Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Leading Ideas: Christian worship is Passover, What should we do with angry women?, & Methodist house churches for Wednesday, 26 September 2018 from The Ministry Matters in Nashville, Tennessee, United States

Leading Ideas: Christian worship is Passover, What should we do with angry women?, & Methodist house churches for Wednesday, 26 September 2018 from The Ministry Matters in Nashville, Tennessee, United States
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Christian worship is Passover by Clifton Stringer
Christian worship is fundamentally our responsive immersion in Jesus Christ’s dying, burial and rising. In worship we praise and thank our Lord for this work, and respond to his grace by uniting ourselves to him. That’s to say, we spiritually imitate and take part in Jesus’ dying, burial and rising, and in this way the Spirit who unites us to Jesus re-forms us in his likeness.
Of course, the significance of Jesus Christ’s dying, burial and rising cannot be understood rightly apart from the Exodus. Hence my claim that Christian worship is, fundamentally, Passover. I’m going to unpack this biblically and theologically, since understanding it helps us invite others to participate in the Passover in the ways we plan and lead worship.
The late, great Lutheran theologian and ecumenist Robert Jenson liked to answer the question “Who is God?” like this: “God is the one who raised Jesus from the dead, having first raised Israel out of Egypt.” Notice the utter parallelism in Jenson’s formulation between Jesus’ rising and Israel’s rising. This is a parallel that appears throughout the centuries in Christian preaching and liturgy; the genius of Jenson’s locution is to put the wisdom of the tradition so lucidly and concisely.
One should say just a little bit more: God’s liberation of Israel by the hand of Moses is itself a sign or symbol pointing to the plenary human and cosmic liberation achieved in Jesus Christ. That’s to say, whereas God constitutes Israel as God's free covenant people by raising Israel from out of slavery in Egypt, so God liberates humanity and the cosmos from the ultimate slavery — slavery to sin and death — in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. (See Romans 5-8.) To see the continuity of God’s work across history is to grasp the continuity between what God does in the Exodus — itself fundamental for Jewish identity — and what God does in Jesus Christ.
But how does this insight lead to the claim that all Christian worship is Passover? Like this. In unpacking this, I’m drawing on the book of Exodus in light of the New Testament, and thinking in relation to the thought of figures like Hugh of St. Victor (12th century) and Bonaventure (13th century).
Biblically, the word Passover has multiple referents. I’ll run through four. The fundamental and most literal meaning is on the surface of the text, while the next three all build from that first meaning in the thought-world of the Bible.
The first meaning of Passover deals with the account in Exodus 12 in which the LORD, operating through the Angel of Death, passes over the houses of the Israelites in view of the blood of the lamb which they’ve put on their doorposts. Christians interpret this allegorically in relation to Christ in a variety of ways which I won’t go into here.
The second meaning of Passover in the biblical thought-world is the passage or passing of the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt through the waters of the Red Sea. This meaning is intimated in the first, since both meanings are taken up and held together in the Feast of Passover itself: it is to be eaten “with your belt fastened, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand. And you shall eat it in haste. It is the LORD’s Passover” (Ex. 12:11). The feast of Passover itself has an inner dynamism toward the Israelites’ passing out of Egypt. Yet seeing this meaning clearly is helped by the third meaning.
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The third meaning of Passover is Jesus Christ’s own Passover. Jesus Christ’s Passover is his dying, burial and rising. This third meaning also holds the first two meanings together and unties them Christologically and soteriologically. In dying, Jesus passes through the “waters” of sin and death and is victorious over these in his resurrection. In this one act of the “paschal mystery,” Jesus manifests and enacts God’s merciful overlooking (or “passing over”) of our sins (and so reveals the infinity of divine goodness and love), and also is himself the sign and enactment of our liberation from slavery to death.
The fourth meaning of Passover is that Christian worship is Passover. This meaning follows from the third meaning, and from the biblical claims that we’re united to Christ’s dying and rising in Christian spirituality (Philippians 3:10-11) and that we participate in the body and blood of Christ in the Eucharist (1 Cor. 10:16).
Let me just unfold this insight in relation to the structure of Christian worship. Christian liturgical worship, normatively speaking, is Word and Table. In each of these moments of worship we share in Christ’s Passover.
First, the service of the Word. In this part of the Sunday liturgy, we pray to God and praise God on the basis of what God has done in history in Jesus Christ. This work manifests God’s identity and character and also saves us. Moreover, as the Scriptures are read and proclaimed, we proclaim and and give thanks for what God has done. That’s all to say, the service of the Word is our interacting with God on the basis of Jesus Christ’s own Passover.
