Thanks for Jim Gordon over at Living Wittily - one of the most consistently thought-provoking and spirit-lifting blogs around - I've started re-reading Frederick Buechner's Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale.
I'd forgotten just how good it is. Buechner's prose is sublime. His portrait of Pilate in the first chapter is breath-taking and his reflection of Pilate's question to Jesus - 'what is truth'? - dazzling and unsettling and just right.
Having the sielnce that greeted Pilate's question from the lips of Jesus, Buechner says: 'What is truth? Life is truth, the life of the world, your own life, and the life inside the world you are. The task of the preacher is to hold up life to us; by whatever gifts he or she has of imagination, eloquence, simple candour, to create images of life through which we can somehow see into the wordless truth of our lives. Before the Gospel is good news, it is simply news that that's the way it is, whatever day it is of whatever year.' (p17)
Suddenly I am aware of wanting to be a preacher again. Not a purveyor of finely crafted spiritual homilies but someone who allows the truth to take shape on my lips. Buechner's book is is his Beecher Lectures on preaching delivered at Yale in the mid-70s. And yet they could have been written yesterday, such is their prescience.
Of the preacher, he says, concluding his first chapter, 'So let him use words, but, in addition to using them to explain, expound, exhort, let him use them to evoke, to set us dreaming as well as thinking, to use words as at their most prophetic and truthful, the prophets used them to stir in us memories and longings and intuitions that we starve for without knowing that we starve. Let him use words which do not only try to give answers to the questions that we ask or ought to ask but which help us to hear the questions that we do not have words for asking and to hear the silence that those questions rise out of and the silence that is the answer to those questions.'
Yes please!
Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
All my ducks in a row
I've spent the morning sorting out my New Testament Theology course for Sri Lanka and then sending papers and articles for distribution to the students. Hopefully, it'll work ok. I have to sort out and send papers for my New Testament Social History course and then I'm all set - apart from jotting a few notes and aide memoires for the lectures themselves.
I am also trying to finish the notes on our church's series on Mark and the next episode of Approaching the Apocalypse. So life's full and challenging, interesting and stimulating. Can't ask for more than that, can you?
I am also trying to finish the notes on our church's series on Mark and the next episode of Approaching the Apocalypse. So life's full and challenging, interesting and stimulating. Can't ask for more than that, can you?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Random thoughts about this and that
Getting ready for Sunday has been like pulling teeth this week. Finally finished the morning sermon half an hour ago (that's 7pm on Saturday - I'm usually done by close of play on Friday!) Not sure what that's about - hopefully they're both blinders!
Assembly discussion shaping up nicely but it'd be good to have more voices. There'll be something coming from Baptist House about the timing of next year's Assembly. I think there is a genuine desire to make the experience as positive as possible.
Otherwise, I've been listening to the live Leonard Cohen album, Foals Antidotes and the new Dylan, Together Through Life - all lovely. The Cohen in particular is one of the most life-affirming, uplifting live albums I've ever heard.
And I'm reading lots of stuff for my Sri Lanka trip and new writing project
Assembly discussion shaping up nicely but it'd be good to have more voices. There'll be something coming from Baptist House about the timing of next year's Assembly. I think there is a genuine desire to make the experience as positive as possible.
Otherwise, I've been listening to the live Leonard Cohen album, Foals Antidotes and the new Dylan, Together Through Life - all lovely. The Cohen in particular is one of the most life-affirming, uplifting live albums I've ever heard.
And I'm reading lots of stuff for my Sri Lanka trip and new writing project
Monday, September 08, 2008
the excitement of preaching
One of the things I love about starting new teaching series (that's a plural, by the way, so read it accordingly...!) is the sense of wonder I get at discovering new things. I think this is probably a good thing. I think preachers should get excited about what they are learning so that they preach as those who are sharing new discoveries.
Of course, I'm not discovering things that I didn't know about or which are changing my core beliefs about God, the world and our place in both. Rather I am unearthing new links between familiar things, like seeing an old master painting from a new angle or with a fresh set of questions in mind.
