slant33-blog

Kurt Rietema

One of the main reasons we might brazenly challenge a command given in such a straightforward, matter-of-fact, what’s-there-to-question kind of way by Jesus is our preoccupation with how that money is going to be stewarded in the hands of another.

I think affluent Christians like myself need drop the illusion that we’re any better stewards of God’s money than the economically poor are. We might be too theologically astute to go about saying that God has blessed us financially because of our faithfulness, but underlying our pretenses of stewardship is an implicit belief that if God entrusted it to us, then he wants it in our hands and we’d better not let it go too quickly. Maybe it’s because deep down, we don’t believe that greed is as abusive, self-destructive, or dehumanizing as drugs or alcohol in the dirtied hands of a homeless man.

A good friend of mine in Mexico has given me some perspective on this. He lived on the streets for a number of years as an adolescent. He ran away from sexual abuse at the hands of relatives and from the complete emotional abandonment of his father. He vividly recalls a time when he was waiting around a taco stand for something to eat. A couple of men ordered tacos and laid a Bible they were carrying around on the counter. My friend asked if they would give him a taco, and they denied him. He was hungry, and they gave him nothing to eat. At times, he used money he received from begging to buy glue in order to get high and escape the physical and existential suffering that was his daily reality. Today, he’s a pastor whose heart is still wounded by those experiences and now works to heal the wounds of others in those same situations.

Obviously, we’d all agree that it would be far better to give a kid like this the time, attention, and loving environment he needs. But in recognizing our own limitations, isn’t it worth risking our reputations as good stewards, even if there’s a possibility the kid is going to take that dollar for a taco to momentarily escape his pain by sniffing glue instead?

I just can’t see Jesus congratulating me on all the people I’ve passed by with a Matthew 25 rendition that says, “You saw me hungry, but you didn’t fall for it. You saw me holding a ‘homeless vet, anything helps’ sign, but you saw right through it. Blessed are you who do not fall for the schemes of the deceivers. Blessed are you who recognize that help for a down payment on a cheeseburger goes straight into the liquor store’s cash register.”

The very passage where Jesus’ teaching to “Give to everyone who asks you” in Luke 6:30 seems to suggest that God himself could be a little more discerning in the way he dishes out his grace as well. He gives to the deserving and undeserving alike. He is, as N.T. Wright says, generous to a fault (in the eyes of the stingy). To be fair, this passage doesn’t specifically mention money and therefore shouldn’t be taken as Jesus’ final words on stewarding money. Nor should giving to everyone who asks be understood as Jesus’ strategy for eradicating poverty. But it is significant that this commandment is couched in the middle of a passage on loving one’s enemies. This teaching is about disarming the power of hate in the disciple and turning upside down the logic of retributive violence.

As much as I believe that good results can come about in one’s enemies in following Jesus’ teaching (e.g., that one’s enemies may repent in recognition of their own depravity in the face of the absurd grace shown to them), I don’t think this is specifically the point of Jesus’ teaching. The results and transformation that Jesus hopes for are not primarily in one’s enemy but in the hearer himself. This command is first and foremost about forming his followers in an attitude of the heart that reflects the reckless generosity and grace of the Father, regardless of the response of the receiver of that grace.

Ultimately, I believe this informs our response to the statement. I can give several reasons why we shouldn’t always give to those who ask us for money, but we can all recite those as effortlessly as reasons we shouldn’t love our enemies. Those reasons need to be in consideration, but our first impulse toward those who ask us for money should always be, “Yes!” because this reflects the generous heart of the Father. This attitude disarms the power of greed, the power of suspicion, and the belief that we are entitled to the wealth that has been entrusted to us.

Kurt Rietema, his wife Emily, their baby Luke, and miniature schnauzer Freddy, are serving as agents of transformation and renewal in the Argentine neighborhood of Kansas City, Kansas. In this lower income, ethnically diverse neighborhood, they participate in Christian community development efforts and desire to see a new faith community emerge as they seek God’s shalom for Argentine. Kurt also works with Youthfront, where he continues to direct the Christian community development initiatives that he and Emily initiated in the village of Croc, Mexico as well as co-directing a missional formation school for college students in Argentine.

Kara Powell

This is a very provocative and challenging statement for me and for lots of others I know. On the one hand, we want to be generous and cheerful givers and obey Jesus’ commands to aid those in need. On the other hand, some of the leaders I respect who work day in and day out with the homeless recommend never giving money to someone who is homeless who asks you. They endorse giving them granola bars or fast food gift certificates instead.

Recently I hosted a webinar with a group of sharp Youth for Christ urban leaders. Dr. Michael Mata, from World Vision, was on the call, and he mentioned the dangers of “pimping the poor.” That phrase, which is admittedly provocative, arose in our conversation when we were talking about ways to expose donors from non-urban environments to the real struggles and challenges of life in marginalized communities.

Even if giving money to those who ask is formative for us, if it is at least sometimes harmful to those who seeking it, then we are being well intentioned but are actually “pimping the poor.” We are using them for our advantage. We are not looking out for their best interests but for our own. So I disagree with the statement.

But I must be honest: the academician in me is pretty cautious about statements that include unqualified terms like always and never.

Because of my theology of justice, I’d like to rephrase the sentence to read: We should always (yes, I did include always here) act to see justice done for those who ask for money because it is good for our spiritual formation. I can wholeheartedly agree with that statement, even though it did include that dreaded word always.

I would love for believers who cross the paths of homeless people not to default to giving change out of their pockets. Instead, I would love to see us take the time to ask the questions, listen to stories, and see if we can connect them with systemic resources that can help them connect with churches, gain employment skills, access housing, and perhaps even find a job.

That’s not only good for our spiritual formation; it’s good for those individuals’ formation—not just spiritually but on multiple levels. Come to think of it, it’s good for our formation on multiple levels also.

Chap Clark & Kara E. Powell, Deep Justice in a Broken World (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007), 58. Ibid, 93.

Kara Powell, Ph.D., is the executive director of the Fuller Youth Institute (FYI) and a faculty member at Fuller Theological Seminary (see www.fulleryouthinstitute.org). As a 20-year youth ministry veteran, she speaks regularly at youth ministry conferences and is the author or co-author of a number of books, including Deep Justice Journeys, Essential leadership, Deep Justice in a Broken World, Deep Ministry in a Shallow World, and the Good Sex Youth Ministry Curriculum. She volunteers every week as a small group leader for junior girls at Lake Avenue Church in Pasadena.

Mike King

The word always in this statement stirs up an immediate response of no. However, this statement should cause us to wrestle with much deeper issues related to giving, generosity, and responsibility to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:34-40).

As I contemplate this, it is clear to me that there is no easy response to the core issue of this statement. On the other hand, perhaps it should be easy. Maybe the best response, the Christian response, is yes. After all, didn’t Jesus instruct his disciples, “Give to everyone who begs from you…”? And when Jesus said this, he was talking about how to behave around those who may even be defined as our enemies. Perhaps always responding with some act of generosity to those who ask for money may be necessary when the request is made to us because they know we are Christians. But I’m not sure I agree with my last sentence.

The reason this is so complex is that every situation requires discernment. Several passages and parables of Jesus indicate that God evaluates the condition of the giver’s heart. In God’s economy, small gifts are valued, which Jesus makes clear through his story of the offering of the widow in Mark 12:41-44. Paul indicates that generous gifts become hollow acts when given devoid of love (1 Corinthians 13:3). Paul declares, “Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). I believe that the Scripture is clear in both the Old and New Testaments that we are to place a higher priority on being generous to the poor. One of the biggest challenges in my Christian life over the last several years is to create life opportunities for me to be in proximity to and relationships with the poor.

While I continue to reflect on this statement, it occurs to me that I have rarely been asked face to face for money outside of organizational requests. I think I need to be more proactive in giving to those with needs around me because I think it is difficult for them to actually ask for help.

This post is turning out to be a clarifying formational contemplation for me. I can’t imagine a situation involving a person or family in need within my social connections who would get a no answer from me, or my wife, in response to a personal request for financial help. I don’t always respond to organizational or ministry requests for money. I don’t always respond to request from homeless people for money, although, over the last several years I have become much more prone to give money to homeless people on the street. I really think discernment is important. We should listen for the Holy Spirit’s promptings. When we aren’t sure how to respond or if we should respond, I think we should err on the side of generosity.

This is an important issue. We should process this for ourselves. We should dialogue with our loved ones. We should engage the young people in our ministries in this conversation. Since I actually wrote this post over a period of three days, my concluding statement is different from my first sentence. For the sake of our own formation, we should almost always give to those who ask us for money.

Brooklyn Lindsey

I like to think of the imago dei as the term that describes our spiritual DNA. It informs our past and helps us look forward to the future—where we can and will be transformed if we desire to be.

The biblical and theological term imago dei refers to the image of God. It is central to the Christian’s response to the Creator. There is no other being that was or has been created that bears the stamp of God’s image. Genesis 1:26-27 tells us that God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. When we were created, we reflected God’s likeness.

We reflected it in dominion; our God-given abilities (caring for the earth and the animals around us) were exercised with God’s moral righteousness. That is, until sin captured our hearts and turned us inward—we were able to live in love as only God could teach us.

We see the image of God reflected in the Son. Colossians 1:15 tells us that the Son is the image of the invisible God… When perfect fellowship with God was broken and sin marred the image, we found ourselves looking to the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ. He is our hope of being renewed day by day, sanctified by truth, and restored again to the moral righteousness of God.

Of course, we all feel like we have a long way to go. I believe that God can and will remove our desire to willfully transgress against a known law of God. He can and will rescue our hearts from sin and our wills from selfishness.

How does it impact evangelism? It’s the key to evangelism. The emptying of our selves—the restoration of God’s image in us as we are refilled by the Spirit—makes room for deep love, not only for God but also for people in the world around us.

Knowing whose we are—whose image we bear—instead of thinking that the world defines and shapes our image, changes how we interact with others. It frees us to love. It frees us to forgive. It frees us to be ourselves, creating a gracious space for others to be themselves in the ways they were uniquely created. Gracious space. It’s so good to give.

The further we move inward, toward that still space where Jesus reshapes and reforms us—the potter removing any defects and reshaping us to his standard and artistry—the more likely we are to want that for others.

When our desires match God’s desires, we’ll do whatever it takes to obey the commands of Christ, to love as Jesus did, to look for moments when we can be a city on a hill and the salt of the earth. Humility and love will begin to take over where pride and selfishness once ruled the thrones of our hearts.

All that was lost in the fall of humankind can be restored. God promises us that it will be. It’s in that promise that we find hope. It’s in that hope that we have a reason to keep seeking the heart and motive of Jesus Christ. It’s in those motives that we find evangelism as a way of life. And that way of life returns us to our rightful place as children of God worshiping a loving and holy Creator—emptied so we might celebrate his fullness, together.

Kara Powell

In the last five years, I’ve come to see that the imago dei, or image of God, has profound impact on all we are and all we do. Specifically with sharing the gospel, I want to highlight two of its ramifications.

First, understanding that God has made every person in God’s image motivates us to share the good news. In the past, the imago dei has been understood largely from a substantive perspective, meaning that there was something in our very being as humans that reflected God’s image.

Many theologians and practitioners have shifted their focus to a relational view of the imago dei. God models relationship in the Trinity as Father, Son, and Spirit relate to each other. We as humans need relationship with other humans, as well as with God, to be complete.

When we recognize that this relationality is central to people’s very essence, we are motivated to share the gospel with them, in both word and deed.

