Note: This post is in reply to the opinion piece by Mr. Thomas Starnes which appeared in the October issue of the Baltimore-Washington Conference Connection.It can be accessed at http://www.bwcumc.org/news-and-views/ums-ask-what-is-doctrine-what-is-law-and-what-is-right/.

DISCIPLINE’S CONNECTING LINK, OUR MORAL IMPASSE, AND WHY WE CAN’T SETTLE FOR “LOCAL OPTIONS”

(A RESPONSE TO TOM STARNES’ “UM’S ASK: WHAT IS DOCTRINE, WHAT IS LAW, AND WHAT IS RIGHT?”)


Thanks to Tom Starnes for his thoughtful and clearly heartfelt piece on the current state of division in the UMC, in the context of the Judicial Council’s review of briefs from the Cal-Pac and Denmark annual conferences (“UM’s ask: What is doctrine, what is law and what is right?”, 4 Oct 2017). Tom’s two (quite similar) amicus briefs – accessible via links from the article on the BWC website – are tightly-reasoned and excellent, even (if I may say so) brilliant. My response here is to his commentary in the Connection and our website.

There are two places where I am in total agreement with Tom. One: the desirability of staying together as a United Methodist Church. I am also saddened by the departure of congregations which have decided that their faithfulness lies outside the connection. Yet I would qualify my own declaration in favor of staying together, since I believe unity to be both real and desirable only if we can remain united with integrity, and with a serious probability being a healthy body. Two: I agree with Tom that the First and Second Restrictive Rules prohibit even General Conference from making changes to our doctrine, except through a deliberately long and laborious process. (UM Constitution, Division Two, Section III, Articles I & II, ¶¶17-18 in BoD 2016; also Division Five, Article I, ¶59.) Not even a “typical” supermajority is sufficient: we could even say it requires a “super-dupermajority”. Such is the sound wisdom of those before us.

Beyond those points of agreement, though – substantive as they are – there are a few places where I respectfully demur from Tom’s analysis and his recommendations, which I think wouldn’t serve the church well.

Between “doctrine” and “law” there is also a middle term that is very important in this conversation: discipline. In everyday use, “discipline” means either behavioral control of self or others (such as a diet); or a force, often unpleasant, imposed from outside (like a traffic summons). But theologically, it’s much richer than either: it’s the linking piece between what we believe and how we govern our life as a church. A little like the drive shaft on a car, it’s what transforms orthodoxy (what we believe) into orthopraxis (how we live that out). It’s the connective tissue between the skeleton of our faith (doctrine) and its visible “skin” in the outer world (witness, including church law). Our church law does lots of duties; one of the important ones is to give definition to how we bring to life this matter of discipline.

Our applied position on human sexuality is not so much a matter of doctrine, as of discipline. It grows out of our consensus understanding of the role and authority of Scripture, which in turn is a matter of doctrine. (A clue to this is the appearance of the word “practice” in ¶304.3.) This doesn’t make the stance unimportant (love it or hate it); but it does mean that it’s an application of something covered by the Restrictive Rule, not the object of that Rule itself. There are many areas of discipline which are settled and very important (and currently un-controversial) guides in the life of our church, even though our perspectives on them have changed historically. These include our opposition to racial and gender discrimination (both chargeable offenses: ¶2702.1k); and our understanding of ordination and the orders of deacon and elder. This last has changed over the course of many of our careers. Still other areas exist that we don’t typically even think about very much but are just assumed, which are also disciplinary rather than doctrinal (but where we disagree with other Christian bodies); for instance, whether clergy may marry and how many times. The discernment between doctrine and discipline is very important here.

Tom also emphasizes that the General Conference (through the Book of Discipline) entrusts the annual conferences with the responsibility for determining the suitability of candidates for ministry. This is true up to a point, but not absolutely so. General Conference has set standards of qualification in terms of education and character, the ability to articulate the faith (through the historical and examination questions given to candidates) and procedures which are to be followed in the credentialing process. (These are to be found in ¶¶304 & 310, for starters.) Annual conference bodies such as the Board of Ordained Ministry can deviate to some degree from these, but only for the purpose of enacting additional standards, not setting aside those mandated by General Conference in our Book of Discipline.

