Tag: church unity

Majesty, Worship His Majesty

On By Charis PsalloIn Art3 Comments

Fernie Steeple painting ch

I’ve been watching brightly coloured leaves from the trees in my garden rain down in front of my window. As the breeze catches them and sends them sailing through the air it reminds me of pictures of the ticker tape parades in the streets of New York after a great victory. The flash of gold and orange and red leaves in the air suddenly reminded me of a dream I had.

In this dream a man who taught me how to be aware of the many ways God communicates joined me. He stood behind me, put his hands on my back by my waist, and started propelling me forward. I felt like I was a few inches above the ground traveling quite quickly. He pushed me toward a run-down drinking establishment on a downtown street. I assumed we were going there to minister to the people inside. That was fine with me. But we just popped in for a minute. He said hi and the people all waved and shouted back to him like he was a favourite in this place.

He kept pushing me. We left the bar and moved up a hill toward a large cathedral. This surprised me because I thought he was the sort of person who would reject religious trappings to do the kind of things Jesus did with the poor and marginalized.

“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I want to show you something,” he said.

We went into the cathedral through a side door. Light streamed down into the building from high clerestory windows. The scene amazed me. The air was full of glitter and gold streamers and sparkling jewels and even balloons. The people wore all sorts of clothing from every Christian expression from brocade robes to English white choirboy ruffles to modest plain clothing with head covering to jeans and t-shirts. I saw many shiny instruments: trumpets, a pipe organ, guitars, harps, tambourines…

They were all focused on praising God. There was a sense of overwhelming joy and they worshiped with everything they had. Some danced, some waved flags, some gazed upwards and quietly prayed, some marched in a procession, some waved incense, some knelt, some lay prostrate, but all were lost in wonder and praise.  There was no self-consciousness. But they all sang one song.

My companion was very happy. He raised his hands and gave glory to the Father. Then I realized he was no longer just my friend. He was the Lord Jesus himself  – and this was a temple of praise. Then the people there recognized him too and the cheers grew even louder. The very atoms in the atmosphere seemed more alive!

I woke up.

This week I read two great blogs. One by Sarah Bessey talked about regaining the freedom to worship in the style she had grown up with (Go ahead, wave your flag), and the other, by Adrian Warnock, was an older blog (I Don’t Want Balance; I Want It All) about not wanting to reject expressions and understandings in order to gain “balance,” but wanting it all. As I remembered this dream that’s the sense I had too. No single mode of worship is adequate, no single denomination’s doctrine can contain every facet of the immensity of God. No single institution is without human error as long as humans are trying to run it. All are in need of purification – some more than others, but we need not reject everything after we find something that misses the mark. We especially need to honour the the truths others before us have discovered, and especially the things others do better than ourselves.

I’ve been struggling with understanding what church is, what unity is. Division in the body of Christ breaks my heart. My problem is not so much settling on which local church to join as it is deciding which ones I will reject if I cling to only a single form of expression. Each “church,” even a home-based church, seems to be isolated from others by self-protective berms of forms or constitutions or habits. I’ve been pretty discouraged by how far the institutional church has strayed from the simple, beautiful words of Christ. I think the greatest mission field in North America is amongst those who have experienced manipulative spiritual abuse at the hands of personal power-seekers in “Christian” churches. “A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong tower.” I’ve been ready for God to toss the whole thing out and start entirely new. This dream shocked me and confronted my judgmental attitude.

I think this is what the dream was telling me: It’s not about doing church “right” or even doing the works we were created to do right. It’s not about how, or where, or when. It’s not about even about what. It’s about WHO.

Unity of the spirit is about losing ourselves in the wonder of Majesty. The Holy Spirit propels us to center our focus on Christ, and Christ ushers us into the presence of Father God. When the strings of our heart respond to the same frequency by singing the same song heaven is singing we come into alignment with his heart. We drop every thought of competition, every need to work to prove we are worthy of God’s approval – that Dad likes us best. We can each express our love and adoration in different ways. His Majesty charges the atoms that give us life.

When we lose ourselves in Him we are one in the Spirit.

We are one in the Lord.

Butter and the Border

On By Charis PsalloIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

eureka montana IMG_8587

Recently my dear friend and I had the chance to go down to Montana for a girl’s weekend and shopping trip. The scary stern faces of the border guards (and scary stories -like the time my daughter and her friend were surrounded by men with automatic weapons pointed at them because a scant amount of radiation from a bone scan her friend had earlier that week tripped some sort of alarm) make us aware that we are in a foreign country. Since the border with the US is the only border Canadians regularly cross by land it’s an adventure. Our kids, and now our grandchildren are fascinated by the “foreign travel” aspect. But the truth is we have to look for differences. They’re not obvious.

