...as I await my yearly interview with the DCOM.
In United Methodism, we place a heavy emphasis on a person's call to ministry--which as I spend more time with pastors in traditions that are different from my own, I grow to appreciate more and more. However, I sometimes fear that the language we use around call has the ability to muddy the waters, especially with regards to ordination. A little while back, Dr. David Watson blogged about the ordination process being too arbitrary because in his experience (and the experience of most who posted in the comment section) the members of our District Committees and Conference Boards enter the interview process with a set of assumptions that shaped their understanding of their own call to ministry, and all too often place those assumptions on candidates for ministry.
An example that is intentionally somewhat absurd to better explain what he means would be if Pastor Jack McJackerson experienced the call to ministry as the clouds parting and the audible voice of God calling out, "Jack McJackerson, I call you to itinerant ministry as an elder in the Indiana Annual Conference" and then Jack would expect every candidate to have this same sort of experience with supernatural cloud parting, and a booming voice from heaven, and every candidate that couldn't produce this narrative would be penalized in their seeking of ordination.
Now, I don't think that anyone I have seen on a district committee has "audible voice of God" as their standard for whether or not a person is truly called to ordained ministry, but both my experience and the experience of others confirm this notion that the evaluation of whether or not one is called is deeply influenced by the individual biases of the committee members. Lucky for me, up to this point, the narrative of my call to ministry has not been one that offended the sensibilities of the individuals on my interview teams; however, the lack of clarity about call as a general idea undoubtedly leads to anxiety for many candidates (myself included).
My favorite definition of call comes from Tony Campolo who argues that call is the intersection of a need and the way one is wired. For example, the world is in need of individuals willing to educate children. My mother is patient, creative, and is filled with joy when she can help someone understand a new concept. Her call is to be an educator and for almost 30 years she has experienced God's pleasure as she lives out the call to teach. She never heard a voice from heaven, but her deepest passions, her skills, and the world's needs all intersected in education.
I am convinced that their is value in being able to articulate the narrative of call, and our District Committees should be attentive to whether or not we, who are called to ordained ministry, can tell the story of hope and healing that has come from a restored relationship with the Father through the work of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit. But I do wish that there was greater clarity on what points of intersection, we as a tradition, consider appropriate for elders, deacons, lay extension ministry, etc. Such clarity would help both the candidate and the committee better understand how we as individual church leaders fit into the larger body of Christ.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
The Problem of Over-Hedging
As Christians (and religious people in general), it is a common practice to "plant a hedge" around doctrinal claims. For example, the first article of Apostle's Creed states, "I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth." All Christians affirm this statement, but some have added to it in an attempt to protect it, affirming a statement that reads something like, "I believe in the God the Father omnipotent, who in six days, six thousand years ago created heaven and the earth." This is the act of planting a hedge.
And hedge planting is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. In Matthew, Jesus plants hedges with regard to murder, adultery, promise keeping, revenge, and hospitality for the other. These hedges are designed to promote Godliness and encourage faithfulness in the thousand small choices that have the potential to lead to acts of sin or acts of righteousness.
Hedge planting can also be helpful in self-definition, polity, and doctrinal clarity. However, hedge planting has also been a tool of slavery, segregation, and sectarianism. All of us plant hedges, some of them help our faith to bear fruit by protecting us from weeds while others hurt us by blocking our view of the sun. And on the level of personal faith, we should be consistently evaluating how our hedges are promoting life.
But the real danger of hedge planting is what it can do in the corporate life of the church. When a large enough group of people come together and agree on a set of hedges, these hedges, which were initially developed for the promotion of Godliness, can become themselves central to the faith. Watching the debate between Bill Nye and Ken Hamm, it became clear that Ken Hamm's hedge of a certain brand of Biblical inerrancy, was a central tenet in his personal creed, and he is not alone. Many Christians have adopted this hedge as a central tenet of the faith, and in so doing have excluded all others (both Christian and non-Christian) from dialogue on any number of issues relating to faith and godliness.
In the past two years I have seen orthodox, devout Christian men and women abused by other Christians because they wouldn't elevate one hedge or another. I have seen those who claim to be followers of the Jesus whose central character is one of self-giving, humility, and grace be selfish, proud, and abusive in the name of "doctrinal integrity." And this is exactly the argument Paul makes in 1 Corinthians 12 where he compares loveless religion to a clanging gong or a crashing symbol.
Well-planted hedges can be incredible tools for the production of spiritual fruit, but we must be self-aware enough to recognize the difference between the hedge and the fruit tree.
And hedge planting is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. In Matthew, Jesus plants hedges with regard to murder, adultery, promise keeping, revenge, and hospitality for the other. These hedges are designed to promote Godliness and encourage faithfulness in the thousand small choices that have the potential to lead to acts of sin or acts of righteousness.
Hedge planting can also be helpful in self-definition, polity, and doctrinal clarity. However, hedge planting has also been a tool of slavery, segregation, and sectarianism. All of us plant hedges, some of them help our faith to bear fruit by protecting us from weeds while others hurt us by blocking our view of the sun. And on the level of personal faith, we should be consistently evaluating how our hedges are promoting life.
But the real danger of hedge planting is what it can do in the corporate life of the church. When a large enough group of people come together and agree on a set of hedges, these hedges, which were initially developed for the promotion of Godliness, can become themselves central to the faith. Watching the debate between Bill Nye and Ken Hamm, it became clear that Ken Hamm's hedge of a certain brand of Biblical inerrancy, was a central tenet in his personal creed, and he is not alone. Many Christians have adopted this hedge as a central tenet of the faith, and in so doing have excluded all others (both Christian and non-Christian) from dialogue on any number of issues relating to faith and godliness.
In the past two years I have seen orthodox, devout Christian men and women abused by other Christians because they wouldn't elevate one hedge or another. I have seen those who claim to be followers of the Jesus whose central character is one of self-giving, humility, and grace be selfish, proud, and abusive in the name of "doctrinal integrity." And this is exactly the argument Paul makes in 1 Corinthians 12 where he compares loveless religion to a clanging gong or a crashing symbol.
Well-planted hedges can be incredible tools for the production of spiritual fruit, but we must be self-aware enough to recognize the difference between the hedge and the fruit tree.
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