During our Deep Justice research, I was consistently struck by how the imago dei motivated the kingdom lifestyle of the exemplars we surveyed. Jim Wallis from Sojourners explained in an interview that the imago dei was “central… Because we’re all made in God’s image, a kid living in a garbage dump in Mexico is just as important as my own kid. I’m going to pick up my two kids from school this afternoon and what has got to motivate me is that other people’s kids are just as important to God and to me as my own kids.”

Similarly, justice icon Dr. John Perkins commented during our research, “Fundamentally, we have to understand that all people are created in God’s image. That gives us all equal dignity before God. I don’t see how you can accept that other humans are created in God’s image with inherited dignity and then exploit them. Once we view others as created in God’s image, we won’t want them to live without him, and we won’t want them to live in unjust social structures.”

Second, an understanding of the imago dei in our evangelistic efforts reminds us that we have much to learn from others. God’s image is alive and well in every person. This allows us to create authentic, reciprocal relationships with folks who don’t know Jesus yet.

To be sure, folks who don’t have Jesus at the center of their lives are missing out on the most important reality of all time: the reality of God’s love for them and the joy that comes from pursuing Jesus. But I find that my best and most fruitful friendships with non-Christians happen when I am able to learn from them as they do their best to love their kids, care for the planet, and practice holistic living.

Chap Clark & Kara E. Powell, Deep Justice in a Broken World (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007), 58. Ibid, 93.

Kara Powell, Ph.D., is the executive director of the Fuller Youth Institute (FYI) and a faculty member at Fuller Theological Seminary (see www.fulleryouthinstitute.org). As a 20-year youth ministry veteran, she speaks regularly at youth ministry conferences and is the author or co-author of a number of books, including Deep Justice Journeys, Essential leadership, Deep Justice in a Broken World, Deep Ministry in a Shallow World, and the Good Sex Youth Ministry Curriculum. She volunteers every week as a small group leader for junior girls at Lake Avenue Church in Pasadena.

Mike King

I think this question is one of the most important questions that followers of Jesus Christ must consider and contemplate if we expect to recover a kerygma of gospel that truly becomes “good news” again to those in our culture who don’t profess Christianity.

Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. -Genesis 1:26, 27 NRSV

I could not even scratch the surface of the issues involved in defining the breadth of theological dialogue concerning what imago dei is and what it truly meant in the Old Testament and New Testament texts and what it currently means for soteriology and for being a “human being.” Most theologians and church leaders believe that something about being created imago dei (in the image of God) was broken or lost in the fall. Reformers John Calvin and Martin Luther were in agreement that some aspect of imago dei remained in sinful human beings.

The bottom line and springboard for me to jump into the issue of how imago dei impacts evangelism is to declare that something unique happened with God’s creation of human beings. The problem with evangelism in North America during the last several decades is the propensity to start the story of God’s relations with humanity in Genesis 3, with the fall, and an emphasis on human sin. It is essential, however, for us to start the story at its proper place in Genesis 1, with creation of human beings in the image of God.

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 they are broken and sinful. Most people know something is amiss. When our primary objective is to communicate a message of how sinful people are, we are perceived as judgmental proselytizers.

I’ve been doing youth ministry for 35 years. Evangelism was the primary focus of my early youth ministry efforts. I taught evangelism. I did evangelism. I was called a “youth evangelist.”

In the late ’70s through the ’80s, I gave little thought to any theological implications concerning the hard-hitting, strong-armed, manipulative, bait-and-switch, hellfire tactics I engaged in to get kids “saved.” Throughout the 1990s, this style of evangelism became increasingly disturbing, not only to me but also to hundreds of youth workers in my social network.

I remember how uncomfortable it was to find a way to make sure people knew they were sinners headed for hell. I chastised myself with the reminder that I was not to be ashamed of the gospel of Christ. In spite of the self-motivation and self-condemnation for lacking the faith and courage to boldly let people know they were presently doomed, the attempts to remove my discomfort never worked. It just seemed wrong.

So I shifted my focus to discipleship and began a process of de-emphasizing evangelism, especially the kind I had engaged in within my youth ministry praxis.

However, three years ago, my passion to reengage evangelism returned. A combination of factors (Holy Spirit, conversation partners, theology, my church, experiences, Scripture) refueled my passion, imagination, and calling to begin reengaging in evangelism, although from a much broader theological perspective and different methodology.

My change in thinking about evangelism has been driven by deeper theological reflection concerning soteriology and ecclesiology. What does it mean to experience salvation? What role does becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ play in evangelism and salvation? How is evangelism connected to church? How does our society view proselytizing? What role does apologetics play in evangelism? How do we define apologetics in our current culture? These questions are really important, and the answers to these questions shape how evangelism is taught and practiced.

I remember when it dawned on me that I needed to share the whole story. The idea that we have to place a hyper-focus on our sinfulness in order to get people to respond to our evangelistic techniques does not work in our culture.

Evangelism happens naturally when God’s people live astonishing lives as people of crucifixion and resurrection. I have found it not only easier but also more human and natural to engage in unforced conversation, which often unfolds into a delightful opportunity to bear witness to every human being’s connection to the imago dei. I have found it a joy to be a blessing to people and make the connection to the unique ways they are cooperating with God, regardless of whether they know it.

Mike King

Early in my ministry, I tended to be a person who avoided conflict. I became skilled at navigating away from confrontation. I just wanted everyone to be happy and love one another. Too often, my unwillingness to confront and be decisive in dealing with an issue head on actually added to the problem. I mistakenly assumed that my empathy for others would create space for them to heal, mature, and become more productive.

I regularly made the mistake of believing that doing just enough about the problem to get relief from the pain of symptoms caused by dysfunctional people would somehow be enough. Unfortunately, this assumption does not lead to a healthy environment. Ultimately, I had to decide what kind of leader I would become. I came to a difficult decision. I could not allow my desire to be liked by those I led and/or served keep me from doing the right thing and making tough decisions.

I had some close friends who are no longer close friends because I had to deal with the negativity they brought to our ministry environment. It was no longer enough to deal only with the symptoms. While I loved these individuals, I could not allow them to continue hurting people, dumbing down our culture, and holding us back from moving forward into a hope-filled future. It became increasingly clear to me that I had actually enabled their dysfunction.

Misguided empathy kept me from being responsible and truthful, not only to the disrupters, but to our whole organization, resulting in a toxic environment. My responsibility was to lead decisively. It is not only important to make decisions but to lead well once a decision has been made. What happens after a decision has been made is—most of the time—much more important than the actual decision. Edwin Friedman deals with this so well in his book A Failure of Nerve. His concept of a “non-anxious leader” is essential for leading well.

While I’ve had to learn that my desire for everyone to “just get along” is naïve, I have come to understand that a proper focus on nurturing cultural environments is important. I became obsessed with thinking holistically and systemically about environments and how cultural dynamics impact the way people work, play, create, live, love, interact, and relate to one another.

Being a leader who nurtures a synergistic and thriving environment requires a leader who is willing to take responsibility for his or her own ability to thrive. We can’t lead people well when we don’t take care of our own spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being. This focus on ourselves as leaders is not about selfishness. It is a self-differentiation that ultimately enables us to pour ourselves out (kenosis) for others.

Friedman has a chart in A Failure of Nerve that is helpful to remind me that I must lead in such a way that shows I’ve learned from my mistakes.

Poorly Differentiated Leadership… *focuses on pathology. *is obsessed with technique. *works with symptomatic people. *betters the condition. *seeks symptomatic relief. *is concerned to give insight. *is stuck on the treadmill of tying harder *diagnoses others. *is quick to quit difficult situations. *is made anxious by reactivity. *has a reductionist perspective. *sees problems as the cause of anxiety. *adapts toward the weak. *focuses on dysfunctional victims. *creates dependent relationships.

Well-Differentiated Leadership… *focuses on strength. *is concerned for one’s own growth. *works with motivated people. *matures the system. *seeks enduring change. *is concerned to define self (take stands). *is fed up with the treadmill. *looks at one’s own stuckness. *is challenged by difficult situations. *recognizes that reactivity and sabotage are evidence of one’s effectiveness has a universal perspective. *sees problems as the focus of preexisting anxiety. *adapts toward strength. *has a challenging attitude that encourages responsibility. *creates intimate relationships.

So, what are you thinking about as it relates to this post? What mistakes have you learned from?

Edwin H. Friedman, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix. Seabury Books, New York, 2007, pg. 231

Lilly Lewin

I have made a lot of mistakes, and thankfully I’ve learned from them and am still learning from them.

I used to attempt to do everything myself and believed that only I could do certain things because I would do them “right” and they would look right and feel right, etc. Once upon a time it wasn’t okay to make mistakes.

Growing up as a perfectionist, I did my darnedest to prevent making them, striving always to do the best and be the best and working harder and faster to make everything as perfect as possible.

While I knew instinctively that no one is perfect and that we don’t live in a perfect world, I was wired as the oldest, responsible child to set my sights on that perfect goal. The pursuit of the straight As of high school continued as I started my career and had to learn the hard way that straight As aren’t possible all the time in most real-world, real-life settings; and that perfection shouldn’t even be the goal in most things. But, because I’m stubborn and pig headed, it took a lot of burnout and pain before I realized that it’s really only through the mistakes and failures that we all actually learn and grow.

I had to learn to give myself permission to be imperfect and to fail. I had to say out loud and really believe in my heart that getting a B rather than an A was okay. Life doesn’t have to be perfect because nothing is perfect. I had to learn to believe that if Jesus wanted perfection, he came to the wrong planet and the wrong people. I had to give not only myself but my team and my family permission to be imperfect too.

I had to learn to give myself permission to JUST SAY NO. Every gift has a shadow. I’m known as a person of great enthusiasm, creativity, and compassion. But in my enthusiasm to get people connected and to spread the kingdom, I have often over-planned my life and said yes to too many things. In “doing kingdom work,” I too often brought my family along for the ride, without asking or considering whether they felt called to join in. Just because I felt something was a worthwhile ministry opportunity didn’t mean it was right for a seven-year-old, and neither was prepping for Sunday every Saturday instead of taking a Saturday just to hang out.

I had to learn to take time off and practice real Sabbath—and allow others the gift of time off too. I learned that it’ s okay to take care of myself. I can take time to do the things I enjoy outside of my job. Everything doesn’t have to be about work. Everything doesn’t have to be about serving someone else. It’s totally okay to nurture myself. In fact, I cannot pour my cup out to others if my cup is dry or cracked. Because of my tendency to burn out, I began to practice silence. I came to realize that I don’t have to fill my schedule or the schedules of my kids, my family, and my youth group with too many activities. Less really is more! Along with taking time off, I had to learn the importance of planning ahead and not always doing everything so last minute that it fries the people who want to work with me.

I had to learn to give away ministry, to become a curator, not a dictator. Doing everything myself meant that I prevented others from using their gifts. It prevented me from sharing the ministry. A curator enables others to use their gifts and creates opportunities for these gifts to come together to make a beautiful offering. By curating worship and worship gatherings, everyone gets to play; everyone gets to express their gifts to God, not just the paid professionals. And I get to let go and allow the Holy Spirit to work and see amazing things happen that I never could have planned.

I had to learn that everything is practice! After years of stressing out about opportunities and experiences, I had to learn that nothing is pediatric brain surgery. Nothing in my life is as serious as my anxious, perfectionistic brain wants it to be. Every speaking engagement, article, retreat, Bible Study, worship gathering—all practice. By really living into this belief, I can be free to experiment, and I am free to be myself. I can relax. All of these are opportunities to learn. All are opportunities and gifts from God to grow and experience more of him. And again, I don’t have to be perfect. I have to just be open and give my best. And if it’s all practice, I have the freedom to fail.