Aside from the way in which this area of discipline gives definition to our doctrine of ministry, there are practical reasons for maintaining denomination-wide standards. One of the most important: we are indeed a global church. Whether across the country or around the world, what does it mean to be a United Methodist? To be UM clergy? In a sense, this is “branding”. But it also speaks more deeply to having a consistent understanding of the role, purpose, and quality of life in ordained service.

There is a second reason for not just relying on the decisions of more local bodies. John Adams, writing as “Novanglus” in 1774, described the American ideal as being “a nation of laws, not of men”. We would put the language differently, and inclusively. Nor was crusty Adams the most popular of the Founders. Yet the principle that all stand equally before the law and are not subject to the whims of tyrants or otherwise powerful people is a sacred ideal in American life, even though it has been, and still is, a struggle to realize it in fact. As in the civil sphere we are governed by statute, and not just the will of those individuals in positions of power, so also we are under the law (or “covenant”, we say) codified in the Discipline and Judicial Council rulings of the church. To leave the implementation of standards around critical issues of any kind absolutely to the interpretation or ideas of a few in leadership, is to change us from a covenantal connection, to a connection of whoever holds the levers of power at a given time. Some may be confident that, were that to happen, their view would prevail either in our conference or across the church as a whole. It might. But, as in secular politics, times change and majorities shift, not always as we might wish. Nor is sexuality the only or last issue that will be critical – and contentious -- in the life of the church. The “lines” and alliances, which array themselves so clearly at the moment, may look very different on other issues. It is better for us to counsel together as a whole body on such important standards, than to leave them to the few and powerful or a localized patchwork. “Trust the clergy”, the gist of Tom’s final argument, is not a sufficient strategy.

Tom’s suggestions also take us in the wrong direction in another way. A sectional patchwork of standards is not the Methodist ethos. We don’t do this on other significant issues; for example, we don’t allow conferences to selectively “opt out” of racial inclusion or women’s ordination (as some other Christian bodies have). Nor should we. Second, we’ve been down the road of sectionalism before, in the years surrounding the schism over slavery before the Civil War. The decision in 1844 to “settle” the fraught issue of human bondage with different standards in different places didn’t work then, and represented an sellout of one of the truest and earliest standards of Wesleyan heritage: abolition. The road back to ostensible reunion in 1939 (“ostensible” because the creation of the Central Jurisdiction really was a new kind of schism), and then to ending open segregation, was long and painful. We haven’t reached perfection yet, as our current conversations on race attest. But the historic complicity of Methodism in systemic racism has made the task harder and more bitter. Let’s not make the different-standards mistake again.

Yet still we have not come to the heart of the matter. The crux of the problem is that we have two competing, and so far irreconcilable, understandings of what is right and wrong, and why: two competing ontologies of virtue. One side (“traditionalists”) believes that certain expressions of sexuality are incorrect and sinful (and therefore harmful); the other (“liberal / progressives”) believes that the “traditional” teachings are incorrect and harmful (some would add, sinful). Given these views, what virtue could there possibly be in a system in which some go one way, some another, with the sanction (read: connivance) of the whole? After all (and I use the labels just for convenience), if the “traditionist” or “rightist” view is wrong and does real harm, how could it possibly be ethical to do other than to correct, challenge, and resist, until all the systemic injustice is eradicated from the system – and then to stand guard so that it never returns? And if the “liberal / progressive” or “leftist” view is wrong, and appears to “baptize” sin, betraying the commission of the church to proclaim the Gospel including Scriptural holiness and healing, how can such a half-way step be in any way faithful? Either way, it is to sanction moral injury as the price of buying quiet – or buying time in the hope of a complete victory -- making both the framers and practitioners of such a policy complicit in terrible injustice. Both the “left” and the “right” must see that the “local option” is a Faustian bargain. It would make us latter-day Esaus, trading the vast birthright of faith and social holiness for a measly pottage that cannot long satisfy anyone.

