Orthodox men love church, says Frederica Matthewes-Green. A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled across an article she had written after dialoguing with one hundred Orthodox men who had converted to Orthodoxy as adults to find out what drew them in.
It's no secret that in most Protestant churches, females make up a larger portion of the congregation, often significantly. This was one of the reasons Matthewes-Green decided to find out why Orthodoxy bucks that trend. What she discovered was very interesting. Look at some of the responses below. It is especially noteworthy, I think, that many of the men commented on the challenge of Orthodoxy:
"It's the only church where you are required to adapt to it, rather than it adapting to you."
"Orthodoxy is serious. It is difficult. It is demanding. It is about mercy, but it's also about overcoming oneself. I am challenged in a deep way, not to 'feel good about myself' but to become holy. It is rigorous, and in that rigour I find liberation."
"Guys either want to be challenged to fight for a glorious and honourable cause, and get filthy dirty in the process, or to loaf in our recliners with plenty of beer, pizza, and football. But most churches want us to behave like orderly gentlemen, keeping our hands and mouths nice and clean."
"Christ in Orthodoxy is a militant, Jesus takes Hell captive. Orthodox Jesus came to cast fire on the earth. In Holy Baptism we pray for the newly-enlisted warriors of Christ, male and female, that they may ‘be kept ever warriors invincible.'"
"...‘the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay’ has almost nothing to do with the Eternal Logos entering inexorably, silently yet heroically, into the fabric of created reality."
"Men get pretty cynical when they sense someone's attempting to manipulate their emotions, especially when it's in the name of religion. They appreciate the objectivity of Orthodox worship. It's not aimed at prompting religious feelings but at performing an objective duty."
A lot of the things these men say they like in Orthodoxy could be true of Protestantism as well. The problem, though, is that many churches have changed and have adapted too much to modern culture. But a Protestant church that is true to its heritage and tradition does require you to adapt to it. I mentioned the Book of Common Prayer the other day; worshipping in a church which uses the BCP presents a challenge that you need to adapt to. Protestant faith is serious and difficult and demanding; Jesus said that if anyone was to follow him they needed to first lay down their life (Matt. 16:24-25). We are called to be holy too, and learning to submit to Christ's Lordship over all of your life is a difficult process. Early Protestants saw Jesus as a strong and powerful King; the tender, soft Swedish Jesus is a modern invention. Protestant worship isn't about feelings and emotions and it does require participation.
But it's not difficult to see that in many churches this is not the case anymore. So, maybe we need to change something. Maybe it's not about coming up with new ways to challenge men, but returning to more classical forms of faith and worship. Maybe instead of dumbing everything down, we make men wrestle again with words and phrases that take some work to understand. Maybe instead of making worship as comfortable as we can, we make them kneel once in a while or stand for prolonged periods of time. Maybe we get them thinking hard about being disciples of Christ, as workers, as husbands and fathers, as citizens, as sports fans. Maybe we don't allow them to be passive and train them to teach or to lead in prayer or to mentor young men.
Christianity should be hard work. It should be challenging. It requires us, after all, to surrender everything to Christ. If men are not learning that in our churches, then something is wrong.
The Prayer Book is a treasury of words and phrases that are still for countless English-speaking people the nearest you can come to an adequate language for the mysteries of faith. It gives us words that say where and who we are before God: 'we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep', 'we are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table', but also, 'we are very members incorporate in the mystical body of thy Son, which is the blessed company of all faithful people; and are also heirs through hope of the everlasting kingdom'. It gives us words for God that hold on to the paradoxes we can't avoid: 'God... who art always more ready to hear than we to pray,' 'who declarest thy almighty power most chiefly in showing mercy and pity, 'whose property is always to have mercy.' A treasury of words for God – but also a source of vision for an entire society: 'Give us grace seriously to lay heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions'; 'If ye shall perceive your offences to be such as are not only against God but also against your neighbours; then ye shall reconcile yourselves unto them; being ready to make restitution'.
