avatar
February 06, 2012 Posted by Mark Oestreicher
This topic brings to mind a story brought up by one of the leaders in our ministry. One day he shared his experience working with another ministry over the course of several years. He said never once did the organization pray together outside of the brief blessing used to open the weekly staff meeting. It can be easy to fall out of the habit of prayer when there is so much that needs to be done.
Too often I neglect to pray faithfully for the students and youth staff who make up the student ministry at our church. The words of Jesus in John 15 come to mind. “Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
Honestly, I don’t pray for my ministry. I mean, what would I pray for? A special blessing of some sort? Success? Numerical growth? Financial stability? All that seems small to me.

I do, however, pray for the people involved in the ministry I serve. I pray for the students, my fellow volunteers, the staff team, the families our youth ministry impacts, and so on. I do this—prayer, that is—in a most traditional way. I pray using the fixed hours of prayer.
+ Expand All


avatar
January 23, 2012 Posted by Mark Oestreicher
Here’s my bottom line early: Have a mission that can be lived and then create ways via programming and routine life application for your kids to practice living it out.

My youth group (Roadside) has a three-word mission statement that the youth recite every week. A leader yells, “We are…” and then the group responds “righteous, responsible and respectable.” At that point the Roadies begin a time of sharing the ways in which they’ve lived that mission out over the last week. It’s simple and a constant reminder to the kids what all this church stuff is about. Little do they know there are pages of notes dedicated to outlining the ways that we go about achieving this mission in the ministry.
This is an important question in so many ways as we commit to remembering the following:

1) Our undertakings are always to be about the mission of God. That is, our mission is to participate with God in the activity of restoring the world to its intended wholeness.

2) Our programming is always designed within the particular cultural context that we be and do ministry. This will mean that our various stated missions will be created with unique social nuances in mind and, therefore, be distinctly our own in the sense that they are directly related to our immediate settings.
I'm writing my response to this question just one month after starting a new call as associate pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Ashland, Oregon. This topic has frequently been on my mind as I've been learning a new culture here at this church.

So right now, I can't speak exactly to how my current programming is informed by our mission statement. However, the church I last served went through a long process of trying to do just this, and I'd like to share that with you.
+ Expand All


avatar
November 28, 2011 Posted by Mark Oestreicher

 I don’t often point out many of the things I think younger youth workers just don’t get, but this is of those cases where I don’t think they will understand until they have kids of their own.

I’ve done youth ministry for a long time. I also have 3 kids. It’s my goal to be strategic in having my kids involved in as much of the life of the youth ministry as possible. I heard a story once of a youth worker who took his whole family, including a young baby, on a trip and essentially had to drive separate from the group, stay separate from the group, and not really engage with the students at all. That’s not strategic. But,

I think involving our children in youth ministry when they are young is a great idea. As youth workers, many of us are great at pouring time and creativity into the lives of volunteers and the young people in our ministry but not great at balancing the investment of those gifts into our family. Any practice that helps us balance the two is good. Our primary ministry is our family, and we need constant reminders of that as we serve the local church.


I vividly remember having a conversation with my wife about our kids attending our youth ministry gatherings. We decided it was important for our kids to attend as many youth ministry gatherings as feasible.

At first, it was easy; my wife just lugged around the car seat carrier for months. Even when my oldest was a toddler, it was easy because she just sat in the back and colored or watched a DVD with headphones. There was always a high school student or two willing to attend to whatever she needed.

+ Expand All


avatar
October 31, 2011 Posted by Mark Oestreicher

To be completely honest from the start, my response in this instance is built on a substantial amount of relational currency. Meaning, because of the depth of the relationship between my kids and myself, I can say things to and do things with and ask things of them that not everyone can. To get to that place in a relationship takes a significant investment of time, coupled with patience and love. They need to know they can trust me. I show that to them through vulnerability and by maintaining integrity. After all of that, every relationship is unique, and the amount of currency available to spend varies.

I realized early on that the students in my ministry were under many influences. Gone were the days of a church-centered culture, even in the South. There was no longer an easily recognized language of faith, and words I took for granted were met with confused expressions. Quick and easy answers to life’s problems weren’t satisfying teens. I quickly found the need to go beyond teaching the right answers to the typical questions and instead focus on how those answers came to be. Here are a couple of ideas that shaped the way I teach adolescents.


Good question, Marko! I love this question because it is personal. The minute the word you is used in any question, the thinking moves from theories about others to practices about self. Far too many of us can be criticized for merely thinking about helping students develop an articulated faith as opposed to actually doing it.

I have a group of male HS seniors I meet with every Wednesday night. Currently, it is the highlight of my week. These boys are smart, skeptical, inquiring, analytical, etc., and their interest in faith exceeds most adults I know.

+ Expand All


avatar
September 26, 2011 Posted by Mark Oestreicher


Like with all aspects of youth ministry, when it comes to teaching, context is everything. To teach effectively, the teacher must know her students, or more aptly put, her co-learners. But she must also know in what context she joins her students in learning. Before I decide what to teach, I do my best to understand whom I am teaching.


Deciding what to teach in youth ministry can be incredibly fun, exciting, and enjoyable. It can also be painful, draining, and difficult. Here’s hoping that my perspective on this topic (and the other two takes on it) will keep you in the first category. In short, I search for inspiration in a myriad of places. Here are a few.


This is the one Slant question I’ve not felt comfortable with. I wondered whether it is the right question, kind of like the classic piece of dialogue that leads to Inspector Clouseau getting bitten by a dog in the Pink Panther:

Clouseau: Does your dog bite?
Hotel Clerk: No.
Clouseau: [bowing down to pet the dog] Nice doggie.
[Dog barks and bites Clouseau on the hand]
Clouseau: I thought you said your dog did not bite!
Hotel Clerk: That is not my dog.

+ Expand All


Lisa Sharon Harper


We don’t really like to talk about “enemies” in the church. I mean, who likes to think they walk around with people out there who mean to do them harm? Jesus said it plainly, though: “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44). Jesus knew that sometimes, for whatever reason, we will have enemies. They will actively or passively wish for, work toward, or plot our ruin. Still, the command is to love.

I’ve had a few enemies in my life.

Brian was a friend of mine in junior high. I moved from Philadelphia to Cape May, New Jersey—from a mostly black world to a world that was so white, the 4H club was huge. Brian was one of the first friends I made in my new home. We grew apart in high school, but I always considered him a friend.