Sometimes in a family, divisions within a household become so toxic that, much as family members love one another and would like to stay together, they cannot do so and remain healthy and safe. It appears to me, sadly, that we may be rapidly approaching that point as United Methodists, especially when I see what appears to be a de facto schism within, and sense the deep bitterness and divides, including over sexuality. I hope also that we will be able to avert an open break, that we can engage, and with more real grace than we’ve mustered so far. Regardless, the “local option” of which Tom writes is not the way of avoiding a breach, let alone solving it; it merely transfers the pain and sets a bad precedent for resolving other issues as a connection.

Not long ago, I was on a day-long excursion with family in British Columbia that included a visit to a lovely waterfall. Set deep among the ferns and old-growth timber of a northern rainforest, a narrow but mighty cataract plunges 100 feet to its basin below, over eons cutting deep channels in the ledge of rock at its top. Standing on the metal suspension footway that affords an elevated look at the falls from a safe remove, we noticed far below a stout tree trunk which bridged the basin at its outlet, appearing to offer an alternate crossing for the steam. The “bridge” looked too well-positioned to be accidental; yet we could see from where we stood that anyone attempting to use it as a crossing point would end up facing a sheer and slippery rock wall over the turbulent water. Was it possible to cross there? Yes. But then there was no place to go.

The conference-specific or “local option” is, I suggest, like that log crossing. It appears, seductively, to offer a way over the angry and chaotic waters we need to cross. Yet it leads nowhere but to a blind wall from which we must retreat again into our deeper moral commitments, back over the same waters ... or fall from the slippery perch into tortured waters of false choices and short-term “solutions” from which we have had to extract ourselves before.

I am grateful to my brother Tom for his writings and what they show of his heart. Like him, I love Jesus and the Church through which we proclaim Christ as Lord, as well as the genius of Methodism. Thus, respectfully, I hope that we will resist the temptation to take the way that he suggests, and continue to seek the heart of the Lord of the Church for that yet-unseen way that is the true “way forward”.


Charles L. Harrell
Solomons, Maryland
28 October 2017
S.D.G.

VIOLENCE, RIGHTEOUSNESS, A BAPTIST, AND THE COMMUNITY OF FAITH -- Or, (Cautionary) Tales (of Terror)

A great feature of my present position is the ability to visit various congregations in the area at worship, since I don’t have regular leadership responsibilities on the weekends. It is always interesting to experience worship in a different setting, often with a liturgical form that is new to me (or a new take on a familiar form), and to sample participating in the life of a “faith community” for a day, or even just an hour.

Today I had the privilege of worshiping with a denominational church of long standing in my area. There’s always great comfort in familiar ritual, even when the language has been somewhat contemporized; and I must say that, as a visitor, the pastor and other worshipers greeted me with real warmth and friendliness. It was a very pleasant experience.

Yet there was also a troubling aspect to it.

The key Scriptures for the day were from Amos and Ephesians, with the Gospel being Mark’s account of the Herod-Herodias episode where the head of John the Baptist is requested by Herodias’ daughter. As the last was being read, I noticed the words I was hearing didn’t track with what was on the page; my first inclination was to wonder whether the reader’s eyes were giving trouble (seriously, that’s what occurred to me), and the gaps were being filled in ad libidem. After the reading, though, in the message the pastor explained that, for the first time, there had been a request (from whom was not said, but one presumes a denominational leader or agency) to alter the language, in order to tone down the violent imagery in the Gospel passage.

I was taken aback a little at this, though perhaps I should not have been. When we no longer believe that we are accountable to the Bible as the word of God, it’s a short step, having opted rather for the spirit of our own times as the controlling authority, materially to change the words and sense of the text when they are not to our liking. A little more deeply, though, I found myself thinking: “The Scripture doesn’t approve of the Baptist’s demise in this way; in fact, we are shown that it is deeply troubling to John’s disciples, as well as to Jesus – who is described as withdrawing for a time. This is portrayed as a great injustice against a true prophet of God. So just who are we protecting here by whitewashing it?”

