How to Partner with God in His Work

by Donald Miller

I’ve heard plenty of Christians talking about partnering with God in His work. I think this is a great concept, but usually when that work is explained it’s incredibly limited. When people partner with God in his work, they’re often talking about building the church, and even then the church is so narrowly defined you’d think God’s work was exclusively about building small, academic institutions in which people study theories about God. I think God is truly working to build those small academic communities we commonly think of as church, but the whole church is much larger and less easily defined. God can see the church but we can only feel around in the dark and recognize it when we see a common Jesus in a neighbors heart.

That said, I think God is working on much, much more than building the church. If we look at the work God has done, we see God has made beauty, so I think creating beauty is Gods work. We see that God has created structure and order, so cultivating a place is God’s work, too. God created love, and seeks to protect love, so creating and protecting love is Gods work and we can partner with him in that work. God created brains that can solve problems, so science is God’s work as well as theater and literature.

When we narrowly define God’s work, we end up channeling people into working for the church, often motivated by guilt, rather than partnering with God in whatever skill or passion he has given to them as a gift, as a way of bonding with him.

So, do you really believe planting a garden is a way to partner with God in his work? Do you believe writing and performing a play is partnering with God in his work? What about studying micro-organisms? What about baking a cake? It’s all God’s world, and in everything we do we can partner with him in his love for it. How do you partner with God?

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Throwing Hammers at Glass Churches

by Jeremy Myers
via Till He Comes

Bonar Crump is an aggressive blogger, and his book, Throwing Hammers – The Separation of Church and Self follows the same approach. It is edgy, squirm-in-your-seat, good writing.

He certainly has something to say, even if you don’t like how he says it. Frankly, however, I think he writes what a lot of people think and feel, but do not have the courage to say. Well, Crump says it. And with gusto.

Like what? Well, cover the eyes and ears of your children, here are some examples:

The deceptions of the Christian community never cease to amaze me. Incantations, rituals, robes, hymns, sacred readings, holy relics, holy writings, holy gestures, holy shit…” (p. 17).

We’ve created a system of healing which is completely off-limits to anyone that might be bleeding, infectious, or near death. We’ve segregated ourselves from those we can help the most. We’ve erected so many barriers between our hospitals and the outside world that we have become irrelevant! WTF indeed… (p. 35).

Why do we tolerate pricks within our churches? I’m not talking about among the folks being ministered to—I’m talking about within the ministerial branches of our churches (i.e. pastors, elders, deacons, teachers, nursery workers, etc.). …If you area prick and you are making life difficult for the rest of us then you have to pack your shit and go! We’ve got enough problems around here meeting people’s needs and teaching them how to love their neighbors without you setting such a piss poor example! (p. 59).

I imagine that reading such statements, many Church-Going Christians would say “This is not proper language for a Christian,” to which I imagine Bonar Crump would respond, “Damn right! That’s the entire point!”

And I’ll be honest. He does have a point, especially when he provides solutions for how we can stop being pricks. Check these quotes out:

The path starts with being lovable. (I’m not talking about being cute and cuddly, always smiling, and ready to hug anyone that walks in the door.) …It means to be gracious, compassionate, respectful, tolerant, humble, attentive, patient, kind, gentle, joyous, peaceful, and reverent—it means to be a servant. If you don’t start at this point then everything else is worthless! It’s really not that difficult to gauge—if people around you don’t enjoy your company, are forced to tolerate your speech and/or behavior, and really don’t want to invite you to the party then you being very lovable (p. 58).

Jesus, of course, is the perfect example:

He’s outside sitting on the curb consoling one of the bus drivers who just found out that his wife of 35 years has cancer. He’s across the street on the corner giving a homeless guy a dollar. He’s up the street trying to break up a fight between two guys arguing over a parking space.

