Hi friends –

I’ve just moved this blog. Same domain (teddyray.com) but new web host.

I’ve tried to move all subscribers with the change, but you may not receive future posts — especially if you use wordpress.com. To be sure you receive all future updates, click here and enter your e-mail.

And when you get a chance, take a look at the new site design and give me your thoughts: www.teddyray.com

Merry Christmas,

Teddy

Did you join me in praying for someone last week? If you have anything to share, I’d love to hear how it went.

It’s common for people to talk about interpreting the Bible. “How do you interpret this passage?” Or, “Well, that’s one interpretation of what Jesus meant there.” And to some degree this will always be the case. As rational creatures, we’re interpreters of all things. We interpret people’s body language. We interpret everything we read and everything we hear. The meaning of some things (e.g. most textbooks) is pretty easy to interpret. The meaning of others (e.g. a James Joyce novel), not so much. So it’s not unusual that we would think about interpreting the Bible.

Something that we give less attention to, though, is that the Bible is a book that’s meant to interpret us. That is, it has something to tell us about who we are — who we really are — and it has something to tell us about how we’re living. In fact, some of the biggest transformations in my life have come when I’ve allowed the Bible to really interpret me. To tell me that actions I had decided were okay really weren’t. To tell me that I needed to be giving more attention to actions I had neglected. To tell me who I was when I was telling myself I was something else.

It has been when I’ve allowed the Bible to interpret me that I’ve done things I otherwise wouldn’t have done — apologized to people I didn’t want to apologize to, requested cuts in my salary, and scheduled appointments with people I didn’t want to spend time with, to name a few. It has also been when I’ve allowed the Bible to interpret me that I’ve seen hard situations in a different light — giving me reasons for hope and joy in the midst of sorrow or doubt.

My challenge for all of us this week, then, is to spend some time reading the Bible and asking it to interpret us. I want to read with the question, “What does this have to say to me about who I am and how I’m living?” I want to be open to a surprising and unconventional interpretation of our lives. An interpretation of us that may be different from what most of the people around us might give.

I think one of the best places to start with this is Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” in Matthew chapters 5 through 7. What if you read that through this week, constantly asking what it has to tell you about who you are and how you’re living? You might read all three chapters on one day, then take the rest of the week to read slowly and carefully. I’m planning to keep a running written list about who this tells me I am and what it has to say about how I’m living. Things like this seem to have much more impact when I take the time to write observations.

What do you say? Join me?

Two quotes

Let me share two quotes with you that I’ve found profound and helpful as I consider taking seriously what I see in Scripture. [I share both of these extended excerpts believing they fit within “fair use” guidelines.]

This profound piece is from J. I. Packer in Knowing God (pp. 306-309):

We are unlike the Christians of New Testament times. Our approach to life is conventional and static; theirs was not. The thought of “safety first” was not a drag on their enterprise as it is on ours. By being exuberant, unconventional and uninhibited in living by the gospel they turned their world upside down, but you could not accuse us twentieth-century Christians of doing anything like that. Why are we so different? Why, compared with them, do we appear as no more than halfway Christians? Whence comes the nervous, dithery, take-no-risks mood that mars so much of our discipleship? Why are we not free enough from fear and anxiety to allow ourselves to go full stretch in following Christ?

One reason, it seems, is that in our heart of hearts we are afraid of the consequences of going the whole way into the Christian life. We shrink from accepting burdens of responsibility for others because we fear we should not have strength to bear them. We shrink from accepting a way of life in which we forfeit material security because we are afraid of being left stranded. We shrink from being meek because we are afraid that if we do not stand up for ourselves we shall be trodden down and victimized, and end up among life’s casualties and failures. We shrink from breaking with social conventions in order to serve Christ because we fear that if we did, the established structure of our life would collapse all around us, leaving us without a footing anywhere.

It is these half-conscious fears, this dread of insecurity, rather than any deliberate refusal to face the cost of following Christ, which make us hold back. We feel that the risks of out-and-out discipleship are too great for us to take. In other words, we are not persuaded of the adequacy of God to provide for all the needs of those who launch out wholeheartedly on the deep sea of unconventional living in obedience to the call of Christ. Therefore, we feel obliged to break the first commandment just a little, by withdrawing a certain amount of our time and energy from serving God in order to serve mammon. This, at bottom, seems to be what is wrong with us. We are afraid to go all the way in accepting the authority of God, because of our secret uncertainty as to his adequacy to look after us if we do.

[…]

Have you been holding back from a risky, costly course to which you know in your heart God has called you? Hold back no longer. Your God is faithful to you, and he is adequate for you. You will never need more than he can supply, and what he supplies, both materially and spiritually, will always be enough for the present. “No good thing does the LORD withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Ps 84:11 RSV). “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your strength, but with the temptation will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor 10:13 RSV). “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). Think on these things!—and let your thoughts drive out your inhibitions about serving your Master.

And this piece is from James K.A. Smith in Desiring the Kingdom, 218-219, [paragraph breaks are mine to make it easier to read digitally]. You’ll see at the end that he’s specifically thinking about “Christian colleges and universities,” but it applies to all of us, I think.

[W]hat if a Christian perspective turns out to be a way of domesticating the radicality of the gospel? What if the rather abstract formulas of a Christian worldview turn out to be a way to tame and blunt the radical call to be a disciple of the coming kingdom?