The pastor went on to talk about both the Gospel and Old Testament readings in the message, beginning with the latter. The point was made that Amos is the least-preached-on of the prophets. (Really? Less than Obadiah?) In fact, it was said that this might be understandable in some other contexts, such as a Methodist church “where the lines of hierarchy are clear” and the way to advancement and a larger church was not to ruffle too many feathers, so that one might be disinclined to preach on the prophets. A very telling look this was, at my own denomination from the outside, reflecting what I hope is a misapprehension of who we are. Actually, I have heard a number of sermons on the prophets over the years. (There is, at least in my view, a tendency to neglect the Old Testament in our pulpits in favor of a rather parochial and theologically distorting relative overwork of the new, which has consequences – but that’s the stuff of another blog post.) Among the sermons and references to the prophets, Amos has figured prominently ... though again, this may reflect more the preaching I grew up on, than a scientific sampling.

Amos, we were told, threatened the high priest if the people’s ways were not changed. “Tales of terror” were told by the prophet – and we know (it was allowed) that some of these came true. The point, if I was tracking correctly, was that one cannot dismiss the justice of God without consequence. Then the move in the message seemed to be away from such judgmental “tales of terror” to speaking instead such words of counsel which someone is able to hear.

Along the way mention was also made of a denominational meeting where the (retiring) leading officer of that body made the point that if their expression of the Church is to survive, the focus must be on a real commitment to righteousness and justice, allowing church politics to fall away. My skepticism about that last part happening notwithstanding, the focus on a sacrificial commitment to righteousness is on target. But I come immediately to: “Whose definition of righteousness? And what is the actual cost – in personal and societal terms – for realizing it, or if we don’t realize it?”

It is easy to use words like “righteousness” and “terror”. I understand the desire to make the church’s gathering a sanctuary from violence, in a world that is full of it. What is troubling, however, is the move to retreat from discussing these things, even to the point of reworking the sacred text to make it less jarring on the senses. The withdrawal from recognizing and confronting evil and violence (one of its children) does not help in the establishment of justice. Nor, for that matter, to a withdrawal from a recognition that there is such a thing as the wrath of God, and that the Divinity executes justice in our temporal realm, but in personal and in historic terms. This isn’t new to me: I’ve experience resistance, sometimes pretty militant, to naming evil for what it is in other settings in the past.

But the systematization of this reluctance, this squeamishness – to call it for what I think it is – does the Church a disservice on two levels. First, it blurs and muddies the difference between good and evil, right and wrong. Scripture is a lens through which God graces us to see the world in a different, clearer way. But like someone whose color vision has become damaged into grays and browns through the development of cataracts, we can lose the ability to see clearly if we (even perhaps voluntarily, in this case) allow the accretion of other things between us and that lens, or in place of the Bible’s perspective. Second, the Church needs to be prepared. The world is a hostile place to the Gospel, as it always has been in the main. Our own society is becoming less and less friendly, as well. If the Church is serious about pursuing justice and righteousness, then we need to hear and understand the cost we may be asked to pay for that pursuit, and stories like that of John the Baptist’s preaching and his consequent demise, and the message of the prophet Amos, become cautionary tales for the faithful. To miscast them as tales of rigid judgment – tales of terror – blurs the picture and fails to equip the saints.

Or are we to believe that the forces of darkness will just roll over if shamed a little bit by a stern talking-to? (A nice critique of a too-tight reliance on the “just give the word that can be heard and accepted by the recipient” method can be found in King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”.)

This morning’s worship had the stateliness and beauty of holy ritual, in a lovely setting with a friendly congregation. And I bless the pastor for the ministry that was offered to me and to all present, including the sharing of Holy Communion. Yet behind the words of the sermon – which was well-crafted and articulate – I detect, even at a wider, general church level – a moral confusion which I think should give us pause, and which fails to use the precious time remaining to get God’s people ready for the storms to come.


Solomons, Maryland
12 July 2015
S.D.G.