He’s engaging in people’s lives—holding the hand of a woman who lost her baby during delivery—buying a beer for the guy at the end of the bar who just got laid off—counseling the couple who are standing on the brink of divorce—consoling the “life partner” of a man who just died of AIDS—trying to talk a kid out of taking his own life (p. 69).

In the end, I believe Crump presents a great vision for “the church” which appears to be much closer to the image of Jesus in Scripture than most of what I see elsewhere today.

Here is how he describes the ideal church:

There wouldn’t be any robes or hymnals or pews. The focus would be on providing the local community with a “rally point” for health and human services. …Our church would be run by social workers, nurses, teachers, program coordinators, and public health professionals. …Every day of the week our building would be used for some sort of event which would assist our community (p. 79).

He goes on to describe this is more detail, but to get it, you will have to read the book for yourself.

Racial Segregation in the South / Spiritual Segregation in Christianity

Watch the full episode. See more American Experience.

What many of us do not realize is that the current state of Christian Religion in the United States is quite spectacularly parallel to the Civil Rights Movement of the mid-1900's. The question that must be answered is whether or not spiritual segregation can continue or if one must prevail over the other.

Cloistered Mom

by Bonar Crump

I could never forgive you for all the times you hit me.

I could never forgive you for all the times you chose drugs over me.

I could never forgive you for making Dad’s death all about you.

I could never forgive you for treating me like an adult instead of a child.

I could never forgive you for giving my things to dealers for drugs.

I could never forgive you for making every day seem so dangerous and scary.

I could never forgive you for teaching me how to lie.

I could never forgive you for abandoning me.

I could never forgive you for wanting to kill yourself.

I could never forgive you for screaming in my face.

I could never forgive you for the hateful whispers in my ear.

I could never forgive you for ignoring me.

…but I’m trying to forgive…

I’ve been working to forgive you for all the ways that you failed.

It’s become easier with age as I’ve watched myself fail again and again.

It’s become more necessary now that I have a child to teach and love.

It’s become one of the central goals in my life.

I love you, mom.

I will never stop forgiving you.

I will never stop loving you.

I know that if you had the chance to take it all back you would.

I cherish the love you have for my child.

The love you have for her has made all the difference.

Thank you, God, for teaching me how to forgive.

Thank you, God, for teaching me how to love.

Thank you, God, for using my mom to teach me these things and more.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. We’re in this together.

Crackheads, Simple Theology, and a Better Passion

by Jason Boyett
via Rachel Held Evans

"Last month, I met three little girls who have been permanently removed from any contact with their father. You name the abuse, they endured it. It’s awful. So I have a hard time with people getting worked up about Calvinists or Arminians or Rob Bell being a heretic or Benny Hinn’s hair. There’s a lot more horrible things going on in this world deserving of our anger or passion. Of course, I also have a hard time telling those girls that God, in his sovereignty, ordained for them to have a horrible dad. But I can share with them my simple theology: 

This world is broken, full of sin and sickness and pain and trouble and evil. That all that bad stuff keeps us from having a relationship with God, a relationship He desires. That God sent His perfect Son the the earth, to teach us and show us and example on earth of what God is like. And, most importantly, to take all of that sin and pain and brokenness in the world onto his body and die on the cross for us, because He loves us, unconditionally, so that we can have a relationship with Him. And that we become his adopted kids, so that even though dads on this earth let us down, He’s a Dad who never will. And that once He has us, once we accept what Jesus did, then He never lets us go. That’s really all the theology needed, I think. 

In terms of works, I think reaching out to the least -- the broken, the hurting, the hungry, the poor -- is birthed out of the simple theology that the world is broken, but Jesus has fixed it and is fixing it, and for some crazy reason, trusts us humans to help with the healing. 

So, for these girls, I put that into action by helping their grandmother, who is raising them now, with whatever support she needs (financial, emotional, etc.). By spending time with them and modeling who a man is supposed to be. By getting them in touch with caring women who can show them love. By telling and showing them who Jesus is. 

It’s more simple than we’ve made it out to be, I think."

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