Every time I log-in to the blogspot website and see the title of my blog staring me in the face, I can't help but wonder: "Is it sacrilegious to title my blog: The gospel according to Jeremy? Does that come across as a tad irreverent?"
I suppose it would be if I were trying to elevate my blog to the canonical status of Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. But, of course, that's not the case. (Not by any stretch of the imagination!)
When I hear the word gospel, I think of its literal translation: good news. In the Bible, the greek word is evangelion, which means "to bring or announce good news." It's like in Luke 2 when the angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds who were watching their flocks on the night shift. What was the angel's purpose? To bring them the gospel--or good news. He said, "I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people."
In so many ways, that angel was the first evangelist documented in the New Testament. Why? Because he was there to bring the good news of the birth of Jesus to the shepherds.
And really, if you think about it, isn't that our primary Christian task? To be bearers of the good news as we've come to know it in Jesus Christ? I would argue that it is. Which is exactly why I've named this blog "The gospel according to Jeremy."
Because if there's one thing I've learned about the gospel, it's that it's not one-dimensional. It's not something that is fixed and flat and viewable only through the lens of a single perspective. No, the gospel has a multiplicity of dimensions and it takes a multiplicity of perspectives to view it in its fullness. The gospel is complex and complicated. It has all sorts of nooks and crannies that need to be explored and investigated. And I believe that each one of us has a uniquely distinctive perspective on the gospel that God calls us to share with the world.
So this blog is my unique perspective on the good news. It is the gospel according to Jeremy.
But what I'm interested to know is: What's the gospel according to you?
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Hardest Word
Over the past few months, our two year old has become quite the little mockingbird. If you watch her close enough, you’ll see her sitting silently in the living room or kitchen absorbing the conversation going on around her like a sponge. Watching her, you can almost see the gears turning in her head. She has that look on her face that wonders, “How do I get the words that just went in my ear to land on my tongue and somehow form on my lips?” And after mulling it around in her head for a few seconds, she does her best to imitate whatever she just heard.
And you know what? She’s getting pretty good at it. She can string a 3 or 4-word sentence together with the best of them.
But despite her ever-expanding vocabulary, there are some words that prove to be too difficult for her. Try as she might, anything that starts with a “Th” or “Cr” sound are just too hard for her to pronounce.
But in time, she’ll get it. Just like we all did at some point. I can think of the various times over the years that I did battle with some serious words. Words of Kilimanjaro-size proportion. Words that, in comparison, make Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious look like “Run, Spot, run.” I remember when I was first confronted with that behemoth of a word: Antidisestablishmentarianism. What a mouthful.
But after a few slip-ups and a couple of attempts at sounding it out slowly, I finally got it. And in time I learned some others. Eschatological. Superlapsarian and infralapsarian. Even transubstantiation. Of course, these words don’t have much use. Just try using one at a dinner party sometime and see how popular you don’t become. But nevertheless, it feels good when you finally grab hold of a word and master it.
But there are some words I don’t think I’ll ever master. I can think of one particular word that no matter how many times I practice and rehearse it, it still remains, for me, the most difficult word to pronounce in the entire English language.
Do you know what it is?
It’s goodbye.
Haven’t mastered that one yet. Not by a long shot.
And yet this weekend many of my friends and colleagues around the North Georgia Annual Conference will have to do their best to say it. To their friends, to their neighbors, but most of all to their churches. By the grace of God, I won't have to say that word to our church for at least another year if not more. But like it or not, the time will come.
You see, in the United Methodist church we pastors are not hired and fired at will. We’re appointed, which basically means that if and when the Bishop deems it necessary, we are asked to move from one church and to serve another.
Sometimes we serve in a particular church for a long time—sometimes 15 or even 20 years or more. Other times, we can serve for a time as short just 12 months. But regardless of the length of one’s tenure, the reality that all United Methodist pastors and churches face is that at some time they will have to utter that fateful word: “Goodbye.”
And that’s a difficult thing to do. Especially when it means saying goodbye to people you love.
This weekend, our church will have the painful joy of saying goodbye to some of our dear friends, Jungil and Myongah. They’ve been appointed to serve in the local church in Illinois. And I know that it’s going to be extremely difficult to say goodbye, but I’ve decided that I’m going to force myself to do it.
Do you know why? Because I know that God is calling them to be exactly where He needs them most.
Truth be told, it took me a while to come to that realization. When I was first told that I had better start practicing my “goodbyes” I thought, “Surely, this is some kind of mistake. The Rhees can’t move to Illinois. They need to stay here, where they’re loved and appreciated and needed.” If I had my way, they wouldn’t be going anywhere.
But then I remembered a verse from Proverbs 19: “Many are the plans in the human heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”
What an important reminder. A reminder that says, “You may think you have it all figured out. You may think you know what’s best. You may think you know where you need to be. But in the end, it’s God who is in control.”