“... Holding faith and a good conscience”

Fighting the Good Fight: 1 Timothy 1:19-20

... holding faith and a good conscience. By rejecting this, some have made shipwreck of their faith, among whom are Hymenaeus and Alexander, whom I have handed over to Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme.

The two parts of “waging the good warfare” (or “fighting the good fight”), the Apostle tells us, are holding fast to faith (living trust in our loving, good God) and to a robust conscience (a clear awareness of right and wrong and a humble but committed determination to stay on the correct side of that divide). Note that the word “good” in “good warfare” is kalos, which is the general word for good, but also carries the sense of what is right and fitting. The word “good” in “good conscience” is agathos, which means “worthy”, “upright”, “fertile” – we might say a “clear” conscience, but that really doesn’t catch the full sense. It’s not about a blank rap sheet, so much as a strong and accurate moral compass which (carrying forward the sense of nobility and fertility in the word) has positive effects in the world around us.

What follows is one of those passages which, although nearly a “throwaway” in Paul’s prose, is one of those sit-up-and-take-notice points.

“By rejecting this”. What is the “this”? Some translations actually supply “conscience”; while not wrong, I don’t think that’s sufficient. The “this” is singular, but I take it to refer back to the “holding”. It’s not at all clear what the two persons named, viz., Hymenaeus and Alexander, have done (or failed to do), but the abandonment of conscience and a failure in trust in God go together. Vigorous faith is the foundation of Christian conscience, which is in turn the expression of active trust in the Father.

Now Paul uses an image that should “clear our sinuses”, as a friend of mine likes to say. He refers to the “shipwreck” of faith. Today, we’d be more apt to use an image from aviation or NASCAR like “crash and burn”; but a real shipwreck was just as dramatic, destructive, deadly. A ship hitting shoals in a gale would begin to break up on the rocks, splintering and taking on water. Men would be hurled into the waves, against the rocks, or into the depths of the ship. Rigging and sails, what had been the means of propulsion and movement about the ship, would become webs and cocoons of death. Prisoners and those weighed down by shackles, tackle, or equipment would be lost. Those who did survive faced exposure, hunger, loss of livelihood, financial ruin. The reputation of the captain and owner might also be seriously damaged.

The image is clear: turning away from trust in God and from a strong conscience on the stormy seas of life is inviting disaster. These two have suffered disaster in their discipleship, as a result of their own decisions.

Then more sobering words – shocking, even, from the Apostle: whom I have handed over to Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme.

What do we learn from this?

To blaspheme is to slander God: through abuse of the Name, through slandering or insulting God, by presumptuously arrogating to oneself privileges or titles not given by God, by claiming to have a word of knowledge or prophecy which is one’s own invention and not from God. The ultimate blasphemy is to turn away from grace, and it is for this reason that despair, though pitiable, is also such a serious sin. Again, we don’t know exactly what these two were involved in to trigger this reaction from Paul, but it must have come across as a serious challenge to the glorification of God and the trust of the church.

Second, we see that the consequences are serious, even devastating. “There is no free lunch” is an expression we hear in the business and commercial world; it is also true in the moral universe.

Third, we see the authority of the Church. Paul is able to act through prayer and counsel in a way which exposes Hymenaeus and Alexander to further trial and danger. Most of us in the modern Church are profoundly uncomfortable with such ideas. Yet just as a parent must sometimes punish a child or allow them to suffer the consequences of their actions to help them to learn and grow (painful as it is for the parent!), and just as a counselor or psychologist must allow a client to “hit bottom” and become sufficiently miserable as to motivate positive change, so also in the spiritual realm pain is sometimes the best, even the only, motivator for repentance. Our tendency to jump to shielding persons from the work of God in this way (to use Oswald Chambers’ term, to play at being an “amateur providence”) inhibits, and does not do, the work of God. (Caution: the alternate error, becoming a judgmental, pharisaic person, is just as deadly and just as common.) Paul uses the authority given him, no doubt in prayer, and no doubt with tears, to remove the hedge of protection in the lives of these two persons. I wonder: has the Church abandoned this sense of responsibility for the flock? Is this because of our own compromised bad consciences? Has this worked immeasurable harm to the cause of Christ and the work of building people up in the faith?

