely missed thought. It’s an encouragement to follow through with James 4:7 - "Resist the devil and he will flee from you." It's not merely that resistance means the devil flees, but that his power is weakened. For evil has nothing in and of itself. It can only survive by hijacking goodness. Let's hope none of the papers tomorrow have been hijacked.

Monday Morning Pastor

Okay, if Peter King can write “Monday Morning QB” for SI, maybe there is something to writing “Monday Morning Pastor.”

Was it just me, or was Aaron on a drum roll? It got me going…

I met a couple who were visiting for the first time, just came from Willow Creek in Chicago, to work with Intel. I get so pumped when I meet first timers, realizing they are there, in the mix every week. My great nightmare each week is to think of those who come, and we miss connecting somehow. I am convinced there are many people looking for a church home, where they can really grow and find community.

My messages generally evolve; this was especially true this weekend. I sometimes feel bad for the translator of the Korean ministry who receives my transcript Saturday night, and then translates during the morning service. For the bilingual, it must be entertaining.

Our people at the coffee machine do a really great job. And now comes the time of the year when they have to work in the cold. I am not sure what I would do if they did not provide me a fix by the fifth service (though sometimes I sense God saying “maybe you would have to rely on the Spirit more,” which is not a bad thing). Okay, God is always right, but I’ll take a bit of caffeine if it is available.

One of the greatest parts of this weekend (any weekend) is talking to people after the service. I was speaking to two really solid people who have connected with Nehemiah, and are re-evaluating their calling. Seeing life as a holy calling has struck a nerve, a good nerve for a number. One young man told me God has made it clear through the Nehemiah story that he must go back to the calling God gave him originally; a young woman shared her commitment to go to a pretty desperate and dangerous part of the world - anything less being to miss what God is saying to her. These are the kind of stories that keep me going.

Thanks for the gift certificate. Frankly, I was embarrassed to be recognized for such a short amount of time at Village. But five years is twice the national average for a pastoral stay, and besides, I never turn down a gift certificate. Plus the mention of my dog needing obedience school requires some compensation for the pain that caused me.

The overheads sure look great - Sarah and JiRan are the best.

I noticed that John did not sleep this week when I preached. God must be doing something. Most may not assume pastors notice. Actually, there are lots of things I notice - Carl’s musing, Harold’s smile…

I think this message turned some people sideways. Praying with indignation is usually not our style, and one raised the question if Nehemiah sets a good example. He seems rather harsh. Okay, pulling out peoples’ hair might be a bit extreme, but I actually find his prayers refreshing. Most of our prayers are pretty domesticated. Too many of believe that God simply wants us to play defense, but if that were the case, He wouldn’t have provided the offensive weapons mentioned in Ephesians 6.

This week I am in Philadelphia for a theological conference - lots of papers will be read and I will take plenty of Zipfizz. Maybe I will run into T.O.

A Tipping Point Moment?

Malcolm Gladwell’s Tipping Point has been on my brain recently. He explores the idea that significant movements are sparked by unpredictable moments, when someone, seemingly simple, emerges with the sort of message that sticks - that profoundly impacts the world. His opening illustration and case in point is Paul Revere.

I’m thinking about it because I am sitting here at a conference in Atlanta. I’ve never been to this part of the south; rolling hills and thick clusters of trees, all under an autumn sun much warmer than the one I left in Portland. We are not sure yet, but we are praying over the possibility God has called us together to partner in such a strategic way that we might become a tipping point that brings significant change to the middle east. Given it is a place where there is probably more potential to damage the world than any other place (writing this while in an airport watching CNN’s report of bomb blasts in Amman), a place where the world’s solutions have led to little hope, an area where evil has become common place, and where hatred and mistrust are rampant, it seems the time is now for the church to come together and ask, “What would you have us to do, God?” That’s what this conference was about.

Pastors, business leaders, and mission agencies came together and said, “It’s time we rethink our strategies.” Maybe better, it’s time we come up with a strategy. For too long we have ignored this part of the world, with the exception of putting together Holy Land tours. What gives me hope, beyond the fact God reigns and His kingdom is on the move, is that seminary leaders were strategizing with those living with Bedouins, leaders of mission organizations were thinking hard with business leaders, and church leaders dialogued with other church leaders. Such connections, and such ambitions, are long overdue.

