Henri Nouwen:
Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.
Author: Joseph Ginder (Page 22 of 23)
It seems nearly impossible for people from conventional backgrounds, particularly Christians, in my experience, to approach those who are homeless or otherwise in unconventional circumstances without trying to “fix them”. It seems that we are afflicted with a desire to play God for other human beings. Watch the movie The Soloist for a great depiction of the temptation and where it leads. The book When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty without Hurting the Poor…and Yourself by Steve Corbett & Brian Fikkert has an excellent section covering this topic.
In our ministry at LBFC, we are committed to the idea that every person deserves to be treated with dignity. People are not primarily a target for our evangelism. We love to introduce people to Jesus, and are outspoken in pointing to Jesus; but it is all too easy to objectify people, carving notches on our Bibles when we get them to “pray the prayer”. God forbid that we treat people with anything less than authenticity. People on the street are accustomed to being herded and disrespected by those who represent authority (which includes pretty much anyone who is not on the street too). We must intentionally establish relationships of a nature that allow authentic exchange. Frankly, while I’m glad to share the gospel when the opportunity arises, I do not usually ask people if they want to make a commitment to Christ until we’ve come to a place in the relationship where I feel as though the person will be able to respond truthfully, having some idea of who I am and why I think this is important. Par for the course in Christian ministry to the homeless is that the homeless know they need to “pray the prayer” in order to access resources from Christians who favor those who cooperate in their evangelism efforts.
We simply must not see people as primarily objects of our improvement efforts. To think in these terms is to assume a superior position that is not worthy of the king who washed his disciples’ feet, and called us to follow him. Human beings are created in the image of God. They are inherently worthy of respectful and dignified treatment because they bear his image, however tarnished. It is tarnished in me, too! People on the street need real friendship, not co-dependency or pandering or condescension.
What are some common big mistakes?
Number One. The most pervasive and pernicious mistake that Christians make is to expect dramatic change in a short period of time. Yes, it is true that God can do miracles and there can be changes “overnight”. However, even in those who trust him, it seems more often that God works through normal human relationships of honest caring over extended periods of time to build people to be like Christ. God created families for a reason. The family is the primary setting for socialization and discipleship. It is where we learn the skills, values, and habits that are vital to healthy relationships. When a man or woman has lived a life without the shaping that comes from a healthy family – or even worse, has been deeply scarred by an abusive family – the void or damage does not evaporate overnight. Instead, what has been lacking must be replaced by constructive and formative relational experiences – family and community experiences. This shaping takes years in a normal family. Why would we expect it to take less when undertaken at a later age after years of scarring? (Think of the advantages of learning a language while young…)
Number Two. We like to play God. We don’t think of it that way, but that’s what we do. I have my act together; you do not. Let me help you. I’ll take over your life (at least the important parts) and (perhaps) let you have them back when you are ready. In truth, hardly anyone would say this so bluntly – but we act like it is what we believe. In truth, this is playing God. In truth, we who feel superior are broken people who are not qualified to run even our own lives, let alone someone else’s. If we do not acknowledge this reality, we will hurt ourselves and others when we try to “help”. The book When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty without Hurting the Poor…and Yourself by Steve Corbett & Brian Fikkert has an excellent section covering this topic.
That’s not all, but that’s enough for now. Pray for me to avoid these pitfalls.
Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputation and social standing, never can bring about a reform. Those who are really in earnest must be willing to be anything or nothing in the world’s estimation.
Sitha suggested that I discuss the difference between joy and happiness.
When I think of happiness I think of a surface-level emotion associated with outward circumstances. Things that make one happy: winning a game in sports, doing well on a test, receiving a compliment, eating good food, etc. Happiness can be fleeting; when circumstances change, happiness may fade or turn to some other emotion. Happiness can be boisterous and demonstrative (and that’s ok, but not necessary). It is more emotional.
I find joy to be a deeper matter than happiness. Joy is related to ultimate things, a contentment and confidence in and from God. It is closely related to trust and faith; that is, without faith in God, it would be very difficult to have joy. It is closely related to love in that knowing that one is loved by God is the foundation of joy. It depends on ultimate hope. Joy runs deep and is lasting; it fuels the Christian life in confident peace. Joy is the ground in which emotional health is rooted. We are restless for joy; knowing that it should be even when it is not… and we long for it.
Consider the introduction to the Sermon on the Mount:
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Jesus describes the kingdom of heaven. Being “blessed” is the condition of being favored by God; all is made well. Joy is the internal condition of a Christian as a result of this favor. It does not come through the normal means by which we tend to pursue happiness, but by the attitudes Jesus teaches here and in the remainder of the sermon.