Fourth, we see the ultimate redemptive purpose of discipline in the Body. Paul doesn’t say, “They’re going to hell” – though, presumably, that could be the ultimate outcome. Rather, he focuses on their “learning”, on their present predicament being a means of growth and, ultimately, recovery. In this, Paul reflects the Gospel message that God’s intention toward us, though we deserve judgment and punishment, is grace.


Lord, it is a sobering thing to fall under discipline. More sobering, though, would be not to do so, not to feel Your guiding, restraining, correcting hand in our lives. Teach us both responsiveness to you, and the true yearning over the lives and souls of others, that we may not be inert but rather robust in our care of the flock of God, whether as members of that flock or as undershepherds of Yours. For the love, cause, and in the Spirit of Christ, amen.



(Lusby, Maryland)

“Wage the good warfare” (part 2)

WHAT IS THIS “GOOD WARFARE”? (1 Tm 1:18, part 3)

What is the “good warfare”? To what can we compare it?

Across thousands of years, leaders and countries have made great, heroic, sometimes ludicrous efforts to make their conflicts appear just. In the American Civil War, both sides prayed to the same God for victory in arms. Even the Nazis tipped their hats to this principle, going so far as to stage a phony attack on a radio tower in a border city as the “justification” to start a ground war in Europe.

We need to be on guard, though, lest the cynical acts of others make us cynical as well. History does provide examples of struggles against tyranny, battles to liberate oppressed peoples and endangered communities, conflicts begun with dubious motives but the end of which occasions much good. Much of the best Christian teaching recognizes the principle of “just war” engaged in righteously and rightly, if reluctantly.

This is not even to mention moral campaigns such as the “war on poverty”, “war on drugs”, “war on terror”, the civil rights struggle and the battles against ills such as illiteracy and obesity.

Struggle, it turns out, is a normal, even necessary, part of life. It is with struggle and strain that we are born into the world and see our first light of day. Too-easy deliverance from struggle can even be harmful, such as for the animal who is helped to break out of its egg, and whose ability to fight to survive is compromised thereby. And some of our nouns representing the most noble traits and qualities were themselves born in struggle: hero. Duty. Valor. Virtue.

In annals, story, and song ... in sources as disparate as Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage and “The Ballad of Private Rodger Young”, it is not the one who has nothing to live for or who knows no fear, but the one who has his or her whole life ahead and future at stake, who may feel that he or she has every good reason to flee the battle and turn their back on the fray, yet who is drawn or driven on by something higher, deeper, more important than one’s own existence, who is valorous.

What Paul is speaking to here is the passion of the quest. Paul recognized it in Timothy, saw a reflection of his own “upward calling”, that prize to which all else was subordinate, the struggle of most supreme importance that claims even one’s life.

The question for each of us, daily, is: have I given myself fully to the quest? Am I waging the good warfare?


Lord, remembering that the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to the wise, let my life’s energies be bent with all my strength to the quest and struggle for Your Kingdom. Let whatever lack there is in my swiftness, or strength, or resources be supplied by Your goodness. Let my heart’s cry be for that which is most important to You. In Christ, Amen.



Romulus, Michigan (DTW)

"Wage the good warfare”

CLARITY, DISCIPLINE, AND SACRIFICE: 1 Timothy 1:18 (part 2)

The Apostle calls his young charge to “wage the good warfare”. Military imagery – which Paul uses often – is out of fashion in many quarters today. Still, it’s quite apt for the Christian journey, beset as it is with problems, opposition, and the need for continuous focused effort. This is all the more true for those exercising leadership in the body of Christ.

What are some of the characteristics of this “good warfare”?