I'm reminded of the statement that the great historian Christopher Hill makes at the beginning of his quite wonderful The World Turned Upside Down: 'history has to be rewritten in every generation, because although the past does not change, the present does; each generation asks new questions of the past, and finds new areas of sympathy as it relives different aspects of the experiences of his predecessors.'
I thinks that's true of every preaching series. We use our familiar text - the Bible - and our well-known beliefs and understandings of its message - variously known as our doctrines or theology. But each time we embark on a series, we ask a fresh set of questions, bring new experiences and seek to make new connections between different parts of the material and between the material and the audience. The result is that we see things in new ways and, for this preacher at least, make sometimes startling and exciting new patterns out of familiar words and images.
All this has me enthusiastically opening my commentaries and other resources and wrestling with the text of scripture with a smile on my face. It also helps when - as happened this past Sunday - people respond positively to the journey you've invited them to join you on.
Of course, I'm not discovering things that I didn't know about or which are changing my core beliefs about God, the world and our place in both. Rather I am unearthing new links between familiar things, like seeing an old master painting from a new angle or with a fresh set of questions in mind.
I'm reminded of the statement that the great historian Christopher Hill makes at the beginning of his quite wonderful The World Turned Upside Down: 'history has to be rewritten in every generation, because although the past does not change, the present does; each generation asks new questions of the past, and finds new areas of sympathy as it relives different aspects of the experiences of his predecessors.'
I thinks that's true of every preaching series. We use our familiar text - the Bible - and our well-known beliefs and understandings of its message - variously known as our doctrines or theology. But each time we embark on a series, we ask a fresh set of questions, bring new experiences and seek to make new connections between different parts of the material and between the material and the audience. The result is that we see things in new ways and, for this preacher at least, make sometimes startling and exciting new patterns out of familiar words and images.
All this has me enthusiastically opening my commentaries and other resources and wrestling with the text of scripture with a smile on my face. It also helps when - as happened this past Sunday - people respond positively to the journey you've invited them to join you on.
Friday, August 29, 2008
The dark art of sermon preparation
Finished preparing for Sunday - and strangely it was like pulling teeth. This morning I felt really muddled-headed and unable to concentrate. But the grey matter started to clear after lunch.
I have focused on three aspects of the story of Zacchaeus that are Lucan favourites - finance, family and faith (remember I still carry the DNA of an unreconstructed evangelical baptist about my person!) - and I think it works ok.
Sermon preparation is still something of a mystery to me. Earlier in the week, I was feeling pretty chilled, on top of the passage and knowing generally what I wanted to say. Today, I looked at a blank screen and wondered if the passage would ever reveal its treasures.
Then suddenly it takes shape - first in my mind and then, through my fingers, on the screen. And it seems to come in a flash. One moment there's nothing, then there's a page of relatively coherent notes, then there's a worksheet and an edited version of the notes. And before I know it, I'm having a cup of tea, putting the finishing touches to the PowerPoint wondering where it all comes from.
Of course, a sermon's not really finished until it's been preached because, after all, this is an oral art form not a written one. So I don't know whether it's any good yet... But then, when are we are able to assess that - as we deliver it? As people comment immediately afterwards? Weeks later when an echo of what was said turns up in conversation or a question or an email?
I have focused on three aspects of the story of Zacchaeus that are Lucan favourites - finance, family and faith (remember I still carry the DNA of an unreconstructed evangelical baptist about my person!) - and I think it works ok.
Sermon preparation is still something of a mystery to me. Earlier in the week, I was feeling pretty chilled, on top of the passage and knowing generally what I wanted to say. Today, I looked at a blank screen and wondered if the passage would ever reveal its treasures.
Then suddenly it takes shape - first in my mind and then, through my fingers, on the screen. And it seems to come in a flash. One moment there's nothing, then there's a page of relatively coherent notes, then there's a worksheet and an edited version of the notes. And before I know it, I'm having a cup of tea, putting the finishing touches to the PowerPoint wondering where it all comes from.
Of course, a sermon's not really finished until it's been preached because, after all, this is an oral art form not a written one. So I don't know whether it's any good yet... But then, when are we are able to assess that - as we deliver it? As people comment immediately afterwards? Weeks later when an echo of what was said turns up in conversation or a question or an email?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
More on the 'E' word
Well, we fell at the first hurdle with the 'E' word.
