Thursday, August 25, 2022

Community, Part 7: The Genuine Article

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Authenticity is valued, like gold, precisely for its rarity. If gold were lying about like so much quartz or granite, married people wouldn’t be so excited about putting bands of it around their left ring fingers. Likewise, examples of the genuine article in any desirable category will take some looking to find.

     By sheer use of the word “community” in conversation, it appears nearly everybody is looking for it. By sheer number of us still looking, it appears not many are finding. Or maybe many are finding, but the community we find lacks the essential ingredients, and there’s little satisfaction in being a member. A fairly accurate representation of a Big Mac can be had for a relatively small investment, but the Big Mac community isn’t one most folks would want to pledge their heart and soul to. And yet, “community” gets tossed about as if it can be had with a click, tap, or swipe.

     Where does authenticity play into the idea of community? I would say it’s an essential ingredient. If members of a given community can fool most of each other most of the time, I would say true community does not exist among them. If pretending is easy, it’s not community.

     I was put in charge of a bachelor party some years back. My only qualification for the job was the bride’s notion that the groom stood the best chance of staying out of serious trouble if I was running the show. Not saying her notion was correct, but because I love the bride very much, I took the assignment. We went to an arcade. They booted us out at 11pm. What? No, we didn’t get into trouble; one of our party was under 21, and 11pm started alcohol-serving time. In an arcade. I didn’t ask why. Out of the frying pan, we jumped into a large mall with three themed clubs under one roof. Standing in the corridor, all three clubs were line-of-sight.

     To the left was a surfer club. People were dressed for the beach – with no beach within several hundred miles. Legitimacy was based on the best imitation of Frankie Avalon and/or Annette Funicello. Surfboards were screwed to the walls because nobody was actually surfing. To the right was a honky-tonk. People were dressed for a cattle drive – in Cincinnati. Legitimacy was based on who wore the biggest belt buckle, or maybe who could stay on the mechanical bull the longest. Harness and tack adorned the walls. No horses, but lots of harness and tack. And straight ahead – honestly, I don’t know what the clubbers were doing, but it looked painful. People were dressed for the zombie apocalypse, though I couldn’t have said which side they’d have been on. Legitimacy was based on… um, your guess is as good as mine. The walls, best I could tell, were for banging one’s head into.

     Though there were a couple close calls, we managed to spend thirty minutes or so in the honky-tonk without getting into a fight. (The winner of the bull session, by the way, was a shirtless drunk dude; the loser was a gal who probably needed medical attention but didn’t ask for it.) The lasting impression was how artificial the whole arrangement was. I’m guessing nobody went to work Monday morning in Friday night costume and character.

     If pretending to be a disciple of Jesus is as easy as pretending to be a surfer or cowboy or head-banger, maybe it’s not the genuine article we’re trying to imitate.

     In the opening verse of 1Corinthians 11, Paul says, Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ. In reading the whole letter, you’ll notice that he had spent most of the first ten chapters allowing his authenticity to be tested:

    For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power (1Corinthians 1:17).

    And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God (2:1-5).

     As we bring the idea of community into sharper focus, and work toward an accurate definition, please know this: the community of Christian faith, in all its local manifestations, has a commodity that the world desperately needs: the peace of Christ.

    “Peace I leave with you,” (Jesus said), “my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (John 14:27).

     There is a peace that is infinitely more than the absence of conflict, immeasurably better than getting our way. On Jesus’s promise, there is a peace that is capable of keeping our hearts from being troubled or afraid, and he gives it. The church’s job is threefold as it relates to the peace Jesus gives: receive it, act on it, and invite into it others who don’t have it yet. Authenticity is the best way to make the invitation.

     Jesus peace isn’t shaken by news cycles, the stock market, changing social norms, or… whatever.

    “Why are you afraid,” (Jesus asked his disciples on the stormy Galilean sea), “O you of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26). Why, indeed? They hadn’t yet received his peace. But once they had, they were able, like Paul, to endure whatever it took to prove they were following the real Jesus, not a preconceived notion of Messiah.

