I’m entering into a “looking back/looking forward” series of posts regarding the Vineyard, inspired in part by the guys I mentioned in the last post (check there for links).
Our church (though not a Vineyard) welcomes people to receive prayer for anything at the end of the Sunday service. I’m one of the leaders of the prayer team. In fact, I just led our last training, which was very ‘Vineyard-esque.’ So I listen to the Holy Spirit when I pray for folks, and just about any other time I can remember to do so. I “do the stuff” as much as I can and the stuff is good and the stuff is very rewarding. Think woman at the well–who wouldn’t be jazzed about that? But you know what? I don’t just do what Jesus did in that story. The Vineyard legacy in my life isn’t just to “do the stuff.” It’s first and foremost a willingness to “receive”: receive the kingdom like a little child, receive the Spirit, receive help from God through others and through any other means he sees fit to give help. The priesthood of all believers and the great mercy of God means that I not only get to play the part of Jesus in that story in John 4, but also (thank God!) the role of the woman: religious but broken, and in increasing need and fatigue, plagued with some kind of pain or weight or task or shame or all of the above, and being the one largely to blame for my condition. Then God meets me, usually through a fellow clay pot who knows my pain and is full of his Spirit. Together, God and this humble pot don’t just give me big important truths (regarding the true nature of worship, for instance), but also the little known truth about me. As God’s awareness of me becomes obvious, all of a sudden my hope and faith are renewed, and instead of wearily lugging heavy jars of water over and over, springs of living water start welling up in me, and I am totally lightened, refreshed and refreshing others with quickness and ease in my steps. That’s just from receiving from God, often via a clay pot like myself. Isn’t it interesting that even though Jesus tells this woman one of the most theologically significant truths about worship–announcing to her a momentous shift in how/where worship will happen in the covenant that is now being made–it’s the little known truth he gives about her that transforms her into an energetic, believing missionary: “Come see this man who told me everything I ever did.” It’s not the big truth about right worship and temples, hot as that topic was at the time, that sent her running with joy, it was the smaller truth about her.
I have needed (and continue to need) God to talk to me that way–personalized, customised, through other people, circumstances and Spirit to spirit. Is there a greater need in the thirsty, agnostic West? It heals me so deeply. Energizes me so dramatically. Convinces me of all kinds of ‘big truths’ so convincingly. The Vineyard is going to need to hang on to and deepen that legacy and practice in the post-modern era. My main caveats would be these: 1. experiences like these aren’t mutually exclusive with more traditional means of growth and spiritual disciplines; they are complimentary for disciples; and 2. Get intentional about pursuing “the stuff” outside of the meetings. Make it missional, make it a way of life, not a way of church services or even just outreaches. The latter will rot from the inside-out, the former, the way of life, will be like a garden in spring time, teeming with more life than can be contained.
Jason Clark at Deep Church and some friends are going to be doing a series regarding the Vineyard movement/denomination. (HT: Steven Hamilton) Those that know me know I largely identify with Vineyard theology, practice and values, even though I’m currently part of a non-denom church plant in West Palm. So I’ll be watching and commenting on these conversations with much interest. I think the Vineyard’s spirituality (its particular integration of Christian values, beliefs and practices) has much to offer the Church and the world in the years to come, yet I also believe that, like all Christian movements, it must change, it must refine, in order to have the best possible impact and be the best instrument of God that it can be.
I’m thinking I’ll not only comment on what is likely to be some great conversations at Jason’s blog, but also post a few thoughts here, particularly regarding some approaches to life and faith that I’ve learned as part of a Vineyard church that are very valuable to me (and that I continue to recommend) as well as the specific areas where I think improvement would be helpful.
I mentioned in my last post that we’re planning a training on working with the Spirit. Well, Serving with the Spirit Training is the latest draft and outline circulating among our local prayer team for questions and feedback. The content is largely, though not exclusively, dependent on John Wimber’s training on this subject.
You’ll see in the outline that there is time set aside in both sessions for folks to actually do what we’re talking about. These parts are the most helpful and exciting. The first session we have experienced folks doing this as led by the Spirit, and the attendees are encouraged to give it a shot in the second session. I’ve done these a few times now, and there’s always some really great stuff that God does.