The world has changed, the very rhythms of our speech have changed, our society is irreversibly more plural, and we have – with varying degrees of reluctance – found other and usually less resonant ways of talking to God and identifying who we are in his presence. If we used only the Prayer Book these days we'd risk confusing the strangeness of the mysteries of faith with the strangeness of antique and lovely language. But we're much the poorer for forgetting it and pushing it to the margins as much as we often do in the Church.
This is one of the reasons I love the Prayer Book. The language may be difficult and dated, but for myself, at least, it has a way of putting into words things I sometimes have trouble expressing. There is a challenge – a good challenge – in wrestling with the phrases and thoughts, one that will draw you deeper in the mysteries of faith and the wonders of God.
We do ourselves a great disservice when we cast off as irrelevant those things which require some work to understand. In the case of the Prayer Book, we miss out on some of the richest prayers and words of worship, and some of the most profound ways of expressing the timeless truths of the Christian faith.
With this being our first Christmas in Britain, we had the opportunity to take part in the Christmas tradition of gathering around the television at 3pm to watch the Queen's Christmas address. What everyone is talking about after this year's address – and what the media is avoiding talking about – is the last part of her speech, where she spoke of the forgiveness of sins that comes through Jesus Christ and her prayer that all would make room in their heart for him.
The various reactions triggered by this are interesting. As I mentioned above, I saw several news reports this morning reviewing the speech, none of which mentioned the last part. But on Twitter and Facebook, I've seen many Christians overflowing with excitement that their Queen would point so clearly to Christ as the hope of the world. While the message itself excites them, of course, the excitement is probably more a result of such a prominent public figure so openly talking about Jesus.
What makes the Queen's speech interesting as well is how it contrasts with a recent speech by Prime Minister David Cameron on the place of Christianity in Britain – she insisting that salvation is found through faith in Jesus, he merely pointing to the role Christianity's values and morals play in shaping British society and his own rather minimal commitment to it.
When I lead the 8:00am service at our church, I sometimes get to pray these words from the Book of Common Prayer:
Almighty and everlasting God...we humbly beseech thee so to dispose and govern the heart of Elizabeth thy servant, our Queen and Governour, that, in all her thoughts, words, and works, she may ever seek thy honour and glory, and study to preserve thy people committed to her charge, in wealth, peace, and godliness.
Having heard her speech, I am glad to know a little more about the faith of the Queen we pray for each week. And we will keep offering these prayers for her, trusting that God will continue to guide and sustain her.
I've often wondered why Psalm 117 is so short, just two verses:
Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples. For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.
Praise the Lord.
But as I was reading it this morning it struck me that nothing more needs to be said. What other reason do we need to praise God than his great love toward us and his enduring faithfulness?
Incidentally, I discovered that Psalm 117 is the middle chapter of the Bible, according to the chapter division our Bibles use. Fitting, I think, that the central chapter of the Bible is a call to all people to praise the Lord.
Michael Bird had an interesting post recently on the level at which you should preach. There's always the danger of going to one of two extremes when preaching – making it far too academic, or far too simple – both of which have the same result of not helping those who are listening to grow and mature in faith. Bird offers a few points for consideration:
What I try to do in my homiletic journeys is: (1) Identify with your audience. Preaching to a youth group ain't the same as speaking at a retirement village. But make sure everyone can grasp what you're talking about. When in doubt, simple is better. (2) The form should be easy and aesthetically nice to hear, but the content should be theologically informed. (3) Remember, preaching is based on good exegesis, but it is not a display of your exegesis. (3) Preaching is about persuasion, changing peoples' hearts and minds, not just imparting more information; and (4) The most important elements of the sermon are the first thing and the last thing you say, so find a way to make it sing and sting!
Of the things I have never understood, these are included – why church attendance rises so much at Christmas, and why so many recording artists produce Christmas albums during their career. The only conclusion I can draw is that they must not think about the words they are singing when they sing the traditional hymns of this season.
The church has many great hymns that proclaim the wonderful truths of the Christian faith, but I find that many of our Advent and Christmas hymns make those declarations in an especially poignant way. I was thinking about this yesterday evening during our carol service, looking at the many unfamiliar faces gathered in the church. Why were they there? And why did they so readily sing these songs, even with exuberance?