Our language is the same, and our cultures are pretty similar. We understand the movie and celebrity references. We even get most of the political references. The kids always notice the flags everywhere and I also notice the alcohol for sale in the grocery stores and at the first gas station we stop at -oh, and also the low price of gasoline compared to ours. That’s why we always try to arrive with a mostly empty tank. There are a couple of shops whose cash registers seize up when introduced to my Canadian debit card, but most have no trouble. The money is all the same colour so it’s harder to tell at a glance how much is left in the wallet after we hit Costco, where chicken and cheese are cheaper, but produce costs more.

The American side of the border crossing seems to have been deforested around Eureka. Somebody told us this was for security. I don’t know. Looks kind of bare to me. There are philosophical differences between the two countries that aren’t obvious at first, but I will probably never get used to seeing people with holsters and handguns. I thought they were part of a cowboy costume theme week or something. No, ordinary people really do carry guns when they are not hunting moose. This seems very strange to us, and a bit scary considering we are the foreigners all that security is meant to protect them from. I really don’t get it, but it seems to be very important to them, so OK. Just keep it in the holster.

So my friend and I picked up a few groceries to take to our lovely rental condo.

“You can sure tell you are in a foreign country,” she said as she put some things in the fridge. “Look at this butter. Now I know what the American recipes mean when they call for a stick of butter.” The butter was divided and packaged into rectangular shapes inside yet another package. I laughed at her (Lovingly. She is the dearest person.) because this is how hard we have to look to see our differences sometimes. Our butter comes in 454 gm. blocks -usually. 454 gm.  -not 500 gm. which is an even number, because 454 gm. is a pound, but we like to think we’ve gone metric.

butter mixing bowl IMG_9073

I was thinking later, as I drove through de-forested Eureka, how easy it is to look for our differences, our “distinctives.” It’s a defensive thing, really, to look for things we do better. Part of our Canadian identity is that we are not Americans (although our country takes up the majority of the land mass on this continent called America.) My ancestors were United Empire Loyalists -heroes in one country, traitors in the other, and there have been a lot of anti-American words spoken since then. I wondered (and this might seem a strange question to Americans, but try reversing the scenario) what do people in the States do better than we do? What can we learn from them? I immediately thought of the servers in restaurants who were all friendly and helpful. I was pleasantly surprised by the helpfulness of store clerks -especially by the fact that you could actually find some. They do service better than we do. There were more products on the shelves and more menus in cafes that accommodated my food sensitivities. There were greeting cards and plaques with Christian themes in regular stores. As I began to see more I began to bless them for their differences -and realized we really do have a lot more in common than we have “distinctives.”

There is a turning point in the story told in While He Lay Dying, when two brothers who were so very aware of their distinctives were in the same room. One was comatose and dying. The other wanted desperately to reconcile their relationship. A pastor in the room asked him, “Can you bless your brother for all the ways he is different?” He did so, and not only did he experience deep healing himself, but something in the atmosphere changed. All of a sudden people who were praying in their homes started texting in saying they felt the Lord was bringing their attention to Psalm 139 -“How blessed it is when brothers dwell in unity…” Right after that people were woken in the night with the sense that they could not pray for this man’s survival until they had reconciled with someone. People from different churches showed up and reconciled in the hallways before they joined in prayer.

We were watching the beginning of a miracle, and it began when one man blessed another for his differences.

Unity is not uniformity, nor compromise of essentials. It is more than tolerating cultural and style differences; it is honouring them. When we in Christendom can stop defending our possession of our piece of the puzzle long enough to bless other denominations and their expression of love for Jesus Christ, we can not only learn from each other, we can start the reconciliation process that will re-unite this fractured, divided church. Step one in healing and restoration: come together and bless each other for our differences.

And I think dividing butter into 1/2 cup “sticks” is a great idea.

There is a Fountain

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized12 Comments

This song kept playing in my head all night and woke me in the morning.
One line stood out in particular: Thy precious blood shall never lose its power, ’til all the ransomed church of God be saved to sin no more.

In contrast to the on-line ugliness seen this past week in attacks directed at a well-known pastor/teacher and author whose son died tragically, I have seen the beauty of thousands of people coming together to pray for a man many of them have never met. I have seen leaders from other fellowships with differing doctrines lay down their right to be right and pray together toward the same purpose. I’ve seen folks from many varieties and styles of prayer and worship of Jesus Christ respond eagerly to prayer bulletins on social media.