One day during my senior year in high school, two guys showed up at our family’s home at 12:15 AM. They parked their car, got out, and yelled at our house: “Niggers! Go back to Africa! We don’t want you here!” and stuff like that. They yelled for about 15 minutes. Then they drove off. They came back and yelled at our house at 12:15 AM, every night for two weeks. We didn’t know who it was. Finally, one night my dad hid in our car and followed them when they drove off. He got the license plate number. The plate traced back to Brian.

How do we deal with enemies? My response then was to do nothing. Brian was found guilty and sentenced to community service, and we didn’t speak again until our 15-year class reunion.

Four years before the reunion, I was on staff with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, and I led a Bible study for non-Christian students at UCLA. We studied Matthew 5:43-48. Jesus says the weirdest thing at the end of that passage: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” In context, “be perfect” means love perfectly. What it looks like to love perfectly in the text is to love your enemies. (And here’s the kicker…) That’s what Jesus did with the Pharisees who plotted to kill him. And it’s what the Father did with us. The Father loved us—his enemies—by sending Jesus to die for us—his enemies.

I thought of Brian. Could I “love” Brian? Eleven years later, I was still angry. I was still hurt. I still saw him as the enemy. I prayed. I asked for God’s eyes to see him. What I saw was disarming. I saw a broken boy made in the image of God. I released him of his debt to me.

It was about 11 years after the fact. I lived 3,000 miles away and didn’t have a clue where he lived anymore, but I got an idea. I made some phone calls and tracked him down. I bought a cool Los Angeles key ring and placed the key ring inside a simple envelope. I wrote a note letting Brian know he’d hurt me but that I’d forgiven him—completely—and that I was praying for him and for his well-being. And I wrote, “Every time you look at this key ring, I want you to know you are forgiven.”

Four years later, I saw Brian for the first time in 15 years. And he said simply, “Forgive me.”

“I already have,” I said, smiling.

Love your enemies. It seems that nowadays, political enemies are the hardest to love. I’m a Democrat, and I’m in the middle of writing a book with a Tea Party Republican. The book’s title is Left, Right & Christ: Evangelical Faith in Politics. We’re both evangelicals, but our experiences of the world and our approaches to Scripture have shaped vastly different political passions. As a result, we often find ourselves on opposing sides of the public square.

I wish I could say I have loved perfectly. I haven’t. Maybe society has done an outstanding job of dehumanizing the political other lately. It’s much easier to hate and fear people when you can’t see their humanity—when you can’t see the image of God in their eyes.

Remembering Brian gives me hope.


Lisa Sharon Harper
Author, Evangelical Does Not Equal Republican…Or Democrat (The New Press)

Co-founder and Executive Director, NY Faith & Justice President, National Faith &

Justice Network Board Member, New Evangelical Partnership for the Common Good (Speaker/Activist/Author/Playwright/Poet)

Having worked with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship as an Arts Specialist and as the Greater Los Angeles Director of Racial Reconciliation, Ms. Harper helped develop the Ethnic Reconciliation tool “Race Matters” and co-wrote the “Race Matters” Handbook. She conducted ethnic reconciliation training conferences and wrote analyses of and consulted with IVCF campus movements throughout Southern California. She also conducted staff training in ethnic reconciliation through Intervarsity’s National Institute of Staff Education and Training (NISET) and spoke for students throughout the U.S.



 





Dave Rahn


This question must be personalized to make sense. A sociological survey might allow us to say that 38% of us are ready. But this isn’t really satisfying, and we could hardly make sense of such data anyway.

Then there’s the moment-in-time aspect of this question. If I can say yes today… If I could say yes for each of the past 14 years without interruption but cannot say yes this afternoon when an opportunity presents itself to love my local liberal or crazy conservative, it doesn’t count that I’ve accrued previous credit, does it?

I’ve probably got a pretty erratic résumé when it comes to loving everyone, especially those I may have permission to hate. But it’s not because I dispute in any way that this is my obligation.

I am convinced that we Christians are to be a holy people, set apart by our distinction so the God of all creation might be known by the truth-bearing weight of our lives in Jesus. As Paul told the Athenians, in God we live and move and have our being. Our lives, the apostle wrote the Colossians, are hidden in Christ, who is our hope of glory. But today, in spite of Jesus’ clear warnings to double-minded or less than earnest followers, it is too frequently culturally acceptable to assume a personal editorial posture when we consider the words of Christ.

The very notion of following has been co-opted by our Facebook-Twitter way of relating to each other. We can watch what others say or do as often as we want and engage in any way we want. Customize. Personalize. This is my social network so I can make it work to my taste.

This may be a fine formula for popularity contests, but it’s a lousy way to discover objective, absolute truth that requires a reversal of my own self-referential tendencies. We don’t easily embrace lifestyle expectations that challenge what we already believe. And if we take seriously the call to follow our Lord (boss, right?) Jesus and what he taught us to obey (ugh, can’t we soften that word?), we will inevitably be forced to make changes that are not personal-preference friendly.

We may admire the theoretical teaching of Jesus about loving enemies because it so clearly would make the world a better place. But we don’t like to linger in front of expectations that demand we make personal changes so that we accurately represent the King and his kingdom in 2011 America.

Back to me. I use deflection to disguise the gaps in my own practice of the great commandment. If we begin talking about loving those who live outside the realm of political or social acceptability, I can come up with a few stories that will get me off the hook. (This is a tactic many underprepared students use—offering an early response in a discussion can make them less likely to be called upon later!) But there are entire groups of people with whom I never engage relationally. I easily ignore both the opportunities and obligation to love them as I hasten along to my preferred target of lost teenagers.

This would be a sad confession if it weren’t for the fact that it doesn’t tell the whole story. By God’s grace, my extremely long list of acceptable exclusions to be loved has dwindled over the years. It keeps shrinking. And the biggest reason is that I have come to believe that I truly deserve to be on such lists myself.

I suspect that more of us will become more ready to love without qualification when we truly recognize that the love of God we enjoy is totally undeserved.




Chris Folmsbee


I really dislike this question. It bothers me on several levels. First, the fact that we even have to ask it to evoke a sense of clarity around this subject is disturbing to me. It makes my stomach hurt.

Second, I’ve never been told to hate anyone and can’t imagine that this is true for any person. If this question genuinely represents the way some people think about others, then we are much more distant from shalom than I had hoped we might be at this point in history. And if that is true, then that just sucks because that means that the church is doing a horrible job of living missionally.

I suppose that, for people who use the words tolerance and love as synonyms, this question might be helpful to evoke deeper thought on the subject. I suppose I’ve been taught to tolerate the views of others but not to hate them. But tolerance isn’t love. Love envelops tolerance, but tolerance is too small of a human quality to envelop a robust theology of love.