Eschatology is a word derived from the Greek word eschaton which means 'the end' and eschata meaning 'the things of the end' with ology derived from the Greek word logos meaning 'the study of' or 'words about' tagged on the end.
So, strictly speaking eschatology is the study of the end or things about the end and in Christian theology was traditionally associated with the end of the world and the second coming of Christ, the last judgement and the new heavens and the new earth.
Simon makes a good point that it's all very well to use the 'E' word in lectures but in a series at church, where you might define it in week 1, people will have forgotten what it means by week 2 or 3 and the preacher will forget to keep defining it.
Even at Spring Harvest this year, where I gather it was being regularly used in all the morning seminars, there were still baffled folk in various places asking what it actually meant.
When I was writing my Bible guide on Galatians and my Discovering the New Testament, I tended to use the word apocalyptic to describe similar ideas because the word apocalypse is at least in general use and so is not an entirely unfamiliar term.
Indeed I remember having a robust exchange of views with my then editor over whether people in church should know and understand what a word like eschatology means. Fortunately for all my readers, she prevailed and we didn't use it.
So, the 'E' word will probably not feature as we look at reasons to be hopeful. I will blog soon on why apocalyptic is a good word and whether we might use that one. I'd be interested in your views.
Eschatology is a word derived from the Greek word eschaton which means 'the end' and eschata meaning 'the things of the end' with ology derived from the Greek word logos meaning 'the study of' or 'words about' tagged on the end.
So, strictly speaking eschatology is the study of the end or things about the end and in Christian theology was traditionally associated with the end of the world and the second coming of Christ, the last judgement and the new heavens and the new earth.
Simon makes a good point that it's all very well to use the 'E' word in lectures but in a series at church, where you might define it in week 1, people will have forgotten what it means by week 2 or 3 and the preacher will forget to keep defining it.
Even at Spring Harvest this year, where I gather it was being regularly used in all the morning seminars, there were still baffled folk in various places asking what it actually meant.
When I was writing my Bible guide on Galatians and my Discovering the New Testament, I tended to use the word apocalyptic to describe similar ideas because the word apocalypse is at least in general use and so is not an entirely unfamiliar term.
Indeed I remember having a robust exchange of views with my then editor over whether people in church should know and understand what a word like eschatology means. Fortunately for all my readers, she prevailed and we didn't use it.
So, the 'E' word will probably not feature as we look at reasons to be hopeful. I will blog soon on why apocalyptic is a good word and whether we might use that one. I'd be interested in your views.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
cunning and conviction in David's life
I came back from sabbatical to a teaching programme on the life of David that was in its final stages. I've had the joy of preaching on the succession narrative, that part of the story that runs from 2 Samuel 9 to 1 Kings 2 and answers the simple question 'who will sit on Israel's throne after David'?
Of course, the question is not that simple at all. There is no rule that David's son should succeed to Israel's throne as David was only the second king and he wasn't a relative of Saul. There are a number of contenders - Saul's descendants (only Mephibosheth is in the frame and his claim is dealt with in 2 Samuel 9, though he reappears in 16 and 19) and David's already grown-up sons, Amnon and Absalom. In the end Solomon is the choice and the story explains how.
I've loved this section of OT narrative since Bible college. And preaching it over the past two Sundays has reminded me why. It's a wonderfully written, subtly contrived story of political, theological and emotional depth. Having looked at the story of Mephiboseth - maybe David's high point in the account - and Bathsheba and Uriah - undoubtedly the lowest point to which David sinks; this week I'm looking at the coup of Absalom and its fallout.
I'm using the text to explore the nature of the life of faith when lived in the real world. I will be focusing on two aspects of David - his cunning and his convictions. There is no doubt that David could teach Machiavelli a thing or two about how to get your way in political life, how to survive and certainly how to outmanoeuvre your enemies. At the same time, there is no doubt that his every action is driven by core convictions derived from his faith in God.
The text shows how David's cunning and convictions enabled him to triumph and leave his throne to Solomon. The author of 2 Samuel clearly approves of how David navigated his way through events. What is less clear is what God thinks - and therein lies the brilliance of the story and the wonder of its telling.