And so I’ve come to realize that the ultimate truth is this: God knows exactly what He’s doing by moving the Rhees to Illinois. It may not be entirely clear to us why right now, but I guess that’s why that whole “trust and obey” is so important.
So, this Sunday we’ll say goodbye to the Rhees. Does that mean that I have to like it?
No.
But will I trust that God will take care of them and us as we say it?
Absolutely.
And you know what? She’s getting pretty good at it. She can string a 3 or 4-word sentence together with the best of them.
But despite her ever-expanding vocabulary, there are some words that prove to be too difficult for her. Try as she might, anything that starts with a “Th” or “Cr” sound are just too hard for her to pronounce.
But in time, she’ll get it. Just like we all did at some point. I can think of the various times over the years that I did battle with some serious words. Words of Kilimanjaro-size proportion. Words that, in comparison, make Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious look like “Run, Spot, run.” I remember when I was first confronted with that behemoth of a word: Antidisestablishmentarianism. What a mouthful.
But after a few slip-ups and a couple of attempts at sounding it out slowly, I finally got it. And in time I learned some others. Eschatological. Superlapsarian and infralapsarian. Even transubstantiation. Of course, these words don’t have much use. Just try using one at a dinner party sometime and see how popular you don’t become. But nevertheless, it feels good when you finally grab hold of a word and master it.
But there are some words I don’t think I’ll ever master. I can think of one particular word that no matter how many times I practice and rehearse it, it still remains, for me, the most difficult word to pronounce in the entire English language.
Do you know what it is?
It’s goodbye.
Haven’t mastered that one yet. Not by a long shot.
And yet this weekend many of my friends and colleagues around the North Georgia Annual Conference will have to do their best to say it. To their friends, to their neighbors, but most of all to their churches. By the grace of God, I won't have to say that word to our church for at least another year if not more. But like it or not, the time will come.
You see, in the United Methodist church we pastors are not hired and fired at will. We’re appointed, which basically means that if and when the Bishop deems it necessary, we are asked to move from one church and to serve another.
Sometimes we serve in a particular church for a long time—sometimes 15 or even 20 years or more. Other times, we can serve for a time as short just 12 months. But regardless of the length of one’s tenure, the reality that all United Methodist pastors and churches face is that at some time they will have to utter that fateful word: “Goodbye.”
And that’s a difficult thing to do. Especially when it means saying goodbye to people you love.
This weekend, our church will have the painful joy of saying goodbye to some of our dear friends, Jungil and Myongah. They’ve been appointed to serve in the local church in Illinois. And I know that it’s going to be extremely difficult to say goodbye, but I’ve decided that I’m going to force myself to do it.
Do you know why? Because I know that God is calling them to be exactly where He needs them most.
Truth be told, it took me a while to come to that realization. When I was first told that I had better start practicing my “goodbyes” I thought, “Surely, this is some kind of mistake. The Rhees can’t move to Illinois. They need to stay here, where they’re loved and appreciated and needed.” If I had my way, they wouldn’t be going anywhere.
But then I remembered a verse from Proverbs 19: “Many are the plans in the human heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”
What an important reminder. A reminder that says, “You may think you have it all figured out. You may think you know what’s best. You may think you know where you need to be. But in the end, it’s God who is in control.”
And so I’ve come to realize that the ultimate truth is this: God knows exactly what He’s doing by moving the Rhees to Illinois. It may not be entirely clear to us why right now, but I guess that’s why that whole “trust and obey” is so important.
So, this Sunday we’ll say goodbye to the Rhees. Does that mean that I have to like it?
No.
But will I trust that God will take care of them and us as we say it?
Absolutely.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To Blog or Not to Blog...
That is the question.
The truth is, I'm not a big fan of blogs.
Not that there's anything wrong with them. For the record, I'm pro-blog. But, so often when I come across a random blog, I wonder: "Doesn't this person have something better they could be doing with their time?"
I know, I know. Blogs are supposed to be an outlet for people. So, regardless of whether the substance of the blog is worth reading, that isn't really the point. People blog because it gives them a soapbox to stand on or an outlet with which they can vent. Some blogs I've read have been informative, inspirational, and thought-provoking. But more often than not, I skim the first few paragraphs only to find myself grieving over the fact that I'll never get those 2 minutes of my life back.
The most unfortunate kind of blogs that I've run across are the kind that seem contrived and artificial. Admittedly, they're almost always church-based blogs written by pastors. When reading them I get the sense that during a weekly church staff meeting some good-intentioned soul spoke up and said: "You know, blogging is pretty popular these days. I'm sure there's plenty of people out there who'd love to see what's on your mind, Pastor. Whadda ya say?"