I think Christians are ready to love those with differing convictions and beliefs. My use of the word ready, however, is to mean prepared, not necessarily willing. We have everything we need in order to love others. Here is what we have that prepares or readies us:

• A God who values peace and wholeness
• A God who values community
• A God who commands that we love others
• A God who models how to love others
• A God who continues to transform a people to mediate God’s love for the sake of the world
• A God who desires that kingdom principles are active on earth as they are in heaven
• A God who gives us biblical teachings in which to embrace and engage

So the question has straightforward responses. But are we willing? Now that is a different question with a whole other set of responses. In my mind, to be willing is to be eager or to be enthusiastically looking for opportunities to unreservedly love others. This is a much different scenario from being prepared.

To be willing to love others who have differing convictions and beliefs requires that we be people who:

• Are culturally sensitive
• Are aware of our contexts
• Are humble
• Are a praying people
• Are aware of the needs of others
• Are a forgiving people—the first to forgive
• Are the first to admit wrongdoing
• Are seeking ways to right the wrongs in the world
• Are good listeners
• Are people of hospitality
• Are people who believe proximity and time are essential to community
• Are people who see with compassion, not comparison

Are we ready to love those we are told to hate? Yes, as Christians, we have everything we need to ready ourselves for that privilege. Are we willing to love those we are told to hate? I sure hope so, since that is the whole point of Christianity.


Claire Smith


Interestingly enough, this question takes me back to a hymn from my childhood, a few lines of which I’ll share:

thy people owned thy goodness, and we their deeds record; and both of this bear witness; one Church, one Faith, one Lord.

It seems to me that the academy, as far as religious studies that are particularly concerned with Christianity and hence the church, is not separate and distinct from the church. Many members of this academy are part of local congregations and are often relatively active. Some institutions are denominational in nature, while others have their genesis in various denominations. Even while serving a wider cause, the mission of the church remains at the forefront. In thinking of the relationship between this aspect of the academy and the church. Therefore, it seems that in considering how we learn from each other, one of our primary tasks would be to hold each other accountable as proclaimers of the love and reign of God. Thus, it is a mutual, reciprocal relationship.

In looking at the church, I’ll speak in terms of local congregations, where the concept of the church becomes more concrete. It seems at times that at the congregational level, the big push is to go out and act, to do something. This is especially so as many congregations face declining or stagnating membership in the face of rapidly changing neighborhoods and a world that has suddenly arrived on their doorsteps. The academy faces these realities as well and has to deal with them, though from the perspectives of its various disciplines. What the academy does is to help us to prayerfully pause and reflect and bring larger concerns to bear as we apply other frameworks—such as sociology, theology, biblical studies—to better grasp our realities. In this way our practice is considered rather than merely reacting to what we face.

I think here particularly of the missional church movement, which combines reflection on the church and God’s intention for it with practice. The congregations’ actions, therefore, become rooted in knowledge of missio Dei and God’s reign. The rich conversation between congregations and the academic discipline results in a more prayerfully considered and consistent practice.

The academy and congregations need each other for greater faithfulness to God’s mission. Youth ministry is one area that has made great strides in this direction of mutual encounter and learning. The more accessible nature of recent scholarly publications in this and other subjects suggests that the concern of mutual engagement is being addressed. The ongoing issue is not so much whether the academy and congregations are thinking about the same thing but how they can find a common place for conversation so that they are in an ongoing relationship, constantly learning from each other.

How does the congregation become aware of the academy’s research and findings in particular areas, and how does the academy better hear the concerns of the lives of the congregations so there is a greater dialogue between the two in which critical reflection and thinking informs and is informed by how the church encounters the world? Therefore, we need to ask, How do we serve together as proclaimers of the love and reign of God?

Chris Folmsbee


An acquaintance of mine named Bryan Bademan is the executive director of the MacLaurin Institute in Minneapolis. The MacLaurin Institute’s mission is to build bridges between the “church and university in the Twin Cities metropolitan area, bringing theological resources to the university and academic resources to the church. Our goal is to strengthen Christian intellectual life in this region by creating public space for leaders in the academy and church to address enduring human questions together.” (Visit http://www.maclaurin.org/ to learn more.)

When I was a youth pastor in Minnesota a few years ago, I was moderately engaged with what the MacLaurin Institute was doing. I went to a few events and forums with a couple of my colleagues, and that was about it. If I were back in Minneapolis today, I’d be more deeply occupied by what they are trying to accomplish.

More than at any other point in my life, I now think it is enormously significant that the church and university (academia) continue to seek meaningful ways to work collaboratively to stretch each other theologically, relationally, socially, academically, etc.

Here are five keys I think the church and university should consider when attempting to learn from one another.

1. Build on ideas. It is critical that both the university and the church trade ideas in a way that builds on the ideas of others rather than exchanging ideas for the sake of being right. The opportunity to exchange ideas for the sake of deeper levels of understanding helps push one another to a more full-bodied generosity that can often lead to deeper conversation and shared experiences.

2. Multiple perspectives. In the same manner that we might seek to build on ideas rather than settle on any one that is “right,” so too should we seek to allow multiple perspectives to influence the thinking and living of one another. Although it can be difficult to remain consistently open to others’ perspectives, it is critical in order to more fully understand each other as human beings. A commitment to embracing multiple perspectives can stretch us and mold us into people of open-handedness rather than people of close-mindedness.

3. Respectful debate. Building on ideas and allowing for multiple perspectives will inevitably lead to debate. There is a good chance that it won’t lead to respectful or healthy debate unless we are intentionally guiding it in that direction. I have noticed, however, that groups of people that allow for ideas to be built upon and allow for multiple perspectives grow closer to one another through steady conversation and inclusivity. Respectful or considerate debate that stimulates thinking or spurs one another on to more deeply comprehend a particular contrasting issue or even to broader realization of a shared thought is critical for the university and church to collaborate for greater learning opportunities.

4. Practicing situational thinking. I don’t have any firsthand experience with this as it relates specifically to the church and university. However, in my experience leading teams and working collaboratively with others, I have noticed that reliably positioning a thought or concept beyond where you currently are helps establish a forward momentum. Any time we can build scenarios or imagine for the sole reason of further thought development, I think it can help the dialogue to remain active and provide the energy for continued discussion when conversation seems to pause.

5. Practical and positive evaluation. Self-evaluation and peer evaluation in an encouraging and truthful environment are hugely significant. How do we know if we are growing in our ability to live generously, think more ecumenically, or be more accepting of one another and our individual ideas if we don’t practice evaluation? People will disagree with each other, no doubt. It isn’t about whether we disagree. It is about how we choose to disagree. Evaluation can mark our growth in thought as well as our expansion in how we choose to relate with others.