I had to learn that I need people. By trying to do everything myself, I learned that I really need “partners in crime.” There is no way I can do everything. I need help, and I need to be okay with asking for it. Failing alone is useless because I have no one to process it with. Everyone needs someone to talk to, someone to process with, someone to cry with, and someone to commiserate with us—preferably someone you can say anything to; and this person might be way outside your worshiping community. That person can help us learn and grow through all the practice and all the failings and all the mistakes we will make along the way.

Finally, I have learned to let go and keep my hands open to receive. It has to be okay with me that the ministry is not mine. I have learned that I must hold things lightly. This kingdom stuff belongs to Jesus, and this gift of ministry is on loan, and it’s only for a limited time.

So I’ve learned to be grateful and to open my hands and receive the gift. I’m learning to relax, to rest, to release myself and other people to fail, and I’ve learned to “fail with style,” expecting Jesus to pick me up and dust me off. And I’ll be wiser for it.

Eric Iverson

At the age of 41, I feel qualified to speak on learning from failure. There have been plenty of instances, and I expect a few more. If you’re like me, then Mike Yaconelli's words will resonate: “God expects more failure out of us than we do.” Failure isn’t bad; in fact, if we are really dependent on God, we will be taking risks and not achieving what the world says we should. Failure to God looks different than it looks to us.

I fail because I am working toward my own glory more than I am working to bring glory to God. If we are honest with ourselves, this will be most of our realities. When we go about our daily activities, the motivator is usually making others happy, proud, satisfied, or justified in their signing your check every other week. I only attempt things I can do, not things that require God to show up. When we attempt things that can only happen if God is a part of them, and they are accomplished, then God will get the glory, not me. To be more useful, do more things that require God’s presence to happen.

I fail because I make the wrong decisions. I make the wrong decisions because I don’t listen to the right counsel. Those of us working in ministry wrongly equate serving God with understanding God and his Word. Hearing truth from others or teaching truth from Scripture does not mean we are filled with truth or are hearing truth from the Holy Spirit as we move forward in making decisions.

We are bombarded with lies all day, every day. Some are blocked, but I think most get through. Some are taken captive (2 Corinthians 10:5), but most grow roots. The way combat these lies is through the truth of the Word of God. The way we hear the Word of God is through spending time reading it (both silently and especially aloud—Ephesians 12:17) and letting it transform us (Romans 12:2). I have learned that I can’t trust myself and what I am hearing when I have not been constantly in the Word. The more I gain nourishment in the Word, the more likely the counsel I hear is purely the Holy Sprit’s, not from my flesh.

Lastly, I have learned not to quit after a failure has occurred. The great thing about failure is that we have the opportunity to learn from it. The longer I stick with it, the better chance I have to use that learning in a future situation. We feel so crappy about failure because we have so many of them in so many different areas. Stick and stay, fail and learn, grow and surrender control, and do what you do in a manner where God gets the glory for the outcome.

“Go, fail with gusto.” –Mike Yaconelli

Eric Iverson is a native of Minneapolis, Minnesota, where he lives with his wife Judy and their two children. A twenty-five year youth ministry veteran, Eric currently serves as the Director of Multicultural Integrity for YouthWorks, Inc., and has been part of two short-term missions summits at FYI. Eric consults, teaches, and trains nationally around issues of poverty, race, justice, and multi-ethnic ministry.

Andy Root

You don’t have to hang around youth ministry people (by people, I mean full-time youth workers, publishers, organizational leaders, and denominational higher-ups) for long before you hear them add some kind of adjective to faith. “What we’re trying to do in our ministry is move kids into mature faith.” “Our new product promises to provide kids with vibrant faith.” “Our organization helps leaders direct kids toward having a deep faith.” “We’re hoping to support churches so their children can have a live faith.”

I do understand the (over)use of these adjectives, in cultural situations where “faith” can easily slide into socialized religions that become wooden and stale. That is always a risk in a context like ours, where so many people assert (on questionnaires) that they believe in God and/or pray at least once in a while. Yet it appears, at least to more devoted followers, that such people’s faith makes little impact on how they live their lives. Wanting young people to see faith as something more than a cultural religion’s socialization, we add our adjectives to distinguish that we really mean business, that we’re wanting kids to really, really take their faith seriously.

Like I said, I understand the feeling that these adjectives are needed. But, hoping not to offend anyone, let me be honest. I think it’s stupid, and it shows an important theological misconception of faith. This misconception can quickly separate faith from its lifeblood, from the reality that makes faith more than a cultural religious socialization; it can easily separate it from hope.

For Paul, discipleship is lived out through three core realities, three realities that are distinctly interconnected. Paul calls his young churches into faith, hope, and love.

There is much we could say about love here, but blog space is limited. So for these ramblings, let me focus on faith and hope. It appears that, for Paul, faith and hope are inextricable realities. They cannot be separated because both faith and hope are bound—anchored—in the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Jesus is the source both of faith and hope. Following Jesus engenders, even demands, faith and hope—not certain knowledge and completion.

For Paul, faith is actually trust in the absurd reality of the foolishness of the cross. Faith is the trust that what is backwards is true, that the crucified Christ is alive, that the God of the cross is found at dead places, bringing new life out of dry bones.

But the subject of this faith is hidden. This is why it takes faith—because it cannot easily be seen; it cannot be seen in logical, formal ways. It can only be seen with eyes that look from different angles; eyes that are willing to see things from below. Faith is never something achieved, something that can turn from “stale” to “vibrant.” Faith is finally and only the willingness to stand in a reality of death and seek God.

Faith is trust next to your own deaths that the God of life will move, that the God of life will be present. Faith does not flow from the streams of knowledge (which is usually what our added adjectives mean; “Our organization, ministry, denomination has a way of really getting kids to know stuff and therefore can move their faith into something vital.”) Faith comes rather from churning rapids of trust, next to death. Faith is always grasped next to doubt. Like the father in Mark 9 who trusts Jesus, but trusting him takes faith in midst of the chaotic white water of a sick child. Next to his deaths he believes; help his unbelief!

The father in Mark 9 believes; he has faith, even next to his doubt, because he is willing to risk hope. There is no faith without hope. Faith is bound in our present time, in our experiences of death and fear, but hope is bound in God’s coming, in God’s completed work, in what my six-year-old son, Owen, calls “the very, very end.” Faith stands in the heaviness of the now, bending its life toward the future that is coming, and hope is this future.

If, for Paul, faith is trust in the foolishness of the cross, then hope is anticipation in the coming of God’s new reality (new creation, new humanity, new life). This new reality, for Paul, comes through the small, weak, backward window of the cross because, just as faith is bound in the death of Jesus, so hope is bound in his resurrected life.

As Moltmann has said, faith is nothing more than anticipation of what is hoped for. The problem we have in youth ministry is that we talk too little with young people about what they hope for. The only way to free faith from religious socialization is to invite young people to hope, to imagine the very, very end, and in faith to begin to bend their lives toward this new reality that is not here yet but which we trust in faith will come.

Our problem in youth ministry is not that we don’t take faith seriously enough but that we have disconnected faith from hope. We fail to ask young people what they hope for in and up against all their college and consumer hopes, to nurture an eschatological imagination that sees hope as deep and powerful, as the ending of death in the embrace of God.

Steve Argue

I’d like to limit the “our” part of this question to the context of youth ministry, in particular youth workers, and frame my answer in mutually informing theological, developmental, and sociological perspectives.

Theological Hope. Simply (but profoundly), theological hope remains essential when we begin our Christian narrative in Genesis 1 rather than Genesis 3. When youth ministries start with Genesis 3 and creation’s fall, they create a problematic starting point. “Gospel” adapts a truncated message of saving poor, miserable sinners from themselves. It takes the perspective that the world is broken, evil, needing to be rejected, escaped, even destroyed. When we remember, however, that the gospel narrative starts in Genesis 1, we keep in God’s story, the reality that God created our world and called it really good. Therefore, life isn’t about running from this world but embracing it. From this theological place, we don’t see people as the scum of the earth but as God’s image bearers. The gospel becomes more than saving sinners from hell (and earth) and becomes a hopeful declaration that God is Lord of all, calling people to live into what they have been created to be in a world God has called us to live in and care for.

Any explanation of our Christian story must not start with, “You are separated from God.” It must start that, “You are created by God.” Only then do fall, cross, and resurrection make sense. Good news, then, is not teleporting out of here. It’s living into God’s story in this place right now, believing that God is bringing heaven to earth.

All this is important because research is revealing that adolescents are great imitators of adults—especially of parents and youth pastors. Choosing to ground our theology in Genesis 1 or 3 will shape our adolescents’ theologies and frame how they live both now and in the future. The outcomes of the theology we teach explicitly, through our formal teachings; and implicitly, by what we emphasize through our dialogue, questions, perspectives, and expectations will shape adolescents’ views of God, themselves, and their world.

Developmental Hope. Our theology of formation must take into account a developmental hope. Too often I’ve experienced adults attempting to impose their “adult faith” on adolescents. This is unfair because it places unrealistic expectations on adolescents’ developmental maturity (cognitively, socially, emotionally, relationally, spiritually). The reality is that it’s fairly easy to get adolescents to conform to certain behaviors, even do risky things for Jesus with the right combination of authority, manipulation, and spiritual proof-texting. Superimposed adult expectations of adolescents’ spiritual faithfulness; unfair demands on them to do peer evangelism; and rushing them into leadership often create damaging expectations that betray the developmental place adolescents are at spiritually.

Hope comes when we see that adolescents often have more faith, more depth, and a more holistic view of the gospel than adults, even though their faith looks more awkward and less refined. Youth workers must strive to encourage a developmentally appropriate faith that honors the place and the journey adolescents are at. This will challenge adults to rethink the beauty of the adolescent spiritual journey and may make adults more open to learning from them rather than judging or manipulating them. This hopeful, developmental perspective encourages adults to embrace and learn from adolescents, rather than fearing or controlling them.

Sociological Hope. Most American spirituality (especially those in predominantly suburban, white contexts, where most formal youth ministry resides) and the theology driving it tend to emphasize the individual. A personal relationship with Jesus; encouragement to get right with God; and most applications in youth ministry messages tend to focus on the individual.

While it is important to emphasize personal responsibility, appeals to the individual must be situated in a broader context of the world in which adolescents live. Failure to see systemic solutions for systemic sin; to call people to respond to God’s commands together; or to offer relational support beyond overly siloed youth programs, misses out on an essential part of a hopeful theology—that we are created to love God with others.

Hope in youth ministry (and what I believe is something we must strive for) is for adolescents to actually want adult connections and authentic peer relationships. It means rethinking the competitive, individualized, segmented perspectives that get adopted into youth ministry culture in order to embrace a life of knowing, caring, and supporting one another. In our fragmented world, this is very good news.

Theological hope, therefore, lies not only in proper doctrine but in proper relational contexts where life, faith, theology, etc., can be talked about, questioned, and wrestled with together. Together, then, a youth ministry learns to grow, serve, suffer, laugh, discover, question, debate, and love in ways that far exceed their individualism.

Putting it All Together. A theology of hope starts with the perspective of who we are (not who we’re not); it celebrates developmentally appropriate faith expressions, no matter how unrefined; and journeys in community because no one journeys alone. May hope continually remind us of who we are, where we are, and whom we’re with.

Mike King

I remember a specific conversation I had as a 28-year-old youth worker. I was talking to a veteran youth worker, 20 years older than me, who was going through some difficult times. I confided in him that I couldn’t identify with the pain he was dealing with and that I felt guilty because I had experienced such a charmed life and knew nothing about suffering or sorrow. The wise youth worker mentor calmly replied, “Mike, you are still very young.” He wasn’t suggesting that a storm would surely envelop me someday. He just reminded me that I was still very young.