I have seen people offer to care for our grandchildren, clean the house, buy groceries, help with paper work and banking, give massages, fix the tires, pick people up from the airport, host out-of-town family in their homes -and more. I have heard from people who have never said more than a one sentence prayer who say they have woken in the night with an urge to pray. I have never experienced such a practical out-pouring of love, but more than that I have never seen so many people moved to overcome differences, reconcile relationships and minister not only to our family, but to each other. It amazes me. I can honestly say, “Look how they love one another!”

I paced and wept and cried out for the life of our son-in-love at that moment when teary-eyed nurses invited immediate family for a brief visit before another surgery on “John.”  We knew they did not hold out much hope for him. Strangely as I prayed and walked the halls the phrase that kept popping up, unbidden, in my mind was: “The deeds of the flesh must die.” I didn’t understand it then and I didn’t want to hear it. I realize now this trying time is not about punishment or God being angry with John.  The Lord knew he would be okay. This is about a bigger picture.

John has required many blood and platelet transfusions; he has almost needed a fountain of donated blood to keep him going. As I watched another bag dripping life into him today, and with this song still in my head, I was struck by the symbolism.

Finally John is starting to gain consciousness and even make jokes with us, although it is difficult for him to communicate. He is still surrounded by machines and a room full of skilled care-givers who watch the numbers and tend his needs. He can do nothing for himself -not even breathe- but I think the Lord is using him even in his helpless state to teach us.

It is the blood of Christ freely shed for us that gives us life. It is the light of Christ’s love that reveals corruption in the body, the underlying dis-ease of lack of love that spreads like killer bacteria and keeps the church from being what God intended. It is the kind adjudication of God that filters out lies and shows us where we need to change and be renewed. It is the sharp sword of the Word of God that is able to excise and remove necrotic tissue without damaging the healthy tissue and it is Holy Spirit who breathes new life into us.

Christ is returning for a spotless bride. He is revealing and cleansing not because he intends judgmental condemnation, but because he loves us and wants us to be well.

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.

For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another.

 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.

 For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do.

 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.

 Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality,  idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,kindness, goodness, faithfulness,  gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

(Galatians 5:13-23) 

Abba, in your church, be glorified.

Captured by the Spirit You Oppose

On By Charis PsalloIn Trees and forests7 Comments

Photo: The (b)log in my eye.

I’m going to be very judgmental here.

I’m going to be judgmental of the one person I am qualified to judge –me.

When the same verse of scripture and the same concept arises in diverse places several times in a few days it’s time to pay attention.

Something irks me, really irks me. Stepping on this trip wire brings down a cascade of feelings I would rather avoid. Like most trip wires this one is anchored to an old hurt. How do I describe it?

I was enjoying a YouTube musical smorgasbord concert last night, listening to favourite songs and rabbit trailing to new discoveries, when I foolishly read some of the comments.

(On some of the world’s greatest singers) “His voice is very tense and somewhat forced at 1:02 and again at 1:49. I hope he fixes this soon… She hesitated at 2:01. Listen for it… F____ has such a flat affect in this performance.  Where’s the passion? Good try, but I like A_____’s performance in 2009 at Covent better…”

I liked the commenter who said, “I’m glad I’m not a music major. I can just enjoy  the music.”

One of the reasons I dislike music competitions (including popular TV talent shows with judges and elimination-type formats) is because the audience comes away with a critical, judgmental, elimination-type spirit. Everyone is a judge. Alas, it is the nasty, witty judge who builds his own ego at the expense of the performer who people love to emulate. The joy of music chokes in the dust up.

A good music festival or competition adjudicator will always say more supportive encouraging words than critical. They will gently choose one or two areas that can be improved with very practical steps demonstrated on the spot. They will close their remarks with more acknowledgment of that which was done well. They will not compete with advanced students by becoming extremely, ridiculously picky. They will retain the love of music for music’s sake.

There are very few good adjudicators. Most either suggest nothing practically helpful or undermine the participant’s confidence by pointing out far too many imperfections or worse, try to one-up the outstanding ones by flaunting their knowledge.

When I read comments online that publicly criticize anyone, whatever their field, I want to lash back with my own nasty comments. The issue I struggle with is knowing where to perch myself on the worship/helpful critique/criticism/judgment/condemnation spectrum. I want to publicly criticize people for being publicly critical of other people. How crazy is that? It’s like being intolerant of the intolerant.

This week I read a book by Frank Viola called, Revise Us Again. (The title appealed to me.)