It is also where the bear-traps await the unwary preacher. There is a danger that we flatten the story and assume that what happened must be right - must be what God wants - and therefore a few simple lessons of the pious life can be derived from how David lived. It's not that simple or bland - thank God.
Of course, the question is not that simple at all. There is no rule that David's son should succeed to Israel's throne as David was only the second king and he wasn't a relative of Saul. There are a number of contenders - Saul's descendants (only Mephibosheth is in the frame and his claim is dealt with in 2 Samuel 9, though he reappears in 16 and 19) and David's already grown-up sons, Amnon and Absalom. In the end Solomon is the choice and the story explains how.
I've loved this section of OT narrative since Bible college. And preaching it over the past two Sundays has reminded me why. It's a wonderfully written, subtly contrived story of political, theological and emotional depth. Having looked at the story of Mephiboseth - maybe David's high point in the account - and Bathsheba and Uriah - undoubtedly the lowest point to which David sinks; this week I'm looking at the coup of Absalom and its fallout.
I'm using the text to explore the nature of the life of faith when lived in the real world. I will be focusing on two aspects of David - his cunning and his convictions. There is no doubt that David could teach Machiavelli a thing or two about how to get your way in political life, how to survive and certainly how to outmanoeuvre your enemies. At the same time, there is no doubt that his every action is driven by core convictions derived from his faith in God.
The text shows how David's cunning and convictions enabled him to triumph and leave his throne to Solomon. The author of 2 Samuel clearly approves of how David navigated his way through events. What is less clear is what God thinks - and therein lies the brilliance of the story and the wonder of its telling.
It is also where the bear-traps await the unwary preacher. There is a danger that we flatten the story and assume that what happened must be right - must be what God wants - and therefore a few simple lessons of the pious life can be derived from how David lived. It's not that simple or bland - thank God.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Getting to grips with the text
I'm preaching on the story of David and Bathsheba this morning. This is one of those stories we know so well and yet it is one of the preacher's equivalents of climbing Everest.
It's very familiarity make it a challenge to preach. But more than that, it's a text with such breadth and depth that encapsulating it in a twenty minute monologue is an impossibility.
So we find ourselves reaching for generalities: what is the 'key' point of the text? What is the 'major lesson' of the story? Such questions diminish the Biblical text whenever we ask them as they seek to reduce the infinite complexity of the human and divine drama to a couple of easily-grasped maxims.
And yet... In twenty minutes we cannot hope to convey, to unravel, let alone explain the intricacies of the story. So maybe all we can do is offer signposts to help people's readings; ask them to notice things along the way through the narrative, things that might help them as they reflect on the story, its characters, their reactions, the consequences of their actions, etc.
One of the questions I'm always asking people to bear in mind is 'where do they think God is in this story?' It's never as easy to answer as some think. God is in the story of David and Bathsheba but he doesn't appear as a character until the final verse of chapter 11 and then it's not him as such but the narrator's spin on what God's attitude might be. It's only chapter 12 that reveals God's heart and mind (and then it's through Nathan and our reading of the story).
So, I'm praying that as I speak this morning, people's eyes will be opened to read the story and encounter the God of grace in its unfolding drama.
It's very familiarity make it a challenge to preach. But more than that, it's a text with such breadth and depth that encapsulating it in a twenty minute monologue is an impossibility.
So we find ourselves reaching for generalities: what is the 'key' point of the text? What is the 'major lesson' of the story? Such questions diminish the Biblical text whenever we ask them as they seek to reduce the infinite complexity of the human and divine drama to a couple of easily-grasped maxims.
And yet... In twenty minutes we cannot hope to convey, to unravel, let alone explain the intricacies of the story. So maybe all we can do is offer signposts to help people's readings; ask them to notice things along the way through the narrative, things that might help them as they reflect on the story, its characters, their reactions, the consequences of their actions, etc.