     “When you are keeping your head when all about you are losing theirs,” the old saying goes – you must not know what the heck is really going on. Oops, nope, that wasn’t the one I was looking for! Let me try again…

     I’ve thought for a long time that Paul’s challenge to the Corinthians, to be imitators of him as he was of Christ, was mighty audacious of him. On closer inspection, I think it shows an audacious trust in the Lord. Romans 8:29 says, For those whom (God) foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son. Being conformed doesn’t get much favorable press these days, but when the pattern is Jesus, it’s far and away the best thing that can happen to us, and makes for the best witness to authentic community – among ourselves and to the world.

      

Grace and Peace (without need for pretense),

 

John 

Thursday, August 18, 2022

Community, Part 6: Counterfeit,

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Suppose you’re in a hole. No metaphor here. A real hole, like, in the ground, and you can’t get out. Somebody walks by, sees you in the hole, and says……………..

     Before I propose what this supposed person might say, let me ask, What do you hope would be said? You’re in a hole, somebody walks by, and of all the things that could be said, what do you hope for? Let’s consider some of the possibilities.

     Possibility #1: “I’ll call somebody for you.” How helpful is this? Well, that depends largely on who gets called and what that person’s capabilities are. You sit tight and wait for the professional to show up. If the hole is comfy and dry, there’s plenty of Cheez-Its and soda pop, maybe Netflix, you’ll be fine for a good long while. Not many holes I’ve seen are so well furnished.

     Possibility #2: “I’m sorry you’re in a hole.” Delivered with sincerity, this response to the hole situation will be mighty helpful… for a while. You’ll take comfort in knowing someone is saddened, maybe even pained, by your predicament. It’ll feel good. And after a while you’ll begin to notice: you’re still in the hole. Nothing’s happening. The sincerity is there, but the ladder is not.

     Possibility #3: “I’m coming down there with you.” Whatever happens next, one thing will be certain: there will be more than one of you in the hole. Soon, someone will be applying multi-dimensional care and concern – in person. And is this helpful? As with Possibility #1, it depends. Has this person been in a hole before? More importantly: does this person know the way out?

     There are plenty more possibilities, for sure. If the scale has “I Don’t Give a Hoot” on one end and “Your Pain Paralyzes Me” on the other, these would be considered a few of the more compassionate, and compassion is what we hope to study today. We can get No-Hoot just about anywhere.

     We could call Possibility #1 the “agency response.” Somewhere, there’s a bureau or administration set up to deal with your situation, and if there isn’t, well doggone it, there oughta be. Somebody needs to fix this. Not saying the agency response is useless, but it does have its drawbacks, chief of which is the inherent disconnect between helper and help-ee.  

     Possibility #2 is classic sympathy. ‘Nuff said, for now. Possibility #3 is raw empathy. Stay tuned.

     The hole analogy is not an original of mine; I’ve seen it used once before. The fatal flaws in that presentation were threefold. First was the notion that empathy could be applied to great numbers of people at the same time. That’s a lot of holes. No one person is equipped to jump into every hole with a person in it. Second was the idea that empathy could be applied from great distances. But if I’m jumping into the same hole, won’t we be in close proximity? If the recent pandemic has taught us anything, it has probably taught us the need for open-faced, multi-sensory human interaction. Third was the idea that just jumping into the hole would be good enough.

     There’s sympathy and there’s empathy; they are not the same. If sympathy is like empathy at all, it’s like empathy with no gas in the tank. Sympathy feels; empathy does.

     If we’re hoping and working to build abiding community, which of those two would we want for a “secret ingredient”? Both would be in the mix, probably, but which one makes the difference between true community and counterfeit? Maybe your observations have been similar to mine: counterfeit community grows around sympathy, a degree of assent and agreement that generates a feeling. Identities are built, but without foundation. Empathy will make a cameo appearance, but stretched beyond its context, says, “I’m out.” The winds blow and the floodwaters come; the community dissolves.