Clarity. A clear, precise battle plan, taking into consideration not only troop movements and the probabilities of enemy responses, but also capacity, supply, endurance and potential political and noncombatant complications, is essential. Are we as disciples clear on our purpose and mission? If we are leading others, is it seat-of-the-pants or week-to-week, or do we have a sense of the direction in which God is guiding and how our following should be lived out? I believe that if we’re putting more time and thought into our vacation, career, or dinner plans than we are into our discipleship, then the Holy Spirit is urgently calling us to take another, more careful look.

Discipline. Indiscipline yields negative results. In a sport, I lose the game – or at a minimum, Coach yells at me. Taking a class, I get a bad grade. Eat unhealthily and don’t exercise, and I feel bad, get gluey stuff in my arteries ... and maybe keel over at an early age. Spiritual indiscipline is no less a problem, even if the results can take time to show up.

In the military, the disciplines of rank, regulations and training serve a purpose: to keep the soldier alive and make him or her an effective weapon against the enemy. As disciples, we being molded into instruments that fight evil in the world and seek to establish God’s righteous, life-giving policy (i.e., the Kingdom of God).

Sacrifice. For the serviceman/-woman, distance from family, limited comforts, even privations and perhaps injury or even death are part of the service rendered for the sake of duty to one’s country. In every age this has been true, whether the “heat and burden of the day” has been borne for the Senate and People of Rome, King and Country, or the Flag and Constitution. Ultimately, indeed, every fight is for home and hearth and the ideal of one’s native land.

Recently, I’ve been reading a bit on the American Civil War, and retracing the steps of the Confederate cabinet after its flight from Richmond. Gradually, travel became harder, supplies less certain, dangers more oppressive, and even formerly rebel-aligned cities began to make their former leaders unwelcome. Yet with courage and equanimity, and even good humor, they bore all this for the sake of “the Cause”. If they could bear such things for a cause which history has shown to be defective (in fact, I think it was awful on a number of levels), how much more should I, a citizen of a vastly nobler Homeland, be willing to bear for its sake and the sake of my King!

There is of course one more aspect to warfare: allegiance. We have to know whose side we’re on, and live with full loyalty, to “the last full measure of devotion” as President Lincoln put it. This is both simpler, and more intricate, than we typically make it out to be.

On the way here, I was waiting in line at the airport in front of an enlisted man en route to his duty station. From his insignia, I could see that he was one of ours (i.e., a U.S. soldier), and also could clearly see his name and rank. This gave me the opportunity to thank him for his service. Gratitude aside, can others observing us clearly see both our allegiance and our identity in Christ?


Lord, you have called me to wage a sustained fight for You. Help me to do so with clarity and discipline, despising and bearing patiently the sacrifices, and with full and loyal allegiance. Help me to remember also that my fight is “not against flesh and blood”, and to need to approval beyond Your own. In Your hold Name. Amen.


Ellensburg, Washington (Lazy F Camp)

A HANDBOOK FOR CHRISTIAN LEADERSHIP EXCELLENCE

BOOK REVIEW: J. Oswald Sanders, Spiritual Leadership.

This is a volume worth the time of every current and aspiring Christian leader. Sanders’ work – written in the ‘60's but updated and containing principles which are essentially timeless – sets a high bar for spiritual leadership while recognizing the humanness of every leader.

The first five chapters examine the general characteristics of leaders and then provides a reflective pause in the work for what is essentially a self-test on one’s own aptitude and/or readiness to assume leadership. Then follow two chapters examining leadership in the lives of two men, both apostles but very different in temperament and skills: Paul and Peter. After reviewing some essential qualities of a leader, specific applications follow (time, reading, cost, responsibilities). The final chapter on Nehemiah uses a Biblical model to illustrate key principles; before that, however, two chapters deal with the critical issues of succession and multiplication (replacing and reproducing).

I went through this book in connection with a men’s small group; however, I understand that it is required reading in some theological programs. Well it should be: it’s a good choice. Both for its strong expectations and setting out of the cost so one can count it in preparation for service, it is almost a must-read.

Excellent for pastors, professors, executives who are Christians, and all who have responsibility to be examples and develop people.

Highly recommended.


Sanders, J. Oswald. Spiritual Leadership: Principles of Excellence for Every Believer. Chicago: Moody, 1967, 2007. 208 pp. with indexes and study guide.