The church and the academy need one another to effectively engage the mission of God to restore the world to its intended wholeness. Consider your involvement or role in organizations such as the MacLaurin Institute. Is there a place for you to engage the conversation and help build bridges of shared theological and academic resources in your community?

Scot McKnight


One of my favorite pastors used to say something that irritated me, and time has only eased my irritation slightly. He used to say, “The dumbest farmers grow the best potatoes.” Our community had lots of farmers, and I’m not sure how any of them tolerated the pastor’s comment. Well, perhaps I do know: They too were caught up in an anti-intellectualism that often found its scapegoat in the professor. (I haven’t said this yet, so I’ll say it now: I’m a professor, and I take offense.)

The stereotypes, were we to use them of other jobs (say, a woman’s decision to stay at home or a Mexican immigrant working a landscape job or a Korean working at a dry cleaner), would require scorn and denunciation. But for some reason, one can insult intellectuals for being well-nigh useless or so egg-headed they are of no use to anyone but God and a few philosophers.

I happen to love knowledge and the intellectual life, and there’s nothing quite like reading a gifted writer who can in one paragraph tie together some intellectual heavyweights that both expand the mind and make intelligent readers aware that they are standing on the holy ground of the discovery of truth. My favorite writer like this is the Jewish writer Joseph Epstein, who has the singular gift that ties together breadth of knowledge, uncanny bits of juicy information, a cynical distrust of big claims, and a biting humor that turns the page on its own.

Which brings me to the first thing churches learn from the academy: critical distance. My own 25 years of leadership in the church leads me to think that the arena in which churchgoers are least capable of critical distance is politics, with one’s theology and one’s family tying for second place. Academics have learned to be critically distant. We can examine an argument and then present the alternatives in such a way that our students often clamor for what we personally think.

Every time I sort out some options for students—say, on how to understand the Lord’s Supper (real presence, sort of real presence, real “absence”—and we often call these transubstantiation, consubstantiation, and symbolism), and some student says, “Which do you believe?” I rock back on my heels momentarily and say, “Yes, critical distance permitted me to give each view its fair hearing so the student could sort it out.”

By the way, sometimes I refuse to tell the students, and sometimes I do tell them. It depends on the gravity of the issue. Recently we had quite the discussion about hell and universalism, and I sorted through some options and then said, “If you want to know where I stand, I’ll tell you, but you’ll have to ask me.” (Yes, a student asked.)

Which now leads me to what I think the academy can learn from the church, and I will use words that balance “critical distance” but which might not make sense until explained: uncritical proximity. One of the distinctives of the church is passionate commitment to the gospel, to God as Trinity, to the Lord Jesus Christ, and to historic faith—even, at times, when it isn’t completely obvious. And what makes the church durable is its willingness to stand with the church and let our “faith seek understanding.”

The academy essentially teaches us to believe only what we understand (and can demonstrate). The church teaches us to believe and that faith will open our eyes to even more understanding. C.S. Lewis famously said this: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

And there you have it: the alternatives that need to exist together. We need those folks who say, “I believe what I can understand,” and we need those folks who say, “I believe in order to understand.” We learn from the academy in the former and from the church in the latter.

I’m not sure we can put these together: critical distance in order to understand and uncritical proximity in order to understand. But as a Christian I believe in the gospel story about King Jesus, and it is through that story that the world and the Bible make sense. As an academic, I am compelled to make sense of texts and history and ideas through critical distance, but that form of knowledge will never lead to me to the depth or the mystery that uncritical proximity grants me through the grace of God’s gift to us in Christ.


Brooklyn Lindsey


Studying God is intimidating. If it isn’t intimidating, then a study in humility might be a better use of our time—at least at first. Since God is ever present, perfectly loving, all creative, all knowing, all powerful, and sovereign in all things including love, grace, justice, and truth, it seems futile for us in our finite minds to even try.

But we must grapple with theological ideas. We must go to the depths to try to understand because the difference and reason for studying God in the first place is grounded in a relationship where God can and will reveal his character, story, and hope as we grow in relationship to him.

The source of our study is a living, God-breathed revelation of who God is and what God is about (the Holy Bible). So, while we’ll never nail down everything, we are able to know and understand more than we could ever ask or imagine if we would simply dive into the relationship and the Word with expectation and malleability.

With that said, to communicate the story of God—to study him and offer ways of understanding God to others—we ourselves have to be rooted in Scripture. Not only do we need to be rooted, but we need to be built up in it with openness to the Holy Spirit guiding us as we read and respond to it. No person, no matter how brilliant or enlightened, can study the one true living God without having a relationship with the one true living Word—which became human and made his dwelling with us (John 1:1).

When you look at the account of Jesus’ life on earth, you see theological lessons everywhere. I asked a local hero (our pastor) what he thought about communicating theology in a simple way, and he referred to Jesus constantly telling the stories of God by telling the people to “do this,” and when this happens because of who you are or because of who I am, then “do that.” Jesus gives us how-to stories as he lived among the people. It was in how he lived his life that he expressed who God was and is today.

We’ve got to teach the story of God by telling it—not just with our lips but also with our lives. We also have to be living with our eyes open to teaching moments and be prepared to record them, repeat them, and use them to teach with zeal as Jesus did.

Another method for studying God is to get people to learn the story by telling the story. When people get involved in the text and learn how to tell it on their own, they become involved in it, and that involvement leads to connecting points for them individually.

Dan Boone, a friend, pastor, and preaching professor told me, “Understand the issue from the depths. Write it down in academic language that would be acceptable to a solid theologian. Then translate it for an eighth grader, test it on an eighth grader, ask the eighth grader if there are any words or concepts that are confusing; then rewrite it and tell it from memory.”

In his book Preaching the Story that Shapes Us, he helps us understand how to exegete the group we are speaking to. “The biggest mistake we make with theological ideas is that we stop with getting it said and do not work equally hard on getting it heard. The message is in the ears, not on the lips.”

How will your listener hear the idea? How will it be received? What is it like to feel it being said? This is where we should spend our time after understanding the idea “at the depths” then translating it.

Our three-year-old is getting a lesson in theology every day, when we teach her the stories and words of the Bible, when we apply them to the little things in life that she can understand, and when we model to her a sensitivity to God’s voice and to the needs of others as we live it out in front of her. I think we can do this in all areas of life and ministry—teaching theology by living out the story and making connecting points for people to grab onto and learn on their own.

For me it’s about…
* Being rooted in God’s Word
* Remembering that the knowledge of God, a heart bent in faith, and the practice of our beliefs work together
* Translating the story of God in contextual ways
* Applying the Word of God each and every day to our own lives, until illustrating it and modeling it becomes first nature to us again….

