Pastors

What Tommy Taught Me

Fred Liggin

Our church’s walk with a homeless man marked us indelibly.

Leadership Journal November 19, 2015

Tommy walked into our worship gathering almost three years ago. With his bushy red hair, he was hard to miss. Every Sunday he would stumble in, taking the last seat of the last row in the worship center. The smell of alcohol and homelessness surrounded him.

But so did our church family.

Tommy wasn’t the first homeless person to walk into our lives and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. But we also knew that someone like Tommy didn’t want to be crowded, so we gave him his space … until he began weeping. Without fail Tommy would weep during the song after the Sunday message and without fail someone in our church would wrap an arm around him, making sure he didn’t weep alone. When the gathering ended, Tommy would wait in the back to shake my hand and then leave for home—a tent nestled far back in the woods.

Having walked with some friends from homelessness to holistic sufficiency, I asked others about Tommy. The word on the street was that he had been estranged from his family for over a decade. While he was a kind man who took great pride in his work as a skilled laborer, it was also clear that Tommy faced many barriers, including mental illness accompanied by a 40-year addiction to alcohol and eight years of homelessness.

Tommy faced many barriers, including mental illness accompanied by a 40-year addiction to alcohol and eight years of homelessness.

Eventually Tommy and I became friends and shared many cups of coffee together, though we never talked about moving out of homelessness. He knew about our 3e Restoration Process, a highly relational, curriculum-guided process, where as a church we could walk with him from homelessness to holistic sufficiency. But he wasn’t ready for that. He just wanted a place where he was welcomed, safe, and could encounter the God of the Bible he read often.

After a year Tommy decided he wanted a new way of life. Through the love of God’s people, he discovered the hospitality of God in Christ and on Easter Sunday of 2014, Tommy was baptized. That’s when Tommy decided he wanted to come off the streets.

Tommy entered into 3e Restoration Process and we began addressing the cognitive, emotional, social, physical, and spiritual realities arising from years of homelessness. Now his church gathered around him in a very particular and intentional way. Despite his literacy challenges, Tommy was learning tools that pushed against his impulsive responses grounded in his posture of living to survive. Tommy began slowly accepting invitations to share meals and spend time with others. He even would join my son and me on Sunday bike rides that, in the mind of my six year old, quickly became a tradition since Tommy was “family.”

For Tommy, life was getting better. Once hopeless, he now had hope. Once forgotten, he now had family. Once hurting, he was healing. But life wasn’t easy. Mental illness and alcoholism riddled his journey with discouragement. But Tommy was doggedly determined. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing freedom from some of the patterns of his past. We were all proud of him and thankful for what God was doing in his life.

Soon Tommy decided he needed a professional counselor so he could address some of the underlying conditions of his alcoholism, including past narratives influencing his life. At first this was hard; trusting others wasn’t easy. After several positive meetings, it was suggested he meet with a psychiatrist to evaluate his mental health concerns. Hesitantly, Tommy agreed. After 15 minutes of seeing Tommy, the psychiatrist impetuously informed him that a relapse to alcohol was imminent and that after he “falls off the wagon,” he could come back and get the proper medications he needed.

The doctor’s words were the beginning of the end. This psychiatrist didn’t know all Tommy had accomplished, and he didn’t know that this sort of statement echoed the same sentiment Tommy had heard throughout his life, beginning with childhood. It was “trigger-language” sending Tommy right back into his fear response—flight.

Tommy called me immediately and said, “I’m done. The doctor doesn’t believe in me and says I’ll never overcome the alcohol. Maybe he’s right. I just need to go back to my camp and be alone for a while.” He had said things like this before and I was usually able to talk him into pressing on. This time was different. He wasn’t listening or relenting. And he left. That was the last I heard from Tommy.

One week later, I received a call from a friend at the fire department. Knowing Tommy and I were close, he told me that Tommy’s body had been found in the woods. Apparently he died four days prior, and his body was decomposed. Tommy, my friend and brother, died all alone. My heart was broken.

As a pastor I am well acquainted with death. I have stood in the “thin place” of countless bedsides as people took their last breath. Each time they were surrounded by loved ones and didn’t die alone. And if by some chance they did, they were loved in life and death, and received a dignified burial. Tommy died alone and was left for dead for four days. And if my church family—his church family—didn’t step up, his remains would have been shipped to some graveyard in southern Virginia where all the “indigent” are buried. We could not let that happen. Tommy was family and we loved him in life, so now it was time to love him in death.

The next Sunday I informed our church family of his passing. The floodgates of grace opened up as the tears poured out. Intuitively our family responded with donations, insuring that Tommy would have a proper burial. I coordinated with other local pastors and service providers who served Tommy over the years. We all came together to provide a meaningful celebration of life service for Tommy. Even Tommy’s estranged daughter and brother were present. It was a beautifully redemptive day, and afterward we laid his ashes to rest at a columbarium, paid for by another anonymous Christ-follower.

The past three years with Tommy was a journey filled with many ups and downs. Tommy’s life and death reminded us of many things, and even taught us some that are new.

For one, we were reminded that everyone needs to be needed. Being needed is part of what it means to be created in the image of the Triune God. We are hardwired for relationship—for community—as our lives are inextricably connected to others. When we finally awaken to the reality that we belong to God, we also discover that we belong to one another. This compels us to learn how to live with self-giving love. In this kind of community, our lives are (re)formed for humility, mutual submission, and reconciliation. We can offer those who've been abandoned or feel alone beloved community; we become a tangible sign of God's kingdom and presence in our world. We remember that if the Incarnation teaches us anything, it’s that no one deserves to be abandoned. This is one of God's beautiful purposes of his Church but is only manifest when the Church is faithful to Jesus as Lord.

Tommy’s life and death taught us that when a church takes hospitality seriously, it is never safe. The people are committed to doing the hard work of drawing close to another and welcoming others, despite fears and vulnerability. When a church, practicing hospitality, orients its life toward the least, last, left-out, and lonely, we enter a particular form of vulnerability that means we will suffer, as a community. Suffering becomes more than mere sentimentality because it comes from a commitment to mutual submission and leads to mutual responsibility for one another. Particularly, as we share in the burdens of people living through homelessness, addiction, and absolute loneliness, we learn that we must love them not only in life but in death too.

In my work as a pastor and president of a non-profit dedicated to equipping local churches to walk in intentional relationship with people living through homelessness, I have found that many churches want to reach “the broken.” I believe their desire is sincere and comes from a commitment to follow Jesus into the hard places of society. Usually this amounts to program-centric efforts like meals, shelters, or recovery ministries where the socially displaced experience transactional engagement. Churches don’t mean it this way; it just happens. But friends like these need churches to move beyond transactional engagement and into relational engagement where the journey is hard, unpredictable, non-programatic, and friendship-centered.

Doing this is choosing the difficult and costly commitment of practicing gracious hospitality and self-giving love. Not only does it cost churches more than a few difficult discussions with hesitant members, it costs time and resources, and will amount to some measure of communal suffering. But with the suffering comes an invitation to lean upon the One who suffered the most as he welcomes us into his peace and provision. Here we are called to lean upon collective resources to love well in life and love well in death. Here we find the courage to begin again and again, doing as God has always done and relentlessly welcoming all others into our lives and into the life of God, with self-giving love.

In life and in death Tommy taught my church family how to love more faithfully. I pray we will.

Fred Liggin is a pastor at Williamsburg Christian Church, founder and president at 3e Restoration Inc, and Mid-Atlantic Coordinator at Mission Alive. He lives in Williamsburg, Virginia.

News

What Is an Evangelical? Four Questions Offer New Definition

Bob Smietana

NAE and LifeWay Research say belief should trump politics on surveys.

Christianity Today November 19, 2015
George Redgrave / Flickr

Want to know if someone is an evangelical?

Ask them what they believe.

That’s the conclusion of a two-year collaboration between the National Association of Evangelicals (NAE) and Nashville-based LifeWay Research to improve the contested ways researchers quantify evangelicals in surveys. Their report, released today, defines evangelical by theology rather than by self-identity or denominational affiliation.

The NAE, one of several stewards of the term, hopes that the new belief-based research definition will replace older definitions based on race or politics that lead to incomplete results. For example, the report notes that "though the African American Protestant population is overwhelmingly evangelical in theology and orientation, it is often separated out of polls seeking to identify the political preferences of evangelicals."

“Evangelicals are people of faith and should be defined by their beliefs, not by their politics or race,” said NAE president Leith Anderson. [CT previously explored how politics keeps evangelicals white.]

The new report identifies four key statements that define evangelical beliefs, creating what may be the first research-driven creed.