C.S. Lewis described joy as a strong sense or feeling that came to him at unpredictable times. It was often associated with experiencing artistic or creative beauty. He perceived it as a longing for ultimate beauty and good as much as a feeling. To him, it seemed as much a desire as a sense of well-being, though highly desirable in itself. Joy was a clue to ultimate things; a call to relationship with God- the exclusive source of the contentment of which this joy was a clue. See Lewis’ autobiographical book Surprised by Joy for his discussion of joy.
I feel something like what Lewis described as joy from time to time. It comes unpredictably, but with common elements in its appearance. Special times with family, amazing natural beauty, a special connection with an artistic accomplishment, deep worship or special times of prayer, recognition of God’s work and love in the lives of those who are dear…. these have all been times to experience joy as Lewis described it. In spite of the transient nature of these experiences, they seem essentially different from what I have described as happiness. It seems as if the timeless joy of eternity, when all is as it should be, is breaking in to the here and now as a sample of the blessedness that is to be in the kingdom of heaven. The peace and joy of Christ today is a foretaste of what God has in store for his children.
Some pursue happiness, longing for joy. Certain forms of happiness can be a poor substitute – even additive. But fundamentally, where there is no Jesus – no kingdom of heaver; there is no lasting joy, only the hints and foretastes of joy that point to the ever-lasting joy that God intends for those who trust him.
I listened to a TED talk by Ken Robinson this evening who quoted a poem by W.B. Yeats, He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven.
HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Robinson referred his listeners to children who relate to adults by spreading their dreams beneath our feet. It seemed to me a fitting consideration for all of our significant relationships. The more significant, the more dreams are exposed to tread. And so I’m sharing it with you. One furthering of the idea, perhaps… Is it central to the ideal of hospitality to tread lightly on others dreams? I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Addendum. A couple of weeks ago, a group of us from church ate at our favorite hamburger joint after a softball game. Four of us sat with my granddaughter Kylie, who is three years old and, in her words, almost grown up now. Her father likes to put a packet of pepper into his ketchup and dip his fries. Kylie the almost-grown-up-3-year-old likes this flavor and likes to imitate this very grown up habit (along with eating Thai Chili-Lime Cashews from Trader Joe’s, but that’s another story). So, mingling with us other grownups she casually picked up a packet and emptied it into her ketchup. Unfortunately, it was salt instead of pepper. The four of us “grownups” at the table all instinctively reached out and spoke up to try to stop her mistake – that’s not pepper! – startling her from her nearly grown-up reverie. We were too late. Someone picked up the ketchup and attempted to shake the salt from the top. Kylie shrank back. After a time, she started crying uncontrollably. We all felt bad. No had spoken in anger. It was just that we stepped all over her dream of being grown up, and she was terribly embarrassed. The petals of the blossoming rose retracted a bit. Could we have that little episode back to do over?
Author Hal Borland often wrote articles and editorial commentary on nature. He once wrote: “Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.”
I saw this in a a recent A.Word.A.Day email from Wordsmith.org. General revelation…
Esther asked: “What is hope? What does it mean to have hope? How does one come to have hope?”
I really like the way the Theological Dictionary of the New Testament defines the Old Testament idea of hope. Hope is expecting something good. It is related to trust and yearning, but is very different from fear. According to Ecclesiastes 9:4, hope is associated with life. That is, so long as there is life, there is hope!
“The life of the righteous is grounded in a hope that implies a future because its point of reference is God. To hope is to trust. It is demanded even in good times. It is not our own projection but confidence in what God will do. God is our hope (Jer. 17:7).”
The idea is that things are messed up now, but in the “eschatological future” things will be as they should be… because of God, that is. Hope is fundamentally a statement of belief in God’s character, purpose, and love for us. It is fulfilled in the new creation.
I was having difficulty nailing down the difference between hope and faith. Martin Luther, in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians to the rescue:
Faith and hope are so closely linked that they cannot be separated. Still there is a difference between them.
First, hope and faith differ in regard to their sources. Faith originates in the understanding, while hope rises in the will.
Secondly, they differ in regard to their functions. Faith says what is to be done. Faith teaches, describes, directs. Hope exhorts the mind to be strong and courageous.
Thirdly, they differ in regard to their objectives. Faith concentrates on the truth. Hope looks to the goodness of God.
Fourthly, they differ in sequence. Faith is the beginning of life before tribulation. (Hebrews 11.) Hope comes later and is born of tribulation. (Romans 5.)