God is not through with any of us yet, and it is in us and through us that Christ is being revealed. It’s exciting to think and know that each and every day we have an opportunity to become more like he is; to be transformed by the renewing of our minds; to understand who we were meant to be all along; and then to find ways to teach that to others along the way is our gift and responsibility.

Chris Folmsbee


The only way to make theology simple is to ignore it.

Theology is to be lived, not merely comprehended. Simple means easy, straightforward, effortless, etc. To make theology simple for others, in my opinion, is to teach a sleeping faith.

Concepts of God may be made understandable, but mere ideas of God are just that—static thinking. Theology is to be a dynamic activity that moves past a mental understanding and toward soulful expression. Theology is most effectively taught and learned in application, not simply in suggestion.

To make something simple is to make it minimal. Do we really want to reduce God to the smallest most reasonable reality? Or do we wish to explore and explain a big God who is more complicated than simple and more dynamic than static?

I’m tired of inviting people, and I’m tired of other people inviting people into a simple faith. I want to invite people into a complicated faith; a faith marked by density, doubt, and disorientation. That is a faith worth teaching and learning—not a faith made simple.

I realize that people need things brought to their level in order to understand. I have three children, ages 11, 7, and 5. They have a hard time wrapping their minds and hearts around theology, practical or otherwise. However, honestly, I don’t really want to help them develop a simple faith. I don’t want them developing a predictable and controllable faith; I want to invite them toward discovering a difficult faith that more closely resembles the realities of life—complexity and perplexity.

When I teach my children stories about God, I don’t make them seem easy by reducing them to their minimal concepts. Instead, I make them what they are—adventurous, demanding, and so big that their imaginations have to work to even remotely give them a chance at connecting.

This is why we have so many unconvincing Christians populating our churches. They don’t know a God other than the simple one they had passed on to them, in a clean, easy-as-pie, mild, smooth, simple-as-ABC kind of way. I hope my kids never say, “I get it” when it comes to God. When we say, “I get it,” what we are really saying is, “I’ve mastered it,” and that is not at all what a working theology is.

Too much time is spent trying to make theology simple, and not enough time is spent wondering. I’m ready for a shift in our approach to teaching. I’m ready for an approach that proves the vastness and fullness of God rather than the triviality in which God is usually taught. I’m ready to be invited and to invite others into a theological journey so filled with risk, danger, openness, and uncertainty that it elicits fear and inspires astonishment as opposed to being comfortable and relaxing. Frankly, I am done with the simple. God cannot be fathomed.

What is our infatuation with making things simple? We do this so people can worship a God they can understand? That seems like a very small view of God and also a small view of man. How about, instead of caring how to make theology simple, we care more about how we make theology what it really is—a deep, eternal, unfathomable abyss of wonder. Let’s face it, theology isn’t simple and can’t ever be simple unless we ignore it, which unfortunately is what a lot of people choose to do. Sadly, much of the church is asleep in its faith.

Scot McKnight


I have a friend who sent me a manuscript for review. He said he had written it for “laypeople.” He wanted to make some difficult philosophical and theological subject clear to laypeople. He tried. He tried hard, and he told stories, and I had to tell him what John Ortberg once told me about something I had tried to write for that every evasive audience, the “layperson”: Not even close.

Theology can be complex. The Trinity, which I consider so foundational to so many doctrines and ideas—like what love is or how fellowship is designed—is as complex as it gets. Great theologians have pondered Trinity with terms like person and have had to resort to great Latin or Greek terms to make things clear—like hypostasis or perichoresis. Indeed, it can get incredibly complex, and a theologian friend, LeRon Shults, sometimes speaks of things like “absolute futurity,” and most of us are left baffled and wondering what the in the world such an expression might mean. And many, because they are driven to a lack of understanding, resort to Who cares? or, It must not matter, or it would be clearer. I don’t think anyone questions the reality of the complexity of (this sentence structure! or) theology.

The issue is how to make great ideas clear so the ordinary person not only grasps them but can live them out.

I’ve done more than my share of thinking about this because so many people have asked me about it, and they’ve asked me because I have some success at doing this. The success I’ve had relates primarily to two people: my wife, Kris, who reads my stuff and tells me with straight-shooting language whether it’s clear and meaningful (and they are not the same thing); and John Ortberg, who simply told me that my stuff wasn’t close but that I needed to keep working. And he encouraged me so much that I kept working.

First, read those who do this well. Three names come to mind, and you may well think of others. Mortimer Adler, whatever you think of his Thomism or his theories of education, could write so clearly that many learned philosophy from him. C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity, though dated in language and form and even ideas, is perhaps the single best piece of popular theology and apologetics written in the 20th century. And N.T. Wright is unquestionably the best writer on biblical subjects alive today.

Second, focus on the forest without the trees and only later bring in the trees. Get the big picture in mind and keep it in mind. Avoid building a case through the accumulation of details and then drawing a conclusion. One of my editors said to me that I needed to learn that lay folks don’t read a book unless they trust the author, so just believe they do and write what you think is true and forget trying to prove everything. I counseled a young author who was trying to make the jump from academic writing to lay folks with those words, and it made a huge difference for him. It is too easy to get trapped in the approach—methodical, abstract, accumulation of evidence—of scholarship and thinking that clear prose in that mode works for laypeople. It often doesn’t.

Third, let significance shape your writing. Until you know why your subject matters to ordinary people in their ordinary lives, you aren’t ready to write theology at a simple level. But once you do, everything can fall into place. I use The Jesus Creed as an example. I could have written a book on the Jewishness of Jesus, which quite frankly is interesting but doesn’t really “matter” to my mom or dad. Instead, I baptized the Jewishness of Jesus into the waters of significance: how to live the Christian life in accordance with how Jesus understood it. That turned the book from “history” to “significance.”

Fourth, learn what subject matters really matter. A friend of mine wrote an 800-page book “for the average reader.” He’s a very good academic writer. I told him that the “average” reader doesn’t want 800 pages on any theological topic. Any! The point here needs emphasis: Not only do we need to learn to let significance shape our writing, but we need to learn what length is needed for the layperson for what subject. The layperson isn’t (generally) interested in a 600-page (even if clearly written) book on the Pharisees. Strive for two pages. That’s about all that is needed.

Fifth, develop a pace that permits comprehension for more readers. The wildly successful The Purpose-Driven Life, by Rick Warren, had a trick: one simple idea in each chapter. One idea leading to another. That’s the secret. Scholars tend to have 10-15 ideas in a given chapter, and sometimes five quick points in one paragraph, each important and each needed but not drawn out enough for the average layperson to grasp what’s going on. It doesn’t matter how clear of a writer you are if your pace is too fast. Slow down. One idea per chapter. Save the other ideas for another day.