One of the questions I'm always asking people to bear in mind is 'where do they think God is in this story?' It's never as easy to answer as some think. God is in the story of David and Bathsheba but he doesn't appear as a character until the final verse of chapter 11 and then it's not him as such but the narrator's spin on what God's attitude might be. It's only chapter 12 that reveals God's heart and mind (and then it's through Nathan and our reading of the story).
So, I'm praying that as I speak this morning, people's eyes will be opened to read the story and encounter the God of grace in its unfolding drama.
Monday, August 11, 2008
A good first Sunday
It was good to be back in church yesterday. It was a busy day - two sermons plus the teaching slot in the later service (that seemed to go particularly well) - but an enjoyable one.
It was good to see lots of people I've not seen for three months and catch up with what's been going on in their lives. August is a slightly odd month in churches as the usual programmes are on hold and people are coming and going. And there is a nice relaxed, slightly laid-back atmosphere. So that makes it a good month for re-entry, I reckon.
One of the things that is still running is our cafe church at Costa Coffee in the Market Square. This Tuesday is the third of our three month experiment. We're focusing on fair trade and the programme looks interesting. I'm looking forward to being involved and seeing how it goes.
I hope we'll be able to continue this new way of being church into the autumn - but we need numbers to pick up. So, if you're in Bromley's Market Square at 7pm on Tuesday evening and fancy a coffee, a conversation and a chance to explore life with God.
It was good to see lots of people I've not seen for three months and catch up with what's been going on in their lives. August is a slightly odd month in churches as the usual programmes are on hold and people are coming and going. And there is a nice relaxed, slightly laid-back atmosphere. So that makes it a good month for re-entry, I reckon.
One of the things that is still running is our cafe church at Costa Coffee in the Market Square. This Tuesday is the third of our three month experiment. We're focusing on fair trade and the programme looks interesting. I'm looking forward to being involved and seeing how it goes.
I hope we'll be able to continue this new way of being church into the autumn - but we need numbers to pick up. So, if you're in Bromley's Market Square at 7pm on Tuesday evening and fancy a coffee, a conversation and a chance to explore life with God.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Hearing and doing the Word together
A while ago I blogged on an essay I was reading by Walter Brueggemann (it's here with a couple of helpful comments attached).
In particular Tim asks about metanarratives and individualism. I'm always a bit suspicious of questions about metanarratives (partly because I'm not 100% sure I know one when I step on one!). Brueggemann is probably suspicious of metanarratives understood as overarching stories that give the tellers of those stories power over their listeners.
And it's for that reason that I suspect Brueggemann is more communitarian in his understanding of how preaching works than my previous post might have suggested. It's always the problem of commenting on one essay in a collection. But it is fair to say that the focus of the essays is on preaching which is a solo activity in almost all its incarnations - I know that Alan and Eleanor Kreider have pioneered dialogue-style preaching (and I've even done it once with a colleague) - but overwhelmingly, preaching is an individual act.
Listening has the potential to be a collective act. In most of our churches, however, it seems to be equally individualistic. People come and hear and leave and process the content of a sermon on their own.
One of the things I'd like to explore - which is, I think, part of the process of trying to make preaching more of a dialogue - is how congregations can be helped to listen to sermons together. How can we make the hearing, weighing and applying of the Word an act that we do as a community.
As a Baptist, I think I believe that hearing, understanding and doing the Word of God is the most collective thing that we can do. It's our whole reason for gathering. All theology, says James McClendon, is biography - the story of God and the story of his people. Preaching is one of the components of that biography.
As my sabbatical draws to a close and I think about teaching programmes at church through this autumn, one of my concerns is how do we make this a reality. How do we preach, teach, listen, learn and live as a community of God's people?
In particular Tim asks about metanarratives and individualism. I'm always a bit suspicious of questions about metanarratives (partly because I'm not 100% sure I know one when I step on one!). Brueggemann is probably suspicious of metanarratives understood as overarching stories that give the tellers of those stories power over their listeners.
And it's for that reason that I suspect Brueggemann is more communitarian in his understanding of how preaching works than my previous post might have suggested. It's always the problem of commenting on one essay in a collection. But it is fair to say that the focus of the essays is on preaching which is a solo activity in almost all its incarnations - I know that Alan and Eleanor Kreider have pioneered dialogue-style preaching (and I've even done it once with a colleague) - but overwhelmingly, preaching is an individual act.