Nearly 20 years after that conversation, a storm of devastation and despair did arise in my life. It was the kind of crisis that sucks the life out of you because it was just so unfair. An evil injustice occurred to one of our children, and suddenly everything seemed to collapse into utter desolation. Yes, I passionately questioned God. My theology was turned upside down. I spent hundreds of hours crying. I wrestled with God, but nothing seemed to make sense. In the deepest darkness of my despair, my soul obsessed, God, why?

It was during this period of utter darkness that the reality that God was with me in Jesus Christ became most profoundly apparent. Jesus Christ identifies with the suffering and pain of humanity as he cries out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This cry resonated with my experience.

Theologian Jürgen Moltmann wrote a book entitled The Crucified God that helped me wrestle through my crisis of faith to embrace hope. He writes, “The cry of Jesus in the words of Ps. 22 means not only, ‘My God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ but at the same time, ‘My God, why hast thou forsaken thyself?’ In the theological context of what he preached and lived, the unity of Jesus and God must be emphasized as strongly as this… The rejection expressed in his dying cry, and accurately interpreted by the words of Ps. 22, must therefore be understood strictly as something which took place between Jesus and his Father, and in the other direction between his Father and Jesus, the Son—that is, as something which took place between God and God.”

Shortly before the imprisoned Dietrich Bonhoeffer was executed by the Nazis, he wrote, “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross. He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us. Matthew 8:17 makes it clear that Christ helps us, not by virtue of his omnipotence, but by virtue of his weakness and suffering.”

I found hope in the realization that Jesus Christ identifies with the hopelessness of humanity through the weakness and suffering of the cross.

Jürgen Moltmann states, “Christian faith stands and falls with the knowledge of the crucified Christ, that is, with the knowledge of God in the crucified Christ, or, to use Luther’s even bolder phrase, with the knowledge of the ‘crucified God’.”

For me, this brings hope for a meaning for life, a life with God. This hope is possible because I live on the other side of the resurrection. The bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ brings the theology of hope to its fullest meaning—a hope for the future.

For Jesus’ disciples, his death and burial was the end of the story and the end of hope. It was not until the bodily resurrection of our Lord Jesus that hope springs fully to life for Christ’s followers, who now experience the beginning of a new day toward a future that embraces a living hope. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3).

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the hope for us of what’s to come. Hope for Christians does not mean “wish” or “thinking positive, good thoughts.” Hope is bound up in the promises of God. “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope” (Jeremiah 29:11).

One of the most hopeful verses in Scripture is found in Revelation 21:5, “And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’” Until that day when all things are made new, it is essential that we be people who are honest. Some of the goofiest, most absurd statements emerge out of a misunderstanding of what hope is truly about. Statements made concerning death, such as, “At least they are in a better place;” or, “God just wanted them to be in heaven with him,” are not exclamations of hope but very bad theology.

Death is our enemy. Death is God’s enemy. In fact, we are told, “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26). Christians of all people should tell the truth about this. The young people we minister to need to know the truth about our enemy—death and must be discipled into a robust theology of the cross. I believe this is the only way to truly discover and embrace a hope that is not built on wishful thinking.

Yes, one day, death shall be no more. Jesus Christ, the crucified one, is alive. This is our hope. It is “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27).

Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993, p. 151.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison: The Enlarged Edition. London: SCM Press, 1971, p. 36.
Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993, p. 65.

Danny Kwon

As I complete my PhD in organizational leadership, I can tell you that I have read well over 100 books on the subject of leadership over the past three years. They range from theoretical and academically inclined books for those taking a more scholarly approach to leadership studies, to those that are practical in nature and include step-by-step principles and practices for leadership. Personally, while I would not say that I enjoyed all of the books I have read, I do believe that each and every one has something to say about leadership and, in particular, leadership development.

While each book was chosen with ministry in mind, I also chose them because of the unique way they have contributed to our local ministry and leadership development. Moreover, I tried to choose each one based on the unique perspective it is written from.

Leadership: Theory and Practice, by Peter Northouse, is the most scholarly or academic book I have chosen. Frankly speaking, I don’t know if many people outside those studying leadership on a serious academic level will be reading this book. However, he does have a book that is more practically geared, called Introduction to Leadership: Concepts and Practice, that may be more appropriate for a general audience. What I love most about these two books is that they give a general introduction, history, and explanation to major schools of leadership theory and how it applies to real-life situations. Understanding the differences between transactional versus transformational leadership, the definition of servant leadership from an organizational leadership perspective, or team leadership models, has been extremely valuable as I seek to develop leadership in our youth ministry with our pastoral interns, adult volunteers, and student leadership. Moreover, having an overall picture of leadership theory has generally enriched and informed how I want to practice leadership development.

Peter Drucker’s seminal work, Managing the Nonprofit Organization, is a must read for anyone in ministry and considering leadership development. While the title presupposes the idea of management, Drucker has long been acknowledged for his more general contribution to leadership. The church is, of course, a nonprofit organization. Hence, Drucker’s work gives tangible principles and practices for directing and leading churches and ministry that can be used for leadership development and can subsequently foster an overarching vision for leadership and how we lead in our churches and youth ministries. As such, Drucker writes about topics such as organizational mission, performance, management, work relationships, and personal development in terms of leadership and management.

By far the most practical and easy-to-use book for leadership development is Essential Leadership, by Kara Powell and the Fuller Youth Institute. I have personally used this resource for leadership development for my adult volunteers, and I found it very beneficial. For starters, it comes with a leader’s guide and a participant guide. This is a valuable resource because it enables our adult volunteer leaders to better engage in their development personally but also from the perspective of the ministry as a whole. Second, the topics in this book cover a wide range that will equip those in our ministry to consider and grow in the wide range of issues that relate to our ministries and may even stretch our ministries. Finally, I found that using this comprehensive resource has enabled our volunteer staff to become more than just people who show up to youth events and activities. Rather, they have moved to becoming true shepherds and leaders.

Scot McKnight

I have a confession to offer: I neither look forward to reading nor do I even like leadership books. I’ve read a few, like Seth Godin’s Tribes and Nancy Beach’s Gifted to Lead. And, yes, I’ve read a few others, but I don’t like them and don’t get much out of them, and I say this as one whose pastor, Bill Hybels, is a leadership guru. Yes, I read Ruth Tucker’s Leadership Reconsidered because it sorted out models of leadership for me and gave me a handle on the discussion.

It’s not that I think the books are bad or that leadership is a bad idea. I’m just not wired to think the way leadership books think. My biggest complaint, and it doesn’t apply to all of these books or to any of them from cover to cover, is that they too often go in the wrong direction. They move from leadership models in our world and then find biblical verses about elders that say more or less the same thing. Or they find examples of leaders, like Joseph or Nehemiah or Jesus or Paul, and show how they did back in Bible days what leaders are now just finding—with the tone and implication that if leaders read the Bible, they’d have known this long ago. The movement I see too often is from here to there. It’s the wrong direction. We are called to move from there to here.

But there’s another leadership approach, and it can be called the deconstructive approach. Some say leadership is servant leadership, and they go to Mark 10:45, I didn’t come to be served but to serve, and show that Christian leadership is completely otherwise. That’s helpful, but I get cranky and cynical when I read this sort of thing because I wonder what’s next. Will they then slip in the leadership models into that servant leadership model? Sometimes they do.

Yet, I know there are more or less leaders in the Bible, and there are clear guidelines—say, in the Pastoral Epistles—about how the church’s leaders are to operate and guide and mentor and lead. Yet I’m still not satisfied. Maybe I’m just cranky.

So I want to put my idea on the line and see where it leads us. We have one leader, and his name is Jesus. I want to bang this home with a quotation from Jesus from Matthew 23, where he seems to be staring at the glow of leadership in the eyes of his disciples, and he does nothing short of deconstructing the glow:

But you are not to be called “Rabbi,” for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth “father,” for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one Instructor, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

Instead of seeing myself as a leader, I see myself as a follower. Instead of plotting how to lead, I plot how to follow Jesus with others. Instead of seeing myself at the helm of some boat—and mine is small compared to many others—I see myself in the boat, with Jesus at the helm.

Maybe I just have not read enough of the leadership books to know that I’m repeating what leadership books say. Maybe not. What I do want to say, though, is that leadership too often places the pastor or some person in the front and having others be guided (and following) that person, and that, I dare say, distorts the entire gospel. Jesus was willing to say that his followers didn’t have a rabbi of their own, didn’t have a human father in a position of ultimate authority, and they didn’t have an instructor who was their teacher. They had one rabbi and one instructor, and his name was Jesus, and he was Messiah. They had one father, and he was Creator of all. They were to see themselves as brothers, not leaders. That’s straight from the lips of Jesus.

There is something so profoundly deconstructing about Jesus’ words here that we need to take them much more seriously every time and any time we begin to talk about leaders and leadership. My contention is that we are not leaders but followers; that Jesus is the leader; and that any leading we do is by way of following.

That’s a rant. It happens to be one I believe.

Oh, the three books on leadership. How about four: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John!

Mike King

Here are the three leadership books I recommend and why.

1) The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organization, by Peter Senge. Peter Senge wrote The Fifth Discipline in 1990. This book continues to be a seminal work on a systems-thinking approach to leadership and organizational culture. Senge discusses five disciplines that nurture a productive learning environment:

1) Personal Mastery. I think this is congruent with spiritual disciplines. A leader in a learning organization must be a learner. A leader must know herself and be self-aware. A leader must be willing to pick up his cross, pursue Jesus Christ intimately, and pour out his life for others. A leader must be able to hyper-focus on her vocation and not become diffused by trying to do too many things.

2) Mental Models. We all have assumptions deeply embedded in our minds about how the world works and what we think we must do to make things happen. Often these mental models are false constructs of how the world around us actually works.

3) Shared Vision. Creating a shared vision as a community of people stimulates synergistic engagement instead of sterile compliance.

4) Team Learning. In situated learning theory, I would call this the activity of a “community of practice” that leads to genuine learning and creativity.

5) Systems Thinking. This is the “fifth discipline” that allows one to integrate all of these disciplines into a new way of thinking and viewing reality.

I would put The Fifth Discipline in my list of top 20 books that have had the most influence on my life and the way I think about how the world works. This book provides an excellent paradigm for seeing beyond the seeing to comprehend and grasp dynamic complexities and the non-linear ways that systems work. This book has helped me better understand the complexities of leading a large organization, working in the church, dealing with challenging interpersonal issues, thinking about youth ministry, building relationships, and developing a rhythm of spiritual formation.

2) The Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix, by Edwin Friedman. In many ways, Edwin Friedman takes what Peter Senge developed in The Fifth Discipline and advances it. The Failure of Nerve was actually completed after Friedman’s death. Friedman was a rabbi and a “family systems” therapist. He deals with the lack of leadership that exists in our organizations, homes, churches, and businesses because of our safety-conscious and data-driven culture that waters down and subverts true vision, risk-taking, and excellence.

Friedman describes how leaders are sabotaged by the people and organizations they lead and therefore must have the nerve and courage to nurture their own maturation, commitment, and skills in order to provide strong and firm leadership in their cultures. The book talks a lot about the important leadership characteristic of being a “non-anxious presence.” Friedman calls on leaders to rely upon their competencies and intuitive skills over and beyond reliance on the need for “more data” to fix problems. He values leadership stamina, confidence, and decisiveness over technique. One of the most significant contributions to the book is an examination of the concept of empathy and how too often this becomes an exercise of enabling dysfunction. This book adds an important element to the conversation concerning the tension between what it takes to build genuine community without dumbing down the organizational culture to the lowest common denominator.