Could it be the case that learning a Christian perspective doesn’t actually touch my desire, and that while I might be able to think about the world from a Christian perspective, at the end of the day I love not the kingdom of God but rather the kingdom of the market?

By reducing the genius of Christian faith to something like an intellectual framework–a ‘perspective’ or a ‘worldview’–we can (perhaps unwittingly) unhook Christianity from the practices that constitute Christian discipleship. And when that happens, we end up thinking that being a Christian doesn’t radically re-configure our desires and our wants, our practices and our habits.

Sure, we might think that we’re supposed to be moral, but we’ll construe this in terms of personal integrity (e.g., ‘honest’ business dealings) or instrumentalizing existing cultural systems for charitable ends (e.g., ‘redeeming’ exploitative business practices by donation a portion of profits to charity; or generating philanthropy for non-profits that is fueled by the charity of the extremely wealthy).

In too many cases, a Christian perspective doesn’t seem to challenge the very configuration of these careers and vocations.

To be blunt, our Christian colleges and universities generate an army of alumni who look pretty much like all the rest of their suburban neighbors, except that our graduates drive their SUVs, inhabit their executive homes, and pursue the frenetic life of the middle class and the corporate ladder ‘from a Christian perspective.”

If we truly allowed the Bible to interpret who we are and how we live, would we look a bit more distinct from our neighbors? Would our approach to life be considered a bit more unconventional and dynamic?

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My family came to Spain seven weeks ago. We’ve met more new people in the past seven weeks than we had met in the past several years. I’m sure that’s usually true for anyone who moves to a new place. And the people have been wonderful. Kind, quick to welcome, quick to offer help.

We’ve already been semi-welcomed into what appears to be a fairly closed and tight-knit group of families in our neighborhood. They’ve invited us to one of their cookouts in a few weeks and have already told us to plan on being with them for their El día de Reyes celebration (that’s Three Kings day on January 6 — bigger than Christmas here).

On not having an agenda

When it comes to sharing faith and meeting people, there’s a lot of talk in church and missionary circles about not having an agenda. You don’t develop a relationship just so you can get someone to come to your church or get them to make a profession of faith. That’s not “relational evangelism.” It’s relational manipulation to achieve a result. It’s phony, and it devalues the person. The door-to-door salesperson is just off-putting when he acts like he wants to become my friend then tries to sell me a magazine.

[To be sure, I’m not totally knocking things like door-to-door evangelism here. Just don’t pretend like you’re interested in developing a relationship if your real interest is achieving an outcome. See “How to become an evangelist” for more.]

From our early experience in Spain, I can honestly say that we don’t have that kind of agenda with people. If we never expected to share about our faith with the people we met, and if we never expected any of them to follow Christ, we would still be forming the relationships that we are.

We would do that selfishly — because these are great, kind, hospitable people who have been a joy to meet. And they have been a blessing to us when we’ve needed help, while we may not yet have done more than provide some comedy for them.

We would do that altruistically, too, I hope — because these are people created in the image of God and loved by God. And so even if they weren’t great and kind and hospitable, I hope that we’d still be showing an interest in them and trying to develop relationships with them.

Our number one agenda is to meet and know and enjoy and bless the people God puts in our path during our short stay here. No relationship hinges on anything more than that.

On having an agenda

And yet I’d be lying if I said there were no further agenda — perhaps hope would be the better word — in these relationships.

Nothing has changed and enriched my life more than knowing God’s love, following Christ, and receiving the Holy Spirit. Neither marriage nor kids nor accomplishments nor other relationships has been as important – great as those all have been.

And so if I’ve truly found such treasure in this faith — and if I believe that treasure is available to everyone — wouldn’t it be uncaring for me to say that I don’t care if others ever receive it?

Moreover, I believe a final judgment awaits, and then a new heaven and a new earth. I don’t presume to know exactly who’s “in,” or who’s “out.” I think those things are a part of the judgment we’re to leave to Christ. But this I know: we can have assurance of God’s love and our redemption through Christ. Would it be anything less than cruel not to offer these to people?

So in that respect, we do have an agenda for those we meet. We want them to know Christ.

Would we be developing and nurturing these new relationships if we didn’t have that agenda? Absolutely! But we certainly hope and pray that the latter comes, too.

People in missions have called Spain a “missionary graveyard.” People have come with huge aspirations, then felt like failures when they had few, if any, conversions to report. In several parts of the globe, they measure numbers of people coming to Christ and numbers of new church plants by the week, the day, or even the hour. In Spain, these are more commonly measured in years and decades. This is why we’ve said before that they call Spain a “hard-soil” area. That’s actually one of the reasons we wanted to be here, though.

Could a revival break out in Spain? We certainly hope and pray so. And if there’s a part for us to play in that, we want to play it. But we’re not concerned to measure our “success” by any of these numbers. We have nothing to prove.

So we hope to share our faith and an invitation into the Church with many people here. We’ll do that out of a sense of gratitude, a sense of responsibility, and a sense of concern. The rest we’ll leave to God. And regardless of the rest, we’ll enjoy and hope to bless these beautiful people.

And a final note — This is no different in Spain than it should have been for us in the U. S. You may have had some of the same feelings wherever you are. These reflections are just highlighted because of all the new relationships we’re developing and the fact that we’re helping to start a new church here. I hope our attitude toward these things will always be the same: developing relationships out of our own desire to know and enjoy and bless people, but also sharing our faith out of a sincere hope that people might know our Lord and Savior.