Life and Chaos in Technicolor

But Job! The moment the Lord took everything away, he did not first say, ‘The Lord took away,’ but first of all he said, ‘The Lord gave.’ The statement is brief, but in its brevity it effectually points out what it is supposed to point out, that Job’s soul was not squeezed into silent subjection to the sorrow, but that his heart first expanded in thankfulness, that the first thing the loss of everything did was to make him thankful to the Lord that he had given him all the blessings that he now took away from him… . [H]is thankfulness was … honest, just as honest as the idea of God’s goodness that was now so vivid in his soul. Now he recalled everything the Lord had given, some particular thing with perhaps even more thankfulness than when he had received it; it has not become less beautiful because it had been taken away, nor more beautiful, but was just as beautiful as before, beautiful because the Lord had given it, and what might seem more beautiful to him now was not the gift but God’s goodness.

There are those who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge;
That is curiosity.
There are those who seek knowledge to be known by others;
That is vanity.
There are those who seek knowledge in order to serve;
That is love.

Kingdom people seek first the Kingdom of God and its justice; church people often put church work above concerns of justice, mercy, and truth. Church people think about how to get people into the church; Kingdom people think about how to get the church into the world. Church people worry that the world might change the church; Kingdom people work to see the church change the world.

And we believe that the faith we profess is both true and just, and should be proclaimed. We do this, however, not as judges or lawyers, but as witnesses; not as soldiers, but as envoys of peace; not as high-pressure sales-persons, but as ambassadors of the Servant Lord.

As I travel, I have observed a pattern, a strange
historical phenomenon of God “moving”
geographically from the Middle East to Europe, to
North America, to the developing world. My theory is
this: God goes where he’s wanted.

Jesus came to gather, and to call gatherers, disciples who would gather with him, seeking the poor and helpless from city streets and country roads … Mission is not an optional activity for Christ’s disciples. If they are not gatherers, they are scatterers. Some suppose that a church may feature worship and nurture, leaving gathering as a minor role … Mission is reduced to a few offerings, the visit of several exhausted missionaries on fund-raising junkets, and the labors of an ignored mission committee. Such a church is actively involved in scattering, for the congregation that ignores mission will atrophy and soon find itself shattered by internal dissension.

Christians often say, “Why doesn’t God send revival?” or “Why doesn’t God give us some fruit for our labors?” Of course I do not have any final answer for that question, but John 17 suggests one reason could be that unresolved interpersonal conflicts have destroyed the unity that God uses to bring blessing and revival. Perhaps we need to pray for healing and restored relationships as well as revival. This text suggests that one is necessary for the other.

If the watching world observes the love of God holding believers together, they are confronted with the glory of God in his people. It is the glory of God that penetrates the darkness of their lives so that they are brought to a point of decision. But if they see broken relationships, schisms, gossip, and people exploiting one another, a message about God’s power and love will have little effect. The glory of God and the impact of his gospel are tied to solidarity in his body.

I would rather live on the verge of falling and let my security be in the all-sufficiency of the grace of God than to live in some kind of pietistic illusion of moral excellence.

Why do people in churches seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute?

On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of the conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should use life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake some day and take offense; or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.