Memphis Tennessee (MEM)

“In Accordance with the Prophecy”

THE GOD WHO KNOWS US INTIMATELY (1 Timothy 1:18)

This charge I entrust to you, Timothy, my child, in accordance with the prophecies previously made about you, that by them you may wage the good warfare ....


My son John is in possession of a full set of whisical expressions you can add to your normal everyday conversations to get a rise out of someone ... a raised eyebrow at a minimum, and maybe the conviction in someone’s mind that you really are certifiable. One is, “... but not with your duck”, as in: “You know, you could go home and curl up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate tonight – but not with your duck.” Another one, more effective at making you sound card-carrying kooky I think, is: “... in accordance with the prophecy”. As in: “I think I’m going to go grocery shopping this afternoon and pick up some bathroom tissue – in accordance with the prophecy.”

Likely response (while backing away slowly): “Sure. You do that.”

But – what if? What if it weren’t just whimsy? In fact, what if it were true?

That’s the message in this verse, which is much more than just Paul’s kindly, admonitory transition to get to the next topic.

Timothy, along with Titus, Sylvanus, and a few others known to us (and probably many others whose names are lost or barely known such as Thecla), was one of Paul’s most trusted lieutenants, a protégé entrusted with critical aspects of the larger ministry and in particular, exercising leadership. This didn’t come about by chance, or simply because the Apostle is a gifted talent scout. It was part of God’s larger plan for the work of spreading the Gospel message, planting church communities, the ministry of apostleship ... and also the plan for Timothy’s life.

Picture it: a meeting, perhaps in secret, maybe in a home or outside in a glade or the back of a shop. There is tension in the room, but also excitement. Songs are sung in worship; the great truths of the Scripture are remembered and recited. Prayers go up for the brethren, and for those who don’t know the Lord yet. There is confession, and earnestness. There is praise. And there is a young man moved to offer himself for whatever service the Lord has for him. Even knowing it will mean hardship, poverty, and very likely cost him his very life.

Arms reach to embrace him. He lifts up his hands toward Heaven, and other hands are laid on him. As prayers are said, and tears stream down his face, the sisters and brothers bring forth words of knowledge and prophecy from God. The Holy Spirit knows Timothy, and has chosen him. With his history and his devotion. With his gifts and his faults. With his mistakes and his successes. With his relationships and his yearnings. God knows him intimately. Has a plan for him. Picked him for this work. Timothy’s contribution to this is a motion of will: he says, “yes”.

It is a sacred moment. In one sense, the climax of a journey to this point. In another, deeper sense, the launching moment of what is to come.

God knows each of us. His Spirit has gifted us with a matrix of gifts, talents, personality, experiences, temperament, relationships, and more ... all for the purpose God has chosen for us.

How easy it must have been when the challenge came, the heartbreaks, the promising disciples who walked away and the false brethren who betrayed, to want to throw in the towel, to say it was all a mistake, to dismiss the work of Christ as a noble but ultimately impractical dream.

That’s where the intimacy of God comes in.

When what the world calls “reality” strikes, when we are sorely tempted to give it all up as a bad game, it is the work of God in our lives, the knowledge that the Father of lights knows me, even me, with a clarity and intimacy that I can never attain for myself, that calls me back again. Amid the little “realities” with which we struggle and against which we often find ourselves fighting, it is the deeper Reality of God in Christ that has known and claimed us, and can hold us.

There’s no frustration, no persecution, no shortage of funds or matériel, no lack of fellowship or loneliness, that can trump that.

“In accordance with the prophecy”. From before all worlds, God knows me. My life, and every life I have ever met, is in His hands. What greater consolation can there be?


Lord, all praise to you. Thank you for knowing me ... and in knowing me, loving me ... and in loving me, making me ... and in making me, calling me for that purpose that You have determined. Keep me steady and focused and above all, living for You. In the Name of Jesus Your Son, our Lord. Amen.


Memphis, Tennessee (Christ United Methodist Church)