Listening has the potential to be a collective act. In most of our churches, however, it seems to be equally individualistic. People come and hear and leave and process the content of a sermon on their own.
One of the things I'd like to explore - which is, I think, part of the process of trying to make preaching more of a dialogue - is how congregations can be helped to listen to sermons together. How can we make the hearing, weighing and applying of the Word an act that we do as a community.
As a Baptist, I think I believe that hearing, understanding and doing the Word of God is the most collective thing that we can do. It's our whole reason for gathering. All theology, says James McClendon, is biography - the story of God and the story of his people. Preaching is one of the components of that biography.
As my sabbatical draws to a close and I think about teaching programmes at church through this autumn, one of my concerns is how do we make this a reality. How do we preach, teach, listen, learn and live as a community of God's people?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Reasons to be hopeful..?
I'm not back at work yet - another week to go (yay!!!) But tomorrow I'm speaking at the final session of the current Street Pastors' training course in Brixton, so I've been doing some thinking not only about that but also what might be in store for us at church in the autumn.
This year's Spring Harvest tackled the subject of hope and one or two people came back from that wanting to explore the issues it raised further. At the same time I've been thinking about Christian identity as it's unpacked in 1 Peter.
So, this morning I mused on whether it would be good to do a Little reflecting as a church on Christian hope, using 1 Peter 3:15 as a springboard: '..in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.' (TNIV)
What reasons do we have to be hopeful? In the midst of the credit crunch, rising food prices, international threats and instability, where's the hope? Clearly Peter's first readers had it and their neighbours noticed. Do we? Does anybody see it? Does anyone ask us about it? And most importantly, are we able to tell them anything useful.
It's clear that Spring Harvest opened up a way of talking about Christian hope that was unusual, unsettling but attractive to a lot of people. I think that's probably worth exploring in the autumn. But what should I be thinking of including in a such a series? Answers on a postcard...
This year's Spring Harvest tackled the subject of hope and one or two people came back from that wanting to explore the issues it raised further. At the same time I've been thinking about Christian identity as it's unpacked in 1 Peter.
So, this morning I mused on whether it would be good to do a Little reflecting as a church on Christian hope, using 1 Peter 3:15 as a springboard: '..in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.' (TNIV)
What reasons do we have to be hopeful? In the midst of the credit crunch, rising food prices, international threats and instability, where's the hope? Clearly Peter's first readers had it and their neighbours noticed. Do we? Does anybody see it? Does anyone ask us about it? And most importantly, are we able to tell them anything useful.
It's clear that Spring Harvest opened up a way of talking about Christian hope that was unusual, unsettling but attractive to a lot of people. I think that's probably worth exploring in the autumn. But what should I be thinking of including in a such a series? Answers on a postcard...
Friday, July 04, 2008
Lessons in preaching with Walter
As part of my sabbatical reading, I've been tackling Walter Brueggemann's new book The Word Militant: Preaching a Decentering Word. I thought I ought to read at least one text that will help me in my day job.
In fact, I'm also reading Chris Haigh's new book The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven, an investigation of the nature of belief in post-Reformation England, which as well as being fascinating (and beautifully written) is also offering considerable insight into the formation of disciples in our context (not sure this could possibly be Chris' intention!)
This afternoon I read Brueggemann's essay 'Preaching as Reimagination' which consists of 16 theses about where preaching currently finds itself. It's truly stimulating stuff.
In particular, I really appreciated his insistence that we need to preach the text that's given and not our theology (and how the text informs it). I was always taught at college that we need to preach what the text says (a pretty obvious lesson) rather than what we want to say. And we need to avoid at all costs makiing the text fit our systematic theology by bringing in caveats from elsewhere that flatten the meaning of a text or lesson its impact.
Brueggemann offers an even more nuanced take on this. 'the preacher, if taking the text seriously, does not sound the whole of "biblical truth" in preaching but focuses on one detailed text to see what it yields.' This is crucial, in his view, because the text constantly questions our theology, what he calls 'the long term stabilization of a larger reading.' I agree.