Finally, read your stuff aloud to someone, asking for feedback, until it all makes sense at the auditory level. I can’t emphasize this enough. Make the prose so clear that someone can sit and listen to you and enjoy what you are reading. Until that happens, you need to keep writing because it will otherwise be “not even close.”


Steve Argue


At a cursory level, I suppose it simply captures the reality in all of us that we are in process, in between, trying to find our way. Like many words (e.g., missional or authentic), this term risks becoming an ambiguous, hindering concept, co-opted into youth ministry subtexts. While youth workers use the word constantly in dialogue, teaching, and preaching, its meaning remains vague.

I do believe we’re called to a journey or pilgrimage, and I think each person must embrace its meaning before attempting to use it on others. What may be a hurdle for some is not the reality that spiritual formation is a journey but that journey (noun) calls them to journey (verb). Just because there is a journey doesn’t make someone a journeyer any more than acknowledging the existence of marathons make one a marathoner. Further, activity is not synonymous with journey any more than randomly surfing the web is research. Thus, I offer some signposts:

You know you’re on the journey when you’re moved by wonder. New territory heightens your senses as you experience something for the first time. Often the view is obstructed when one’s language, outlook, or assumptions blind one. Journeying people have the ability to see people and situations with continually first-time eyes. They believe that each situation, each person, every day is worth discovering more fully. Journeyers see. This is worship.

You know you’re on the journey when you embrace personal goals along the way. While journey is often referred to as the opposite of destination, this does not mean passive wandering in hope that the destination will appear. Do not hide behind the journey metaphor as an excuse for aimless wandering. Journeyers actively seek God, critically reflect on themselves, and discover that outcomes are likely not random events but fruit. Journeyers sweat. This is spiritual practice.

You know you’re on the journey when you’re laughing and crying. Journeyers get close enough to be moved by others’ journeys. Life is not lived at a safe distance, protected by power, theological dogma, or busyness. Journeyers find ways to come close enough to be moved to tears of joy and pain. They feel deeply, experiencing wonder and exhaustion. They recognize that there is nothing safe about their journey. Journeyers feel. This is solidarity.

You know you’re on the journey when you view the mundane as sacred. It’s the daily practices of love, charity, emails, conversations, spiritual practices, etc., that sustain the journey. These are the things that no one notices, yet this is the sacred stuff of journey. Leadership, vision, or events can blind journeyers from the smaller, more sacred, more essential things. Those who lose sight of this roll their eyes when receiving parents’ emails and get annoyed at “interrupting” phone calls. Journeyers live for the small, unnoticed acts. This is prayer.

You know you’re on the journey when you see yourself as the guest. Journeyers give up control. They come as visitors to every context, graciously learning, honestly seeking to understand, and resist forcing their agendas on others. Journeyers see every relationship as holy ground and every person as an image bearer. It’s been said that when one sees another as an opponent, the result is competition. But when one sees the other as a fellow journeyer, the result is partnership toward a shared goal where everyone risks change and transformation. Journeyers accommodate. This is self-giving love.

You know you’re on the journey when someone asks you how you’re doing and you say more than, “Busy.” Those who are on a journey have a story to tell, a discovery to share, an experience to express, and they can’t help it. Journeyers are beat poets and artists. This is witness.

You know you’re on the journey when you depend on others to journey with you. Those truly journeying recognize that they need the company of others. As numerous theologians have reminded us, the Christian life is personal but not private. The essence of Christian spirituality reflects the nature of the Trinity through journeying communities that perpetually tell the story of God in word and sacrament. Journeyers connect. This is the church.

You know you’re on the journey when you see faith as improvisation. When traveling, it’s tempting to overpack your creature comforts. Journeying is about packing less and leaving familiar things behind. It is more about improvising than making everything fit old paradigms. It exposes the limits of your faith categories and asks you to let go of your pre-packed theology, programs, and dogma. It asks you to reconsider your notions of God, world, and self, which will be both scary and liberating. Journeyers risk. This is faith.

You know you’re on a journey when you recognize that your pursuit is embedded in God’s pursuit of you. Journey is more than a self-focused endeavor. It is situated in the understanding that God is continually pursuing us, showing us the reality of our world where God’s love, grace, and recapitulation of you, others, and the whole world are happening already. At times you may lose your bearings, but you are never lost. Journeyers are embraced. This is the gospel.

Journey on, friends. Hope to bump into you along the way.

Lilly Lewin


Because that’s what life is. Life is a journey, and so is our life in Jesus. Life isn’t stagnant, and as much as we try to stay the same, to stay stationary, “the road goes ever on and on.” And as leaders, we need to talk about this because we tend to want to stay put, and we tend not to like or appreciate change.

Everyone starts at the same place. We all need God, and we are created to be in relationship with God. Many of us don’t see that for a long time. Some of us take detours along the way and meander in the wilderness or camp out in the valley or put down roots in the suburbs and just STOP, not wanting to go on the next leg of the adventure.

Some of us carry way too much stuff. Some of it we collect on purpose, and some of it is really heavy baggage that gets heaped upon us. Yet it all is a part of the journey. And the question is… Will we allow the journey to change us and transform us? Or will we have to continue to wander about in the wilderness? (Yet even in the desert God is there and continues to provide for his kids.)

With the journey of faith in mind, I often begin confirmation class with a handout. On the page, I’ve drawn a path. The road winds around, and there is a river with a bridge out; there are potholes on the road; there are mountains and valleys; there is a bus stop beside the path and a castle/cross/kingdom pic drawn at the end of the winding road. I ask my students to consider where they are on their spiritual journeys as they start confirmation (or as they start the new school year, or even the New Year).

Some might not even feel they are on the path at all. Some might feel they are in a pothole or stuck in the mud somewhere. That’s okay. We need to talk about that and allow them to see that God is in the process and with us in the potholes and even sitting beside us on the bench at the bus stop, even if we don’t see him yet.

Father Edward Hayes says that we are all “homeward bound” hobos—on the road home to be with Jesus (Lenten Hobo Honeymoon). We are all in process, and we all sometimes get stuck, and most of us take breaks along the way. And it’s okay to take baby steps.

Journey is how God has built the human experience. It’s unknown and ever changing. Life forces us to go forward; it’s the nature of time—birth, life, death; it’s what we’ve been given.

