Why I am Obsessed with Change

I recently posted a quote on my Facebook page that called for a need for visionary leadership that "drives beyond our headlights" and looks to the future rather than the present or the past to model how we do church and how we express the gospel. This sparked a dialogue in the comments in which the phrase "obsessed with change" was used. I greatly appreciated this comment because it helped me to realize that, in fact, I am obsessed with change. It even kept me awake and so here I am writing this blog post at 3:00 a.m. when I have to get up early to play a hockey game in the morning. But it's true. I am obsessed with change. I own up to it. I confess it. I admit it. And I stand by it. Here are my reasons why.

First, the changes that I believe need to be made in our churches are not merely about a response to changes in culture. Yes, they are somewhat about culture, and culture has been the spark to a call for change. As our culture dramatically changes, the church is called to change in order to stay contextual and "relevant." Dare I use that dirty word “relevant”? Let's just say, in order to stay meaningful. The gospel first came to us in a very culturally meaningful, contextual package or medium. Jesus, for example, came and lived among us as a fellow human being, incarnating (enfleshing) the message within the culture of humanity—making the message relevant to us (Jn 1.14-18). The gospel was first lived, then spoken, then later written down—but in the common, ordinary language of the day, the koine (common) Greek, which was the rough, spoken language of the common people of that culture so that it could be understood. And when the gospel, as it was being lived out, crossed the boundaries of Jewish culture into the foreign Greek or Gentile culture, it adapted it's styles and forms to the culture, as we see with Paul's practice (1 Cor 9.19-23). The gospel was in every sense contextualized into culture. It adapted to culture.

And so today as we witness and experience perhaps the most dramatic cultural change in Western history, a shift from modern to postmodern, from Christian to post-Christian, and even from post-modern to post-postmodern, the church needs to adapt its expression of the timeless and unchangeable message so that it will be understandable and meaningful to new generations—generations that find our way of "doing church" so foreign that it is not only unattractive, but almost unintelligible. We can’t get the message across if we speak a foreign language.

But it’s not simply about forms and culture and models of doing things. It’s about function. It’s about meaning. For example, millenials or postmoderns or new generations or whatever you want to call them desire a less institutionalized, more relational, organic way of living out the gospel in our communities. They call for a less hierarchal and more participatory form of leadership and ministry. They call for a less consumeristic and more active form of faith. These are not mere forms. These have to do with function, with meaning, with the purpose of the gospel and the church. So here’s the irony. The changes that need to be made in order for us to stay “relevant” in a changing world are changes that will actually make us more Biblical. Postmodernism is actually doing a great service to the church by calling us back to a more Biblical form of the gospel itself.

In fact, here is the real issue, and here is the second reason I am obsessed with change. It really is not just about changing the form or the medium of the message. It is about the message itself. It is not merely our forms that need to change to become more Biblical—it is our message. The church has reduced the message of the gospel down to individual salvation, leaving us unconcerned about the issues of the day that impact our communities. We have seen the gospel as simply getting our personal ticket to heaven punched while we sit in our secluded communities (“church”) isolated from and unconcerned about the culture and community around us. We have lost sight of the full mission and message of the gospel. Younger generations recognize that and they want no part of it. They want to hear a message that is not just about ideas and beliefs and doctrine (as important as these are), but one that is lived out in our neighborhoods and cities and in our world. That is, a message that is as relevant to this life as to the next. And this is the very essence of the incarnation, the gospel lived out in the flesh by each one of us. And they are right. And that is why I am obsessed with change. It is because I am obsessed with the gospel. If we don’t present the gospel in a way that is understandable to a changing culture, they won’t understand it. But more importantly, it won’t even be the gospel.

Kirk or Spock?

I grew up watching Star Trek, and I love the most recent series of Star Trek movies, especially Star Trek Into Darkness. The interaction between Captain Kirk and his Vulcan executive officer Mr. Spock is what makes the show so good. It’s a brilliant portrayal of the conflict between logic and emotion, reason and feeling. Spock is all logic and reason, and if not for his human mother, would make all decisions apart from feelings. It’s not that Spock doesn’t have feelings. On the contrary, Vulcan’s feel more deeply than humans ever could. But like a good Vulcan, he suppresses feelings while approaching everything, including relationships, analytically. He knows the rules and regulations and abides by them at all costs (at least until his human side perks up). Kirk, on the other hand, is driven by instinct. He relies on his heart and trusts his gut feeling, even when it defies logic. Star Trek Into Darkness superbly highlights this dichotomy between logic and emotion. The conflict between reason and emotion is not merely the stuff of science fiction, however. It is a constant battle among Christians as well. In fact, it is a battle we all fight within our own selves.