Questions, thoughts and other feedback are welcome, from experienced practitioners and novices alike, as we finalize the training. Merry Christmas! May we all experience more and more of the incarnation of God among us.
When I discuss healing and prophecy and the miraculous with Christians who have hesitations about those practices, one of the recurring objections is the concern that people who are sick or handicapped or the like not be blamed for not being healed, usually for lacking faith. This morning I was reminded of that as I was thinking through a few of the stories in which Jesus rebuked the disciples for having little faith in him. The first thing that leapt out at me as I thought about such stories was that when it came to the miraculous, it was so often his disciples — the insiders, the co-workers with him — whom he rebuked for lack of faith, not the needy folks coming to be healed. As I thought of the many times and ways Jesus did this, including when the disciples failed to cast a demon out of a person during his transfiguration, it dawned on me that Jesus does rebuke his apprentices for lack of faith (evidenced in a variety of ways), but never does he rebuke a person acutely aware of their need for healing. With those that are hurting or on the outside–the bruised reeds, the smoldering wicks–he may still discuss their faith, but he is much more gentle, even commending or praising the faith that he finds in such people. Think of the interchange which climaxes in the now famous “I believe; help my unbelief!” That’s as close as Jesus gets to correcting the faith of someone in a felt need. Of course, that interchange is so non-condemning, so honestly helpful, that it rivals if not outstrips his dealings with Thomas as the most loved among us doubters.
He was more blunt, corrective or even confrontational not only with his own students, but also with those who had more official training in the Jewish faith that didn’t believe, and with those communities who personally witnessed him doing signs and wonders but still didn’t believe him as “Christ.” The latter folks are given not mere correction but “Woes” and warning. But you never see Jesus being short or harsh with those who are about to lose their daughter, or just lost their brother, or in some other way are, in that moment, in the middle of experiencing some the real poverty of the human experience, even if their faith in him is weak. With them he is more gentle, even if still urging them, pulling them, to believe. It seems he is even more gentle with his disciples when they are personally experiencing loss (look at the Lazarus incident). Therefore, I think it is safe to say and teach that a practice of the miraculous that is modeled after Christ is not going to create any blame or burden for those who personally need healing or rescue from one of life’s tragedies. We might call this the “smoldering wick” principle and it seems to extend even to Christ’s disciples when he might otherwise be more blunt about their lack of faith.
But this led me to a second, related thought especially concerning his disciples. Clearly, Jesus wanted everyone he encountered, even the smoldering wicks and especially his disciples, to “believe” in him, and, what’s more, he expected their faith in him to include his power over death, over demons, over disease, over nature (and rebuked them for lacking it). And it goes farther still: he even commanded them to do the same things on his behalf and rebuked them and occasionally seemed exasperated when they lacked the faith to do it. But my question is this: Can we effectively argue (or should we even try) that Jesus wants us to have a materially different faith than that which he obviously sought to instill not only in the disciples, but in everyone he encountered? Can we read Jesus’ rebukes to the disciples and to the religious community of the day and exempt ourselves if we lack in our faith what they lacked in theirs? When Jesus tells someone in the NT that they have little faith or great faith, what exactly is the content of that faith that they lack and should ours be different?
It is obvious from the NT that Jesus wanted his disciples to have faith that went well beyond whether or not he forgave them (and whether they could forgive on his behalf). Yes, he does want us to know that “the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” and that “if [we] forgive anyone, they are forgiven.” But if Jesus himself or the gospel writers are to be believed, God seemed at least equally concerned that Jesus’ disciples knew that he had authority on earth [and they through him] over diseases, demons, death, and over nature, as well as forgiving sins. He wasn’t happy with their “faith” when it didn’t include any one of these things and when they lacked the faith to do the same things on his behalf. He summed it up in his final great commission to them: “All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me, therefore, make disciples . . . [.] His authority over everything (as God’s anointed, the “Christ”) as richly demonstrated in the gospels, is the basis of the Great Commission. Our “faith”, according to Jesus, needs to include not only his authority and willingness to forgive, but his authority over all things in heaven and earth, and in our authority from him to do the same things he did, as he said that anyone who believed in him would do. If our faith in him, and the actions that flow from it, should be markedly different than what he was so insistent on his first followers having, what’s the basis? I really don’t think that’s a search with a happy ending. We’d be better off, I believe, to let the gospels transform our faith and practice than justify our own. I’ll be posting the content of an upcoming local training on that topic soon.