Fifthly, they differ in regard to their effects. Faith is a judge. It judges errors. Hope is a soldier. It fights against tribulations, the cross, despondency, despair, and waits for better things to come in the midst of evil.
Without hope faith cannot endure. On the other hand, hope without faith is blind rashness and arrogance because it lacks knowledge. Before anything else a Christian must have the insight of faith, so that the intellect may know its directions in the day of trouble and the heart may hope for better things. By faith we begin, by hope we continue.
I was pondering all this when I ran across a quotation from Heretics by G.K. Chesterton in the blog Every Thought Captive. I had forgotten it entirely, I think!
Hope is the power of being cheerful in circumstances which we know to be desperate. It is true that there is a state of hope which belongs to bright prospects and the morning; but that is not the virtue of hope. The virtue of hope exists only in earthquake and, eclipse.
And later, this:
For practical purposes it is at the hopeless moment that we require the hopeful man, and the virtue either does not exist at all, or begins to exist at that moment. Exactly at the instant when hope ceases to be reasonable it begins to be useful.
Well, I’m not sure that hope is necessarily cheerful, but I think whatever it is, it is in spite of immediate circumstances. The whole idea of hope hinges on the fact that the moment seems hopeless!
I’m working through the thought that faith is fundamentally a matter of reason and hope a matter of the will. I understand the point, but wonder if faith and hope may not be a gift. Of course, faith is listed as a gift of the spirit. I wonder of hope is not there with faith, as a gift. As Luther says, they cannot be separated. In my case, I believe I have the gift of faith. It is a pure gift. I mean to say that it is based upon no particular characteristic of my personality or talents. It is, rather, based upon the fact that God has spoken to me. So I have faith regarding that which he has spoken. It has not been based upon circumstances or my discernment of potential. It is, purely and simply, from clarity in what God has said and rooted in my experience of him.
(Aside: humanly speaking, hope is related to discernment of circumstances. That is, we look at the wreckage that causes us doubt about the future, and see potential for change that is reason for hope. Christian hope is not in seeing such potential; it is in seeing God and trusting him.)
How does one get hope? Fundamentally, I don’t think we can get this kind of hope on our own. Jesus is the one who said “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.” God draws us to Jesus, we respond in faith, and hope is born. I don’t see hope in the Christian sense outside of that. Once we are in Christ, then we come to know him and love him and hope is the natural result. Losing ultimate hope would be akin to doubting Christ and his love for us. Hope is knowing that because Jesus is Lord and because he loves us that things will turn out right even when we can see no reason (other than him) to think this will be the outcome.
Just to complete the circuit, it seems appropriate to note that praying and fasting would be a good Christian response to starting to doubt – losing hope. As hope diminishes, prayer and fasting may lead us back into his presence, and thereby into hope. There is no guarantee that one’s subjective perception of hope will increase – just a seeking after the Lord. When we experience him, hope returns. Sometimes it may be after a “dark night of the soul”; I’ll leave writing on that to others more experienced than I. And prayer and fasting is an appropriate response to desperate situations even when we retain ultimate hope in Christ. We may still go to him for hope regarding what comes in this life.
Esther asked: “Is there an appropriate way/time to approach fasting? What was it traditionally for? What is it for in the modern day?”
Nine days. That’s how long it takes me to think of what I’d like to say in response to Esther’s excellent questions.
I found myself starting by thinking to myself what fasting is not. It is not a way to control God. That is, people (rightly) think of fasting in times of trouble. What would not be right is to imagine that if we fast long and hard enough that this will convince God to do what we want him to do. Rather, I think fasting in this sort of situation is a way to express that we are concerned beyond the normal concerns of life, so much so that we are forgoing the normal activity of life, even eating! It’s a way of expressing that normal human action is not going to suffice to deal with whatever the situation is, that the situation so has our attention and focus that eating isn’t in the picture. Ideally, we’d be using our extra focus to reach out to God and ask him to intervene. We might be showing our contrition or helplessness or need. For example, in biblical times, people fasted when a massive army was on the way to attack. Or when some other calamity was coming – particularly when the calamity was prophesied as the consequence of sin. The repentant or righteous would fast and pray for forgiveness, agreeing with God in his view of the sin. So fasting in the face of dire circumstances or in repentance from sin is a normal biblical phenomenon.
Another thing that fasting is not is a way to impress onlookers as to one’s religiosity. Jesus was pretty harsh on this tendency that we have to do things like fasting in order to impress others and appear to be holy. His counsel? Don’t do it. When you fast, do it in secret and dress nice so others can’t tell you are fasting. And more to the point, fasting is no substitute for obedience. Fasting will not make one right with God when one remains in sin.
