Volume 7.2 Fall / Winter 2009
“Verbicide,” C. S. Lewis writes in his excellent collection of lectures called Studies in Words, “the murder of a word, happens in many ways.” Lewis goes on to explain that there are a few more common ways that words are murdered: inflation (using “sadism” for “cruelty,” as an example) or verbiage (using a word in a way that implies a promise that will never be kept; for example, describing something as “significant” without any reference to what it might signify). Over the last five years, we’ve been witnessing just such a crime. It has, sadly, been a corruption in parts, a slow death that has gone almost unnoticed by all but the most observant. The victim: the verb “to follow.”
To wit, ask yourself what it means to follow something or someone. Think about the ways you’ve last used that word, whether you were referring to watching your favorite television series, like Lost, or being the dedicated fan of a band, like U2. Do you participate in social network sites, such as Facebook or Twitter?
DEAR READER,
Our vision for every issue of this publication is to create the kind of environment in which you’re not only invited to listen in on a conversation about spiritual things, but also feel free to pull up a chair and enter the discussion. The guiding image for the journal is the inspiration for this kind of conversation: seven large leather chairs arranged in front of a large wooden table before a crackling fireplace. That’s where we believe true transformation begins, when God is invited into conversation—with us and through us. This regular feature is just one way that you can “join the conversation.” We hope that through it, we will all be transformed more deeply into His likeness.
This particular topic, A Call to Spiritual Formation, is of obvious interest to us—and we’d love to hear what you think. Facilitated by a small group in Denver, Colorado, this document was originally drafted by 150 people across the Church and then crafted by approximately 50 individuals at the RENOVARÉ International Conference in July 2009. Its purpose is to bring to the forefront “the absolute necessity of an intentional process of spiritual formation for each and every Christian.”
Eugene Peterson lives a life of unlikely juxtapositions. He is an introvert’s introvert, yet he planted a church and served as its senior pastor for 29 years. He is a scholar of biblical languages who searches through dusty volumes for the precise meaning of a word and then, as a poet, paints meaning with colorful and imprecise strokes. He has rejected the formulaic patterns of success in the Christian publishing world, but has become an industry superstar. He eschews information technology—only his wife and children have his e-mail address (dang it!)—but he reaches out to hundreds of thousands each day through The Message and more than 30 other books he has written.
Retired from the pastorate of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Bel Air, Maryland, and from Regent College, where he served as professor of Spiritual Theology, Eugene lives with his wife, Jan (much more the extrovert) in the home where he grew up, on the shore s of Flathead Lake in Lakeside, Montana. It was there he wrote one of his latest books, The Jesus Way: Conversations on the Ways
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Joshua Kang practices what he preaches: transformation into Christ-likeness by letting go of false securities and becoming deeply rooted in Christ. Ever since he was converted and called to be a pastor at the age of 17, he begins his day with the Lord through the “daybreak” service—every single day for more than 35 years. Because of his unique devotional time with the Lord, his message is simple but strong. He is also a “dreamer” who values the invisible aspects more than the visible elements of life. That’s why he focuses on spirituality. Joshua Kang is a marvelous person to talk about Abraham, faith and the Jesus way of relinquishment with great joy.
Abraham is often considered as “the father of faith.” Eugene Peterson, in his wonderful book The Jesus Way, starts with Abraham’s faith story to show how our faith ancestors pointed to Jesus through their life.
In the Apostle John’s gospel, the picture Jesus uses for life on His Way is the picture of a river. He tells us, living in the flow of the Spirit, this river will flow out of the core of who you are. Ever find that a bizarre image? A river of life flowing out of you? Does it even sound appealing?
It seems to be a big deal to God, though. This image of a river is used about 150 times in scripture, most often as a picture of spiritual life. And there is good reason. Israel is a desert country where rivers mean one thing: life.
My husband Rudy says that he thinks I was a Christian in utero. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know that all of my life I believed in the power of God. When I was a little girl at my grandmother’s house, she would tuck us in at night in this huge bed, and she would lead us in prayer. There, I began to establish a sense of the fact there is a God out there.
Because of the kind of kid I was—very compliant—I assumed that I had found God. I found God in Vacation Bible School with the rules that said, “Don’t chew gum in here.” I found God when I wanted to join the choir, and they said, “You’ve got to be baptized first; that’s the rule.” And then, of course, ultimately, I found God in the big rules—the Ten Commandments. Real rules of what it means to be a Christian. This God was crafted around rules that filled the imagination of a little girl who wanted to be a “good” girl, who wanted not to break rules. I lived for quite a while with that God that I found. I shared that God with my husband, who married me in 1985. In 1990, he accepted Christ. He says he was a late bloomer. In 1991, he accepted his call to ministry. And I accepted mine.
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Would you like to have abiding peace?
Would you like to have a heart that is filled with love?
Would you like to have the kind of faith that sees everything—even your failures and losses—in light of God’s governance for good?
Would you like to have the kind of hope that endures even in discouraging circumstances?
Alot of people want to change and would answer yes to these questions, but many of them do not believe it is possible. After years of trying and failing, they lead a Christian life of quiet desperation, longing for change and yet certain it will never happen. So they sit in their pews each week, sighing silently, resigned to their fate.
When the hope of a friendship extends beyond the fun and enjoyment of companionship into the realm of the soul, the process of self-disclosure often leads naturally to the places of greatest challenge: our areas of struggle. Some would say that women more naturally dwell in this relational territory, but I find that any relationship that truly begins to delve into our spiritual life will necessarily begin to touch on the reality of our struggles.
Whether we struggle with materialism, negativity, resentment, self-acceptance, prejudice, or irresponsibility, our friends become a safe place in which to talk about the challenge as well as the efforts we are making to turn these over to God’s care.
I met Michelle in a refuge for homeless and street people. She stood out from the tired and ragged crowd. Her clothes were colorful and eye-catching, her hair violet and spiked. We shared coffee together as she talked quickly and nervously, enlarging every sentence with circling hand movements while the cigarette in her fingers left swirling trails in the air. Delicate tattooed lines traced up her arms, threads of green and blue punctuated by dark needle marks.
Her conversation meandered around the contours of her life. She told me how she enjoyed spending her days soaking in the warmth of the refuge, sheltering from the cold street corner where by night she turned tricks to earn her daily bread. We talked about Sasha, her three-year-old daughter who moved between playgroups, friends, and grandparents, always under the watchful eye of anxious social workers. Michelle told me a little—but very little—of her own chaotic and troubled childhood and rather more of her unpredictable present, a life sketched out among the hookers, addicts, dealers, crazies, and johns who made up most of her world.