Second, the service of the Table. In this part of the Sunday liturgy we enact and sacramentally enter into Jesus Christ’s own Passover through the Passover meal he shared with his disciples before going to the cross. Jesus, notice, enacted the Passover meal with his disciples — with himself at the center of it. It’s rather shocking and marvelous, if we stop to notice, that he reinterprets the Passover feast such that it’s really all about him and his death and resurrection. That Passover is what we’re doing, and what we’re taking part in, every time we partake of the Eucharist or Holy Communion. We’re receiving and sharing in Christ’s body and blood: we’re even, as members of Christ, mystically becoming Christ via his body and blood, such that we’re living into the fact that, in Christ our Head, we’ve already passed, in and with Christ, into the eternity of the divine life.
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There’s lots more deep theology we could go into here, but let’s get practical. That Christian worship is Passover should change not only the intentionality with which we participate in worship ourselves, but also how we lead others in worship/liturgy. It should help us remember that, at each moment in which we’re leading others in worship, we’re offering them a pure invitation to participate in God’s liberating action in history. In Jesus Christ a human nature has really passed into the eternity of the Triune life; and so when we take part in Word and Table we’re really passing into that eternal divine life in and with Christ. Jesus Christ’s Passover is the Passover of spatiotemporality itself into God. That’s what we’re entering into when we pass into a state or attitude of worship. We’re passing, in Christ, into God.
Our invitations, in short, should be joyful. We should invite others into worship at each juncture of the service with the joyful and exuberant reverence, even solemnity, of those who are inviting others into a gift and a reality that is always better than we can comprehend. Our bearing and body language shouldn’t communicate that we’re masters of that reality or that we comprehend it fully. We don’t. Si comprehendis non est Deus, Augustine helpfully reminds us. (“If you comprehend it, it’s not God.”) Rather, we’ve humbly been invited and given entrance into an earth-shattering, mind-blowing mystery ourselves. And we get to invite others to enter into that same unfathomable gift, that same mind-blowing mystery. What a privilege — and what a joy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Clifton Stringer
Clifton Stringer is based in Austin, Texas and holds a Ph.D. in Historical Theology from Boston College. He previously read more…

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Women are angry. As we near the one-year mark of the allegations of serial sexual assaults by Harvey Weinstein, and as we are embroiled once again in a public conversation brought up by the Kavanaugh Supreme Court hearings, women are angry and tired at not being believed. On Monday, women and men dressed in black and walked out in support of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations against Judge Kavanaugh and, more generally, in support of believing survivors.
Earlier this month, Serena Williams made headlines when she was penalized by an official for smashing her racket and vociferously protesting a call at the US Open. Critics condemned her behavior, and then there was a backlash against the criticism, calling it sexist and arguing that men received fewer penalties for similar behavior. While such behavior is less tolerated now, “bad boy” behavior from male athletes and coaches is normalized and is even seen as amusing. But an angry woman, and particularly an angry black woman, is frightening and deserving of punishment.
Like many women, I was socialized to rarely, if ever, show my anger. I learned that when women raise their voices, they are seen as “hysterical” (a sneakily sexist word derived from the Greek word for “uterus”), but men who raise their voices are passionate. This cultural phenomenon is usually compounded in the church, where “good Christian girl” is synonymous with being sweet, gentle, and compliant. Unfortunately, those very qualities also have the potential to make women the perfect targets for assault and abuse.
It has been a journey for me to accept and claim my anger, to realize it is a valid emotion just like any other and to know I am not wrong or bad for feeling it or expressing it in healthy, appropriate ways. Psalm 37:9 implores us to “Refrain from anger; leave rage alone,” and not to worry ourselves about evildoers because true justice comes from God. Ultimately, yes, this is true, but anger at the denigration of God’s beloved creatures is surely justified. Jesus himself certainly appeared to get angry during his earthly ministry in cases where it was warranted. However, it is also true that our anger can be unproductive and self-serving, turning into bitterness and hardness of heart. On my best days, I pray to God for the grace to use my anger at the world's injustices productively, and I try not to let rage work me up into a froth of self-righteousness.
For churches that use the Revised Common Lectionary, this Sunday we will hear Jesus tell the disciples in the gospel of Mark that anyone who puts a stumbling block in front of these little ones would be better off being thrown into the sea with a millstone around their neck. In a world where war rages, where racism and gender inequality run amok, where economic inequality is only growing, where our leaders work to divide and not unite us, Christians should stand with the anger of the vulnerable, of the little ones, of those who are most affected by injustice in the world.