In one chapter he identified a trend I have long noticed myself. It’s the tendency for people who vociferously oppose the teachings or acts of others to start to eventually exhibit the same type of problem. Sometimes they recoil to the opposite extreme of the expressed idea, but their actions begin to look similar after a while. Viola calls this being “captured by the spirit you oppose.”

Church history is full of examples of those who broke away from established groups over an issue only to go off the rails in the same area within a generation or two. The persecuted became the persecutors.

A harassed medieval band of believers who were opposed to the lavish lifestyle of the clergy took vows of poverty, yet years later the order agreed to hawk indulgences and supervise inquisitions –as fund-raising projects, because the living by faith thing was too hard.

Over a century ago, a group left an old mainline denomination stuck in apathy and tradition to start an interdenominational parachurch organization intending to pool efforts to reach the poor and seek the deeper life. Within three generations many of the descendants of earlier converts of the movement, now  just like the first shallow, well-to-do pew-warmers with insider status, could be found hunkering down in yet another denomination with its own traditions and frustrating unwritten rules.

Another group was so concerned about unity that it ditched the serious, but sometimes uncomfortable discussion of Biblical theology. Now they are so tolerant they no longer even have the unifying belief in Jesus Christ in common.

It happens over and over, and even now the hundreds of new denominations forming every year continue to suffer from recoil, captured by the spirit they opposed.

Viola’s premise is that when something about another believer’s choices upsets us so much that we want to go on the warpath, we are often projecting our own unacknowledged weaknesses on them –and it’s easier to fix them than fix ourselves. We have blind spots. Our self-righteous rejection of them leaves an open door for this spirit.

We’ve all met people who are constantly afraid of being cheated only to discover they’ve got a little fraud thing going themselves, or those who preach vehemently against certain sins who later appear in tabloid photos in remarkably familiar compromises.

Jesus said, “How can you think of saying, ‘Friend, let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.” (Luke 6:42)

In all probability the speck is just a chip off our own log.

This week I am very aware of the Lord bringing my attention to the need for purity of the church –the Bride of Christ.

I want to pray, “Yes, Lord! It’s about time. Fix them!”

When my prayers are met with silence on the other end I am instead humbled by my own tendency to write people off for not studying scripture more, (or on the other hand, letting unloving, blatantly bad teaching slip through unchallenged for fear of rocking the boat), for lacking a compassionate heart and instead avoiding feelings by intellectualizing, for being so pedantic about proper technique I miss beauty, for depending on my own resources and not seeking the Lord enough.

When I look at what irks me about other people’s specks I can follow the trail back to my own logs.

Holy Spirit is capable of purifying his church. He doesn’t need my meddling.

He can employ servants who have dealt with their own stuff first though. Apollos needed Priscilla and Aquilla to quietly take him aside and correct his theology –but first they had to get straight with God themselves or pride would have led them to discount his ministry, discourage him, or compete with him rather than raise him up to become greater than his teachers. They honoured him. Godly leadership enters as a platform to raise up, not a ceiling to clamp down.

Help, Lord.

Family business

On By Charis PsalloIn Black and white, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Photo: a tired building

I think the current church at large is like a business with an assignment from head office.

I see us divided into four main departments:

Those who talk about how their great-great-great-great-grandparents did it. Big on costume dramas and protocol.

Those who keep studying new translations of the instruction manual (from the Japanese) and rarely get off the cautions page. Only pop out of the book long enough to tell the other departments what they are doing wrong. Big on memos.

Those who see the need and urgency of the task. They put a lot of effort into recruiting new staff because there is a high turn-over of burnt-out employees exhausted from trying to do something/anything with the proceeds of lemonade stands and car-washes. Big on heart-wrenching commercials.

Those who are busy zapping each other with the power tools they found in the box that came with the manual. Often found lying on the floor, frizzy-haired and vibrating with that finger-in-the-socket look. Big on topping each others stories of finding cool new tools and wads of cash.

Then there are a large number who are still listed as employees who don’t fit anywhere, those who are disillusioned or frustrated or have been wounded in the cross fire, those who work from home,  (or a mountainside, or fishing boat – or bed) and just check their emails once in a while.

Each department holds regular pep rallies or potlucks to tell each other why they are the best and why the other departments are off the rails. If abundant food (and especially dessert) is involved more people show up for these meetings.

A few try to bridge the gap and communicate with all departments. They tend to be familiar with the smell of tar and feathers.

When are we going to quit competing with each other, seek the CEO and listen to His point of view, ask Him to bring an intervention, allow Him to show us where we have gone off the rails, admit it, and change  — and then get his show in the road?

End rant.