When it comes to spiritual formation, I really appreciate the metaphor of the journey. It gives me great hope. I’m not done yet. Nothing is set in stone. There is a path, there is a way, there is a road through. Best of all, I’m not stuck if I don’t want to be. I can take a new road and know that it will ultimately be safe because the King is with me. And for me, this is exciting! My life in Jesus really is an adventure.

“Thinplace… A pilgrimage of discovery and creativity” is the tagline on my business cards. Thinplaces are the places where one feels closest to God; where heaven and earth seem to touch. And pilgrimage involves going on a journey together, seeing what God is up to, and getting out of our normal routines. We travel together in order to discover something about ourselves; we travel together to understand and discover what God is doing and has been doing in our world. That’s why I believe in going on pilgrimage personally and with students.

We need to see, and we need to help our students see, how journey is woven into the entirety of Scripture. The children of Israel were pilgrims heading for a strange land. They didn’t really know where they were going when they left for Egypt. They really weren’t sure that it was a good idea anyway. And they definitely had doubts about their leader. They took major detours, building golden calves and complaining about food and water.

And even before that, Abram and Sarai were pilgrims, leaving their comfort zones and traveling to a place God would tell them. They too got confused and sidetracked along the way, sometimes with drastic results. But throughout their journey they were seeking to follow God and attempting to hear his voice and doing their best to listen to him.

And Jesus didn’t invite his disciples to sit down and memorize a bunch of rules. He invited them to follow him, to go with him and learn along the way.

It’s important for us to remember and for our students to know and understand that God has taken all his children on journeys of discovery and creativity; that life in Jesus doesn’t allow us to remain the same. Jesus asks us to get out of our boats and follow him. And if we choose to leave our nets, our lives will definitely never be the same.

Chris Folmsbee


First, I think it may be the healthiest way to view spiritual formation—as though each of us is unfinished, always becoming. So we refer to it as a path or journey to remind us of where we have been, where we are, and where we are going. Not only does it remind us of ourselves, it reminds us of others who have also embarked on the path toward becoming more like Jesus.

Second, to refer to it as a journey or path implicitly suggests movement. We aren’t a static people; we are a pilgrim people in exile, awaiting our future residence with God. A path or journey denotes progress or development.

Third, a journey is unpredictable, isn’t it? When was the last voyage or expedition you took that didn’t have some twist or turn—unwanted, maybe—but nonetheless, an arbitrary happening. Our path to formation is like this. It possesses sometimes an immediate and abrupt change in plans. We are who we are becoming to respond to those changes in plans. Ever been delayed at an airport? Had a flat tire? Lost your passport or had it stolen? All of these things contribute to our journey.

Fourth, a path has undulations. It has smooth and rocky soil. Paths have steep ascents and declines. Paths can be leisurely traveled or require great amounts of exertion. Is not the spiritual journey of becoming like Jesus very similar?

Fifth, a path or journey represents a course of action—a purpose. Spiritual formation isn’t passive; it requires certain practices and disciplines. Formation doesn’t just happen. Change may operate this way (except from a vending machine), but (trans)formation demands that we take up our cross, not simply sit and look at it.

Finally, just as a journey or path can open to other routes or passageways, connecting us to people along the way, so can our formation open us up to new dimensions of our soul, connecting us to people and places we’ve yet to discover.


Chris Folmsbee


Story is everything when we share our faith. After all, what is the gospel but the story of God’s will, way, and work of providing salvation and justice for all of humanity through the gift of God’s son, Jesus Christ?

Here are 10 ways that story plays into faith sharing:

Story makes things personal. It makes a personal God and a personal relationship with God comprehendible.

Story provides meaning. What else makes sense of this world and our place in this world but the story of God, self, others, and the world?

Story connects to community. It helps people connect to a people, a history, or a greater context.

Story connects people with people. While story connects people to a broader people, it also connects individuals to others with like affinities.

Story evokes the imagination. While history (in the classic sense) can feel stale to many, story can open up new possibilities. Story can help people visualize how their lives might be different.

Story provides purpose. Connection to a people, particularly the people of God, links not-yet believers to a grand mission in which to engage and to live out.

Story provides explanation. For many, story helps them make sense of their inner selves in light of the outer world.

Story produces forward thinking. Story has a way of making people who engage the story focus in on its ending. Story helps people make sense of the redemptive plan of God.

Story imparts compassion. On a personal level, understanding one another in light of others’ experiences and situations builds within each of us compassion to see with new, soft eyes of grace.

Story constructs a unique expression. Each of us has our own way of responding to the will, way, and work of God. Story helps not-yet believers find their place in God’s epic story.




 





Brooklyn Lindsey


Before I suggest how story fits in sharing our faith I think it’s important to think about the goal of our faith. Take a look at 1 Peter 1:8-9. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

The goal of our faith is the salvation of our souls—not just mine but yours too. We’re all in the same boat when it comes to where we start on the path to redemption. And it’s in that redemption, through Christ, that God is making all things new—restoring the imago Dei, or image of God, in the things that have been created for God’s glory.

For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet God, with undeserved kindness, declares that we are righteous. He did this through Christ Jesus when he freed us from the penalty for our sins. Romans 3:23-24.

Donald Miller has a great understanding of story and how it helps us reach our goals—ours being the salvation of our souls, through the work of Christ. Miller writes in his blog why many goals don’t get met. “It’s because their goals aren’t embedded in the context of a narrative.”

In his book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, you would see that he has reorganized his life into stories rather than goals. He mentions that he likes goals and sets them but notes this: “Without an overarching plot, goals don’t make sense and are hard to achieve. A story gives a goal a narrative context that forces you to engage and follow through.”

For example, I could set a goal to go without coffee and soda for a year. It’s a good goal. My blood sugar would love me for it, but knowing me, I would fail superbly. But if I put my goal into the context of a story, I might be able to do it. Let’s say giving up caffeine consumption for a year would save me around $500 a year—$500 is about half the money it takes to give $50 a month to the International Justice Mission (lawyers and caregivers who fight for the cause of the oppressed) for a yearly commitment to being a freedom partner. Let’s say I found a friend who also had this same passion. We decide, together, to save every penny we would spend on beverages for this cause in 2011 to raise the $1,000 to be partners in rescuing the oppressed. In this context, I wouldn’t fail—because the story gives life and meaning to the goal.

God knew we needed a story. God knew the importance of inspiring the writers of the Bible to preserve the details—we needed to know. Why? Because we needed to know reason we need redemption in the first place; we needed to know the depth of God’s love and sacrifice so we could then live in response to it. It changes the way we look at our goals.

When Jesus responded to the learners’ question about the most important way to live, he ranked loving God with our entire beings and loving our neighbors together as number one. He set a goal. He was telling his disciples the way to follow him. But he also gave them a great story to live in—sharing in his glorious riches through trials and temptations. He gave them the big picture.