Over the years I have sat in on numerous Bible studies in which the subject of emotions arises (and sometimes the emotions themselves arise). Invariably the discussion tends to downplay, if not denigrate, feelings as unreliable, untrustworthy, short-lived, and shallow, while reason, logic, and knowledge are lifted up as an objective and trustworthy means of knowing. Reason and emotions are always played against each other. But is this dichotomy Biblical? Is it even reasonable?

First, I think it will help to define our terms. What exactly are feelings, anyway? I suggest that the words “feelings” and “emotions” are too broad to be of much use. Perhaps getting specific will change our perspective. When we say we cannot trust feelings, or that feelings are shallow and short-lived, what feelings do we mean? Joy? Anger? Gratitude? Compassion? What about passion, contentment, peace, wonder, assurance, confidence, intrigue, curiosity, hatred, anxiety, distress, frustration, fear,  grief, agony, sympathy, tenderness, affection, or fondness? These are all feelings.

Are you beginning to see the problem? To simply negate feelings as irrelevant to faith is far too simplistic. For example, isn’t the feeling of gratitude at least a partial basis for our faith response (Lk 17.11-19; 1 Jn 4.19)? While gratitude will not give me faith to begin with, certainly it ought to be a driving force behind my faith, as that which moves me to obey for example—which brings me to the word emotion, and to the real issue.

The root word for emotion is “motion,” or “move.” Emotions are what move us. What moves a person to fight for justice, for example? Is it a purely intellectual belief (reason) that sees injustice as harmful? Or is it a feeling that something is unfair? What caused Jesus to turn the tables over in the temple and chase out the money changers? Was it not the anger he felt over the injustices that were being perpetrated on the poor? Was it logic or compassion that caused Jesus to go to the cross?

We make a false dichotomy when we set emotion against reason. Reason is vital to our faith, and that’s why Paul “reasoned from the scriptures” to persuade Jews that Jesus was the Christ (Acts 17.2; 18.19). Not everyone convinced by reason, however, is moved to act. There were those, for example, who had come to intellectually believe that Jesus was the Christ, but who were not moved to obey (Jn 8.30-31; 12.42). Perhaps reason without feeling is like faith without works, being dead (Jas 2.14-26).

Certainly feelings apart from truth and reason can leave us misguided. But that does not negate feelings as essential to our faith. After all, isn’t “the fear of the Lord the beginning of wisdom” (Ps 111.10) and doesn’t it “endure forever” (Ps 19.9)? Aren’t we to grieve over our sin (Mt 5.3), even to hate it like Jesus did (Heb 1.9)?

Jesus, in fact, was often moved by feelings. When he felt compassion for the crowds he was moved to heal them (Mt 14.13). He wept at Lazarus’ tomb (Jn 11.36).  He felt great distress over the pending cross (Lk 12.50) and agonized in the garden to the point of sweating blood (Lk 22.44). Were these feelings shallow and untrustworthy?

On the other hand, is reason more “trustworthy” than emotion? Human reason is intermixed with our human fallenness with all of its pride, selfishness, and mixed motives (cf. Lk 20.5,14). That’s why Paul said “Knowledge makes arrogant, but love edifies” (1 Cor 8.1).We are not robots. Not even Spock. The truth is that it is impossible for us to separate our reason from our feelings. None of us is perfectly unbiased and objective. And even when we do reason correctly, reason alone will not move us unless it is accompanied with feelings like compassion, gratitude, love, and joy. It was “for the joy set before him Jesus endured the cross” (Heb 12.2). So while reason is vitally important, let’s be careful we don’t make an idol out of reason.

Jesus said you must “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind” (Lk 10.27). Love demands that our hearts and minds be equally engaged. Reason and emotion may have different functions, but neither is more important than the other. On the contrary, like Kirk and Spock, they complement and complete each other.

So where does emotional expression come in, especially during worship? I’ll save that for my next blog.