As women, if we are paying attention at all, we should be mad. We are mad that we are not believed about sexual harassment, assault, and abuse — and then are asked why we didn’t report it. We are mad that we don’t receive equal pay for equal work. We are mad that the church takes our money, our time, and our gifts and does not support our equality. We are mad that Christian culture turns around and tells us not to be so mad, that we would be more respected if we were nice and gentle. Maybe there is a season for anger, particularly women’s anger. I pray that God will use our voices, lifted up in anger, for the in-breaking of a kingdom marked by justice and truth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Kira Schlesinger
The Reverend Kira Schlesinger is an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Tennessee with a Master of Divinity degree from read more…

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A mixed economy is a willingness to see a form of church that may not be most comfortable or comprehensible for us as an instrument that God chooses to use and bless in this world for the sake of the mission — to make disciples, to transform communities...1. A mixed economy is a willingness to see a form of church that may not be most comfortable or comprehensible for us as an instrument that God chooses to use and bless in this world for the sake of the mission — to make disciples, to transform communities.
2. A mixed economy is our capacity to embrace law and love — law when to do so will help our brother or sister not to stumble, law as a disciplined life, love when law becomes an end in itself and is used as a tool to oppress or exclude.
3. A mixed economy is gratitude for the inherited church — we sit under the shade of trees we did not plant, and hope for the fresh expression of church — we desire fruitfulness and not famine among generations to come.
4. A mixed economy is the creative work of a God who prefers the catholic to the parochial, the diverse to the standardized, who endows us with many languages and cultures and dialects, who places us in many contexts, who delights in the chorus when everything that breathes offers praise to the Lord.
5. A mixed economy is the apostolic journey into the unknown and unexplored, and correspondingly the refusal to stay in the well-defined places where we have been. It is more like new creation and less like nostalgia. It is a more like holy curiosity and less like dogmatic equations.
6. A mixed economy is contemplation and action, the inner work we would most often prefer to avoid and the external engagement that is just as messy and chaotic. While our personal preference may be for one or the other, a life of integrity includes both.
7. A mixed economy serves a greater purpose — more mission, more healing, more conversions, more justice, not among the few but among the many, not only in our tribe but among all the nations. It is a movement from death to life, from a closed tomb to the promise of resurrection.
Kenneth Carter is the author (with Audrey Warren) of Fresh Expressions: A New Kind of Methodist Church. He also wrote Embracing the Wideness: The Shared Convictions of The United Methodist Church. Both titles are from Abingdon Press.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kenneth H. Carter, Jr.
Kenneth H. Carter, Jr. is president of the Council of Bishops of The United Methodist Church and serves the read more…

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The following article is part five of a ten-part series exploring all aspects of organizing, worshipping, and growing as a house church community. Read the previous parts here.
What Do We Do With The Kids?
Unless your house church is positively huge, what generally gets called “the children’s program” in a conventional church doesn’t exist. There is no education building and there are no paid staff to whisk the kids away to Children’s Church while the grown-ups do their thing. And, because of the interactive nature of house churches (see my last blog post on House Church Homiletics), a “Children’s Moment” or “Children’s Sermon” where kids give their candid input is neither novel nor remarkable.
Many years ago, after reading John Westerhoff’s 1976 book Will Our Children Have Faith?, I resolved that I would not be complicit in the thin form of Christian education that pervades the church. Westerhoff lamented that the church mimicked our secular, industrial-age educational model by creating age-level ministries for Sunday school, and that instead of their faith being formed by discipling communities, they were expected to do Bible word-searches and cheesy crafts. Even worse is the implicit philosophy of individualistic, hierarchical education. Our secular educational system has evolved to create workers for employers, not form citizens for society. Church education, by copying this model, implicitly teaches an individualistic faith. Faith formation, he argued, was more likely to come from being surrounded by adults in an intergenerational community who did acts of service and justice together. That’s what I hope to create in our organically-reproducing house churches.
But while I’d like to wax rhapsodic about intergenerational worship with children in house churches, the fact is it’s hit-or-miss. How we incorporate children in worship, or not, depends largely on the choices of each particular house church. Sometimes the demographics of a house church are just weird: we may have an infant and two pre-teens, or half-a-dozen third graders, or stair-step siblings from one family and an only child from another. Our strategy for helping them grow spiritually is a mix of standard discipleship practices, material we create or borrow, and improv.