When it comes to doing the things Jesus did and that Jesus sent the 12 and the 70 out to do (preaching, teaching, and even healing–in churches that still do that), churches tend to be like one-man hamlets–most of the parts are still there, but with only one guy on the stage. There are still lots of backstage jobs that need doing and get done, but I think it’s fair to say that few modern congregants resonate with Jesus’ prediction: “Anyone who believes in me will do what I’ve been doing.” Most of the “what-Jesus-did-jobs” in each church are reserved for the sacred (the sacramentalized) few–the reverends, the priests, the ones set apart for God. Doing what Jesus routinely did was not my experience of mere “faith in Jesus,” having been in churches and in Christian schools from birth. It certainly wasn’t what church was like. Church was more like going to watch Michael Jordan talk about basketball than getting into a scheduled game or even drills with him and some friends. That is, until I joined with a Vineyard church.
“Everybody plays” was the phrase. By this they meant that everybody who wants to can learn to work with and through the Spirit to “do the stuff” that Jesus did, namely, be an instrument of the Spirit to prophesy, to heal the sick, to cast out demons, etc., for the building up of the Church and the redemption of the world–no degree required. While many churches affirm this, the Vineyard was the first church I had been a part of that actually practiced it so intentionally and so widely when it came to doing the things Jesus actually did. In this sense, the Vineyard took a unique sacramental view of each believer as a priest and a temple of God’s Spirit, and of participation with (or obedience to) Jesus in the ministry he modeled and led in the gospels and Acts.
As always, the proof is in the practices. Vineyard churches, because they sacramentalize the believer, routinely make space in their gatherings (usually called ‘ministry time’) for large teams of people (generally not including the pastor) to “do the stuff” with/for anyone that wants someone to pray and listen to the Spirit for them, for one kind of healing or another, and routinely offer trainings/workshops (I have given them myself) for people who want to participate in this kind of ministry both in the church meetings and outside of them.
I should probably also mention here that the practice of actually seeking or asking for God to be uniquely present or active is also viewed as sacramental in the Vineyard, in that it is commonplace in the Vineyard to expect God to be uniquely active when people ask or welcome him to be. Even though the Vineyard does not teach that God’s response is at all dictated by people, they do teach and practice that sometimes God is not “uniquely present or active” because we don’t ask, expect or really want him to be. Therefore, in the Vineyard, the practice of “asking, seeking” goes hand-in-hand, often literally, with the sacrament of “anyone who has faith” in Jesus.
Next post will be AA’s unique view and practice of the sacrament of “the priesthood of the believer.”
In a previous post, I mentioned my view that the best way to look at healing is as a subset of love: love from a God that has the power to heal towards a world that needs it in all kinds of ways. I now want to say a very similar thing about the phenomena that I would put in the equally large category of prophetic insights (everyone go ahead and cringe at the word)–such things, whatever we call them, are best thought of as a subset of love from an all-powerful, all-knowing God of love on a mission of love.
To get the definitional issue out of the way, I put any kind of inside information however partial, or direct leading from God, even to take a non-verbal action, in the “prophetic” category. Paul seems to associate, in general terms, the gift of prophecy with insight and beyond natural knowledge. For example, Jesus got inside info on the woman at the well (about her past and present, not her future), to which she replies “I perceive you are a prophet.” At the risk of putting one of my own experiences next to one of Jesus’, I similarly once got a strong conviction to go ask a guy that I didn’t know a specific question that resulted in his immediate conversion from being a secular jew to a Christian. Even cessationists will report “feeling strongly led” to visit a friend at a specific time, which turns out to be truly critical. How did they know to go right then? The Bible didn’t tell them. The Spirit did. I’ll give many more stories in that vein later, but suffice it to say for now that the question I asked revealed a secret this guy had, and he concluded upon hearing it, much to his surprise, as Paul said people would, that God himself was really among us Christians in a powerful way. Prophets get information, however partial or incomplete, that is from God, and helpful towards his purposes in the world. As with healing, this is not a complicated concept, especially in light of God’s goals and abilities.