Those statements are:

  • The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.
  • It is very important for me personally to encourage non-Christians to trust Jesus Christ as their Savior.
  • Jesus Christ’s death on the cross is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of my sin.
  • Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God's free gift of eternal salvation.

Only those who strongly agree with each of those statements should be considered “evangelical by belief,” according to the NAE.

“We’re not saying these are the only evangelicals, but we are saying this will define someone as having evangelical belief,” said Scott McConnell, vice president of LifeWay Research.

To come up with the new definition, researchers sought input from a diverse group of sociologists, theologians, and evangelical leaders, including: Richard Mouw, Paul Nyquist, Mark Noll, Rodney Stark, Christian Smith, Penny Marler, Nancy Ammerman, Mark Chaves, Scott Thumma, Warren Bird, Andre Rogers, Peter Lee, Tammy Dunahoo, Gabriel Salguero, Heather Gonzales, Samuel Rodriguez, Kevin Smith, Jo Anne Lyon, Leith Anderson, and Lynn Cohick.

A list of 17 statements was eventually narrowed to a set of four.

The statements closely mirror historian David Bebbington’s classic four-point definition of evangelicalism: conversionism, activism, biblicism, and crucicentrism. But this list emphasizes belief rather than behavior, said Ed Stetzer, executive director of LifeWay Research.

“Affiliation and behavior can be measured in addition to evangelical beliefs, but this is a tool for researchers measuring the beliefs that evangelicals—as determined by the NAE—believe best define the movement,” he said.

LifeWay confirmed the statements are statistically valid, reliable, and form a valid scale, testing them in online and phone surveys.

People who strongly agree with one statement tend to strongly agree with others, indicating the statements measure a “theological package” of evangelical belief, Stetzer said. Those who strongly agree with all four statements are more likely to attend church frequently and identify themselves as evangelical.

“This simple set of four questions reliably discerns those who share evangelical beliefs from those who do not,” Stetzer said.

A LifeWay phone survey of 1,000 Americans found widespread agreement with traditional evangelical beliefs.

More than half strongly agree that the Bible is their highest authority (52%) and that Jesus’ death is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of sin (58%). Almost as many strongly agree that it is important for them to personally encourage non-Christians to trust Christ (49%) and that only those who trust solely in Jesus will be saved (48%).

About 3 in 10 Americans fit the NAE/LifeWay statistical definition of what would count as evangelical by belief.

That number aligns with other studies using other methods, Stetzer said.

For example, 35 percent of Americans describe themselves as “born again or evangelical Christian,” according to the Pew Research Center’s 2014 US Religious Landscape Study, and 25 percent identify with evangelical churches.

LifeWay found that many who label themselves as evangelicals also attend an evangelical church and hold evangelical beliefs. Fifty-nine percent of Protestants who identify as evangelicals strongly agree with all four statements.

“Identity, belief, and behavior are three different things when it comes to being an evangelical,” McConnell said. “Some people are living out the evangelical school of thought but may not embrace the label. And the opposite is also true.”

Differences were particularly apparent among African Americans. Only 25 percent of African Americans who hold evangelical beliefs consider themselves evangelical Christians, compared to 62 percent of whites and 79 percent of Hispanics.

“African American Christians historically have high levels of beliefs that align with evangelical beliefs but tend not to use that term,” Stetzer said.

The report found that 41 percent of self-identified evangelicals fall outside the new definition of evangelical belief, and 21 percent of those who disavow the evangelical label have beliefs that actually fall within the evangelical definition, reports Facts & Trends. It also notes:

  • 23 percent of Catholics and 47 percent of Protestants hold evangelical beliefs.
  • 46 percent of Americans who attend church at least weekly hold evangelical beliefs.
  • 39 percent of those who identify themselves as Christians hold evangelical beliefs.
  • Americans with a high school education or less are most likely to hold evangelical beliefs. Forty percent of those with no more than a high school education strongly agree with all four statements, compared to 26 percent of those with some college, 22 percent of those with bachelor’s degrees, and 18 percent of those with graduate degrees.

Researchers can combine the NAE/LifeWay statements of evangelical belief with additional questions measuring evangelical belonging and behavior to get a more complete picture of evangelicalism in America, McConnell said.

Anderson said, “Evangelicals are ‘good news’ people. We appreciate research and want to learn more from researchers about our community. This new method will help get us all on the same page about who are evangelicals.”

Methodology:

The phone survey of Americans was conducted Sept. 8-21, 2015. The calling utilized random digit dialing. Fifty percent of completes were among landlines and 50 percent among cell phones. Maximum quotas and slight weights were used for gender, region, age, ethnicity, education, and religious preference to more accurately reflect the population. The completed sample is 1,000 surveys. The sample provides 95 percent confidence that the sampling error does not exceed plus or minus 3.7 percent, including weight effects. Margins of error are higher in sub-groups.

[Image courtesy of George Redgrave / Flickr]

News

Evangelicals Lag Behind Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses on Church Involvement

Sarah Eekhoff Zylstra

Pew ranks 22 denominations by attendance and membership.

Christianity Today November 19, 2015
Warren Lynn / Flickr

Seventh-day Adventists are more successful than any evangelical denomination at involving members in the local church, according to the Pew Research Center. But all evangelical denominations fall short of the engagement levels found among Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses.

Pew's new ranking (right) comes from the second half of its 2014 US Religious Landscape Study, an attempt to address the problem that the main methods for measuring American faith are flawed. The seven-year study was designed to “fill the gap” left by the United States census (no questions on religion), the self-reporting of denominations (“widely differing criteria”), and smaller surveys (too few questions or people).

While most surveys rely on sample sizes of 1,000 or 2,000 people, Pew interviewed 35,000 adults in English and Spanish in 2007 and again in 2014 for the landscape study. CT covered the first half of the results in May, which found that evangelicals stayed strong while Christianity crumbled in America. Earlier this month, CT covered how the second half explores how US Christians changed from 2007 to 2014.

According to the latest analysis, more than half of Seventh-day Adventists (56%) are highly involved in their congregations, which Pew defines as officially joining the church, attending services at least weekly, and attending a prayer group or Bible study at least monthly.

The Tennessee-based Church of God (53%) and Assemblies of God (50%) also have a narrow majority of highly involved members, while the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (30%) and Presbyterian Church in America (32%) have fewer.

The Church of the Nazarene (47%), Churches of Christ (44%), and the Southern Baptist Convention (44%) land in the middle.

Overall, 43 percent of Americans who attend evangelical churches are highly involved. Historically black Protestant denominations are right behind them with 41 percent of members highly involved.

The Church of God in Christ boasts the highest percentage of highly involved members (57%), followed by the National Baptist Convention (50%) and the African Methodist Episcopal Church (38%).

That places members of evangelical and historically black Protestant churches squarely between the highest involvement levels of Mormons (67%) and Jehovah’s Witnesses (64%) and the lowest levels of mainline Protestants (20%), Orthodox Christians (20%), and Roman Catholics (16%).

Overall, only about 12 percent of Christians have a low level of church involvement, which Pew defines as attendees who aren’t members and seldom or never attend worship services, small group Bible studies, or prayer groups. About 8 percent of evangelicals and 6 percent of historically black Protestant church members have a low level of involvement, compared to 2 percent of Jehovah’s Witnesses and 19 percent of mainline Protestants.

The medium level of involvement category—where Pew lumped everyone who fell between its high and low involvement categories—was strong even in denominations with lower levels of high involvement. Pew explains that this is “in part because while many of their members attend religious services, they do not participate in a prayer or Scripture group on a weekly or monthly basis.”

CT reported how Pew’s massive survey found that even though America’s “nones” keep losing their faith, religious Americans remain stable in devoutness. One example: Evangelicals are just as likely to attend church weekly (58%) in 2014 as they were in 2007, slightly more likely to pray daily (80%, up from 78%), and slightly more likely to participate in a weekly prayer or Bible study group (44%, up from 41%).

[Photo courtesy of Warren Lynn / Flickr]

Why It’s So Hard to Resist Grieving on Social Media

Morgan Lee

We’d rather care imperfectly than appear like we don’t care at all.

Her.meneutics November 19, 2015
Nithi Anand / Flickr

Last Friday, I learned of the attacks in Paris on Twitter, where rapid-fire updates offered bits and pieces of the scene: bombs outside a stadium, gunmen at a death-metal concert, an anguished world following along.

On social media, you are what you post. So what would I say or share? Tweeting anything—even cautionary advice to wait for the facts—felt like centering myself in a tragedy that was not mine. How could I indicate to France, to my followers, that I cared? Sitting in a Chicago café thousands of miles from Paris, I almost felt like I wasn’t fully experiencing my feelings of grief and sympathy and pain, unless I shared them. I hit the retweet button a few times, then called Mom.