3) The Starfish and the Spider: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations, by Ori Brafman and Rod Beckstrom. As I write this, I’m really struck by how related yet different and (at first glance) contradictory these three book recommendations are, especially The Failure of Nerve versus The Starfish and the Spider. Whereas Friedman calls for a strong, decisive, and self-differentiated leader who is willing to make an intuitive decision for the organization, church, community, family, or business; Brafman and Beckstrom are proposing a “leaderless organization.” I’m assuming most of the readers of Slant33 are familiar with the concept of the starfish/spider metaphor, so I won’t go into the content of this wonderful little book. I have used The Starfish and the Spider in numerous university and seminary classes I have taught on missional theology, leadership, and ecclesiology. It resonates with much of the emerging generation who are not interested in being in authoritarian environments. However, I believe it takes a strong leader, like the one Friedman talks about in The Failure of Nerve, who understands the dynamic complexities Senge talks about in The Fifth Discipline, in order to create the kind of cultural environment that Brafman and Beckstrom describe in The Starfish and the Spider.

What do you think? What books on leadership would you add to the list? Make your suggestions below in the comment section.

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

Andy Root

So maybe one of the latest research movements that has impacted youth ministry is new discoveries in neurology and overall brain science. The latest big finding has been that teenagers actually have primitive brains—brains not fully developed—making certain forms of decision making and moral reasoning impossible—so says the research. And youth ministry people pick this up and go with assumptions that kids (especially the boys in their ministries) have animal-like brains. Lately this has led some youth ministry people to ask big questions, like, Can a young person live a life of discipleship before his or her brain fully develops? Is what we are calling them to be and do realistic? Can a teenager live a sanctified life, even?

I have to admit I’m not a big fan of this research. Not because I don’t think it might be right. Believe me, I’m no brain doctor. But I’m worried about the popularized perspective that many youth workers are drawing from because it holds the danger of perpetuating the ontological state of adolescence. If there is a teenage brain, if the young person’s brain is developmentally primitive, then we should keep young people caged behind the walls of adolescence. We should fortify teenage-hood. The problem is that this research so easily becomes reductionistic: Of course we can’t have young people fully involved in the congregation; of course we can’t listen to their theological voices; their brains are primitive! Which too often gets defined as “less than”.

Plus, this perspective is not only reductionistic in the sense of seeing adolescents as less than but also in the sense of ignoring the environmental impact on the brain. It may very well be true, and powerfully so, that when the hard sciences take pictures of the brain, exposing its dimensions and shape, the teenage brain looks different from the brain of a 45-year-old. But that static picture is all that can be seen in a laboratory. It does not take into consideration how the brain changes and what impact society and culture have on the biological organism.

We know for certain that culture does impact biology, not just the other way around. For instance, we know that girls’ menstrual cycles, not long ago, started much later (between the ages of 15-16), but in the last few decades, we have seen a significant drop in the age of a girl’s first period (around ages 11-12, sometimes even 9). All the answers for why this biological reality has changed point to culture. It may have to do with exposure to light, or hormones in the milk children drink and other dietary realities, or greater exposure to information. Whatever the reason, this illustrates that culture has the power to change biological realities.

The problem with the popular brain science that many youth workers are drawing from is that it sees the human brain as static, disconnected from social, relational, and cultural realities. We no doubt are beings with brains, but these brains are wired for social connection (as explored in object relations psychology) and culture (as studied in the sociology of knowledge, à la Peter Berger). And if you scratch beyond the surface of this popular brain science, what you find is that most theorists, especially those who have drawn brain science into interdisciplinary conversations (as does Daniel Siegel and Louis Cozolino), say that the human brain is plastic, changeable, because the human brain is social. These theorists, drawing from the best in neurology, have shown that our social relationships—our engagements with culture—have the power to reshape the brain. For instance, they’ve discovered that the brains of those who’ve experienced trauma or abuse look different than they did prior to the experiences.

So sure, culture and society may shape 12–24-year-olds’ primitive-looking brains, but doesn’t that only call the church deeper? It means we need to engage young people in social realities. Social realities, like life in a congregation, can quite literally reshape their brains. Youth ministry actually has the power (through the Holy Spirit) to change the shape of teenagers’ brains. That’s a pretty big deal, and that’s what the research implies. Rather than pulling back from what we give to or expect from teenagers, it pushes for us to open the doors of the youth room and get young people involved in the social/relational reality of the wider congregation. Because the brain is social (plastic), then getting their teenage brains engaged with adult brains will transform them.

Dave Rahn

True confession. I winced inwardly at this question, like an alcoholic might struggle when someone innocently asks which beer tastes best. Without totally dodging the question, I want to take advantage of this moment to tell my story and offer the caution of my experience.

First, I am wired by the Lord to be logical, analytical, and strategic. I love solving problems by applying skills of intellectual reasoning. Lots of my friends are inclined to use their minds; I tend to wear them out. Some of the most significant disciple-making influences in my young Christian life—I put my faith in Jesus when I was 16—were books. Before finishing high school I had read Francis Schaffer’s True Spirituality, Watchman Nee’s The Normal Christian Life, and Josh McDowell’s Evidence That Demands a Verdict. Whatever else was true for me, following Jesus made sense.

Without benefit of much self-reflection and being evangelistically zealous, I began leading a campus life outreach ministry as a college freshman. Over the next 13 years, my role in the organization expanded. And I led on the strength of my diligent activity driven by strategy. How can I reach that particular kid for Christ? Which school should our ministry expand into next, and why? Who are the young staff members I need to bring on the team so we can grow? What activities do we engage in that distract us from doing our best? How can we make our programs, our wrap-ups, each relationship more effective? In the midst of this experience I slipped away for a year and got a master’s degree, fortifying my conviction that thinking well would lead me to greater fruitfulness in ministry.

When I migrated into a college teaching role, it seemed like a natural and strategic use of my gifts. I could leverage this new job for continued influence in the kingdom. After getting a PhD from Purdue, I realized I had something strategic to offer our little Christian college. If I were turned loose to do research that concentrated on the practice of youth ministry, Huntington College (now Huntington University) could stake out a distinctive niche in a young academic discipline. We could emerge as contributing leaders by serving through research.

This focus seemed to fit me perfectly. While I distributed my energy equally between big-question research problems and life-on-life investment with my students, the strategic noisemaker for the college was clearly our published research. I still believe that research can make incredibly important contributions to the body of knowledge in youth ministry, especially because our common practices have lacked rigorous tests of effectiveness. Youth ministry has been largely shaped by a process of trial-and-error experiences that get interpreted and passed along through a conference/workshop delivery system. It’s not that such insights are not valuable; it’s just that we are vulnerable to biases of interpretation that will mislead us without proper scrutiny.

As I approach nearly 40 years of doing youth ministry, I find myself leading the national ministry strategies of Youth for Christ, an organization of evangelistic missionaries that has very little patience for research. Far from imposing my own values on our efforts, I am coming to reckon with the limitations of my own über-strategic inclinations. I have realized that being strategic has made it harder, not easier, to pray with childlike dependency; that transformational love is delivered to lost kids one at a time by people who know they are well loved; that the power of God’s Word to change lives is downright mysterious and resistant to research-based understanding; that observable, fruit-producing unity is unattainable without heart-hidden humility leading the way.

In a fascinating way I feel like I am standing at a moment in my life where I gain the benefit of a backward-looking fresh explanation of how my ministry has been fruitful. It’s like I’m living in the “reveal” moment of The Sixth Sense, discovering that the storyline I have used for years to explain how I have been effective might be masking the truth. What the Lord wants to do in and through me has met considerable resistance from the research-oriented, strategy-crafting side of my soul.

Had I chosen to answer this blog’s question in a straightforward way, I would have given a shout out to the fabulous sociological research done by Christian Smith and team that maps the adolescent landscape of spirituality and religiosity in America. I also would have tossed a bone to the world of distinct domains research, inaugurated by Elliot Turiel in the late ’70s. He and others have made timely contributions to understanding the common structures we employ as we construct meaning for making moral judgments, explaining how teens and parents, for instance, arrive at different conclusions around all kinds of issues. My friend Denny Howard has made a discovery during his clinical counseling practice with more than 3,000 ministry professionals that has allowed him to predict what the major crisis issues will be, based on ministry experience and age. His sample of 400 constitutes a strong pilot study that he hopes to expand into a wonderfully robust research project with immense benefit to the care of ministers.

I still value research very much. In the master’s program I lead, graduates make original, research-based contributions to youth ministry as part of their final projects.

But to guard the progress that seems to be taking place in my own heart, I refuse to personally camp out in the research forests any more. As a matter of conviction, searching through research for solutions is a slippery slope that requires me to be tethered to soul-guarding friends before I traverse its terrain.

My apologies if I’ve disappointed any readers. I’m sure my blog was a “slant” that was not anticipated by those writing a worthwhile question. For what it’s worth, my heart is a bit lighter as I’ve offered this unsolicited testimony. God is good!

Mike King

A paper titled “Brands: The Opiate of the Nonreligious Masses?” has been published in Marketing Science 1. The research team was made up of scholars from Tel Aviv University, Duke University, and New York University. According to their data, they claim that religiously minded people are less interested in consumer products that are branded by a major brand name. In the study, those who claim to be non-religious are much more reliant on well-known brand products, especially when they have the financial means to afford major brands.

The research team theorizes, “Brands and religiosity may serve as substitutes for one another because both allow individuals to express their feelings of self-worth.”

“‘Brands are a signal of self-worth,’ Fitzsimons 2 said. ‘We're signaling to others that we care about ourselves and that we feel good about ourselves and that we matter in this world. It's more than I'm hip or cool,’ he said: ‘I'm a worthwhile person, and I matter, and you should respect me and think that I'm a good person, because I've got the D&G on my glasses.’” 3

The Christian faith is to be lived within a community of practice. Being connected to a faith community says a lot about who people are and what they value. If we don’t know who we are in Jesus Christ, and if we struggle to make meaning out of life through faith, then certainly Apple, Juicy Couture, Gap, or Urban Outfitters are more than willing to help fill the void by providing some sense of meaning or self-worth, right? Some marketers are actually attempting to attach religious overtone to their brands in order to attract consumers looking for meaning, identity, and purpose in life—think True Religion.

Andy Root, at a recent youth worker training at Youthfront, pointed out that young adults are selecting and creating identities for themselves. One can create a profile and craft an identity based on what one buys, wears, and consumes. This increases the importance of a renewed and vigorous emphasis on Christian formation and an intentional theological exploration of what it means to help adolescents form identities rooted in Jesus Christ. A theology that focuses on what it means to live a cruciform life is essential in the midst of our consumerist cultural realities.

This study is very interesting for those of us involved in ministry to adolescents and young adults as we engage in dialogue about what brings meaning to our lives. The researchers’ claim that those who are identified as “religious-minded” people are less likely to be enslaved by major status brands is encouraging to me. Embracing an ethos that Jesus Christ is enough will help us counter the script that suggests we find meaning through the creed I consume, therefore I am.

1. "Brands: The Opiate of the Non-Religious Masses?" Ron Shachar, Tülin Erdem, Keisha M. Cutright, Gavan J. Fitzsimons, Marketing Science, articles in advance, Sept. 24, 2010. DOI: 10.1287/mksc.1100.0591
2. Gavan J. Fitzsimons; R. David Thomas Professor of Marketing and Psychology; F.M. Kirby Research Fellow; Duke University
3. http://www.dukenews.duke.edu/2010/09/brandreligion.html

Danny Kwon

After 16 years as the youth pastor at my church, I am now in the midst of an interesting phenomenon. I am both the youth pastor and parent of two students in the youth group. This has led to a most interesting outlook for me. For example, when it comes to how our youth ministry staff and volunteer considers what we want to teach through our small-group ministries, my approach has been considerably different. I have gone from thinking What do I want our students to learn? to What do I want my children to learn?