     Not to present empathy as the be-all and end-all, there’s yet another distinction to be made – the difference between powerless and empowered empathy. In its powerless form, empathy is little better than sympathy: two people in the hole now, neither of whom knows the way out. On the other hand, empowered empathy rolls into a bundle all three of the responses we saw earlier: “Yes, I’m sorry you’re in a hole; yes, I’m going to call somebody for you; and yes, I’m coming down there with you.”

     What empowers empathy? The ultimate expression thereof: God the Father saying, in effect, “Get down there, Son, and save them,” and God the Son saying, “I’m on it!” A human-scale example is seen in the relationship between the apostle Paul and the Christians in Corinth.

     When Paul wrote the letter we know as Second Corinthians – the fifth of five total between them – he was in Macedonia, on his way to Corinth by the land route. After the tense exchange of four letters so far, and a drive-by face-to-face visit that went poorly, Paul apparently felt some quality time was in order. He sent this new letter ahead of himself, to be read before his arrival. A peace offering? Perhaps. After a brief salutation, here’s how the front end of the letter reads:

    Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort (2Corinthians 1:3-7).

     That’s what you call jumping into the hole, having called Somebody already, and knowing the way out. Paul was confident, as you and I can be confident, of two things: we will share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, and through Christ we share abundantly in comfort.

     Community is building at Cobblestone Community Church – congealing and distilling at the same time. How solid will it become, and how large? God knows. Our job is to not be snookered into a counterfeit, accepting sympathy as a substitute for empathy. Not every one of us will be in community with everyone else who calls this their church home, and that’s OK. Just don’t settle for a bogus version thinking the real thing can’t be had at all. Let’s learn to distinguish the difference, Jesus helping us. For any of us willing to put them to the test, the best way I know to tell sympathy from empathy is to look back on a given interaction and ask, “What did that cost me?” Sympathy doesn’t cost much.

     Empathy is costly. Jesus filled the account.

  

Grace and Peace (and no counterfeits),

 

 John

Thursday, August 11, 2022

Community, Part 5: Percentages

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Best I can tell, America runs on percentages. A certain chain of donut shops would have us believe America runs on their coffee and sweet treats, but I’ll bet even Dunkin’ does a fair amount of research to determine how many glazed to set out in relation to jelly-filled. If a point is to be made on any subject in our culture and time, the weight of statistics will have to be behind it.

     Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with research and polling – it’s just that the results will do their best work when kept in proper context: polling doesn’t change the truth; polling and survey, in their purest forms, will simply reveal how many respondents align with what’s already true. Issues go all sideways when percentages are used as crowbars, exerting undue (and unrealistic) leverage on people’s perception of what’s true or untrue. And that seems to be where most “advanced” cultures are at the moment – statistical advantage, however slim, determines right from wrong, and is subject to change with the next polling cycle.

     How big is your community? How many members does it include? What criteria does it use to sort truth from untruth? Is there a standard by which new findings are measured?

     To answer any of those questions requires a workable and accurate definition of community, which is what we’ve been working on for the past four weeks. The people of God, more than any other people group, have to steadfastly reject overly convenient contemporary definitions and find an abiding one that helps to produce enduring and resilient community. Percentages rise and fall; opinions change as often as the weather. The question is: Do the percentages reveal any truth? Having established truth as the binding ingredient of community (in our July 22 letter, “Recipe”), those who seek true community will want to have truth leverage the data, not the other way around.

     For twelve years now, the American Bible Society has released a study titled “State of the Bible.” This year’s report knocked the socks off the researchers. Though the percentage of “Bible users” had held steady at about 50% for eleven years straight, it took an 11-point tumble during 2021, the sharpest decline on record. The researchers give a handful of reasons, and if you check out the study, have fun with that 174-page report. But here’s what knocks my socks off: “Bible user” is defined as a person who opens a Bible 3-4 times… a year. Not 3-4 times a week or a month. A year. “Table of Contents, here I come,” such a Bible user would be apt to say. Such a Bible user would be vulnerable to single-verse theology, and missing the point altogether. A person stands a better chance of memorizing the McDonald’s menu at that rate. Do the percentages reveal any truth? I think so: with a reasonable definition of “Bible user,” there weren’t nearly as many Bible users as the American Bible Society thought in those first eleven years.