When we grieve, the limits of social media activism become clearer. It’s a lesson we re-learn with each global crisis or viral cause, dating back to Kony in 2012. After our Facebook pages became dotted with red, white, and blue overlays, we began to hear pushback against the “superficial” social media responses. Salon called the move “an empty signifier of sympathy that rings hollow in the face of ongoing and very real threats of violence.” (A Washington Post editorial even suggested the flag has come to symbolize “support for France’s extreme right, and for their anti-Muslim, anti-immigrant and racist policies.”)

Are we just posturing in order to appear empathetic and build our personal brands? In the most cynical view of these trending campaigns, we’re all pretending to give a damn before we go back to posting about the minutiae of our personal lives, our least favorite presidential candidates, and the latest shocking celebrity gossip. Avatars and hashtags can’t change us.

I’m a little more optimistic about our motives, even if the results at times prove to be imperfect or shallow. Before social media, how would we be expected to grieve the lives of people we had never met, of people we may have never known existed until they died? What precedent exists for mourning realities that our own have hardly touched?

Most of us wish we could do more to respond to school shootings, kidnappings, natural disasters, and terrorist attacks. But our role in most of these events is limited and distant. I’d like to think the users who change their Facebook photos are the kinds of people who, given the chance, would be there to hand out a Kleenex, take over a casserole, or cry with someone. They would attend candle light vigils and prayer services. And, more than anything, they would want to sit and listen.

Social media, though, offers no “active listening” option. Silence seems to indicate you are not paying attention (which is why people often publicly announce their breaks from social media, lest followers assume they have turned indifferent, or disappeared). But saying nothing could also mean you’ve been taking in post after post of news, response, and emotional turmoil, and still don’t know what to say—or if it’s even worth saying.

Our online platforms are intrinsically designed for instant updates, discouraging contemplation before opining, reflecting before posting, meditating before liking, praying before publishing. Changing our social media avatar can be seen as passive, but it’s also an unobtrusive way to signal that you are also paying attention.

Even Mark Zuckerberg, co-founder of Facebook, acknowledged this earlier this year when addressing why the site would not add a “dislike” button. “People aren’t looking for an ability to downvote other people’s posts. What they really want is to be able to express empathy,” he said. “Not every moment is a good moment, right? And if you are sharing something that is sad, whether it’s something in current events like the refugee crisis that touches you or if a family member passed away, then it might not feel comfortable to ‘like’ that post.”

More and more, we are looking to our screens for answers. Some say such convenience, such easy access to information and to people, deceives us into thinking that we can be part of the solution without lifting a finger. And while I do believe Americans in particular could use more political activism and involvement in real life, the lure of social media activism isn’t going away. Facebook and Twitter continue to entice us because they allow us to “tell it like it is” in real time. They feed our emotional hunger in an instant way that in-person outlets cannot.

But while social media may be the most convenient, it’s obviously far from the only refuge. Perhaps we can encourage one another to turn to art as a way to respond to suffering and tragedy. Some of us will head to pianos or guitars to craft chords and lyrics. Others will retreat in studios to edit photos or spread ink across a canvas. Others will write lines of poetry or prose in their diaries or in letters to the people they are most scared of losing. Some will garden. Some will clean their kitchens in masterful ways.

Making art does not force you to pretend that you have a personal connection with a tragedy. It does not feign being an ultimate call to action. Rather, it asks us to wrestle with our emotions in a more sophisticated, beautiful, and enduring way. More than that, art creates space for communal reflection. In art, we talk to God, we honor our feelings, and see other people’s pain.

When we have the impulse to do something or say something, we need not turn just to social media since it’s the easiest option. Let us also turn inward, to each other, and to God.

Morgan Lee is an assistant editor at CT. She tweets as @Mepaynl and is the co-founder of Foul and Fair, a newsletter about the intersection of sports and justice.

Morgan recently interviewed MIT’s Sherry Turkle about relationships in the social media age for Her.meneutics.

[Image source]

This article was originally published as part of Her.Meneutics, Christianity Today's blog for women.

Pastor or Director: Does Title Matter?

Carolyn Taketa

An honest look at what our titles communicate

Women Leaders November 19, 2015
Flat name tag

Several years ago, I had a breakfast meeting with an elder at my church. When the check came, I reached across the table to pay. But he refused and said, “I have a policy that I always pay for the pastor.” I laughed. “But I am not a pastor,” I said, using air quotes. He responded, “Yes you are. That may not be your title but it is what you do.” In that poignant moment, I felt both affirmed and empowered. As I’ve reflected upon it further, I’ve realized “pastor” makes much more sense as a verb defining a calling, rather than a noun labeling an occupation.

The Greek word for pastor (poimen) is used a number of times in the New Testament in connection with the various duties of a shepherd—to feed, protect, oversee, teach, and love the sheep. That is why, with the exception of Ephesians 4:11, this word is usually translated as “shepherd” in English. It pertains to the work of someone who tends the flock. I doubt “pastor” was originally intended to be a job title in front of someone’s name. Even in the context of Ephesians 4:11, pastor is one of the many spiritual gifts given to build up the body. It’s not meant to elevate one person or one gender over another.

Director, on the other hand, is an organizational word that comes from the corporate business world. It speaks of organizing, coordinating, producing, and conducting. The act of directing is important, even within the church. Yet we live in a Christian culture that differentiates between titles such as pastor and director, often along gender lines rather than job description. Many women function in pastoral roles within their churches, often overseeing large ministries without the title of “pastor.”

How Titles Affect Ministry

Rather than denote job description, titles often indicate hierarchies and culture. This means that simply because they are called “directors,” women leaders may not get the same level of respect, influence, income, or resources for themselves or their ministries. Women directors may get a smaller office, a smaller team, and even a smaller budget than their male coworkers. Sometimes congregants will even reject a director’s authority and go over her head because they want to talk to a “pastor” who is presumed more capable simply because of his title.

When women ministry leaders gather together, the topic of title frequently arises. The conversation is usually accompanied by some pain, anger, confusion, hurt, and resignation as they share how this issue has affected them. For example, I know a female pastor who served as a senior pastor for many years. When she took a position on a church staff of a different denomination, they removed her pastor title. Through tears, she shared how calling her a “director” had reduced her authority and credibility with the congregation.

Another woman director with an advanced seminary degree who led a thriving ministry for two decades as a director expressed her hurt and dismay when she noticed a double standard. Whenever young men joined the church staff, they were automatically given the title of “pastor”—regardless of their job, level of education, or ministry experience.

I often hear women directors express feeling left out. They speak of “pastors only” committees where women leaders are routinely excluded. This also means they’re routinely excluded from valuable mentoring from senior leadership.

In my anecdotal observation, women leaders seem to fall into one of three camps on this issue depending on denominational contexts, church environment, organizational cultures, ministry experiences, and personal backgrounds. For the first group, this issue is irrelevant because they theologically agree with the differentiation. For the second group, this is a non-issue because in their church, titles reflect functional roles regardless of gender (e.g., anyone who pastors is called “pastor,” anyone who coordinates is called “director”).

But there is a third group: those of us caught in between, working as pastors with the title of director. We may or may not agree with the differentiation, but as long as it doesn’t negatively affect our ministry or limit what God has called us to do, we tend to go along with it.

This means that most days, I minister with little thought of my title. Yet, I still wrestle with it from time to time. The topic arises when someone asks me about it or calls me “pastor.” Part of my process has been to keep taking an honest look at myself, asking God to examine my heart, and show me where my pride or ego is involved.

I also consider whether my title or lack thereof limits what God has called me to do or negatively affects our ministry as a whole (e.g., resources, priorities, visibility, decision-making influence). If that’s the case, it requires further thought and perhaps a tough conversation. Positional titles do matter when they impact our ministry effectiveness, devalue our contribution, limit our leadership capabilities, or put obstacles in the way of our calling. And yet, we can’t lose sight of the bigger picture of the kingdom of God. It’s more important to lead through spiritual influence than an organizational title.

Ultimately, if God has called us to lead within our churches—whatever our official title—we have the responsibility to shepherd the flock. We are the under-shepherds who follow behind Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd who loves us and leads us so well.

God didn’t call you or me to a specific job title. He called us to enter into the beautiful mess of loving, feeding, protecting, teaching, encouraging, and helping the sheep he has entrusted to us. We get the privilege and joy of being part of what the Holy Spirit is doing in people’s lives as they become more like Jesus. At that breakfast many years ago, I felt valued not because this elder gave me an honorary label but because he affirmed what he saw God doing through me: pastoring people. And I gratefully let him pick up the tab!

