Radiate: Tristan’s blog

...to Jared & Becky on the birth of Chloe, their beautiful baby girl (and thus officially becoming old farts)!

Currently listening:

Passion – Everything Glorious

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My mom recently shared this story with me. I have met this man, and I think that until recently he would have confidently stated that God no longer does this sort of thing:

Pastor [name] just came back from [an Asian nation of >1.3 billion people]. He got to preach in a state church and was not censored in any way. He spoke on the security of the believer, a doctrine that is not taught in [that] church. The congregation wept as he preached through an interpreter, somewhere along the line Pastor [name] realized that the congregation was understanding him before the interpreter translated. The translator realized this too and was also weeping. It was like what happened in the book of acts where they heard the message in their own language. Pastor [name] was apparently profoundly impacted by the trip.

I love it when God shatters the boxes we build around Him.

Yes, it is important to submit our experiences to Scripture: First, I don’t think God is the only supernatural being out there who gives people “spiritual experiences,” and second, I don’t think all experiences attributed to supernatural beings are actually supernatural—or spiritual, for that matter. We should use Scripture as a guide to know better who God is and how He acts in this world and thereby be wise in determining how God is acting in our lives and in our gatherings.

However, whenever we include in our creeds universal statements about how God acts (or acted or will act or doesn’t act) in the world, we had better have awfully good scriptural reasons for doing so. In my opinion, it requires more evidence than is available for certain beliefs widely held in conservative fundamental circles. “Tristan, you’re such a liberal!” Nah. I just think we’d better have (I’ll say it again) awfully good scriptural reasons for the things we intentionally and systematically teach about God (and what God thinks about people who believe somewhat different things than we believe). “You’re… ecumenical!” Well, that’s not a curse word or an insult. It is, however, an abused word.

Last night I attended an ecumenical prayer service at a Catholic church. It was both worshipful and theologically sound. It exalted Jesus Christ. Since I’m not Catholic I wouldn’t have participated in Eucharist had they offered it, but I greatly enjoyed worshiping with them. I don’t know whether we were all Christ-followers or not. I only know that I am, and that God used people there to encourage and inspire me, and that it is not my job to decide who is in the faith and who is not. That’s God’s job, and He is not required to share with me the decisions He makes regarding other people. He just tells me to love them, and to speak the truth in love as He moves me.

So does the Holy Spirit still move people to speak in different languages (tongues)? I don’t know. But I’ll bet that pastor and that Asian church now believe He does. I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong. You can if you want to, but you had better make sure you’re doing it because—having carefully studied the options—you firmly believe Scripture clearly says so, and not because it would make you more comfortable if God would just stop it and fit in your box. Oh, and while you’re at it, just to be safe, you had better not preach in any other countries. Because God delights in rocking our boxes.

God, what boxes am I trying to put you in? On the other hand, what boxes are right? We ask for wisdom.

Okay, I’m back.

So you know how hurricane season in many areas runs from June to November? Well, Hurricane Season in creative arts ministry is roughly the opposite. The music-heavy holidays, extra services, and budget planning all concentrated between November and April result in about 70% of the work occurring in 50% of the year. But today, the Monday after Easter, marks the end of Hurricane Season and the beginning of Planning & Recovery Season. This is a good thing.

Even though it’s busy, Lent through Easter is probably my favorite time of the church year. Thoughtful celebration of it requires both confession and praise, both quiet introspection and loud rejoicing, in a way that (I think) no other time of the year does. It is a study in contrasts, deeply embued with meaning and overflowing with opportunities for creative variation on a millennia-old theme.

One of the ways we tried to give coherence to our services toward the end of Lent was through a series of images. Each image fit with a message for one of the four weeks and comprised one-quarter of the final image shown on Good Friday. The Good Friday service was split into four parts, the first three of which briefly revisited the topics addressed in each of the previous weeks, but applied those topics specifically to the cross. Sounds complicated, but it really wasn’t. Anyway, here are the first image and the composite image (click on the latter for a larger view):

March 26: King & Creator

Good Friday: Composite image

The series of messages was entitled “Jesus’ Framework.”  Each message dealt with some aspect of God’s passion to advance His glory, how Jesus practically accomplished that, and how we can participate in advancing the Father’s glory. We didn’t show the composite image until Good Friday, so it wasn’t obvious to people that the “frame” in each image actually formed the central cross.

Our Good Friday service was purposefully stark and dim. We used only piano & string bass to accompany the songs we sang and piano & french horn as the prelude & communion music. We cleared everything off the stage, set up candles, turned off most of the lights, and draped black fabric on our wooden cross. Everyone left the room in silence after taking communion.

Easter was exactly the opposite—we covered the front of the stage in flowers, rented extra lighting to put colors on the back wall, and we had a children’s choir, adult choir, praise band, & brass quintet. Between the two services everyone joined in a continental breakfast, games & candy hunt for the children, and general noisy celebration. The contrast is part of what I love. It’s a symbol of the movement from death to life, from suffering to rejoicing, from mourning to dancing. But you know, I love the relaxing part when it’s all over, too. I’m tired.

Happy after-Easter to everyone!