     Among Christians in the first century AD, the Corinthians were perhaps most like us twenty-first century Christians in their overcooked attachment to percentages. Factions grew in the church based on whose teaching was regarded as worth following: each one of you says, “I follow Paul,” or “I follow Apollos,” or “I follow Cephas” (1Corinthians 1:12). Truth was gauged by the popularity of the teacher, or at least the plausibility. Oops.

     By contrast, the Bereans received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so (Acts 17:11). Examined. Daily. Remember: first-century Christians were living out the New Testament in real time. Still, whereas the Corinthians – or, to keep it closer to the context of Acts 17, the Thessalonians – would roll with what was expedient or favorable, the Bereans would consult the truth to which they were already committed. If the new findings – in this case, the apostles’ presenting of the gospel – revealed more truth: well and good. Jews in Berea, along with not a few Greek men and women, became the Christians in Berea because they recognized the gospel as the interpretation – indeed, the fulfillment – of the Scriptures they had in hand. They wouldn’t have known truth from error without commitment and examination. Popularity had little or nothing to do with it. By all accounts, if the apostles had brought some other “gospel,” the Bereans would have run them out of town on a rail. I’ll posit that the Bereans were much more in community than their contemporaries.

     Agreement isn’t the point of community; commitment is. The contemporary definition of community permits, even promotes, searching far and wide to find agreement – the more agreement, the more likes, the more uncommitted “yeas,” the more valid the truth. That’s faulty math. An abiding community will test commitment on a frequent basis – maybe even daily. I saw a photo recently of a group of people protesting the Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision; one fellow carried a sign with the outline of a thick book with a cross on front, presumably a Bible, and the inscription “I’m not in your little book club.” Apparently, the book club is littler than we thought. Have you ever wanted to be a one-percenter? Here’s your chance.  

     Percentages will be a constant temptation to modern-day Christians – allies are handy to have around. But if we’re willing and able, there are two things I’d like for us to keep in mind. First, commitment that is no deeper than the click of a button… isn’t. Second, being in the majority has not historically been good for God’s people, trending to complacency and being sucked into as much untruth as anybody else. If you and I are humble enough to ask the Lord’s help, we might, along with those two points, also be able to keep a very important question in mind:

    Has the majority ever wanted to do what is wrong?

     Ask a Holocaust survivor, if you can find one.

  

Grace and Peace (as we sort through the stats),

 

John

Thursday, August 4, 2022

Community, Part 4: Static

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     My first meaningful lesson in the difference between static electricity and working electricity came in the auditorium of Lincoln Elementary School sometime during the 1968-69 school year. As auditoriums go it was a modest space, but during the preceding summer it had seen a refurbishing, including – what?! – carpet. As students in a blue collar, lower middle class district in the ‘60’s, I’d dare say a few of us had ever stood on carpet. We were shocked to find it in the old schoolhouse – “shocked” being the operative word. We had been assembled to get a better handle on the meaning of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” a fairly new word in the American vernacular at the time, and after that exercise in futility, lined up to go back to our classrooms. The revelation began to spread: shuffle/shuffle-snap-OW-giggle… shuffle/shuffle-snap-OW-giggle. Like second-grade Benjamin Franklins, we had discovered static electricity – and the aggravation it could cause.

     If any group of people on the planet needs to have a workable, sustainable, and accurate definition of community, that group would be the church of Jesus Christ. The rest of the world is clutching at straws, inventing and de-inventing definitions all willy-nilly, settling for whatever fits the moment and becoming unsettled in the moment immediately after. In the past few “Hey, Cobblestone” letters I’ve done what I can, the Lord helping me, to offer a path to a good definition. I’ve posited that the members of an abiding community will be committed to truth – a truth that precedes the community, and, best case, has been true for all people in all times. I’ve proposed that accountability is the working out of the members’ commitment to the truth – a willingness to have expectations put on us, and frequent checking to make sure those expectations are reasonable as measured by the truth we’re committed to. This week I’m writing about a community’s environment, the atmosphere and landscape around – and within – a given community.