The essay as a whole suggests that preaching should be helping listeners to reimagine the world in the light of a particular text. Such reimagining happens as listeners are taken into the narrative world of the text being read, encounter God as a character in that story (and respond to him in one way or another) and then reflect on how encountering God as that character in our story in the context we live it out would change the way we see - and even construct - our world as followers of Jesus.
I wonder if this would work? I wonder how you do it? I'll have to see when I get back in the saddle...
In the meantime, I'm loving the Fleet Foxes eponymous first album - a sort of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young meet Fairport Convention in post-grunge Seattle. It's quite lovely - though I haven't got a clue what any of the songs are about (I'm just marvelling at the wonderful harmonies they achieve).
In fact, I'm also reading Chris Haigh's new book The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven, an investigation of the nature of belief in post-Reformation England, which as well as being fascinating (and beautifully written) is also offering considerable insight into the formation of disciples in our context (not sure this could possibly be Chris' intention!)
This afternoon I read Brueggemann's essay 'Preaching as Reimagination' which consists of 16 theses about where preaching currently finds itself. It's truly stimulating stuff.
In particular, I really appreciated his insistence that we need to preach the text that's given and not our theology (and how the text informs it). I was always taught at college that we need to preach what the text says (a pretty obvious lesson) rather than what we want to say. And we need to avoid at all costs makiing the text fit our systematic theology by bringing in caveats from elsewhere that flatten the meaning of a text or lesson its impact.
Brueggemann offers an even more nuanced take on this. 'the preacher, if taking the text seriously, does not sound the whole of "biblical truth" in preaching but focuses on one detailed text to see what it yields.' This is crucial, in his view, because the text constantly questions our theology, what he calls 'the long term stabilization of a larger reading.' I agree.
The essay as a whole suggests that preaching should be helping listeners to reimagine the world in the light of a particular text. Such reimagining happens as listeners are taken into the narrative world of the text being read, encounter God as a character in that story (and respond to him in one way or another) and then reflect on how encountering God as that character in our story in the context we live it out would change the way we see - and even construct - our world as followers of Jesus.
I wonder if this would work? I wonder how you do it? I'll have to see when I get back in the saddle...
In the meantime, I'm loving the Fleet Foxes eponymous first album - a sort of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young meet Fairport Convention in post-grunge Seattle. It's quite lovely - though I haven't got a clue what any of the songs are about (I'm just marvelling at the wonderful harmonies they achieve).
Friday, November 02, 2007
Going deep with God
I've been preparing material on Matthew 6 for preaching and home groups over the past couple of days. It's amazing - I suppose I shouldn't be surprised - but no matter how familiar texts like the sermon on the mount are, they always have a freshness, almost a strangeness when you come to preach and teach on them again.
We're in a series on the teaching sections - the so-called discourses - of Matthew, having started with the final 5 verses of the gospel where Jesus tells us to make disciples and teach them all that he's commanded. Matthew clearly thought the teaching sections were important because that's why he constructed his gospel the way he did.
I think it's quite likely that the gospel was used in some way as a discipleship manual for Matthew's circle of churches and probably quite quickly much further afield as people got wind of its existence. I'm not much persuaded that he wrote for a tiny community, still less that it's mainly a polemic against other takes on the story of Jesus, especially Paul's.
It seems to me that it's an open-hearted, pastorally-guided account of the life of the Christ with the aim of helping disciples grow and fulfil their calling to make other disciples through their lifestyle and conversation.
That being said, the sermon on the mount becomes an essential guide to the revolution Jesus invites us to be part of. And Matthew 6 is the essential guide to the spirituality of that revolution.
What struck me as I read it to preach it was the refrain about reward and still more strikingly the introduction that describes giving, praying and fasting as 'acts of righteousness'. We'd call them acts of devotion or spirituality. Jesus calls them acts of righteousness. He probably has in mind a contrast between his followers and the scribes and pharisees (who he spoken of in relation to this in 5:20).
But what's all this about rewards (6:1b, 4, 6, 18). Jesus can't be saying that our salvation is a reward for our piety because he's made it clear in the beatitudes that membership of the Kingdom community is a gift from God. The reward seems to be that as we give, pray and fast in the way Jesus outlines, we get closer to God, nearer to his heart that aches for our world, more drawn into his Kingdom and his revolution.