Bono, writing in the latest Time, challenges this generation to make their “moon shot” this goal: to defeat humanity’s oldest foe, disease. That seems more like a long shot, so long as we live in a sinful world. But here is a fair moon shot for the church: that by the end of the decade, the gospel has made such headway in the middle east that Lebanese pastors are working with each other and planting disciple making churches, congregations are reaching into West Beirut and loving the Muslims,  Kurds are worshipping God in the same service with Iraqis, Syrian secret police have too much respect for the church to spend its time harassing believers, and the hope of Jesus is entering neighborhoods throughout the Arab world, making it next to impossible to recruit tomorrow’s terrorists.

It’s an incredible vision, as well as a monumental challenge. But God has always been the author of powerful movements. If enough of us get together, we might be able to affect the kind of change that geopolitics has failed to bring. We must. In fact, speaking of must, it must become unacceptable to Christ followers to go on Holy Land tours and say literally “to hell with the rest of the Mideast." It must become unacceptable to let any church get away with turning inward, or thinking small. If it builds new buildings (like our church is about to do), it must be seen as nothing less than an investment in doing whatever it takes globally to see that everyone hears the gospel, especially in a place that dominates today’s headlines.

Prophetic Imaginations that Confront the Bourgeois Church

I am one of those “unnecessary pastors” as Eugene Peterson puts it, who shepherds a congregation on the west side of Portland. While I would like to think it is characterized as a church of excellence (for there are many excellent things), having an emergent spirit (for in many ways it does), it also has its traditional, institutional side. It (like me—we’re both in our mid-50’s), has a bit of the bourgeois (a word Webster defines as “marked by concern for material interests, respectability, and a tendency toward mediocrity”). It is another way of describing the atrophy that often sets in.

Which is why I love Walter Brueggemann’s The Prophetic Imagination. For he speaks to church’s such as mine, and pastors like myself, calling us out of any such atrophy by taking back our prophetic task. It is a work that involves both criticism and energizing. And that’s not easy, for the dominant culture in most churches is resistant to these. We become comfortable over time, bourgeois churches unwilling to tolerate criticism—as well as too wearied to be seriously energized.

I’m preaching through Nehemiah, and I am discovering that this man had a kind of prophetic imagination. Though not categorized as a prophet, he was very much a prophet. He did the prophetic work of criticism, addressing the “evil” of the prevailing situation, the widespread contempt and disgrace (“You see the trouble we are in”). Pastors in many of our present churches must rise to a similar prophetic task. Behind any church awakened to renewal, there must first be a grief over the condition, a weeping over ungodly rigidity, etc… an acknowledgement that leads to the questions “Do you see the trouble we are in?  Do you see the prevailing culture’s contempt for the church?  Do you see our tendency to be graceless, when grace ought to be our profound distinctive?  Do you see the lack of respect we often have, when we come to the world’s table with ideas for changing the world?” Only when we come to such grief will newness have opportunity to emerge.

Nehemiah also took on the prophetic role of energizing. He awakened those he “pastored” to be an alternative community (“Let us build the wall that we may no longer suffer derision”). He brought to expression the hope that is always there; always ready to be unleashed by a gracious and loving God. Like a true subversive, he dared to penetrate the numbing despairs, announce that the present to which they had all made commitments must be called into question. He said things that “violated the entire perceptual field of his community.”

That’s how Brueggemann describes the task, and that is exactly what pastors, with prophetic imagination, must do. We must energize those we lead by awakening them to the commitments we have made to the conditions as they are. And then we must point them to the fact God is at work—to the gospel that God is for us—to the promises he has given to us. We must embrace this “absurd practice” of displacing faithlessness with faith, giving an account of the hope that is within us (I Pet 3:15). And it is not easy, for I am often amazed how people prefer to hang on to hopelessness, hold out for despair, stay gripped to assumptions that what we would dream is too big for God.

That means declaring to a church that is adrift, that has lost its momentum, lost its way, lost its hope, that there is a great tomorrow, there is a restored calling for those who would embrace corrective change, be the alternative community that determines to be about different things in different ways. It means speaking past voices marked by cynicism, who have long stopped dreaming, who are more embracive of the status quo. With prophetic imagination, we must declare there is a tomorrow for those who would choose to be an authentic community, choose to protect unity, choose to perform the gospel by countering injustice and oppression with justice, choose to be incarnational with a determined aim to reach lost people for Jesus, and choose to live out a radical faith that mirrors Colossians 3:12ff.