I suppose, then, that while all of us try to work with parents and consider families in our ministries, when your own children are part of your group, a different type of appreciation for the importance of this has come to light. For example, I get firsthand accounts of what my children have learned at Sunday school or midweek small group from their adult leaders.

Ultimately, this has led me to be convinced once again of the pedagogical importance of Sunday school and small-group ministries. Moreover, the significance of the content of what we teach still holds important value. This is not to lessen the importance of how we interpret what we learn.

I was part of a cohort with fellow .slant33 writer Steve Argue recently where he discussed the pedagogical importance of context in learning (finding meaning in what we learn) as well as the content of what we are taught. After spending intentional but random time with my boys and asking them about what they “learned at church,” I realized that the content of what my volunteers are teaching may need some reinforcement, at the very least. Hence, this is one area where I think discussing theology can improve in my ministry and perhaps in youth ministry in general.

An area in which our youth ministry had to reshape itself a few years was our emphasis on having a solid account of what are the theological foundations of our volunteers and to equip them accordingly. Sure, all of our volunteers go to the same church, listen to the same preacher, and have opportunities to go to the same Sunday school classes. However, the lenses through which they interpret these teachings may shape their theologies differently. We certainly need to help our volunteers focus on small-group strategies, how to ask the right questions, and how to love our students. Nevertheless, equipping them for the important and ultimate task of teaching students about God should not be neglected.

I myself have found in our volunteer staff meetings that we talk about forgotten students, disgruntled parents, how to make small groups more inviting. Yet the discussions on what the volunteers are teaching are often not emphasized enough. Hence, our staff and volunteers have taken great steps in recent years to take more time to understand our personal and deep-rooted theological convictions and how that manifests itself in how and what we teach our students. Similarly, equipping our volunteers theologically has been an important value in our ministry.

Ultimately, depending on a church’s theological traditions and what theological teachings a youth ministry may want to teach and convey to students, considering and discussing theology with one’s volunteers and having a unified understanding of it is important. So when a student asks perplexing or imaginative questions like what is your perspective on predestination, abortion, drinking, hell, or suicide, our volunteers would have a theological basis from which to discuss these questions. Similarly, this helps our volunteers to realize that one of our ultimate goals is to teach the content so the context—or finding personal meaning and value in what each student learns—would subsequently be an ongoing process for our students. However, if we did not emphasize the theological foundations first as a youth ministry (staff and volunteers), then this process could easily become an afterthought.

Discussing theology with our volunteers and staff has also played another significant role. In having a deeper understanding of who God is and how he functions, and applying personal meaning to it, our volunteers have become more joyful servants and in turn have a deeper love for our students. For example, one of the theological values we emphasize and discuss among our volunteers is that we believe God changes people. That means volunteers don’t change people. Therefore, being equipped with this truth, our volunteers are more apt to trust God and have more compassion on those students who don’t seem like they are changing. In other words, our volunteers can understand that God has his own timing to change students’ lives, and they need not become discouraged or frustrated when students are not changing “fast enough.” Ultimately, in valuing, embracing, and discussing even such simple theological truths such as this one, our volunteers become greater and more effective servants.

Helpful Resources for Students:

Clear: 8 Lessons on the Theological Foundations for Faith

Dave Rahn

There are times when we could take great strides of improvement by not talking about theology in youth ministry. Of course, this possibility is itself a result of some theological reflection.

A number of years ago, while I was still a full-time professor, I noticed a disquieting gap in the preparation of our undergrad youth ministry students. They had taken required courses in systematic theology. Many had earned excellent grades in those courses. But I saw little evidence in my own classes that their exposure to theological knowledge resulted in any ability to think theologically about their youth ministry practices. Like too many youth ministers today, their answers to why they did what they did with young people ultimately defaulted to a vague positive assessment of their own personal experiences. They liked what they went through when they were in student ministry, and it seemed to work okay.

So the grandest suggestion I have for improving how we discuss theology in youth ministry is that we refrain from talking about anything in the abstract. If we fail to locate our conversations in the messy realities of our existence, then what we are doing is a theoretical exercise, one that may or may not bear any traceable or valuable fruit in our lives.

How fun to engage in some theological reflection about theological discussions! Notice how Paul coaches Timothy:

As I urged you when I went into Macedonia, stay there in Ephesus so that you may command certain men not to teach false doctrines any longer, nor to devote themselves to myths and endless genealogies. These promote controversies rather than God’s work—which is by faith. The goal of this command is love, which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. Some have wandered away from these and turned to meaningless talk. They want to be teachers of the law, but they do not know what they are talking about or what they so confidently affirm. (1 Timothy 1:3-7, NIV) Titus received a similar admonition (Titus 3:9-11). Clearly there are arenas of titillating conversation that should, as a matter of faithfulness to the Lord, be avoided. Why? Because they feed our egos, not the faith that subjugates our egos to the rule of Jesus. Knowledge is a Puff Daddy. It’s rendered useful if it can be linked to right living; otherwise, it is so much vapor in God’s values schema.

With all the caution cones I have tossed off my truck and onto the highway, I think I ought to confess that I teach an annual class that helps grad students think theologically in youth ministry. There is an entire world of possibilities when it comes to analyzing our youth ministry practices in the light of biblical truth. Take a quick spin through the second chapter of Paul’s letter to the Colossians to discover how many reflective bridges the apostle built between ministry activity and God’s Word. Far from not having anything to talk about, we who practice youth ministry ought to talk about the theological derivations, implications, and ramifications of everything we do. Here’s a sample, just to prime the pump:

• What role should parents play in your student ministry? What scriptural basis do you have for your position? Is that foundation applicable to all sorts of cases, or does it crumble when tested against the real-world realities of non-Christian or even abusive parents?

• Youth ministry is often known for its fun—have you worked out a theology of fun? What’s acceptable? What’s intolerable? What form of fun contributes to that which is most life giving and God honoring?

• Why do you meet as often or infrequently as you do? Are there any theological assumptions/commitments that are driving your meeting times, or are practical considerations your only real factor? And by the way, is there any theological warrant for challenging whether practical considerations should be the primary factor in our decision-making?

• How does your understanding of ecclesiology inform your youth ministry’s structure? Your student ministry’s connection with those who are older saints in the church? The way your young people engage their lost friends?

My greatest suggestion for theological discussions in youth ministry is that we talk more thoroughly and more candidly about all of our practices, seeking to discern biblical insights about them that can improve our faithfulness and please the Lord. I expect that such conversations can be as fruitful as the honesty and fidelity of our truth-searching allow.

Mike King

This is an extremely important question, not only for youth ministry and the spiritual formation of young people in our youth ministries; this is a critical question for the church and Christianity in North America.

The word theology combines two Greek words, theos (God) and logos (word, speech, or discourse). Theology, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “the study of God and God's relation to the world.” Many Christians think theology is something that only seminary students engage in and what theologians do for a living.

Theology helps us understand what the Bible means. Theology shapes what we believe about God, about ourselves, about life, about death, and about the future. Theology is crucial to understanding prayer, why we pray, and what happens when we pray. Theology helps us wrestle with issues like evil and why bad things happen to good people. Theology is vital to discover the meaning and purpose of our lives.

In reality, every human being is a theologian. Unfortunately, most people—including those who profess faith in Jesus Christ—are not very good theologians. The reason we are not developing good theologians is the church’s lack of intentionality to develop good theologians.

The North American posture toward life and the meaning of “the good life” is dominated by pragmatism. Pragmatism is largely an American philosophy that holds the belief that “the meaning of conceptions is to be sought in their practical bearings, that the function of thought is to guide action, and that truth is preeminently to be tested by the practical consequences of belief.”

Pragmatism has a significant influence on theology in our culture. Pragmatism as an orientation toward life and meaning subverts theology and tends to focus primarily on human action. If divine action is acknowledged, it is mostly a formulaic response to human action. It is challenging to question the success of the Joel Osteens, T.D. Jakeses, and Rick Warrens of the church world. How dare we not acknowledge their accomplishments? Certainly they must be evidence of God’s favor, right?

Most youth workers have been wrestling with the findings of the National Study of Youth and Religion, a research project directed by Christian Smith, professor of sociology at the University of Notre Dame, and Lisa Pearce, assistant professor of sociology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Smith uses the phrase moralistic therapeutic deism to describe the current religious mindset among young people today. Moralistic therapeutic deism is religious pragmatism writ large and is the result of very bad theology.

So what do we do to help young people become better theologians and engage in deeper theological reflection? We must become intentional about teaching young people to think theologically. We must create consistent opportunities for young people to participate in dialogue. We have to allow for dialectical tension. We must help young people embrace paradox. We must expose them to the great theological issues like election, sanctification, justification, atonement, sin, holiness, the nature of God, plus much more. We must deal with such questions as What does it mean to say God is triune, and why does it matter? If God is all powerful and good, why do bad things happen? Is the Bible from God or human beings, and is it inerrant, infallible, inspirational, or what? What really happened on the cross? and What does the resurrection of Jesus Christ mean for our future?

Theology helps us come to know what we think about God, and that shapes how we live. Theology will help young people form their identities and nurture their spirituality.

Most importantly, our theology should be Christocentric. Dietrich Bonhoeffer believed that theology begins in prayer and has Jesus Christ as the center of God’s revelation to human beings. Jesus Christ is God for us. Perhaps we should begin to improve our theological reflection in youth ministry by spending time answering slowly the three questions that form Bonhoeffer’s theology (as stated in Andy Root’s Revisiting Relational Youth Ministry: From A Strategy of Influence to a Theology of Incarnation).

1. Who is Jesus Christ?
2. Where is the living, active presence of Jesus Christ?
3. What then shall we do?

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pragmatism

Mike King

The word justice and especially the phrase social justice have been in the media spotlight lately, thanks primarily to the culture wars and the attention-grabbing techniques of Glenn Beck. The issue of justice has been a focus of human beings since the beginning of recorded history. Often the issue of justice has forced Christians to determine where their primary allegiances lie—with God’s in-breaking kingdom or with political powers and national governments?

The prophet Micah declares in Micah 6:8, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Children of God are required to “do justice.”

One of the common phrases of children when they begin to interact with one another on playgrounds, neighborhoods, in social settings, schools, and especially among siblings is, “That’s not fair.”

“Studies at UCLA in 2008 have indicated that reactions to fairness are ‘wired’ into the brain... This is consistent with the notion that being treated fairly satisfies a basic need.’ 1 The issue of justice is a very important part of youth ministry and spiritual formation.

There are many ways the issue of justice has been classified. For instance: legal justice, commutative justice, procedural justice, criminal justice, social justice, punitive justice, restorative justice, universal justice, distributive justice, retributive justice, personal justice, supernatural justice, poetic justice, etc.

Instead of defining all the various forms and types of justice, I will respond to the question by suggesting two primary ways the issue and types of justice will impact your youth ministry.

1) Community Environment. The spirituality of your faith community is greatly influenced by how you deal with many of the different types of justice issues at work in your context. Let’s take the issue of punitive vs. restorative justice as an example. If your culture believes that those within your faith community must be punished (as an example for all) if they violate the group’s values, disobey Scripture, and/or make a serious mistake and sin, then you may be willing to lose a member of the community in order to maintain the group’s ethos and rules. Misguided punitive justice often relies on shame to recover and maintain a sense of order. Punitive justice focuses on the supposed need of the community to punish offenders. I’ve seen many young people in youth ministries significantly wronged and humiliated by unjust punitive justice.