So much for the via negativa. What is the right time and way to approach fasting today? (I mean, besides when the Assyrians are on the horizon.) Consider this. In our times, I think busyness is one of the most damaging enemies of spirituality. It may be that we are caught up in the mundane or even the profane. Or it may be that we are so caught up in ministry that we have little time to focus on God. Either way, praying and fasting can be a way to restore proper focus on our Lord. It’s not magic. It is a discipline that even Jesus undertook at the beginning of his ministry (see Matthew 4). I get the sense that Jesus knew that his life was about to change, and that he wanted to make sure that he was close to his Father in advance of that change. There was focus, and devotion, and probably more than that. Similarly, Paul and Barnabas were set aside as missionaries during a period of prayer and fasting (Acts 13:2). I’m not sure if they were making themselves available to focus on God without a sense of the import of the moment or if they had some idea that something was coming up and sought God for direction. Either way, the praying and fasting is a way of bringing focus away from the every day stuff of life and onto our father God.
Then, it says that after they prayed and fasted (Acts 13:3), the others laid their hands on them and sent them on their way. I get the impression that the time of prayer and fasting was to confirm God’s call on Paul and Barnabas. Again, the others were making themselves available to God – focus – and God confirmed his direction. Later, as they appoint elders, Paul and Barnabas pray and fast (Acts 14:23). So it seems like there is something about prayer and fasting before God in order to make good decisions.
Wrapping it up, it seems to me that fasting is a way of humbling oneself. I don’t think it is really different in modern times than ancient times other than perhaps we are less in tune these days with what we lack in a time of material wealth and distraction. Fasting is not celebration; Jesus said his disciples wouldn’t be fasting while he was with them – they’d be fasting later when he was gone. (See Matthew 9:14-15.) There’s a time for partying and a time for mourning. Fasting is more associated with the mourning that comes from being in that now-but-not-yet time before Jesus returns and sets everything right. I’m thinking there won’t be much fasting in the new heaven and new earth after the resurrection, because the occasion for fasting will be long gone. There are times in this age that are shadows of the celebration time to come, and times that are clearly associated with the not yet. Fasting is an acknowledgment of what is not yet, but should be and will be. It’s us groaning with creation in anticipation of what we hope for. (…which brings me to Esther’s first question, but that’s another response.)
I highly recommend Ric Machuga’s article in the March/April issue of Books & Culture. Machuga introduces the idea of theodicy in a brief article, summarizing historical and recent attempts to explain why, if God is so good, there is evil in the world. The article is clear, concise, and very helpful for a popular audience. He explains deep concepts in a very readable way. Hopefully booksandculture.com won’t make you pay anything to read the article online. An issue of B&C with the paper version should be in the LBFC library later today, just in case. Email me if you have problems and want to read the article.
The following quotation is from Joseph Bottum in First Things, 2010-01 issue. The last paragraph contains a comment I mentioned to one or more of you, and the comment itself is about the book that I think would be good to read together. Quoting:
In 2008 our friend John G. Stackhouse, professor of theology and culture at Regent College, published a book we would have done well to take note of at the time: Making the Best of It: Following Christ in the Real World (Oxford University Press). As the title suggests, Stackhouse addresses Christian engagement with culture as always both unavoidable and provisional, an engagement “for the time being.†Thus, as Miroslav Volf has pointed out, Stackhouse steers between the Scylla of “a whole-scale transformation of the world†and the Charybdis of “building alternative enclaves in the world.†Since neither is realistic in any case, what does Stackhouse think is realistic?
The book proceeds largely by imaginative dialogue with such twentieth-century Protestant luminaries as C.S. Lewis, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer—drawing, along the way, on H. Richard Niebuhr’s famous “five ways†of relating Christ to culture. Brisk and blunt, Making the Best of It yields what Stackhouse describes as his own “hybrid†between “Christ the transformer of culture†and “Christ and culture in paradox.†Sometimes Christians will transform culture, and sometimes they will have to be countercultural—and often they will have to do both. That is the creative tension of Christianity in the world, which cannot be resolved until the end time.
This won’t satisfy those convinced that answers are easy, but its evident fidelity to what C.S. Lewis would have recognized as the Great Tradition may enable us to distinguish between engaging the world on faith’s terms, which is the disciple’s task, and engaging faith on the world’s terms, which is merely the project of religion’s cultured despisers.
Working out how to engage the world on faith’s terms without slipping into engaging faith on the world’s terms seems like an increasingly important thing to me these days, with our increased interaction with and cooperation with non-profit and government organizations.