If people took a moment to think about the lyrics of the Advent and Christmas hymns, I wonder how they would react to something like the third verse of 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing':
Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Ris'n with healing in His wings. Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die, Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth.
Many of these songs are joyful expressions of the wonder of the incarnation. Other songs boldly present a challenge to those who have not confessed Christ as Lord, and demand a response. Consider this verse, from 'Joy to the World':
He rules the world with truth and grace, And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness, And wonders of His love.
Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, Born this happy morning, Jesus, to Thee be all glory giv'n!
In November of last year, Al Wolters wrote an excellent article for the online version of Comment magazine, making a similar point about the 'Hallelujah Chorus' in Handel'sMessiah. He notes that despite the overtly religious theme – that Jesus Christ is the Messiah and that his Kingdom rules over all the earth – people in our culture still stand up when the choir sings the majestic chorus. What makes this especially interesting is the juxtaposition of the confession of Christ as Lord, ruling over all the earth, with Psalm 2, which is sung prior to the chorus. Wolters observes,
The meaning is unmistakable. The nations at large conspire against the Lord and against his Anointed, and plan to cast off all restraints that he has imposed on them. But God will only laugh at their defiance, and he (now addressed in the second person) will crush their rebellion and smash them like a piece of pottery. Then the "Hallelujah," with its celebration of the universal triumph of God in Jesus Christ, is sung. And audiences across several continents get to their feet in symbolic endorsement.
What do we make of this? It may be surprising that people who don't consider themselves Christians continue to sing these songs (or even celebrate Christmas, for that matter), but old cultural mores die hard, and that these songs remain so widely known owes to the vestiges of a culture in which Christianity once had a more prominent place.
Still, how can so many people sing the words of these songs and not be taken aback by the startling claims they make? One reason, perhaps, is their familiarity. Repetition serves as an aid to remembering something and implanting it in our mind, but too much repetition can sometimes dull the effect of the thing to be remembered. We hear these songs played over and over again at this time of year, and it may just be that the oft-repeated choruses no longer hit us with the full force of their declarations. More, the power of the message of the church's Advent and Christmas hymns is diluted further when mixed in with the many trivial and meaningless seasonal songs that have been produced over the years, such as the patently ridiculous 'Here Comes Santa Claus.'
Unfortunately, many of those who sing these songs during this season will likely not be in a place where the songs are accompanied by a faithful proclamation of the gospel, underscoring and heralding the powerful truths the hymn-writers penned, challenging the listeners to surrender their lives to the newborn King they sing of. The sad reality is that many of the churches that see a swelling of attendance during the holidays are no longer known for their orthodoxy, and so the bold hymns of Christmas just become happy carols to sing by candlelight.
That being said, it really is quite significant that during this season, even in our day, people will repeatedly hear songs proclaiming that Jesus is Lord broadcast over the airwaves or in their neighbourhoods or in churches all across our towns and cities. Let us hope and pray that as they hear and sing these songs and find themselves confronted with the truth of the gospel, that they would be captivated by the wonder and the promise of the incarnation, and fall on their knees in worship before the Lord of heaven and earth.
Over the past month, I have (very) slowly been making my way through William Willimon's book, Pastor: The Theology and Practice of Ordained Ministry. In a section discussing different images and models of pastoral ministry, Willimon suggests the recovery of a classical form of Christian ministry:
There is much to be said for the pastor being educated in the classical forms of Christian ministry. The church has much experience as a minority movement. We need to draw from that experience today. In that regard, I predict a recovery of the classical shape of ministry: to teach, to preach, and to evangelize through the ministries of the Word, sacrament, and order. I sense the end of a proliferation of ministerial duties and a reclamation of the essential classical tasks of Christian ministry. Because so many of our people have not been well formed in the faith, pastors must now stress doctrine, the classical texts of our faith, our master narratives, the great themes. The culture is no longer a prop for the church. If we are going to make Christians, we must have a new determination to inculcate the faith. In some ways our age parallels that of the Reformation, in which the church was faced with a vast undereducated, uninformed, unformed laity and clergy. Pastors need to be prepared to lead in catechesis, moral formation, and the regeneration of God's people.