Restorative justice, on the other hand, seeks to repair the wrongs and damages done and works to restore both victims and offenders. Often, restorative justice takes more time and is more complicated to accomplish, but the results are more in line with restoration and God’s redemptive mission. Allowing your environment to be shaped by grace and restorative justice will go a long way toward nurturing a faith community that is a safe place for all. Attempting to make things right for all is hard work but is essential for fostering Christian community.

2) Christian Formation. If we are going to be youth workers who make disciples who become lifelong followers of Jesus Christ, we must help the young people in our faith communities grasp the overarching mission of God. It is not possible to fully cooperate with God’s mission of redemption and restoration without doing justice, as the prophet Micah states in the above verse. The prophet Isaiah weighs in on the mission of Messiah in Isaiah 42:1-4.

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth.”

Jesus Christ will fully establish justice in the earth. As Christ’s disciples, we are to follow Jesus in the movement toward a just world. One of the biggest problems we face in the Christian church today is our propensity to mostly talk about justice. We talk about justice but rarely do justice. And yes, I’m talking about us, I’m talking about you, but mostly, I’m talking about me.

Last week our Youthfront staff watched the movie Romero together as a part of our monthly formational practice. The movie is about the life of Oscar Romero, who was appointed archbishop of San Salvador, El Salvador, during a tumultuous time in the 1970s. Great injustices were happening throughout the country, and the poor were being exploited, raped, and murdered. Archbishop Romero was assassinated because he was willing to stand up against gross injustice. The movie portrays many different ways individuals who claim to be Christians react to what is going on around them. The issue of what it means to “do justice” was the focus of our staff discussion. The questions we wrestled with following this film are still provoking our imaginations and dominating our conversations.

As youth workers, we must search our hearts and explore what it means to live cruciform lives. As we read the gospels and see the life of Jesus, we see the reality of God’s in-breaking kingdom. Jesus Christ is doing a new thing, and it is this way of life that God is calling us to lean into. This is the way of life we invite young people to embrace. I believe it is a life that moves toward shalom and a world made right, a cause that young people might be willing to lay down their lives for.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justice#cite_ref-4

Helpful Resources for Students:

Living Justice: Revolutionary Compassion in a Broken World

Steve Argue

Recently I was with a group of youth pastors and senior pastors reflecting on the topic, What is a question that can only be answered by the youth pastor and the senior pastor together? I’ve been pondering that conversation and came up with what I think is an important question: Who are the people we exclude?

The injustice of reaching out without welcoming in. Often in ministry conversations, there inevitably comes a point where the topic turns toward “outreach” or “reaching” someone. For deeply theological reasons (both redemptive and sometimes dangerous), many churches feel compelled to reach out toward someone, somewhere. What is often missed, however, is that if a faith community reaches out, there also must be a complimentary and equally high value of welcoming in.

Within the physical walls of churches, ministries have reached out to kids, students, and emerging adults, providing them with programs and pastors. These initiatives have often created a silo effect, where the groups reached end up entrapped and still unwelcome in other parts of the community. Consider the main service and the many looks they get when kids act like kids and students dress like students. Similarly, how many youth pastors have touted parents as the primary disciplers of their kids (inaccurately quoting Deuteronomy 6), while systematically excluding them from all youth ministry programming, except to ensure they pay for ever-rising mission trips? Reaching is valued. Welcoming is not.

In an odd sort of way, church programs designed for specific groups (especially young people) become ghettos of segregation, contradicting Jesus’ prayer for the people of God to be one. Something is wrong when adults want to populate their church with the next generation as long as they don’t touch anything and when youth pastors want parental support while excluding parents from their thinking, relationships, and programming.

Thus, the question remains for our faith communities, Whom do we exclude? Where are the lines drawn within one’s own church? And might the very structure, assumptions, and spirit of our faith communities be the walls that feign outreach but actually communicate, Keep out? When we reach out without welcoming in, we perpetuate the injustice of exclusion.

The injustice of preserving distance between your space and our space. Beyond local congregations, churches attempt to reach out to the poor, needy, and oppressed. I commend the good work done across the street and around the world. My only concern is that most of the people whom churches reach out to remain conveniently “out there.” When we reach out, we can be generous and compassionate on our terms, in our time frame, away from our place. How many of the poor, needy, and oppressed are actually welcome in our churches and homes? I know the issue is more complicated, but the simply perpetuated message of separation exists where: We will reach out to your space, but you are not welcome in our space.

Sadly, many churches are known more for what they are against, welcoming people as long as they’re “just like us.” Emerging adults often feel like strangers in their own home churches and are accused of leaving; single men and women are often overlooked because they don’t fit into a traditional family; and the marginalized of all kinds find sparse connection. Whom do we exclude?

Whether internal segregation or external separation, churches can have a welcoming problem that contradicts the nature and purposes of God. Throughout the biblical narrative, we see God as one who pursues and calls people, committing to be their God; who comes near through incarnation; who extends God’s love to all, engrafting outsiders, calling them “my people,” “my friends,” “my co-heirs,” and “my children.” We are a people who have been welcomed, empowered to welcome.

These are not easy issues to work through, but the level of difficulty cannot dictate the level of necessity. Faith communities’ inability to welcome the “other” typically has little to do with espoused theology and doctrine and has more to do with fear of the unknown, love of power, and resistance to change, fueling postures to keep the other “out there.” I’m not saying everyone in our faith communities is intentionally cruel, but many may be unaware of these injustices, blinded by their majority lenses. In either case, “reached” outsiders remain excluded and unwelcomed.

Senior pastors and youth pastors must work together to communicate a consistent posture of welcoming that will take more resolve, dedication, and sacrifice than any mission trip or outreach program. For it will call us to change us, more than them, to be we.

The reason I am a follower of Jesus is that someone welcomed me in. Yes, even me. This is the beautifully overwhelming, barrier-breaking, system-crushing grace that God offers to all. It’s a justice issue that must be owned by senior pastors and youth pastors together. It’s a justice issue that declares that, as we seek to change the world, our worlds may need the first changing.

Dave Rahn

Justice originates with a set of standards; a code; the law. The notion that there are various forms or types of justice implies that there may be different rules that apply to different contexts. This reminds me a bit of the construct of intelligence and research by Howard Gardner and others to make the case for multiple, domain-specific intelligences. Are we better served by looking at justice through categorical filters (e.g., economic, political, or racial) or by thinking of it as a holistic concept like that which is freighted by the Hebrew word shalom?

We live in a day when the social construction of knowledge is all the rage. Morality can be defined without the need to establish a first cause or authority. My own doctoral research was embedded in this wing of social science. The moral domain is defined by universal obligations that people agree are right or wrong regardless of circumstance, situations, or culture. The conventional domain acknowledges that there are some contexts where matters of right and wrong are of a different quality, rooted in legitimately acknowledged authority, and regulated by a source that can alter the standards at any time.

So it’s always wrong to hit other children so as to hurt them (moral), but it’s only wrong to chew gum in class if the teacher says it’s wrong. And Mrs. Snider, my paddle-wielding, second-grade teacher at William Carr Elementary, made it clear always that chomping was impermissible in her presence.

Please forgive my short detour into an area of obscure inquiry that I lived in 20 years ago while pursuing my PhD. I am convinced that the social forces interested in exploring a relativistic basis for knowledge have only accelerated in the last two decades. Years ago, the quest for truth was at the heart of all questions of morality and justice. Today’s discussions pursue such wisdom without any need to anchor it in notions of absolute truth that can be known, however imperfectly.

So I return to my original question about the question. How is it somehow better to divvy up justice into assigned analytical categories for improved practical use if that guidance is as weightless as anything that spins away from its gravitational orbit? Can you tell I’m concerned about self-referential justice, even that which is cloaked in community consensus as “self?”

I have only the desire to know and live more thoroughly according to justice as defined by the rule of God our King. Hundreds of detailed Torah regulations did not bring about this justice. The Ten Commandments also failed to usher God’s people into justly living communities. Even the great commandments, reduced to two huge summary pursuits that allow us to affix them to our bumper stickers, do not give us power to live justly. But when God graciously saved me and dispatched his Holy Spirit to live within me—well, I’ve got a fighting chance to actually make a difference.

And so I’m not interested in expanding my circle of concern unless I can keep my circle of influence from shrinking (thanks, Covey). I live in a small town that has a history of racial bigotry. I became part of a multi-ethnic church plant over five years ago, driving 35 minutes each way to participate in this fellowship. For me to love my black and brown brothers and sisters better—and to experience more love—my wife and I would probably need to relocate.

But we are not called to live in another community; we are called to live in this broken Indiana town and be salt and light. And so, for now, our Sunday church excursions fortify my resolve to live justly in our hometown. And, though it may seem like a woefully small and insignificant response, we have resolutely chosen to pay whatever the pump price is at the community’s ethnic-owned gas station so we can contribute to a welcoming atmosphere reflective of the shalom of God.

This little move is one that my blue-collar neighbors understand. It takes a page out of John’s epistle: We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother (1 John 4:19-21). It tips toward doing something where I live—that makes a difference now—rather than talk about injustices where I do not live.

I am drawn to justice in reality; actions I take because I am compelled to be faithful in my obedience to the Lord Jesus. All else is another type of hype, and I frankly fear being distracted from acting on what I know I should do by wondering about what else could be done. With Paul, I want to live up to what I’ve already attained (Philippians 3:16).

Mike King

Since I am in my 36th year of vocational youth ministry, I can respond to this question from the scope of my own experience. Evangelism was the primary focus of my early youth ministry efforts. To give more context to my evangelistic journey, see the September 7, 2010, Slant33 post. In the late ’70s and through the ’80s I gave little thought to any theological implications concerning the hard-hitting, strong-armed, manipulative, bait-and-switch, hellfire tactics I engaged in to get kids “saved.” Throughout the 1990s, this style of evangelism became increasingly disturbing, not only to me but also to hundreds of youth workers in my social network.

There are many reasons the practice of evangelism and the posture toward evangelism have changed so much in the last three decades. I’d like to think the primary reason for the change in my thinking about evangelism has been driven by deeper theological reflection concerning soteriology and ecclesiology. What does it mean to experience salvation? What role does becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ play in evangelism and salvation? How is evangelism connected to church? How does our society view proselytizing? What role does apologetics play in evangelism? How do we define apologetics in our current culture? These questions are really important, and the answers to these questions have dramatically impacted the issue of how evangelism is taught and practiced.

I strongly believe that the gospel, which means “good news,” has been defined and communicated in ways that has led to the good news not being genuinely and intuitively perceived as good news by most people outside the church. One of the reasons for this negative reaction has been the framing of the proclamation of our story of the gospel around a primary emphasis on how wicked and sinful human beings are.

We mistakenly corrupt the good news by starting the story of humanity in Genesis 3, with the fall. Yes, human beings are broken, but the story of humanity begins in Genesis 1, with God creating human beings in the image of God. Let’s tell the whole story! The idea that we have to place a hyper focus on our sinfulness in order to get people to respond to our evangelistic techniques does not work in our culture.

Several months ago I was verbally assaulted in a coffee shop by a young man involved in a college ministry who wanted to evangelize me. He started by asking if he could ask me a few questions that wouldn’t take more than “a couple minutes” of my time. His first question was, “Are you a good person?” I knew immediately where this was going. I replied, “Yes, I think I’m a good person.” He asked me if I was married. “Yes, for 35 years to my best friend.” His next question was, “Have you ever cheated on your wife?”

I told him that I found his question, 30 seconds into our conversation, to be quite inappropriate and personal. For the sake of the conversation, I explained to him that my wife is the only woman I have ever been intimate with. He then proceeded to find a variety of ways to prove that I really was a bad person who certainly had lusted after other women and was therefore an adulterer (based on Jesus’ Beatitudes) who had no hope unless I prayed a prayer that he had written up, ready for vile sinners to recite. This came with the promise that I wouldn’t have to spend eternity in hell.