For house churches with toddlers and younger, we pay a childcare worker to keep them in another room, using a volunteer adult and a baby monitor to maintain Safe Sanctuary standards. For kindergarten through third grade, we have an adult volunteer share the Bible story and have discussion and crafts around the text for the day. For kids in fourth-or-fifth grade or higher elementary grades, we encourage them to be in worship. They might draw or color during the service on the floor or at a nearby table. But they can and do speak up during worship. Pre-teen and teenage students participate in worship as adults.
Incorporating Elementary Students in Worship
In one of our first houses which had a number of second- and third-graders, we introduced them to participation in worship by inviting them to set the coffee table, which was our communion table. At the beginning of worship, they brought in a table runner, a chalice of juice, the patten with the bread, an electric candle (we learned early on not to use actual fire), and a vase with flowers. We could add tableware or subtract it based on the number of kids we had. They also were eager to help with communion. The biggest problem was (and continues to be) preventing squabbles over whose turn it is to serve as helper.
I remember the first time I asked for volunteers to read scripture or lead liturgy and one of our early readers piped up. She read like a pro. I love having children lead the liturgy. Moreover, everyone in the room is pulling for them to succeed; nobody is annoyed when they stumble over words, or if they have to be reminded to speak clearly and loudly. We have a sense that we are all learners and leaders.
At this particular house church, we do send the children downstairs during the message with an adult volunteer who presents to them a similar message and sometimes does a particular craft or multisensory project. This also allows adults to have more adult conversation around the text, especially if it involves something more controversial or disturbing.
Singing remains popular with the kids. Although one of our more adult-oriented house churches opts out of singing entirely (having come from being “done” with church), the children in other house churches learn the simple songs that have become part of our standard repertoire. Some of these include justice and protest songs. After one particular turbulent election in our state, some parents told me about how their kids were singing “I'm Gonna Sit at the Welcome Table” in the backseat of their car while tears streamed down the parents’ faces. They shared that’s when they knew that the way we were doing church was affecting their children in a way they hadn’t experienced before.
Teenage Students
We are blessed to be part of a cooperative youth ministry shared with like-minded progressive churches. I think this youth ministry is essential in order for there to be more time with non-parental adult mentors, especially from other churches. In this way they get to see that our house churches are part of a broader network, that there are many ways of doing church, and that as they grow they can find a faith home in any number of contexts.
It’s also important, since we have a number of LGBTQ teens, that they feel welcome to be in this intimate Christian community and to have a voice. Their faith experience and questions are part of the conversational homiletic that informs our worship practice. Caitlin Ryan of the Family Acceptance Project has shared with faith communities how important it is for long-term well-being for LGBTQ kids to be surrounded with a supportive, nurturing community. Even those who have rejected the church altogether (because of the toxic religious culture we live in) know that their parents are part of an accepting community and that there is an extended network of adults who value them.
Adults of Many Generations
When I began church planting, Jim Griffith shared with us the age distribution rule: Most of our church folks would be ten years younger and five years older than the church planter. Our experience validates this rule. He suggested that this is because people in and just below the church planter’s age cohort see the pastor as a “big sibling.” Those who are just a little older tend not to value the pastor’s leadership as much, and those much younger tend to see the pastor as an out-of-touch authority figure.
But while our averages hang around that ten-and-five year bell curve, we have a healthy population of folks much younger and much older. We have retirees as well as college students. This diverse age distribution is, I think, due to the family feel of our house churches. Because we do not have age-level ministries, we are not reinforcing the cultural prejudice that only people in our generation are worth listening to. While many churches capitalize on developing affinity groups, we are deliberately trying to break down the barriers between generations by rejecting narrow notions of who our peers are.
For this reason, we’re currently using the book Manna and Mercy, by Daniel Erlander, as a church-wide curriculum. I’ve encouraged our adults to color this illustrated book with crayons and colored pencils during worship while we have “Story Time.” This is a simple but profound re-telling of the Bible story, and it gives adults a chance to engage other senses. In Protestant worship, our worship practices can become v
ery “talky and thinky,” and adults can forget that there are other ways to express their faith.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dave Barnhart
Dave Barnhart is pastor of a new church named Saint Junia, whose mission is to become a diverse community of sinners read more…
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Sadly, we are living in a time when some Christians appear to believe you can be shady and still be holy. It is an odd combination which almost always occurs when religion and politics are conjoined in situations where “winning” something has become a defining value.
On the national stage, we are seeing the combo playing out in spades as certain religious leaders align themselves with dubious politicians in order to be favored by them. Public alliances and subrosa activities are used to create the (false) impression that the country’s “national values” and their “religious values” are the same. Being patriotic and being Christian are wedded, of course in the union as they have defined it. Agree and you are both patriotic and Christian — disagree and you are neither patriotic nor Christian.