And with good intentions in their hearts and perhaps the unspoken hope that this might draw a few more folks into the church, they create a blog...or maybe more appropriately spelled, a "blahg." And because this just becomes one more item on the pastor's "to-do" list, the substance is almost always shallow and uninteresting.
So why would I want to start a blog?
That's the question I've been struggling with over the past few weeks. And while there are quite a few reasons I can think of why I wouldn't, the one reason why I would is simple: I love to wrestle.
Not wrestle in the WWE sense of the word. You won't see pictures of me dressed in ill-fitting spandex shorts or with copious amounts of face paint on my face or even with an over-sized championship belt hoisted just above my aforementioned spandex shorts. (Although it might be kind of cool to have a ridiculous wrestling moniker embroidered on my clergy robe, like the "Sermonator.")
Rather, I mean wrestle in the theological sense of the word. Like when Jacob wrestled with God. Because I've found that it's only when we wrestle with matters of faith--when we really lock horns with the deepest and most difficult questions of life-- that we ultimately are blessed with the experience that Jacob had: He saw God face-to-face.
Now, of course, I don't mean that in the literal sense. But figuratively speaking, I don't know of any other way to truly get to know and understand the holy mystery that is God than to roll up my sleeves and grapple with this thing we call faith. Because in my experience, it's in the tussling and toiling that God reveals Himself to us.
And so, my conclusion regarding a blog was this: What better place to wrestle with the thorny issues of faith than right here in the blogosphere? A place not only where I can post my own questions and thoughts, but where others can respond, dispute, disagree, and debate.
Because, after all, the most profound truths aren't stated in a monologue; they arise out of a dialogue. And that's my ultimate hope for this blog. Not just to have a place to post my own contemplations, but more importantly to create a place where we can engage in conversation.
Do you like to wrestle? If so, grab your spandex shorts and jump in the ring. The Sermonator is waiting.
The truth is, I'm not a big fan of blogs.
Not that there's anything wrong with them. For the record, I'm pro-blog. But, so often when I come across a random blog, I wonder: "Doesn't this person have something better they could be doing with their time?"
I know, I know. Blogs are supposed to be an outlet for people. So, regardless of whether the substance of the blog is worth reading, that isn't really the point. People blog because it gives them a soapbox to stand on or an outlet with which they can vent. Some blogs I've read have been informative, inspirational, and thought-provoking. But more often than not, I skim the first few paragraphs only to find myself grieving over the fact that I'll never get those 2 minutes of my life back.
The most unfortunate kind of blogs that I've run across are the kind that seem contrived and artificial. Admittedly, they're almost always church-based blogs written by pastors. When reading them I get the sense that during a weekly church staff meeting some good-intentioned soul spoke up and said: "You know, blogging is pretty popular these days. I'm sure there's plenty of people out there who'd love to see what's on your mind, Pastor. Whadda ya say?"
And with good intentions in their hearts and perhaps the unspoken hope that this might draw a few more folks into the church, they create a blog...or maybe more appropriately spelled, a "blahg." And because this just becomes one more item on the pastor's "to-do" list, the substance is almost always shallow and uninteresting.
So why would I want to start a blog?
That's the question I've been struggling with over the past few weeks. And while there are quite a few reasons I can think of why I wouldn't, the one reason why I would is simple: I love to wrestle.
Not wrestle in the WWE sense of the word. You won't see pictures of me dressed in ill-fitting spandex shorts or with copious amounts of face paint on my face or even with an over-sized championship belt hoisted just above my aforementioned spandex shorts. (Although it might be kind of cool to have a ridiculous wrestling moniker embroidered on my clergy robe, like the "Sermonator.")
Rather, I mean wrestle in the theological sense of the word. Like when Jacob wrestled with God. Because I've found that it's only when we wrestle with matters of faith--when we really lock horns with the deepest and most difficult questions of life-- that we ultimately are blessed with the experience that Jacob had: He saw God face-to-face.
Now, of course, I don't mean that in the literal sense. But figuratively speaking, I don't know of any other way to truly get to know and understand the holy mystery that is God than to roll up my sleeves and grapple with this thing we call faith. Because in my experience, it's in the tussling and toiling that God reveals Himself to us.
And so, my conclusion regarding a blog was this: What better place to wrestle with the thorny issues of faith than right here in the blogosphere? A place not only where I can post my own questions and thoughts, but where others can respond, dispute, disagree, and debate.
Because, after all, the most profound truths aren't stated in a monologue; they arise out of a dialogue. And that's my ultimate hope for this blog. Not just to have a place to post my own contemplations, but more importantly to create a place where we can engage in conversation.
Do you like to wrestle? If so, grab your spandex shorts and jump in the ring. The Sermonator is waiting.
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