Sharing our personal stories with others is the natural extension of the story Jesus told with his life. It’s easier to tell others how much God loves them when we give them the context of how God has loved us. The journey we’ve experienced with God foreshadows what could happen in someone else’s life. The story gives meaning to the sharing of our faith.

Jesus left his earthly story here with us when he gave us the gift of the Spirit. The story of redemption is alive and being played out in our journey. Sharing our stories not only plays a part in sharing our faith; it is how we impart the gospel to others. The Israelites looked back to the Exodus. We look back to the resurrection of Jesus and are able to say he has rescued us from sin and so many other things. Those “things” are our stories—the context of our being rescued—and those stories are compelling and rich and personal. At the same time, those personal stories are collective in the body and useful for the edification and encouragement of the people.

Most people want to be free. Most people want to be forgiven. Most people want to know what it feels like to experience unconditional love. Hearing how you’ve experienced all of these things may just be the bridge to their own stirring and curiosity for God. And in the midst of the telling, we find the gentle and prevenient grace of God doing the important work of love in our hearts.




















Helpful Resources:

Story, Signs, and Sacred Rhythms
by Chris Folmsbee



Mike King


“You have yet to understand that the shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story.”* -Anthony de Mello

Without story it is impossible to share our faith. Furthermore, it is not possible to even have a faith to share without a story. As Christians, our story begins with these words: “In the beginning God created.” This story unfolds through the creation narratives, the exodus, the priestly accounts, the exile, the coming of Messiah, the gospels, and the church and ends with a glimpse into our future, thus becoming a story that gloriously has no ending. This overarching story of God at work in the world, of humanity’s role in that story, and of Jesus Christ, who is God for us, is a story that is actually alive and still unfolding. It is a true story that gives human beings real life and meaning.

Theologian Harvey Cox, in his book The Seduction of the Spirit wrote, “All human beings have an innate need to hear and tell stories and to have a story to live by… Religion, whatever else it has done, has provided one of the main ways of meeting this abiding need.”*

For us to even have Christian faith means that we have found our story as persons embedded in God’s story. There is a proverb from an anonymous Siberian elder that declares, “If you don’t know the trees you may be lost in the forest, but if you don’t know the stories you may be lost in life.”1

Sharing our faith should not be reduced to a formula focusing on rational arguments and systematic reasoning. Author Madeleine L’Engle weighs in on the role of story and faith. “The language of logical arguments, of proofs, is the language of the limited self we know and can manipulate. But the language of parable and poetry, of storytelling, moves from the imprisoned language of the provable into the freed language of what I must, for lack of another word, continue to call faith.”*

The story of my salvation and faith journey is still being formed. I find my story intertwined with the story found in Scripture. I know that my very life is miraculous. I’m alive. I was created in God’s image. I find myself in the creation story. I also know that I am broken and the image of God in me has been altered by sinfulness. I find my story in God’s movement toward restoration.

At times, it feels like my life resembles the exodus and God’s Spirit is leading me out of bondage. I find the possibility of salvation through the priestly story found in the Old Testament and fulfilled through Jesus Christ, our great High Priest. At other times, my faith story reminds me of the story of exile, and I feel distant from God, longing for restoration.

I am passionate about sharing my faith. I love to stir people’s imaginations to grasp the beginning of our story when God created all human beings in the image of God. Let’s start there. Let’s help the young people in our churches understand that they, along with their friends and all humanity, were created imago Dei. I found that you don’t have to convince people that they are broken and sinful.

Danish author Isak Dinesen declared, “To be a person is to have a story to tell.”* Our story is a wonderful story. It’s a story of creation and beauty. It’s a story of despair because of our brokenness and feeble but tragic attempts to circumvent God’s story. It’s a story that reveals a God who becomes most known to us through Jesus Christ, who makes restoration and new creation possible.

In the gospel of John, chapter one, are these profound words, which tell an amazing story: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it… And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

These words make sense because of story—a story that took centuries to develop. Right now, our Youthfront staff is reading the book What Is the Point of Being a Christian?, by Timothy Radcliffe. Last week we read, “It needed thousands of years before there was a language in which God’s word could be spoken in the form of Jesus. We needed all those experiences of liberation and exile, of the building and demolition of kingdoms. We needed innumerable prophets and scribes, poets and parents, struggling to find words before Jesus could be born as the Word.”2

Yes, a good story takes time to unfold. I believe the Christian story is true, and I find my story—the story of my life—in the story of God at work in the world. I can’t help but share it.
1 All quotes marked with * from www.storyteller.net - Quotes about Story and Storytelling, compiled by Patti J. Christensen
2 Radcliffe, Timothy. What is the Point of Being a Christian?, Burns & Oates, New York, 2005, pg. 79




Slant Topics

Search by tag

Karina Veas Family Oriented Love Jim Hampton Church Response Theology Ian Macdonald Danny Kwon God's Story Dating Eric Iverson Brooklyn Lindsey Tradition Adam McLane Josh Griffin Cliche Sex Kurt Rietema Short-Term Missions Media Claire Smith Scripture Journey Michelle Lang Lilly Lewin Community Boundaries Expectations Culture Spiritual Formation Giving Dave Rahn Consumeristic Church Mission Statement Joel Daniel Harris Jason McPherson Just Acts Church Environments Archie Honrado Methods Empowerment Imago Dei Moving On Programming Calendars Parents Communion Gospel Marko Friendship Albert Tate D.Scott Miller Formation Prayer Leadership Ministry Context Teams Encouragement Youth Ministry Discussion intergenerational ministry Apologetics Evangelism Tiffianie Shanks Kevin Farmer Recruiting Volunteers Michael Novelli Oversharing Rest Vulnerability God is dead Resources Andy Root Research Young Leaders Justice Salvation D. Scott Miller Holy Spirit Narrative Theology Planning Interns Cultural Context Worship Gatherings Mark Oestreicher Theology of Play Mission of God student leaders High School Sarah Arthur Leading Change Lisa Sharon Harper Future Kerygma Chris Folmsbee Lars Rood Transition Evidence Children Environment Internships Proclamation Mike King God Environments Tash McGill Solitude Cross-Cultural Middle School Paul Martin Anti-Intellectualism Adam Walker Cleaveland Failure Kara Powell Difficult Friends Books Jeremy Zach Academia Steve Argue Brian Berry Social Media Scot McKnight Mistakes Community Developement Marriage Teaching Beauty of God Hope Time Church Improvement Faith Ministry Awareness

  • AWU
  • Bounce
  • Reverb
  • CMPC