I was thinking of this when I met someone who's very serious about their devotional life which combines elements of Buddhist and Christian practice (with a emphasis on the former). As I spoke with this person I found myself marvelling at two things - the depth and seriousness of their practice (it cost them dearly in terms of time and commitment) and why I don't it replicated in many Christians.
We can be very casual about our piety, our devotional lives. Evangelicals in particular are prone to be spontaneous activists who don't have much time for reflection, let alone meditation. We tend to think that extempore praying is so much better than using set prayers and liturgies and hence we tend to repeat ourselves a bit and use God's name as a form of punctuation.
I wonder if this is why Jesus calls our piety 'acts of righteousness': he wants to stress how serious and essential it is that we go deep in these areas because without depth with God in secret our lives in the world be very shallow.
We're in a series on the teaching sections - the so-called discourses - of Matthew, having started with the final 5 verses of the gospel where Jesus tells us to make disciples and teach them all that he's commanded. Matthew clearly thought the teaching sections were important because that's why he constructed his gospel the way he did.
I think it's quite likely that the gospel was used in some way as a discipleship manual for Matthew's circle of churches and probably quite quickly much further afield as people got wind of its existence. I'm not much persuaded that he wrote for a tiny community, still less that it's mainly a polemic against other takes on the story of Jesus, especially Paul's.
It seems to me that it's an open-hearted, pastorally-guided account of the life of the Christ with the aim of helping disciples grow and fulfil their calling to make other disciples through their lifestyle and conversation.
That being said, the sermon on the mount becomes an essential guide to the revolution Jesus invites us to be part of. And Matthew 6 is the essential guide to the spirituality of that revolution.
What struck me as I read it to preach it was the refrain about reward and still more strikingly the introduction that describes giving, praying and fasting as 'acts of righteousness'. We'd call them acts of devotion or spirituality. Jesus calls them acts of righteousness. He probably has in mind a contrast between his followers and the scribes and pharisees (who he spoken of in relation to this in 5:20).
But what's all this about rewards (6:1b, 4, 6, 18). Jesus can't be saying that our salvation is a reward for our piety because he's made it clear in the beatitudes that membership of the Kingdom community is a gift from God. The reward seems to be that as we give, pray and fast in the way Jesus outlines, we get closer to God, nearer to his heart that aches for our world, more drawn into his Kingdom and his revolution.
I was thinking of this when I met someone who's very serious about their devotional life which combines elements of Buddhist and Christian practice (with a emphasis on the former). As I spoke with this person I found myself marvelling at two things - the depth and seriousness of their practice (it cost them dearly in terms of time and commitment) and why I don't it replicated in many Christians.
We can be very casual about our piety, our devotional lives. Evangelicals in particular are prone to be spontaneous activists who don't have much time for reflection, let alone meditation. We tend to think that extempore praying is so much better than using set prayers and liturgies and hence we tend to repeat ourselves a bit and use God's name as a form of punctuation.
I wonder if this is why Jesus calls our piety 'acts of righteousness': he wants to stress how serious and essential it is that we go deep in these areas because without depth with God in secret our lives in the world be very shallow.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Off to Scotland
Linda and I are off to Scotland in the morning.
I'm speaking at the graduation service of the Scottish Baptist College tomorrow evening. I'm really looking forward to it - though I am also gripped by entirely understandable panic!
Then we hope to see family, catch up with friends, see some sites and generally relax before pitching up at St Ninians church in Stirling on Sunday morning where I'm going to talk about new ways of being church in a sort of cafe-style, conversationally-based morning service.
So, no blogging until next week.
I'm speaking at the graduation service of the Scottish Baptist College tomorrow evening. I'm really looking forward to it - though I am also gripped by entirely understandable panic!
Then we hope to see family, catch up with friends, see some sites and generally relax before pitching up at St Ninians church in Stirling on Sunday morning where I'm going to talk about new ways of being church in a sort of cafe-style, conversationally-based morning service.
So, no blogging until next week.
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