On the ecclesial stage, we see the same mindset and method at work within institutional/denominational contexts. Public associations and subrosa activities are used (as in the fallen-world ethos) to create the (false) impression that the group’s values are synonymous with Christian values, i.e. being biblical, orthodox, etc. Being Christian means being in their group. Agree and you’re “in”; disagree and you’re “out.”
On both stages it is the subrosa dimensions which must be called out. There will always be bravado and politics, differences and debates — but when “winning” becomes the end, and the use of gift giving, back-room meetings, hallway caucusing, and coaching conferences become justified means in order to “win,” what’s going on ceases to be Christian, no matter how long or loud subrosa performers allege that what they are doing is in keeping with their desire to follow Jesus.
One of the people who formed me early in my Christian life was Paul Rees. He emphasized righteousness as a hallmark ethic in the Christian life, writing that when actions include “dishonesty, shadiness, immorality, vindictiveness, or snobbishness,” they are no longer Christian, but rather reveal a marrying of Christian and non-Christian attitudes and actions. [1]
Shady … and holy? Nope.
[1] Donald Demaray, ed. Things Unshakable: Spiritual Formation Readings from the Pen of Paul S. Rees (Emeth Press, 2011), 2.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Steve Harper
Steve Harper taught spiritual formation and Wesley studies to Christian divinity students for more than thirty years read more…
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While they were still married, my parents’ financial circumstances rose and fell.
At times, we lived in some real dumps. For instance, we once called half of a shabby duplex home. You could see the ground through a hole in the kitchen floor.
When my mom got a job at a local manufacturing plant, things started to look up. We rented an entire house. It backed up to a junkyard, had ancient peeling paint, lacked central heat, and featured a worn dirt track for a driveway. Still, it was a house we didn’t share with another family.
For a while, my parents even hired a woman to clean and cook a couple of times a week — an African-American woman named Susie. Even at the age of eight or nine, I called this adult person Susie.
On one of her days cleaning for us, I asked my father if I could ride along to take her home. When he said yes, I scrambled out to our old purple Dodge Rambler and dove into the back seat. When he and Susie got to the car, she pulled up short. My father said evenly, “Son, get in the front seat.”
I asked him why and immediately regretted it. With a controlled flatness in his voice, he slowly repeated in a lower register, “Son, get in the front seat.” I climbed up front and Susie slid in back.
The word “shack” suggests a rustic quaintness that belies the dilapidated state of Susie’s house. All the homes in this section of town were relegated to black families. Their wooden frames rested on what looked like cinder blocks.
Sun and weather had long ago stripped whatever paint had once coated the outside. Not only the windows, but the roofs and the walls provided unreliable barriers to wind and rain. Most of those houses seemed to be sagging in toward the middle or tilting off to one side.
Sitting in the front seat while a grown woman sat in back had left me unsettled. But the message my father intended to convey was clear: That’s where she belonged.
These kinds of houses were where black people belonged. And a white boy like me could call a black woman by her first name and never have the first clue about what her last name was. It would take me years to recognize the conditions that drove a woman to work for the kind of wages that working poor white people would offer.
"A Resurrection Shaped Life: Dying and Rising on Planet Earth" (Abingdon Press, 2018). Pre-order here: http://bit.ly/2K2M3wB
To question any of this would have infuriated my father. In his mind, we might be poor, but we were better than black people. His own sense of dignity and worth hinged on being better than somebody. Better than some group or class of people.
He was not alone in this, and the desire to be better than someone else did not die with his generation. It persists in myriad forms.
Women hesitate—sometimes for years—to report sexual assault, knowing that their stories will be doubted and that their character will be attacked.
In Strangers in Their Own Land, the sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild describes a narrative she heard time and again from white people: They don’t hate black people. It’s fine if blacks improve their financial situation, these white folks just don’t want black folks breaking in line in front of them. It’s fair for everybody to move forward, so long as people toward the back stay in their relative place in line.
We organize the human world into higher and lower, inside and outside, winners and losers. We assign greatness to people on the basis of their achievements, their possessions, their position of privilege, and even their looks. That same logic creates also-rans and nobodies.
In the Kingdom of God, by contrast, each human being is an infinitely valuable somebody. Everyone is equally worthy of respect as a child of God.
Jesus recognized that the road from the world we inhabit to the Kingdom envisioned by God is long and arduous. He came to show us the way with his own life, death, and resurrection. To show us the way of love.