My concern here, though, is not that such leadings and insights be called “prophetic.” Frankly, I don’t care if we call these things divine insights or “feeling led” or just part of being intimate friends (even sharing the same Spirit!) and co-laborers with an all-powerful, all knowing God. Labels can be helpful. But in this area, in my opinion, the term “prophetic” has picked up so much lint from abuses and fears, it’s hard to see it anymore. Let’s go behind the labels. Let’s talk big-picture. Let’s intelligently discuss what it would intuitively and logically mean, to use a phrase above, to be “intimate friends (even sharing the same Spirit!) and co-laborers with an all-powerful, all knowing God” who is on a redemptive mission towards all people. Even before looking at the examples in the New Testament, which only strengthen the case, we can begin to imagine. If these three attributes–Love, Power and Omniscience–were all someone was told of God, what would they expect of the people, whoever they may be, who were the co-workers with and agents of this God? As a parent of young children (who have a knack for applying these kinds of big picture concepts together with startling clarity), I can tell you that they’d expect, at least something like divine insights and leadings, which is what we see throughout the New Testament as God works through and with his people.
When I talk about “Doin’ the Stuff” as a missional lifestyle, included in that is an openness or, better, an “eager desire” to get leadings and specific insights, even partial ones, that are shaped by God’s knowledge of what people need in a given moment, which, again, is helpful in loving them. What did it mean to the woman at the well for Jesus, as God’s representative, to tell her, in her words, “everything [she had] ever done”? What did it mean to her? It meant hope; it meant God noticed her, knew her, had her in his mind. And it meant God was pursuing her. The experience of being known in this way turned her into an instant missionary, leading her whole town coming out to see this Jesus for themselves.
If we can forget, for just a moment, the fears and unanswered questions we have about trying to discern God’s voice in this way ourselves, and just look both at the big picture of God’s attributes and mission, and the micro-view of this woman’s reaction, can we see the prophetic as a subset of love? Can we see how God’s immense knowledge, especially of us, can be so helpful in communicating love?
I’ll share more stories and some practical tips for practicing these things soon. If you want some tips in the meantime, you can think about doing some of these things as a way of life as you go about your day.
Well, now that I’ve really outed myself as a person who believes that God’s mission is in no small part about healing, I want to clarify a few things and connect this thinking with some other, larger themes that are common for me.
First, I think the best way to understand healing or any of the spiritual gifts, is as a subset of love in action from an all powerful God and creator. As the New Testament makes abundantly clear, love is primary. Healing is merely a particular form of grace, or love, from a God who has the power to do it towards a world that needs it. It’s really not complicated. Have you ever loved someone that was suffering? So has God. He still does. The difference, of course, is that God has more power to do something about it (not a particularly bold claim to make about God, right?). Even people outside of the Church think that healing is a natural (expected?) thing for anyone named “God” to do. What really trips them, and us, up isn’t that God heals, it’s all the occasions that he doesn’t heal but supposedly could, without being asked, if he’s so loving, powerful and aware. That’s honestly, though, a topic for its own post. The point for now is that if we ascribe both love and power to God (the anchor of Christian theology?), then saying that he heals people is easier than adding 2 and 2.
Perhaps more importantly, seeing healing as a subset of God’s love & ability puts it in its proper context, both relative to love and relative to all the other expressions of love. And as a few folks rightly pointed out in the discussion at Jesus Creed, healing the physical body shouldn’t be our only or even primary focus. There’s all kinds of “healing” and love is bigger than healing. Amen. Christ-shaped love should be our highest goal. And such love will inevitably lead us to work for the good of others and cooperate with God in all (literally all) sorts of life-building, life affirming and healing ways–absolutely not limited in any way, shape or form to physical healing, or to nonretaliation to evil people, or to generosity to friend and foe, or to preaching the good news, or to hospitality to strangers, etc., etc. We tend to like some of these expressions more than others; some are riskier, physically, socially or financially than others. They tend to be avoided for those reasons. But if Jesus-shaped love is our goal, if he’s the one showing and telling us what God’s mission of love is and what shape that will take, if it’s his mission which we enter as his apprentices, how many of the expressions and forms I mentioned do we leave out, and if so, on what basis? If it is Jesus’ mission we’re joining, if “discipleship” means anything, we need to seriously think about and pray about and discuss the expressions of love and mission which were particularly central to Jesus’ own life and that of his apprentices. How prominently does healing, of all kinds, fit within the mission of God as revealed by Jesus?