Carolyn Taketa is the Executive Director of Small Groups at Calvary Community Church in Westlake Village, California.

This article was originally published as part of Women Leaders, Christianity Today's blog for women.

Pastors

Why I Preach Grace-Filled Sermons

Bill Giovannetti

Your congregation needs rest, not a “to-do” list.

Leadership Journal November 18, 2015

White hair flew and blue eyes moistened as the ancient preacher pounded his pulpit. “It is the cross of Christ,” he said. “It is the gospel of grace alone!”

In that rustic mess hall, scented of knotty pine and the morning’s innumerable pancakes, I caught a glimpse of the fire in the belly that still burned in eighty-year-old preacher, Lance B. Latham.

“Doc,” as he was called, stood larger than life. He founded the Awana Youth Association, a ministry that reached around the world. On this day, he was speaking to camp counselors at Camp Awana, and I sat enthralled. Though his voice was soft and his diction slurred, Doc’s resolve was as strong as ever. He wouldn’t rest until every counselor could deliver the gospel of grace without messing it up.

Doc’s message still has a profound effect on me today. I’ve never budged from the mother of all premises that the heart of Scripture is Christ, and the heart of Christ is grace. In 36 years of pastoral ministry, I’ve preached my share of sermons that flog rather than forgive, hurt instead of heal. I wish I could go back and “unpreach” them.

I still grapple with my Inner Taskmaster whenever I preach.

Grace is that fearsome force flowing from God’s heart to deliver unmerited favor to train wrecks like me.

Grace is that fearsome force flowing from God’s heart to deliver unmerited favor to train wrecks like me. It stands forever as the most counter-intuitive force in the universe. The fall reversed our polarities.

Even we preachers need periodic whacks upside the laptop to jar the legalism out of our sermons. We need to learn and relearn the pure wonder of scandalous grace. And our people desperately need a break from the church’s relentless piling on of duties in the name of the One who preferred Mary’s choice over Martha’s.

How can our preaching inject some desperately needed grace into the lives of overwhelmed hearers?

Heal broken identities.

Doc insisted that youth leaders, “teach the kids their riches in Christ.” He wanted us to major in what Christ has done for us, not what we must do for him. For Doc, preaching Christ’s riches beat preaching the Christian’s duties any day. Over the years, I’ve come to see the wisdom in that. People act out of who they are. If you want a man to love his wife better, you can teach him to communicate, suggest he bring flowers, and offer ways to express affection in the daily routines of life. That’ll preach.

But what if he hates himself? What if he has never overcome early abandonment issues? What if the voice of dysfunction keeps screaming he’s a failure, or if all the programming inside defines him as a loser? In that case, there are no “practical steps toward being a better husband” that will work.

You’ve got to heal his sense of self first. You’ve got to show him what it means to be “accepted in the beloved” (Eph. 1:6). Persuade him from Scripture how justification has declared him righteous so he’s got nothing left to prove to that abusive, dead father who keeps hissing from his grave. Help him see how the Redeemer’s blood has set him free from every shackle slapped on him by his stoned-out mother or that bully who made school a living hell. Grace rehabs the identity first.

Peel off the cruel labels from his dysfunctional past. Help him accept his heavenly Father’s labels: beloved, cherished, valued, competent, rich … and maybe, two months down the road he might actually say a kind word to his wife because he’s finally feeling better about himself, in Christ.

You cannot expect broken people to live holy lives just because you tell them to. Fill up their impoverished spirits with the “unsearchable riches of Christ” and watch grace work its transforming magic.

Enable what you obligate.

Any preaching that decouples the Christian’s duties from the power of Christ will always make Christianity feel like running through quicksand. Be holy. Serve God. Get involved. Love your neighbor. Give. Give some more. Take a missions trip. Be a better person. Read your Bible. Pray. Join a small group. Be radical. Conquer your lusts. Beat your addictions. Obey. Do. Go. Serve. Harder. Faster. Better. Never enough!

The imperatives of the pulpit rise off the church like the wavy lines of cartoon stink from a road killed skunk. Most of our people are struggling just to get by. They’re overwhelmed. Then they come to church, for what? Another duty for their already backed-up to-do lists.

The bulk of Scripture is declarative. Who God is. What he has done for us. The wonders of Calvary’s cross. The incredible promises of God. Our riches in Christ. The writers of Scripture never tire of lifting the veil to offer a peek at the throne of all-sufficient grace.

I’m glad for this. It turns my preaching from a pep-rally for good works into a privilege of proclaiming “the things that have been freely given to us by God” (1 Cor. 2:12). The apostolic pattern was clear: declare grace first, beseech a grace-based lifestyle second. You can’t skip straight to Romans 12:1, expecting people to present their bodies as living sacrifices to God, unless you have stuffed their hungry gullets with the preceding eleven chapters detailing “the mercies of God.”

Any Christian activity energized by human power alone reeks of legalism. The power must be Christ’s—by his Spirit (Zechariah 4:6), his Word (Hebrews 4:12), his presence (Galatians 2:20), and his grace (1 Corinthians 2:12). Never let your hearers forget for even a nanosecond that Christ works in and through them. Grace means God works, God strives, God serves, God loves, God breaks the sweat. We are the vehicles, but it is God’s “working which works in [us] mightily” (Col. 1:29). Remind them. Under grace, whatever God obligates, he enables.

Run to the cross.

Paul Edwardson rarely preached without giving an altar call. Countless thousands across the world received Christ through his ministry. He’s with the Lord now, but I was privileged to work with him for a few years. He was a good friend and wise mentor to me.

Paul’s motto was simple: “Preach what you’re preaching, then run to the cross.” Stunning simplicity. Run to the cross. It’s hard to find a sermon by Spurgeon, Lloyd-Jones, the Puritans, or other preaching luminaries of days gone by that doesn’t relish the blood-accented language of the Savior’s death.

The apostolic marching orders are clear: “For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2). The apostle Paul’s sole boast was in the cross (Gal. 6:14). He called the message of the cross the saving power of God (1 Cor. 1:18) and made “Christ crucified” the heart and soul of his preaching. Review your sermons from the past month, and ask how much of Christ’s cross you find. The doctrines of the cross possess endless power to recalibrate your listeners’ hearts to grace. When you preach the cross, you lift burdens. When you preach the cross, you feed hope. You forge bonds of love.

So many times, your listeners come to church worn out by life. Many feel deep failure. The weight of adversity presses hard. Guilt and shame lurk at the door. The cross of Christ is what they need. Paint on the corridors of their imagination an indelible picture of all their failures and troubles being swept away in the tidal wave of Calvary’s love. If you don’t run to the cross in your messages, your people won’t run to the cross in their trials.

Rethink the “practical application.”

When my Chicago public high school inflicted trigonometry on my tender psyche, it wasn’t too long before I got lost. Like a mighty freighter, the class steamed ahead, while I raced behind in my rubber raft, paddling as hard as I could. Church feels like that sometimes.

Your listeners receive one or two items of “practical application” for their life’s to-do list. They might do them, partly, one or two times. By Wednesday, Sunday’s practical applications lie twitching on the trash heap of life’s unfulfilled responsibilities. Those applications, however, don’t vanish entirely. They still peck at the conscience, like angry birds. They create unease. They put grace on ice. The next week and the week after that, your listeners trudge dutifully back for yet more practical applications. It’s endless. They’re paddling hard to just fall behind. Where’s the grace?

If “practical” is code for “stuff good Christians should do,” quit being so practical. Or at least rethink that part of your sermon. After all, isn’t it practical for your frazzled listeners to simply be encouraged? To believe they can make it through another stormy week? Isn’t it practical when God rewires reverse polarized circuitry in their dysfunctional souls? Isn’t it practical when addicts believe they can overcome, and when the fatherless feel their Father’s embrace? It might take months to see fruit. But what’s the rush? Grace-preaching is patient preaching. Instead of a to-do item, how about a “to-think” item. Or a “to-believe” item. Or a “to-rest-in” item.

When Jesus forgave the woman taken in adultery, he left two messages ringing in her ears: “Neither do I condemn you” and “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11). These are important, not only for their content, but for their order too. Until “neither do I condemn you” gets hard-wired into your listeners’ souls, “go and sin no more” remains impossible. Good works God’s way can only flourish in the overflow of grace.

Teach them to abide in Christ.

When Jesus presented himself as the vine and his people as the branches, he left the enduring secret of fruitful living: “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). There are two sides in this equation: 1. Abide in Christ, and 2. Bear much fruit. Which side do you preach most?