So, when he heard his closest friends arguing among themselves about who would be the greatest, Jesus recognized the human world at work in them. In response, Jesus taught them that God does not measure greatness by what we achieve or what we accumulate. Love is God’s sole criterion for greatness.
We love by seeking the well-being and guarding the dignity of every human being. Period. Black, brown or white. Gay or straight. Regardless of where they may have been born, the language they speak, or the creed the profess or deny.
In our personal lives, we offer acceptance and friendship, encouragement and nurture to our neighbor. And where we see that the world is stacked against groups because of their gender or their sexual orientation, their ethnicity or their creed, we refuse to remain silent. To echo Eli Wiesel, our silence aids the oppressor and abandons the oppressed.
For followers of Jesus, nobody belongs in the back seat.
"Where We Belong" originally appeared at Looking for God in Messy Places. Reprinted with permission.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jake Owensby
Jake Owensby is the fourth Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Western Louisiana. Jake is the author of several books read more…
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Last month the Journal of the American Medical Association Facial Plastic Surgery published information about a new disorder, “Snapchat Dysmorphia,” which is being diagnosed by plastic surgeons whose clients want to look like their filtered selfies. Snapchat, along with other social- media and photo apps have filters that can create clear complexion and a smaller nose, make eyes larger and set wider, whiten teeth, erase wrinkles, lighten skin tone and add fun extras like puppy ears. Increasingly, plastic surgeons are reporting people wanting procedures to create looks that are impossible to achieve in real life. For several years, doctors have been trained to look for Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD), in which patients perceive body imperfections and are willing to do anything to correct them. But Snapchat Dysmorphia is different in that the imperfections are not seen in a mirrored reflection. Instead they are perceived when compared to the altered pictures of themselves.
Impossible looks
Teens are already vulnerable during adolescence to criticisms about their appearance. Trying to fit in is a constant struggle, partly because their bodies are rapidly changing. Teens naturally compare and evaluate themselves against others during this stage of development. But instead of wanting to look like airbrushed photos of celebrities, now they are comparing themselves to their friends’ perfectly altered images seen in social-media feeds and to their own altered images. The JAMA article concludes: “It can be argued that these apps are making us lose touch with reality because we expect to look perfectly primped and filtered in real life as well. Filtered selfies especially can have harmful effects on adolescents or those with BDD because these groups may more severely internalize this beauty standard.”
Perfectly imperfect
Humans have always and will always look for ways to change and/or improve their appearance. This newest phenomenon is preventable if we take the time to share our insecurities and affirm for one another that our value and our beauty come from who we are on the inside as unique creations of God.
Question of the day: How often do you use filters to make selfies look better?
Focal scriptures: Matthew 6:25-34; Romans 2:1-4; 1 Peter 3:3-4
Matthew 6:
25 “Therefore, I tell you, don’t worry about your life — what you will eat or drink; or about your body — what you will wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds flying about! They neither plant nor harvest, nor do they gather food into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more than they are? 27 Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to his life?
28 “And why be anxious about clothing? Think about the fields of wild irises, and how they grow. They neither work nor spin thread, 29 yet I tell you that not even Shlomo in all his glory was clothed as beautifully as one of these. 30 If this is how God clothes grass in the field — which is here today and gone tomorrow, thrown in an oven — won’t he much more clothe you? What little trust you have!
31 “So don’t be anxious, asking, ‘What will we eat?,’ ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘How will we be clothed?’ 32 For it is the pagans who set their hearts on all these things. Your heavenly Father knows you need them all. 33 But seek first his Kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Don’t worry about tomorrow — tomorrow will worry about itself! Today has enough tsuris already!; Romans 2:1 Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, passing judgment; for when you judge someone else, you are passing judgment against yourself; since you who are judging do the same things he does. 2 We know that God’s judgment lands impartially on those who do such things; 3 do you think that you, a mere man passing judgment on others who do such things, yet doing them yourself, will escape the judgment of God? 4 Or perhaps you despise the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience; because you don’t realize that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to turn from your sins.; 1 Peter 3:3 Your beauty should not consist in externals such as fancy hairstyles, gold jewelry or what you wear; 4 rather, let it be the inner character of your heart, with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit. In God’s sight this is of great value. (Complete Jewish Bible).