Being the fatherly person I’ve become and because of my love for college-age young people, I spent more than an hour engaging in a theological and biblical discussion with him. His head was spinning, but I could tell that his heart was opening to imagine a more Christian way to share and live the good news. He had been assigned to travel a half hour away from his church to do evangelism. I explained to him that he was in the neighborhood of my church community and that we were engaged deeply with people on a regular basis. I asked him if he were to lead someone to Jesus Christ, would he come back to build a relationship and disciple the new convert, or would that be the last time he would see that person? He acknowledged that he was only focused on getting people to “pray the prayer.”

This zealous, well-intentioned young man wanted to get people to believe what he believed about salvation, sin, and Jesus Christ. This methodology focuses on the progression of Believe, behave, and belong. If we can just get people to believe the gospel, they will begin behaving properly, and eventually they can belong to our churches.

When I think about how evangelism has changed in the last three decades, I think that the progression of Believe-Behave-Belong has shifted to Belong-Behave-Believe. God has instituted the church to bear witness to the glory of God and (like Israel) be a blessing to the world. Evangelism happens quite naturally when we are entrenched in faith communities that are actively caught up in cooperating with God’s compelling work of restoration—restoration between people and God; between people and their own brokenness; between people and other people; and restoration of all creation.

As our God invites us into the divine fellowship of the Trinity, so we should invite people to join us in community. In my church, we are intentional about being actively engaged in our community and inviting people to come join us, even before they believe or really know what to believe. In fact, they often actually begin behaving like Christians before they really grasp (believe) what it means to be a Christian. We engage in activities of justice that people want to participate in. We also embody hospitality. We throw parties and tell stories of love, life, transformation, and hope. Evangelism happens naturally when God’s people live astonishing lives as people of crucifixion and resurrection. We must recapture the essence of the gospel story that is truly good news for all who hear and see it.

Recently I have seen the following quote used frequently in blogs and books. This description of Christians, written in the late second or early third century, is found in the Epistle to Diognetus.

“For the Christians are distinguished from other people neither by country, nor language, nor the customs which they observe. For they neither inhabit cities of their own, nor employ a peculiar form of speech, nor lead a life, which is marked out by any singularity. The course of conduct, which they follow, has not been devised by any speculation or deliberation of inquisitive people; nor do they, like some, proclaim themselves the advocates of any merely human doctrines. But, inhabiting Greek as well as barbarian cities, according as the lot of each of them has determined, and following the customs of the natives in respect to clothing, food, and the rest of their ordinary conduct, they display to us their wonderful and confessedly striking way of life. They dwell in their own countries, but simply as sojourners. As citizens, they share in all things with others, and yet endure all things as if foreigners.”1

This quote is consistent with the narrative in the book of Acts that describes Christians as a community of people who do astonishing things. The citizens of Jerusalem viewed Christians favorably because they were generous people who demonstrated love and concern for their neighbors along with proclaiming the great good news. As a result, people were being added to the church every day. Christians who are lovers of people and bearers of a story that is perceived as good news by those outside Christianity create a compelling environment for evangelism. Embodied Christianity creates a portal to salvation and the church.

1 Translated by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, Ante-Nicene Church Library, Edinburgh 1867, Volume 1, pg. 307.

Lilly Lewin

Well, the scary thing is that I actually remember three decades ago and remember how we were doing evangelism back in the dark ages of the ’80s. As a high school and college student, I really wanted people to know Jesus, and I really didn’t believe that only people with “the gift” were the ones called to evangelize. Honestly, though, I never believed I had the gift, and I was much more about relational evangelism than the in-your-face kind. As a college student, I was in student leadership in Intervarsity Christian Fellowship at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. IVCF had a more relational approach to outreach and evangelism through small groups and mission trips, and that fit my personality better than cold calling or passing out tracts with the four spiritual laws written on them.

During my college years, my IVCF group sponsored a campus-wide outreach called Reason to Live that had nightly large-group gatherings in the basketball arena, packed out each night with students and faculty. Billy Graham was the speaker, but we only did an altar call on the last night, and we didn’t call it a crusade because, even back then, we felt that word was a negative.

The problem was long-term follow up. It too often didn’t happen. We told people the good news, asked them to receive Jesus, and had them “pray the prayer.” And then we left. We didn’t help these newbies learn to live out their faith or walk through the hard parts of the Christian life. And much too often, we didn’t talk about the hard parts at all. Sadly, after Reason to Live, our leadership team was so tired and we’d been working so hard for so long, that we didn’t follow up with many of the folks who actually filled out their little commitment cards.

Street preaching was also a part of campus life. Often you’d walk by at lunch and find a student preaching in the Pit outside the student union. The “preacher” got lots of hecklers but also a lot of listeners too. Last year, on the University of Cincinnati campus, a street preacher was confronted by the Christians on campus rather than the not-yet Christians. The Christians were verbally challenging the street preacher because they felt he wasn’t really preaching the love of God or forgiveness but a lot of legalistic condemnation, and they were discouraged by his style. This preacher didn’t care for dialogue.

There was an openness to the name Christian a couple decades ago that has been lost, thanks to negative press and negative impressions and comic stereotypes of believers in film and on TV. The impression of Christians, especially evangelical Christians, is that they are negative, judgmental, anti-everything, and this has shut down the openness of conversation on the street. People are skeptical, jaded, and a lot more afraid of fanatics. But they are also hungry to be listened to and to have authentic relationship. They just don’t want to be slam-dunked with Bible verses.

And since fewer and fewer people have biblical memory, it’s important not to make assumptions that someone actually knows John 3:16 or anything about the story of Nicodemus. Thus, in 2010, we have to start a lot farther back than we did in the 1980s. Even kids who have grown up in church don’t necessarily get that they have to respond to Jesus’ invitation and receive his gift of salvation. It’s more important than ever to take time with people and help them hear the story and learn how their own stories intersect God’s story.

Another change I’ve experienced in the world of evangelism is the difference between contemporary church and traditional church. Where many contemporary churches provide opportunities to accept Christ on a regular basis, more traditional churches rarely give their members the opportunity to accept Christ as their savior. They have you join the church, but there isn’t a traditional an altar call, so no one is ever invited to make a decision for Jesus. There is never an up-front “ask.” The assumption seems to be that if people want it, they’ll ask for it themselves.

But if we don’t ever ask the question, how will they even know there is a question? “Have you invited Jesus to be the Lord of your life? Have you received him as your Savior?”

Too often in the past, we led people through these questions but didn’t really stop to consider the consequences of accepting Jesus as Savior. It’s not all roses and perfection or big houses and fancy cars. Following God is hard work and can be painful.

What I see as most important in this age of relative truth is that I/we are living out our faith and actually loving people and serving them regardless of their response! Even if they are different from us, even when we are tired. Remembering that the way, the truth, and the life are Jesus—a person, not a doctrine. Faith in Jesus is a relationship, not just a belief system or a list of rules. And contrary to popular belief, the Holy Spirit is still at work and hasn’t lost any power! Now, that’s exciting!

People in 2010 want a holistic Christianity. They want to see how being a Christian actually makes a difference in one’s life now, not just in eternity. People in 2010 are focused on the present and how they are living now, not where they will be when they die. And people aren’t really worried as much about where they will go when they die. At least, not younger people. They are worried about getting into college and actually finding a job after that. Or whether they even want to go to college because what’s the point anyway? Everything seems so messed up. There is a real lack of hope.

Our emphasis needs to be different. It needs to be about living life to its fullest now, not just for eternity. And helping ourselves and others discover how to do this—doing it together in community!

Caring about what people need, learning who they are, not just dumping the Bible verses on them. Unlike in the ’80s, the question Where would you go, if you died tonight? is extremely outdated.

So in this new decade, I’m working on living missionally and building relationships with those I’d like to see experience the kingdom and know the King.

Dave Rahn

Evangelism has, apparently, embarrassed too many people in the Western church over the past few decades. A casual tour through any Christian bookstore reveals that this is a subject matter for the faithful that is out of favor. There isn’t much interest in marketing or teaching on the topic.

The salient feature of evangelism centers around proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ. The good news is that salvation is available to any person on the planet because God loved us enough to step into history as a Jewish baby born in Bethlehem who would ultimately and willingly die on a first-century Roman torture device so that our sin need no longer separate us from God. The facts of this storyline were originally professed by hundreds of people whose faith in Jesus Christ so profoundly transformed their lives that they, in turn, changed their world. Many died as martyrs so that the truth of a resurrected Christ and hope of salvation could be known everywhere. They believed that the stakes of making this gospel known were worth forfeiting their lives.

Their faith in Jesus meant that they had acquired a new perspective on their earthly existence and were convinced that death no longer held any power over them. This freedom propelled them, and millions of Christ followers since, to fearless missionary efforts. They established communities of believers who could encourage one another for the task at hand—to make the one true God known to the nations.

Evangelism was and is the communication function assigned to the church. To be effective, it depends on the integrity of God’s people. The early church lived as compelling witnesses so that when they testified about the necessity of faith in Jesus they were not dismissed for incongruent lifestyles. They walked their talk, oftentimes gaining a favorable hearing from others due to the sheer attractiveness of their courage, dedication, and selfless, sacrificial love. It was clear that Jesus not only was their inspirational model, he fortified them with his indwelling power and constant presence.

I wonder if there aren’t a couple of distressing reasons that evangelism is no longer an urgent agenda for many churches. First, in our postmodern, truth-is-relative culture, are we still convinced that humans are utterly lost in their sin? Much of today’s preaching seems to deal with the common pain of our existence, certainly an issue the gospel addresses. But navigating the difficulties and trials of what life tosses at us is very different from zeroing in on our own culpability as sinners who cause damage because we are broken and incapable of self-repair.

A second fear I have is that many nominal Christians do not believe in the exclusive claims of Jesus Christ for salvation. There are sophisticated theologians who have painstakingly argued for nuanced ways to affirm that we are saved through Christ even if our faith is (mis)placed in some other source. It seems to me that this shifts the salvific burden to the quality of our faith rather than the certainty of Jesus Christ and the sole sufficiency of his redemptive work on our behalf. In any case, such inclusivity (at best) or universalism (at worst) certainly reduces the burden of our own evangelistic faithfulness.

I’m now prepared to offer a short and disturbing response to the question of the day. As someone who has walked with Jesus for 40 years, it’s my perspective that evangelism has changed over the past two or three decades. If we are truly dispossessed of convictions about how thoroughly sin wrecks everyone or how faith in Jesus Christ is the only solution to our lostness, it is easy to understand why evangelism is not the priority it once was in our churches. This shift in evangelism is not good.

There is one more factor at work, and I am sympathetic to how far-reaching it is for Christians today. We are increasingly “word weary” and do not, collectively, walk the talk as followers of Jesus. Evangelism of a few decades ago concentrated so much on getting the propositional truths of the gospel packaged well for delivery and understanding that we began to acquire a verbal formulaic faith. Our subsequent church structures and forms have been built to reinforce this pseudo-faith. We have bred Christians who may be strong in confession but weak in observable Christlike character. As a result, evangelism-as-explanation is left without Exhibit A.

Two streams of evangelistic approaches have evolved from this unhealthy landscape over the past few decades. One seeks to verbally steer would-be converts away from considering the poor evidence presented in the lifestyles of contemporary western followers of Christ. The other seeks to counter our image as slick talkers by shutting up and living well.

I view this shift in evangelism as a corrective and one that we still may not have dialed in just right.

Kurt Rietema

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