     One of my favorite authors, a farmer in Eastern Kentucky who turns 88 years old today, has a cautionary statement for the way the word “environment” is typically used. Superficially, environment is considered to be the air, soil, water, flora and fauna of a certain area. On closer examination, the environment is not only what people are in, but also what’s in the people. Residents of Brookville, Indiana don’t drink the same water as residents of Gary, Indiana – same state, different water – aside from sharing a molecular composition there are many things they don’t share. In either case, though, the water – and whatever’s in the water – is in the residents. Contemporary definitions of community will focus on the external circumstances, while abiding community pays close attention to what’s on the inside because of what’s on the outside.

     We’ve been looking at the exchange of letters between the apostle Paul and the Corinthian church as a study in community. I hope you’re finding it as fascinating as I have. In our Bible reading plan we’re several chapters now into Second Corinthians, which was the fifth of five letters in the exchange. Because those letters are so thoroughly intertwined and come as a package, I hope you don’t mind me bouncing around in them, using various pieces of text to reinforce the main concepts.

     When Paul was absent from the Corinthian believers – he lived on another continent for three years while the letters walked back and forth – he had trouble staying in community with them. And the one painful visit (2Corinthians 2:1) he made was sort of a hit-and-run… it didn’t go well. One thing I’m especially glad for is, as present-day believers, we get to see not just an apostle wagging a bony finger at those under his charge, but also the sanctification of the apostle himself. Committed to the same truth, they were all subject to the same truth, and would have to figure out how to be in community somehow.

     Given the tension and awkwardness between apostle and church, it may seem strange that Paul so often expresses love and affection for his brothers and sisters in Corinth. Then again, have we ever said to anyone, “I love you, but you make me crazy”? Yeah, something like that. But this is precisely where I hope to make the point – the next thing the Lord would have us learn about community is…

     Community requires affection, and affection requires a recipient.

     The expression of affection is not enough – it has to do something, and it has to do something for someone. Affection without a recipient is like static electricity, all those twenty-ninth electrons dressed up and nowhere to go. By contrast, affection given a recipient is like working electricity: power with a purpose. The static electricity we built up in the Lincoln School auditorium had its recipients, sure enough, but it only produced aggravation. (For the record: any glee produced by the giving of static charge was instantly cancelled when the giver became the getter. The earlobe, by the way, seemed to be the most effective arc point. Don’t ask me how I know.)

     In the midst of his difficulties in landing his own affection, the Lord gave Paul eyes to see the same difficulties in the Corinthian Christians. Stepping back into the role of apostle, without stepping out of his role as one who was also being conformed to the image of (God’s) Son (Romans 8:29), he wrote:

Working together with (God), then, we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain… We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open. You are not restricted by us, but you are restricted in your own affections. In return (I speak as to children) widen your hearts also (2Corinthians 6:1, 11-13). 

     To whom or to what were the Corinthians to widen their hearts? To the notion of affection, the general idea thereof? Not hardly. No, Paul was prodding them to begin making affection the environment of their community – the soil and substance they were in, and was in them. And the legitimacy of his prodding is borne out by the actual history and geography of his circumstances at the moment: by the time he wrote Second Corinthians, he was on his way back to Corinth to get some face time. It’s been said that “long distance is the next best thing to being there,” but then as now, it’s a distant second indeed.

     How remiss would I be if this letter closed without offering practical points on landing affection? There are more points than I could possibly list, and frankly, I’m learning more almost daily, so I’ll simply suggest a prayer: “Father, who have you chosen to receive my affection today?” Be attentive to his leading in the who, and the how will present itself momentarily. If you’re ever going to be in community with those, affection will be your meeting ground.

     In the interest of full disclosure, I have to describe some of the effects of affection – they’re not all peaches and cream. If we commit to affection among us, it’ll mess with our doctrine; it’ll mess with our politics; and I guarantee it’ll mess with our idea of what’s orderly. It’ll open our eyes to motives and stories, for better and for worse. Affection will make our hearts hurt about as often as it makes them glad…

 …and I have no idea how true community can be built without it.

  

Grace and Peace (from the Father’s targeted affection),

 

John