For a complete lesson on this topic visit LinC.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melissa Slocum
Melissa Slocum is a freelance writer and music teacher in the greater Atlanta area. She is a regular contributor to read more…
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The Christian movement we call “fundamentalism” began in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, largely in reaction to the rise of modernity and liberal theology. Its adherents came from a variety of Christian traditions, including established mainline denominations and independent churches that we would today call “non-denominational.” Proponents of this diverse anti-modernist movement joined together in five key affirmations, which they called the “fundamentals”:
  1. Biblical inspiration and inerrancy 
  2. Christ’s virginal conception and birth 
  3. A substitutionary theory of atonement 
  4. Christ’s bodily resurrection from the dead 
  5. The historicity of biblical miracles 
There have always been serious intellectual defenses of each of these affirmations, and of the five as a group. Each of the five fundamentals has received considerable scholarly attention, though of course none of them has gone uncontested. Mainline Christians often speak derisively of fundamentalist Christians as unsophisticated and irrational, but this caricature is neither helpful nor necessarily accurate. In fact, most mainline Christians would affirm at least some of the five fundamentals.
All this is to say, there is a particular stream within Protestant Christianity that is properly called “fundamentalism.” It takes on more and less sophisticated forms, and it is characterized by affirmation of the “five fundamentals” as a group. Let’s called this “type 1 fundamentalism.”
Over time, the term “fundamentalism” took on a broader meaning in Western culture. It began to be associated with anti-intellectualism and religious fanaticism. No doubt the behavior of some fundamentalist Christians contributed to this perception, though unfavorable characterizations of Christian fundamentalists by their ideological opponents surely contributed as well. Today the term “fundamentalism” is used to describe groups from a variety of faith traditions. In the early 2000s we often heard people speak of “Islamic fundamentalism.” Of course, Muslims would not affirm the “five fundamentals.” Rather, references to Islamic fundamentalism are meant to describe a form of Islam characterized by an unreasoned fanaticism.
Put differently, in popular culture, “fundamentalism” has come to refer to a kind of extreme, uncompromising, reactionary and unreasoned position. Let’s call this “type 2 fundamentalism.” By this definition, there is no particular ideology or religious tradition that holds a monopoly on fundamentalism. While Christian fundamentalists of the first type are certainly not immune from demonstrating fundamentalism of the second type, there is no reason they should necessarily do so.
As indicated above, it is also possible rampantly to display type 2 fundamentalism without any connection to type 1. For example, progressive protesters who react violently to conservative speakers on college campuses exemplify type 2 fundamentalism. There are voices, they hold, that simply should not be heard. There are arguments and perspectives they must silence. There are ideas that harm our cultures more gravely than the outright suppression of ideas. Fundamentalism of this type — and it is quite common today — is deeply anti-intellectual. Ironically, it has taken root in many institutions of higher learning.
Along with religious fundamentalists, then, there are also political fundamentalists. There are ideological fundamentalists. There are conservative and progressive fundamentalists. Type 2 fundamentalism is a pervasive element today in Western culture, and it is in no way restricted to people of faith.
Holding a position strongly does not make one a fundamentalist. It is, rather, the absence of intellectual virtue that most marks one as a fundamentalist of the second type. It is a refusal to hear, a desire to win rather than to understand, a desire to impose rather than to persuade.
Rejecting fundamentalism of the second type does not mean giving up on your core beliefs. It means developing genuine empathy for the ideas of others and cultivating a desire for deeper understanding. It is exceedingly unlikely, for example, that I am going to give up my affirmation that Jesus is the Son of God and savior of all creation. I suppose it could happen; better Christians than I have lost their faith. Nevertheless my beliefs about Jesus are so deeply woven into my life it is almost inconceivable to me that I would someday reject them. That said, even with these beliefs so firmly in place, if I am intellectually virtuous I can still be in conversation with people who believe differently than I do. In fact, I can learn from them, and even grow in my faith through these engagements. (Along these lines, check out my colleague Anthony Le Donne’s book, Near Christianity: How Journeys along Jewish-Christian Borders Saved My Faith in God.)
Our current cultural modus operandi commonly involves attempts to silence voices we do not agree with through public shaming. If someone voices opinions we don’t like, we make them pay. They’ll think twice about saying such things next time. In many cases we simply do not engage ideas we disagree with at a deep level. Rather, we attempt to discredit those who hold such ideas. Type 2 fundamentalism is so woven into the fabric of Western culture today that we most often don’t see it. It is our “new normal,” and we can adopt its values without ever realizing we are doing so.
That way, however, lies intellectual death. Abandon hope, all ye who enter there.