I blush to think of the thousands of sermons I have preached, lashing God’s servants to produce more fruit, while ignoring the roots and vine. My hunch is not one in a thousand Christians can effectively explain what it means to abide in Christ. No wonder the fruit is so sparse. If you wish to see much fruit, quit preaching fruit. Instead, preach the cross of Christ, our identity in Christ, and our riches in Christ. Fill the gas tank with the glory of his matchless grace. You can’t flog the fruit out of a branch barely connected to the vine. A little less preaching on fruit, and a little more on what it means to abide in Christ—no matter your particular theology on how that looks—will change the face of your church.

I’ve come to realize that the only way to properly preach grace is to scandalize the hearer. To agitate the legalist. To make those who insist they can buy salvation at any price drop their flagellum and exit the premises. Nobody in the Bible ever “got” grace without an intervention. Some force had to pierce through the fallen heart’s resistance.

Someone had to say, “Yes, it sounds too good to be true, but it is true, because Christ is that good.” Why not become the church in your city that unburdens, unshackles, and de-stresses people? Keep shifting the burden to God. Build a bigger trust in a God more gracious than your people ever dared dream. Buy your Inner Taskmaster a one-way ticket to a permanent vacation.

Wise old Doc Latham taught, “Teach them their riches in Christ.” May our grace-filled preaching do the same.

Dr. Bill Giovannetti pastors the Neighborhood Church of Redding, CA, and teaches at A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary.

What Refugees in Your Neighborhood Need from You

Heather Evans, guest writer

The mission field is arriving in the United States.

Her.meneutics November 18, 2015
Takver / Flickr

Editor’s note: The tragic terrorist attacks in Paris last week have polarized the conversation about our country’s role in resettling refugees, particularly from Syria and the Middle East. But the refugee crisis is a big and ongoing global issue, with 1 in 122 people living on our planet today either displaced within in their own country or seeking asylum in another.

Even when given the opportunity to live in a place like the United States, their needs are great, and the transition isn’t easy. In the essay below, an American social worker shares her observations from visiting Congolese refugees and how she came to see the refugee crisis as an opportunity for Christians. – Kate

In 2014, I traveled to Rwanda with a team of psychologists, social workers, and counselors to meet with local caregivers, offering training in trauma healing. We visited the Kigeme Congolese refugee camp. There, children greeted us and followed us around, holding hands. The conditions were humbling and sobering. Most of the camp’s 18,000 refugees had already lived there for two years. They had been separated from their families and unsure when or if they’d be able to go home. Yet, they sang for hope of return.

A year later, some refugees like those we met in Rwanda have made their way to us. The United States plans to resettle approximately 50,000 Congolese refugees, and this year, 250 of them relocated to Kentucky. As I visited these new immigrants in Louisville, as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker focused on trauma, I began to see their dramatic transition firsthand.

A Rwandan couple, Jean de Dieu and Pauline Nzeyimana, minister to their city’s refugees by helping with day-to-day tasks. They accompany them to translate for doctor's appointments or school meetings, provide cell phones or household items, advocate for their school needs or children's activities, and guide youth as the settle into American life.

Even the small percentage of refugees who make it to the States face barriers. They are starting over with minimal to no resources. In a new place and culture, they need to learn to navigate every area of life, all the way down to running water and household appliances.

I drove around the city with Nzeyimana to visit some of the families they’ve befriended. At one house, I chatted with a lonely teenager who had arrived two weeks earlier. “This is like coming to the Promised Land,” he told me. “I just wish I could go back and visit my friends, even for one weekend.” At another home, I helped a 10-year-old girl with her homework while her mom was at work. The girl was struggling; later I found out she has a learning disability and limited support from school. At the third house, a Congolese woman who has lived in Louisville for a year insisted on cooking for us. We ate together as she told us about her new job. She shared challenges in raising her adolescent nieces and nephew.

Nzeyimana’s organization, Gate of Hope Ministries, can do only so much, so she collaborates with local organizations for further support. She inspired a local church to offer a monthly clothing closet for donations. She petitioned the city to obtain an empty lot of land to start a community garden. “Africans are used to farms,” she said. “We know they needed a place to farm.” Next year, approximately 50 people will have a chance to claim garden space, split between individual plots and a section where produce will be sold at a nearby grocery store and through Community Supported Agriculture (CSA).

Driving in a rental van with a Rwandan woman devoted to this ministry and accompanying her during these visits gave me an inside perspective of the global refugee crisis. In turn, we saw opportunity. It was a sobering privilege to see firsthand the challenge of relocation, the family dynamics, the cultural tensions, and the suffering carried with them—and offer a small measure of kindness by listening and helping.

Refugees carry with them stories of trauma and loss that add an additional challenge to their transition. “It is very difficult to imagine the situation of a refugee,” said Clement Zenko, a Rwandan trauma healing caregiver. “Take an adult person and put him in a situation of a baby immediately after birth. He is naked, nothing in his hands, nothing in his pocket… he has no clothes, no account in a bank, no property, often alone.”

Sitting in a bare apartment with people who speak a different language and come from a different culture is unglamorous and often awkward. It lacks the adventure and experience of traveling to a foreign land. It requires far more staying power than a two-week trip. But this presents Christians with a call to practice hospitality. God has called us to make disciples of all nations (Matt. 28:19), and this is the mission field coming to us. It is here in our midst and accessible.

Our world has reached a staggering high for displaced individuals. Time recently reported that 1 in 122 people is now a refugee, an internally displaced person or seeking asylum. The average number of people displaced each day in 2014 was 42,500. The United States plans to take in 100,000 refugees in 2017, up from 70,000 a year currently. Opportunities and needs around our nation will increase. Each of us is implicated to consider our response.

Many Christians want to help, but as Nzeyimana explained, “You know how it goes with big churches. Sometimes there is bureaucracy, and it takes a long time to make a decision of what they can do.” It’s easier to do a quick project than to meet refugees' daily needs. Meanwhile, a 19-year-old longs to play soccer again, but remains reluctant to leave the house and meet new people. A student with learning difficulties stares at her homework. A woman raising her nieces and nephew needs someone to encourage her when she is weary of parenting adolescents. A man needs help finding a job, a woman in navigating the grocery store.

Language and cultural difference present real barriers, but my visit to Louisville proved that these barriers aren’t enough to keep us from the opportunities to follow Christ as we enter in, love the sojourner, practice hospitality, show dignity, and learn. To provide a point of connection during relocation is to equip and empower mutual contribution, for the receiver, the giver, and the country we now both call home.

Heather Evans is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker with a private counseling practice in Lehigh Valley, Pennsylvania. Her training and specialization include domestic and global trauma. Heather is co-founder of VAST (Valley Against Sex Trafficking) Coalition and serves as clinical advisor to the Truth Home, a therapeutic home for women with a history of sexual exploitation. Heather has also traveled internationally with the goal of partnering with and training trauma healing caregivers.

[Image source]

This article was originally published as part of Her.Meneutics, Christianity Today's blog for women.

News

Christians Debate State Bans on Syrian Refugees after Paris Attacks

Sarah Eekhoff Zylstra

World Relief disagrees with half of US governors and Franklin Graham.

Christianity Today November 17, 2015
Courtesy of World Relief

In response to the terrorist attacks in Paris last week, 27 American governors have announced that they are closing their states to refugees attempting to relocate from Syria.

Only 53 of the 2,184 Syrian refugees resettled in the United States from 2011 until now are Christians. Overall, about 44 percent of the 762,000 refugees resettled in America since 2003 are Christians, hailing from different countries by denomination.

“I am directing all state agencies to suspend the resettlement of additional Syrian refugees in the state of Indiana pending assurances from the federal government that proper security measures have been achieved,” Indiana governor Mike Pence stated. “Indiana has a long tradition of opening our arms and homes to refugees from around the world but, as governor, my first responsibility is to ensure the safety and security of all Hoosiers."

In an open letter to President Barack Obama, Texas governor Greg Abbott wrote, "Neither you nor any federal official can guarantee that Syrian refugees will not be part of any terroristic activity. As such, opening our door to them irresponsibly exposes our fellow Americans to unacceptable peril."

Though the announcements may be purely symbolic, they are still a disappointment, said Matthew Soerens, US director of church mobilization for World Relief, which opposes the governors' decisions [full statement below].

“Jesus was a refugee himself,” Soerens told CT. “The journey Jesus took when fleeing to Egypt as a boy looks a lot like what little Syrian boys and girls have done in the past five years.”