He argues that we no longer live in a culture where Christianity holds a prominent place. As Christians, we are now living in a context in which the idea of being aliens and strangers in the land must be recovered. This was the situation of the early church, and it shaped the way they carried out their ministry. In particular, they invested a great deal of time and energy into the formation of believers. As we now find ourselves in a similar context, Willimon suggests that
more of our pastoral time, in this missionary situation, will be spent in catechesis, the formation of Christians who have the equipment they need to survive as Christians.
I often hear people react against the idea of catechesis because of an assumption that it is mere indoctrination, drilling purely intellectual and academic theological propositions into the heads of children. This, unfortunately, may have been the experience of some – to be honest, this was partly my own experience – but Willimon helpfully points out that catechesis instead is about the holistic formation of believers, equipping them with the tools necessary not only to think rightly, but to live rightly in the world.
In order to understand more fully what catechesis is supposed to entail, it is helpful first to have a well-rounded definition of the practice. The Catechism of the Catholic Church provides one such definition:
Catechesis...[includes] especially the teaching of Christian doctrine imparted, generally speaking, in an organic and systematic way, with a view to initiating the hearers into the fullness of Christian life....catechesis is built on a certain number of elements of the Church's pastoral mission...[including] the initial proclamation of the Gospel or missionary preaching to arouse faith; examination of the reasons for belief; experience of Christian living; celebration of the sacraments; integration into the ecclesial community; and apostolic and missionary witness (II, 5-6).
Catechesis is not just about intellectual matters, but it is about the whole of the Christian life. Recovering this sort of ministry is crucial for discipleship, and thus of great importance for pastoral ministry.
(Our staff team meets for devotions and prayer each morning from Monday-Thursday, and this week I'm leading those devotions. I'm reflecting on some of the themes of Advent, and I thought I would share those reflections here. This is the final post in the series.)
When the angels appear to the shepherds in Luke's account of the birth of Jesus, they announce that peace has come to those on whom God's favour rests (Luke 2:14). We cannot reflect on this season without thinking about the peace that comes through Jesus.
For the people of Israel, the promise of peace was a promise they deeply longed for. During their time in exile, scattered among the nations, they longed for the peace that would come from God when he sent the Messiah to redeem them. As Isaiah proclaimed, the promise of God was that through this Messiah, they would be comforted. These words from Isaiah called them to look forward to the peace they would have through the Messiah, who would pay for their sin and bless them.
As God's people, this peace extends to us as well. We too can take comfort in these words of Isaiah, that through Christ, our sin has been atoned for. It is in this season, of course, that we remember and celebrate the time when God sent his Son to earth for us so that he might bring his Kingdom and inaugurate the next part of redemptive history. He would offer himself as a sacrifice to cleanse us from all unrighteousness, and finish the work that guarantees the redemption of all of creation.
But the peace we have through Jesus is not just about the forgiveness of our sins. We also have peace because Jesus promises that he will do everything to protect and preserve his people until he comes again. In this life we will face many obstacles and trials that will try to drive us off course. There are all kinds of things that will tempt us to keep from clinging to Jesus and the salvation he brings. People and possessions and ideas will be competing for our worship, wanting to keep us from serving and worshipping Jesus Christ alone.
Isaiah’s imagery of valleys and mountains and rough ground is a good picture of this difficult journey that is the Christian life. Yet, we have peace because, just as the way is made straight for the Lord, so he promises to raise up every valley, to make low every mountain and hill, to make the rough ground level, and the rugged places a plain (Is. 40:4). The road of faith is one we do not walk alone; instead, the one who leads us by his Spirit ensures that we will finish the journey and enter into the fullness of life in his Kingdom when he comes again.
Paul writes in Philippians 1:6 that we can have confidence "that he who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." He is our peace. And so we place all our hope in trust in Christ, and surrender ourselves to him, fully dependent on him for our salvation. And as we wait for that final day when he returns and when the glory of the Lord will be revealed, we take comfort in knowing that he will preserve us until that day.
(Our staff team meets for devotions and prayer each morning from Monday-Thursday, and this week I'm leading those devotions. I'm reflecting on some of the themes of Advent, and I thought I would share those reflections here. This is the third post in the series.)