I believe that the renewal of Christianity in Western culture will involve a renewal of the intellect. It will involve a rejection of the jingoism that so characterizes the world around us, and a love of neighbor that includes a willingness to listen. If the Christian life is characterized by love, shouldn’t this come to bear on our intellectual lives as well? “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor 13:4-7). For Paul, love is not simply an emotion. It is the fruit of a transformed life. It affects not just how we feel, but how we think.
Fundamentalism of the second type that I have described is not a properly Christian way of thinking. The God who assumed all that is human in order to save us from sin and death calls us to the same self-giving love and empathy as we bring that message of salvation to the world. We can do better. For the credibility of our witness, we must.
David F. Watson blogs at davidfwatson.me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David F. Watson
David F. Watson serves as Academic Dean and Associate Professor of New Testament at United Theological Seminary in read more…
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This summer I was leading a staff check-in at YMCA Camp Widjiwagan in Nashville, Tennessee. One of the twentysomething male leaders asked a question: “I’ve been focusing on building relationships with the boys in my group, but one of the boys was hitting me on the back of my head. What do I do about that?” He gave me a sincere yet incredulous look.
I smiled and nodded my head. “It sounds like it’s working.”
His countenance communicated his disbelief. I heard him say, “What are you thinking, lady?” without even saying a word.
“Let me explain,” I continued. “This boy is testing the boundaries with you. He wants to see how far he can go.”
I’ve heard this concern in different words from other educators over the years. The underlying question seems to be: “If my students get to know me, will they still respect me?”
It’s important to start with unpacking what we mean by the word respect. If you are implicitly defining respect as keeping silent and doing everything you say the first time, because they don’t want to be punished, then I encourage you to consider another job. The days of “children should be seen and not heard” are over. When our society embraced social media, we also embraced giving voice to the previously voiceless. The fourth wall has dropped between brand and consumer, screen and viewer, teacher and student. To continue to stifle the voices of children is to operate out of fear and control.
Instead, what if we choose to operate out of love, to do whatever it takes to let each person in the building know that they are seen and known — that they belong? Our understanding of respect would be much different, wouldn’t it? Respect is valuing ourselves and others.
"Building People: Social-Emotional Learning for Kids, Families, Schools, and Communities" (Abingdon Press, 2018). Order here: http://bit.ly/BuildingPeople
When we value something, such as a family heirloom, it means we bestow worth onto that object. Oftentimes it is not the object itself that has great dollar value. A handmade holiday ornament has worth because it was passed down from generation to generation, not because a lot of money was spent buying it. What if we give ourselves permission to see the worth of each one of our students? How would that value revelation change our practice?
Taking the extra step to let our children know that we are more alike than different helps build relationships. Sharing age-appropriate stories about our school days, family life, athletic or artistic accomplishments lets our students know that they are not alone in their struggles. Growing up is not easy. They can take a cue from the lessons we learned. We give them permission to be human with us, with each other, and with themselves.
We may not be celebrities, but we are role models for our kids — everyday heroes. They are learning by our example. Therefore, it is not unusual for them to test boundaries with us. In fact, it’s a good sign that they are starting to open up. As our relationships are developing, what they need to know is that we are bigger, stronger, wiser, and kind. We’ve got them! They need to know we are a safe place for them to share their hearts.
There is a difference between value and authority. Each and every individual has inestimable value. I am not worth more than my students because of my age, education, or skin color. However, I am an adult who has been given a special job to do to help them learn and grow. My right and power to impart knowledge and give direction is because I’ve lived longer and I’ve learned a lot along the way. Therefore, I need not be afraid if a student is unhappy with me because I remind him of appropriate boundaries.
Many years ago, I read a quote from a magazine that has stuck with me: Boundaries define you. They give you shape. They let you know who you are. Live within them, and the possibilities are endless. Let’s teach our kids boundaries with love.
Here are a few quick tips for establishing boundaries and building relationships:
Adopt three simple rules — boundaries — and reinforce them, especially at the start of class meetings or sharing circles, such as:
  • I will listen when someone is talking because I may learn something.
  • I will use my hands, feet, and words to build up and not tear down.
  • I will work as a member of my team.
Remind your students regularly that you are a safe place for them. Show you are a safe place by staying calm and using an even tone of voice, especially when students are upset.
Listen. When students speak, listen to what they are saying and what they are not saying. Read between the lines. Invite students who do not feel as comfortable talking in front of their peers to write letters to you or start a conversation journal with them — a special journal for the two of you to talk through what is going on in their world.
Originally published on EdCircuit. Reprinted with permission.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamara Fyke
Tamara Fyke is an educator and creative entrepreneur with a passion for kids, families, and urban communities. She is read more…
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