“Of course we want to keep terrorists out of our country, but let’s not punish the victims of ISIS for the sins of ISIS,” said Leith Anderson, president of the National Association of Evangelicals. “Our system is designed to keep terrorists out and to help desperate families with little children. We want to help the victims of terrorism in the Middle East, not punish them.”

The gubernatorial decisions are in direct opposition to President Obama’s September announcement that the US will begin taking in more refugees in response to the crisis in Syria and Iraq. Obama raised the refugee limit to 85,000 this fiscal year (including 10,000 from Syria), and 100,000 for fiscal year 2017.

Those who were most unhappy with his decision: white evangelicals. Just 31 percent said they approve of raising the refugee cap, much lower than the 58 percent of black Protestants (two-thirds of whom identify as evangelicals) and 51 percent of overall Americans who approved, according to a recent study by the Pew Research Center.

“There is a lot of fear about resettling Muslim refugees,” Jenny Yang, vice president of advocacy and policy at World Relief, previously told CT. “There is fear about them becoming terrorists or implementing Shari’ah law.” A Reuters/Ipsos poll in the wake of the Paris attacks found that 52 percent of Americans think nations which accept Syrian refugees are less safe, and are equally split over whether countries should continue to accept refugees (40%) or stop accepting them (41%) amid terrorism concerns.

One prominent voice of concern: Franklin Graham. "We must reform our immigration policies in the United States. We cannot allow Muslim immigrants to come across our borders unchecked while we are fighting this war on terror," wrote the head of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association and Samaritan's Purse on his Facebook page shortly after the Paris attacks. "If we continue to allow Muslim immigration, we'll see much more of what happened in Paris—it’s on our doorstep. France and Europe are being overrun by young Muslim men from the Middle East, and they do not know their backgrounds or their motives and intentions." In July, Graham advocated for an end to Muslim immigration in America.

Last year, a Pew survey found that 70 percent of white evangelicals believed that “Islam encourages more violence than other religions.” The number was the highest of any demographic group, and 20 points higher than the 50 percent of Americans who felt the same way.

A new PRRI survey released today asked a different question, but found similar results: 73 percent of white evangelicals said Islam was at odds with American values, compared with 56 percent of all Americans.

The US has resettled 2,184 Syrian refugees since March 2011, when Syria's civil war began. Of those, seven percent have been men between the ages of 21 and 30. The largest age group: children under 14 (43%). Overall, nearly all (96%) have been Muslims (mostly Sunnis), with the 53 Syrian Christians resettled composing only 3 percent.

By comparison, the US has resettled 68,707 Iraqi refugees over the same time period. Of those, 12 percent have been men between the ages of 21 and 30, with children under 14 again the largest age group (27%). Overall, nearly 7 in 10 are Muslims, with the 21,126 Iraqi Christians resettled composing 30 percent of the total.

The UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has referred about 16,000 Syrians for resettlement in the United States, but only 1,500 have arrived so far, Larry Yungk, a UNHCR senior resettlement officer in Washington, D.C., told the Chicago Tribune for its profile on how resettlement works and how the ban would affect Illinois. Politico reports that only 2 percent of Syrian resettled so far are "military-aged males unattached to families."

It’s understandable that people are afraid after what happened in France, Soerens said. But the refugees from Syria—or anywhere else—that enter the United States have been vetted by multiple agencies for a minimum of 18 months, he said.

“The US has been settling refugees since the 1970s and admitted more than 3 million,” he said. “No one from that program has attacked anyone.” Those admitted to the US are victims, not perpetrators, he said. And the largest religious group that’s admitted? Christians.

“The refugee resettlement program has been a way the US has been able to serve the persecuted church,” he said. As ISIS moved through Syria and Iraq last year, thousands of Christians fled in the face of rape, kidnapping, and murder.

More than 11 million Syrians are now displaced—half the country’s population, he said. Of the 4 million who have fled the country, most are in the neighboring countries of Lebanon, Jordan, or Turkey. About 2,200 have been allowed to resettle in the US.

“The US is looking at a drop in the bucket in the terms of overall need,” he said. “We think it would be tragic for us to not even do that amount when the need is so significant.”

On the other hand, mass immigration may not be the best way to help the persecuted church abroad.

“We are hearing from Christians on the ground in the Middle East that many wish to stay in their homeland, and we want to strengthen the Christians who remain in these volatile areas,” said Kristin Wright, advocacy director at Open Doors USA.

Open Doors is petitioning Secretary of State John Kerry and USAID ambassador Alfonso Lenhardt, asking them not for immigration help but to ensure that aid is reaching the most vulnerable, that efforts to defeat ISIS are strengthened, and that there is long-term investment in the region.

The latest International Religious Freedom report by the State Department echoes Open Doors’ findings.

“The United States and UNHCR recognized that, for most refugees, safe, voluntary return to their homelands was the preferred solution,” the report stated.

Of course, that’s not always possible. The US resettled nearly 70,000 refugees last year, the report said. Of those, about 32,000 were from the Near East/South Asia region.

Many churches will be waiting to welcome them with open arms, World Relief president Stephan Bauman told CT previously.

“Whether it’s hosting refugees in our own country, or supporting churches serving them in other countries, the American church has chosen to act,” he said.

Muslims are our neighbors, the same way the Samaritan—with his heretical beliefs—was the neighbor in need Jesus used in his parable, Soerens said.

“With the government doing its job of screening and vetting, our role can’t be to ask, ‘Is this safe?’” he said. “We have to ask, ‘Who is my neighbor?’”

Statement by World Relief on Paris and Beirut attacks:

We are deeply saddened by the horrific acts of violence that recently occurred in Paris and Beirut. We join Christians throughout the world in praying for the victims and their families, as well as the survivors, that they may find peace and safety again in their countries. We also pray for the ongoing loss of life in Syria, Yemen, and elsewhere where conflicts rage. These are the areas from which people are fleeing to find security and safety, leaving behind their countries, their families and their lives to start anew.

“As information about these attacks continues to pour in, we ask that Christians and churches across the United States continue to pioneer the way for a compassionate response to the ongoing refugee crisis,” said Stephan Bauman, President and CEO of World Relief. “The only way to fight this darkness is by offering these refugees the love and light of Jesus Christ. Instead of allowing ourselves to be consumed by fear, we must ground ourselves in love and open our arms to these refugees. It would be a mistake to shut out all refugees who have been victims of the same sort of terror inflicted last week upon Paris and Beirut based on these concerns,” he continued.

While many U.S. state governments are calling for a moratorium on refugees coming to their states, we urge local communities to continue to welcome all refugees. For over 30 years, the United States has resettled thousands of refugees who have become vibrant, integrated members of our community. In thepast 5 years, the United States has received less than 2,500 Syrian refugees. Each refugee who comes to the United States has undergone a thorough vetting and security screening process that generally lasts at least 18 months.

The U.S. refugee resettlement system continues to be a lifeline to desperate individuals fleeing violence and conflict from all over the world. Most of those resettled in the United States are women and children. Last year, the United States resettled more Christians than any other religious tradition primarily because Christians have been uniquely targeted for persecution in various parts of the world. Welcoming carefully vetted refugees is an important way to assist these persecuted individuals, where the United States can and should do more in the face of increased persecution.

Culture

What ‘The Hunger Games’ Taught Three Millennials

Morgan Lee, D.L. Mayfield, and Matthew Loftus

But does Katniss actually endorse the Hunger Games?

Jennifer Lawrence in 'The Hunger Games'

Jennifer Lawrence in 'The Hunger Games'

Christianity Today November 17, 2015
Lionsgate

Editor’s note: The fourth film in the Hunger Games franchise—based on the second half of the trilogy’s final volume—will be released this Friday, starring Jennifer Lawrence in the role of Katniss, whose experiences in the previous films have marked her for life. Now a symbol of the Revolution, she has to navigate tricky relationships with power and her future.

To discuss the series’ themes before the final film is released, we’ve called in three fans: Morgan Lee, an assistant editor at Christianity Today, and D.L. Mayfield and Matthew Loftus, both regular contributors to CT. In the chat transcript that follows (lightly edited for clarity), the three discuss the book’s themes of power and violence and wonder if anyone is really redeemed.

Important Disclaimer: No one in this chat has seen the latest movie but everyone has read Mockingjay, the book on which it’s based—and spoilers abound.

Who Holds the Power?

Jennifer Lawrence in 'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 1'Murray Close / Lionsgate
Jennifer Lawrence in ‘The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1’

Morgan: When the third movie concludes, who would you say—among the Capitol, Coin, Katniss, Plutarch, and the other victors in District 13—holds the power? How do they conceive of each other's power? And which of those actors has the most effective "theory of change" in your opinion?