In the past couple of days, we've seen that Advent is a time to look forward, and a time to prepare our hearts for Christ's coming. Today we are taking a moment to see that Advent is also a time of joy.
During this season, as we reflect on God's faithfulness to his covenant promises, we recognise that we have so many reasons to be joyful. The prophecy we read from Zephaniah is just overflowing with joy as the prophet announces all the blessings that the Lord will pour out on his people. He has taken away their punishment and he dwells with his people (3:15). The Lord is mighty to save, and he takes great delight in his people (3:17). He gathers those who have been scattered, brings them home, and gives them honour and praise among all the peoples of the earth (3:19-20).
As with so many of the prophecies, this has both a past and future fulfilment. And we rejoice in both, knowing that some of these promises have already been fulfilled in Christ's first coming, and because we know with certainty that when he returns, these promises will all find their ultimate fulfilment.
In this time, as we wait for Christ's second coming, how do we express our joy? John the Baptist, in Luke 3:8, called the people to prepare for the coming of the Messiah by "producing fruit in keeping with repentance." When we remember the work of redemption that God has done through Jesus, we respond with gratitude by submitting ourselves to him. Our joy is expressed by living in obedience to Christ.
In Philippians 4:4, Paul writes, "Rejoice in the Lord always." It is important to note that this is a command. Joy is a wilful action on our part. Our joy begins when we believe the good news of the Gospel and lay hold of what God has done through Jesus. That joy then finds further expression as we follow the commands which Paul mentions here – not being anxious about anything, seeking after that which is true, noble, right, and so on. We put into practice the way of living that God has designed for his people, and we receive his peace.
The more we submit our lives to our Lord Jesus, the fuller our joy becomes. So, we pray that as we look forward to his return, that we will remember all the blessings he has given us and rejoice in his goodness to us. We anticipate the fulfilment of all of his covenant promises. And we pray that our joy may increase as we live under his rule, that on the day when Christ returns, "when he gathers us and brings us home," as Zephaniah said, he will find us full of joy as we gaze upon his face and stand before his glorious throne.
(Our staff team meets for devotions and prayer each morning from Monday-Thursday, and this week I'm leading those devotions. I'm reflecting on some of the themes of Advent, and I thought I would share those reflections here. This is the second post in the series.)
We saw yesterday that this season of Advent calls us to be forward-thinking, prepared for the day when Christ comes again. But what does that mean for how we live now? It calls us to pursue righteousness as we recognise that when Christ does return, he will come in judgement, "like a refiner's fire," Malachi says.
John the Baptist was the messenger Malachi spoke of, preparing the way for Jesus by calling people to repent and to seek forgiveness for their sins. It was a warning that the judgement of God was coming, but also a call for the people to prepare their hearts. The unrepentant heart would not be ready to receive Jesus.
This is no less true for us today. When Christ comes again, he expects us to be ready to receive him, to be holy and blameless, to be "filled with the fruit of righteousness" (Phil. 1:11). We need to undergo that process of refining even now, turning away from sin and seeking to live according to the rule of our King.
But God does not leave us to our own devices here. He has given us the Spirit to begin that refining work already now. When we submit ourselves to him, we begin a lifelong process of refinement, one that God carries out in us by his Spirit. He breaks down all of our idols, ambitions, and impurities so that, as Paul says, "he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil. 1:6).
This process won't be easy. It may come with trials and pain. The Spirit's work of purifiying us can hurt as he breaks our grip on the things of this world that we cling to and worship. But when we accept his refining work, it opens us up to the joy we find as we cling to and worship Jesus instead.
We live in expectation of Christ's return, and in expectation of one day dwelling in his presence in the Kingdom. As we wait, then, we pray that God will continue to refine us by his Spirit, that he will continue to prepare us for life in his Kingdom. We pray that he will continue that process of making us pure and blamless until the day of Christ.
When we submit ourselves to him, we can be confident that because of Christ's finished work, by which our sins our forgiven and by which we are raised to new life with him, and because of the Spirit's work to sanctify us, we will be able to "endure the day of his coming" (Mal. 3:2), and we will welcome him with joy.