Matthew: The Capitol clearly still has a lot of power, mostly in terms of military strength and control of information—at the end of the movie, for example, they let the rebel hovercraft escape so they can send Peeta, their weapon, into District 13. But District 13 and Coin have some unique forms of power that they can use unconventionally and asymmetrically—Beetee's technical wizardry and Katniss's stardom mixed with sympathetic anger—to move the needle against the Capitol. Katniss has power that they use, but she doesn't exercise very much agency over it in this movie, or in any of the other movies so far.

Navigating District 13

Morgan: From the perspective of the Capitol, one important thing that makes District 13 powerful is how opaque its "moral" code is. District 13 already assumes that the Capitol comes from a corrupt and depraved worldview. But it’s unclear if the Capitol knows the limits of District 13’s morality. When District 13 bombs civilians at the end of Mockingjay, it catches the Capitol off guard and arguably wins them the war.

Matthew, what did you think of Katniss's insistence on saving Peeta? To what extent did that really undermine D13's power?

Matthew: It felt like Katniss wanted to save Peeta out of guilt (or at least she wanted District 13 to feel guilty for not rescuing him.) Reckoning with guilt—which is half of Katniss' intolerable inner monologue throughout the book—is not really a good way to run a war. So that certainly undermined their power.

D.L.: I am a big fan of the way the earlier books/movies had such a great way of subverting power—Rue being the one to spark so much of the revolt by her death, for instance—and these later plot points focus so much on military power that it loses a lot of steam for me. It's boring. Also, I think we are supposed to feel powerless with Katniss, even as she is the desired symbol of the revolution. Is that how we who are even vaguely aware of the inequalities of our world supposed to feel? Like there’s nothing we can do to bring about change?

Matthew: I think that powerlessness is part of what Suzanne Collins wants us to feel. That and the fact that as District 13 gets more power, they get less morally stringent because they are close enough to "winning" that they don't need to advertise their moral superiority to the Capitol.

D.L.: But was District 13 ever that morally superior? It seems like in the end they both make it clear that they are okay with violence (and also using the games to further their agendas).

Matthew: That's a question I think the book answers very poorly, if at all, since we don't actually ever find out how they ran their society compared to the Capitol. They did pretend to be morally superior, and Katniss's choice to side with them and share her power with them by acting as their mouthpiece allowed them to win the war.

Morgan: The fact that Hunger Games is told in the first person is another reason it’s difficult to gauge District 13’s morality.

Matthew: Sure, and the fact that Katniss only ever acts to ensure the safety of the people she loves and never even thinks in terms of categories of greater good or moral agency shows what a lackluster heroine she is.

Morgan: We do know that District 13 is obsessed with control. They micromanage the people that live there—and it’s unclear to what end that is.

Matthew: Agreed, and I think we’re supposed to see that their micromanagement is a response to trauma and scarcity. Katniss and her friends/family are also driven by trauma and scarcity—but she obviously responds differently.

Can Violence Do Anything?

Morgan: Let's discuss the violence of the series. At the end of Mockingjay, what does Collins suggest about the efficacy of violence?

D.L.: I always read the books to be about the myth of redemptive violence (which is why Peeta, who refuses to do violence, is the real hero). Katniss becomes the symbol of how violence impacts us for ill, even when we are trying to do it for good reasons (like how she votes to continue the Hunger Games under District 13!).

Matthew: I’ve heard it suggested that Katniss has a hidden meaning in her vote that only Haymitch understands. And I don't understand that.

D.L.: I took it to mean that violence had changed her so that she was basically just like Snow/Coin, good intentions be darned.

Morgan: Really?

D.L: But I know you will probably disagree with me 🙂

'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2'Lionsgate
‘The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2’

Morgan: I always believed her vote was false signaling to Coin. Katniss makes it clear throughout the book how dehumanizing she believed the games were. But she’d already challenged Coin so many times, she didn’t want to continue raising a red flag by breaking with her. In regards to Haymitch understanding—it seemed like it was just continuing the theme that she and Haymitch are almost always aligned when it comes to strategy. (Remember when he starts sending her stuff during the first Hunger Games?) I also saw it as a sign that they have rehabilitated their relationship of sorts; she felt he betrayed her after Peeta got captured by the Capitol.

D.L.: Interesting. But don't we see other negatives in regards to the all-around use of violence? Katniss's emotional state at the end of the books, for instance.

Morgan: Agreed. Also, if Liam Hemsworth could actually act, I think we would feel sadness about watching Gale become consumed by violence and watching how socially estranged his character becomes. My only rebuttal to the redemptive violence claims is that the Capitol is overthrown by violent means (although the spark—Katniss's Hunger Games strategy—was not.)

D.L.: Haha, great point about Hemsworth.

Matthew: Maybe Collins meant to make it ambiguous, but it feels like she dodges the question of redemptive violence when Katniss and Peeta get to be happy together at the end and we don't find out what happened to everyone else.

D.L.: Like a good millennial, I inherently distrust District 13 and Coin, and interpret the ending of the books to show the flaws inherent in even the "virtuous" side. But sadly, there is little prophetic imagination to be shown (beyond Peeta's determination to preserve the inherent dignity of life and his commitment to art and beauty even when literally facing death!). So it is hard to think of how these books fit into a Christian worldview, except to put a glaring spotlight on the sins of inequality and the limits of violence as a solution.

Matthew: I agree wholeheartedly. Collins doesn't argue for anything and doesn't answer any of the questions she raises. Katniss never changes or grows as a person. We also don't really get to see Peeta's growth except for the real/not real game.

Showing Prophetic Imagination

Morgan: One question I'm wrestling with: How do you argue against the myth of redemptive violence and also show prophetic imagination in the lives of your characters which have been upended by this myth?

Matthew: Well, The Hunger Games doesn’t do this at all, but there’s a great alternative! The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson is hands-down the best treatment of this I've seen in the last ten years.

The characters in Wingfeather go through traumatic experiences and see how insufficient violence is for really establish justice, but they also recognize that you have to build a way to reconcile between the oppressor and oppressed. And that reconciliation comes with even greater sacrifices.

D.L.: I love that! I actually found Katniss's emotional turmoil and distress at the end of the last book enlightening because it showed what a temporal, hollow thing victory is without reconciliation. Maybe that was the point?

Morgan: To be honest, the concept of reconciliation seems odd here. Besides her father, Katniss seems estranged and at odds with institutions throughout the entire book. Further, the universe she inhabits at the end is completely devoid of those structures (at least how she experiences it.)

Matthew: Right, she was a pawn of these other powers throughout and then she just took all her marbles home. The End. Boooorrrring if you care about character development or love or justice.

Mahershala Ali, Jennifer Lawrence and Liam Hemsworth in 'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2'Lionsgate
Mahershala Ali, Jennifer Lawrence and Liam Hemsworth in ‘The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2’

Fighting For Greater Good

Morgan: What should we make of series’ cynical nature towards authority?

Matthew: I think what D.L. mentioned about lack of prophetic imagination earlier was really important. The series doesn't seem to want to answer the question of how to fight for what you believe in or how to use power for the greater good—or even if you can use power for a greater good. Katniss's way is to do whatever it takes to save yourself and your family. I'm sure the Capitol burned all copies of Andy Crouch's Playing God when they took over, but District 13 should have read it.

Morgan: Matthew, your comments just reminded me of something. One of the tensions in my favorite YA dystopian series, Chaos Walking, is whether it's appropriate to make large-scale decisions based on a narrow group of people (that you love) or if you should make them based on behalf of the greater good. Hunger Games seems to suggest the futility of the latter type of thinking through Prim’s death: even if we do things on behalf of people we love, we may be unable to save them and our actions done on behalf of them may have terrible unintended consequences.

This type of thinking also stifles Katniss. She is on the defensive throughout the series and does see herself as capable of ushering in something new, different, larger than herself.

Matthew: Yes, like a lot of people who have suffered trauma, Katniss freezes up or lashes out when things get tough. That theme—how trauma shapes us—is probably the theme that the series best expresses. Prim's death really does seem to cement a sense of fatalism, but then somehow she manages to have some sort of happy ending. I wish we had gotten to see how she healed and learned to make a new life for herself after all she and Peeta have been through.

Bread and Circuses

D.L.: You guys are so smart! I feel like I don't have anything to add except that Romantic Me loved that Katniss got to have a sort-of happy ending (or at least a semblance of acceptance of her new reality) with Peeta and Feminist Me was displeased with how it seemed at odds with her character.

Matthew: Romantic Me was disappointed that we didn't get to see their romance unfold at the end (there were some great scenes during their Capitol mission but nothing thereafter!) and Chauvinist Me is very disappointed that they never jumped into battle against the mutts, Katniss with her bow and Peeta with a battleaxe.

Morgan: Aw guys, were we all Team Peeta? The movie makes her choice such a foregone conclusion of Hemsworth’s inability to do more than stand around looking beautiful. I was actually much more divided in the books.

Matthew: Yeah, I was more torn in Catching Fire— book and film. I read the book a week ago and now I can't remember whether Gale lived or died. Is that terrible? Also, the movie and book needed way more Finnick. It's a shame he has more character development than Gale.

D.L.: Yeah I like Finnick because it is clear that he distrusts all authority, but he does use power and powerful people to his own advantage (with flair). Even though I might not agree with his methods.

Elizabeth Banks and Jennifer Lawrence in 'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2'Lionsgate
Elizabeth Banks and Jennifer Lawrence in ‘The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2’

Morgan: All right: last question. What is the legacy of the Hunger Games series? Are they a blip in the world of entertainment? Or did they leave any social impact behind?

Matthew: From my perspective, I don't think there's going to be much of a legacy. I'm sure there will probably be some ripoffs and it'll inspire some young writers, but the books just weren't well-written enough to really be the incisive critique of media culture they were intended to be and the movies don't seem to have aroused too much interest.

For example, one of the key turning points in Mockingjay is when the Capitol bombs a hospital. The U.S. literally just bombed a Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders) hospital in Afghanistan and our allies just did the same in Yemen and that hasn’t slowed down anyone’s bread or circuses here.

Morgan: Crazy connection considering that twice, medical personnel are bombed (the first time by the Capitol and the second time by District 13) and these are supposed to be the most morally egregious actions of both sides. Wow at Collins’s parallels between the Capitol and the West.

D.L.: Oh my gosh, what a terrifying connection, Matthew! Honestly, I am in the camp that thinks the books did make a cultural impact—I think many young folks (and others) began to see some uneasy similarities between the Capitol and the U.S., and I think it at least made people more aware of the cycles of commodifying people to the point where the coliseum in Rome happened, and can easily happen again here. The movies just from a visceral standpoint do make it a bit more complicated, since at that point we are paying money to see representations of children hunting and killing each other for entertainment (which makes us Panem), but there is a lingering horror which is missing from most action/violent movies. I appreciate how horrible the Hunger Games movies makes me feel, and how I have to confront it. I hope it does the same for many others. I hope it shakes us out of a place of apathy.

As a Christian, both the books and the movies are just a starting point, and should never be viewed as having a perfect "message.” It is pretty secular in its lack of reconciliation.

Matthew: I'll believe that the Hunger Games series has made an impact on our culture when the leading candidate for President isn’t a warmongering statist who does cutesy interviews with Lena Dunham. Or a warmongering statist in general, really.

I’m kind of an idealist about art; I would like to believe that good art doesn’t have to send a message, but it does move people to think differently and act differently. The Hunger Games takes on some really important themes like you mention, but it doesn’t seem to be resonating among young people in a way that’s influencing how they would vote—all of the leading candidates in both primaries are committed to perpetuating war abroad and few people who voted for Barack Obama have shown an interest in holding him accountable for his wars. I don’t think voting is the be-all end-all of civic engagement, but at the very least we can maybe start talking about restraint. We Americans do have the power to not be like or become the Capitol, but we’re not using it.

D.L.: Oh, Matthew.

Morgan: I keep thinking of the quote, “Art is not a mirror to reflect reality but a hammer with which to shape it.” I’d like to think that my consumption of the series didn’t just stop with analyzing the series for hours upon end. But I guess that’s up to me. At any rate, there’s an amusement park now, so at least someone’s doing something!

D.L. Mayfield is a big fan of the first two books, and so far has been pleasantly surprised by the movies. She writes about poverty, inequality, and hospitality for various publications, including Christianity Today. Find her on Twitter here.

After Catching Fire’s release, Morgan Lee critiqued the film for more than 10 hours for her lucky friends. (Also, see this text message log.) She has a friend from high school flying out specifically to watch Mockingjay Part 2 with her. She is assistant editor at Christianity Today. Follow her on Twitter

Matthew Loftus thinks that each Hunger Games movie so far has been superior to its respective book. He is a Christianity Today columnist and family physician who is preparing to move with his family to practice and teach at a hospital in South Sudan which he hopes will not ever be bombed. Follow him on Twitter

My Runs Don’t Need Your Commentary

Emily Lund, guest writer

How can women respond to street harassment?

Her.meneutics November 17, 2015
Image Catalog

During my runs, I’ve come to expect remarks from men I don’t know:

“You must be on the track team.”

“Bet you want some of this sandwich.”

“LEGS!”

Compared with more suggestive catcalls and comments, these three from last week seem merely annoying. But anytime a guy decides to yell at me, I can’t help feeling a familiar, gnawing shame.

In those moments, when my cheeks burn and my stomach twists, I do not wonder what Jesus would do. Instead I imagine some kind of expletive-filled sentence I wish I could yell back.

Last year, nearly two-thirds of women nationwide said they have encountered “unwanted comments, gestures, or actions” from a stranger in public, according to the organization Stop Street Harassment. I can ask almost every young woman I know—my roommates, sister, female classmates, and coworkers—and hear similar stories of inappropriate remarks. It’s so common that we have come to expect, and almost accept, that men will shout at us.

Especially in recent years, activist groups and campaigns have launched a movement against street harassment as a form of gender-based violence—urging communities to raise awareness and take action against it. But when it’s someone hollering at me on as I jog along the sidewalk, this issue gets intensely personal. It feels like I have to do something to respond, and my instinctual response is anger.

I know I shouldn’t let that anger overwhelm me. After all, Jesus preached a gospel of peace and reconciliation. Matthew records his harsh words for those who looked on others with contempt; in terms of those who would be “subject to judgment,” Jesus expanded the category from “murderers” to “anyone who is angry with a brother or sister” (Matt. 5:21-22). He also provided this counterintuitive thought: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44).

But amid these beautiful thoughts and teachings about acceptance and reconciliation, Jesus and his followers still knew that anger happens. They didn’t have to hear a man say, “Smile, baby” or ask where they were going to know the kind of impulsive anger that clenches our teeth and twists our stomachs. What I’m feeling is not new.

Paul, writing to the Ephesians, references a rendering of Psalm 4:4: “In your anger do not sin.” He then tells them, “Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.” Paul recognized that anger is inevitable, no matter how hard we may try to take deep breaths, count to 10, think happy thoughts. It’s a natural response to wrongs and injustices. But Paul also saw anger—no matter how righteous it may feel, no matter how justified we think it may be—as a destructive force and calls for restrictions on it.

F. F. Bruce writes in his commentary on Ephesians that, in 4:26, “It is suggested that anger can be prevented from degenerating into sin if a strict time limit is placed on it.” However, “if [reconciliation] is not possible…then at least the heart should be unburdened of its animosity by the committal of the matter to God.” Anger against those who harass and taunt us can become a heavy, burning load—but it’s a load we don’t have to carry. We may not be able to go back and confront the man on the street or in the passing car, but we can instead approach our God in order to “unburden” our hearts.

John Chrysostom, the fourth-century Archbishop of Constantinople, also spoke to this whole matter of anger and sin. “It is better not to grow angry at all,” he wrote. “But if one ever does fall into anger he should at least not be carried away by it toward something worse.” We may try to avoid anger, but it can still find us—especially when we are hurt and mistreated. But when that happens, we have a choice: to be carried away toward something better, or toward something even more damaging.

As a follower of Christ, I want my response to anger to look, feel, and sound different. I want to keep myself from being carried away by anger. I worry that the kind of aggressive, confrontational approach I’d like to attempt would not reflect the gospel I believe at my core. There are times when I will choose to say nothing—not out of submission or fear, but a strength that speaks in its silence.

I don’t have to remain silent forever, of course—I won’t have to restrain my rants and confessions. I can give them instead to some of the women around me, and remind them (and myself) that we’re not alone. I can give them to the men I share life with, as well—share my perspective, my experience.

But first, I need to give them to the One who made the guy on the sidewalk, and the One who made me. After all, God is no stranger to raw honesty and brutal questions. I’ll tell him my thoughts. Give him my anger. And then I’ll keep running.

Emily Lund is a freelance writer in Portland, Oregon, who will soon be joining the Christianity Today team as the editorial resident for Leadership Journal. She enjoys coffee, traveling, and the written word. She blogs at Boats Against the Current.

This article was originally published as part of Her.Meneutics, Christianity Today's blog for women.

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