John Calvin's Double Grace

In Calvin’s theology, there is a concept called a doctrine of double grace. The doctrine of double grace means that justification and sanctification are both one gift of God. The former one is Christ’s imputed righteousness for us in faith; the latter, we are made righteousness gradually from time to time by grace. Justification (right with God) indicates that we are in Christ. Sanctification (living rightly with God) means that we are to be like Christ.

“Christ was given to us by God’s generosity, to be grasped and possessed by us in faith. By partaking of him, we principally receive a double grace: namely, that being reconciled to God through Christ’s blamelessness, we may have in heaven instead of a Judge a gracious Father; and secondly, that sanctified by Christ’s spirit we may cultivate blamelessness and purity of life” (Institutes, 3.11.1).

We receive Christ’s blamelessness in faith; we cultivate His blamelessness by grace.

“Why, then, are we justified by faith? Because by faith we grasp Christ’s righteousness, by which alone we are reconciled to God. Yet you could not grasp this without at the same time grasping sanctification also…Therefore Christ justifies no one whom he does not at the same time sanctify. These benefits are joined together by an everlasting and indissoluble bond, so that those whom he illumines by his wisdom, he redeems; those whom he redeems, he justifies; those whom he justifies, he sanctifies” (Institutes, 3.16.1).

The gifts of justifying and sanctifying are bonded as one single gift.

William Stacy Johnson, professor of Systematic Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary, notes, “Although Christ’s righteousness is an external reality that is attributed to us, we are also engrafted into Christ in an authentic spiritual union that grows internally. We not only receive the benefits of Christ but we begin to grow in grace, becoming increasingly like him. Such are the benefits of being united to Christ.”[1]

During the time of Reformation, the doctrine of justification was the center of discussion. Martin Luther, as the first generation reformer, got caught by the righteousness of God in Romans 1:17a. God’s own righteousness, for Luther, meant God’s justice that He always punished sinners for their sins. Luther then found out “The righteous shall live by faith” (1:17b). That concept of earning God’s favor was gone and destroyed by this verse. For Luther, he was then driven by the doctrine of justification. By faith, we are declared righteous in God’s sight.

Calvin, 26 years younger than Luther, was a second generation reformer. He was able to keep a distance from the debate and looked at the whole reformed movement from a distance. In order for the Reformed Movement to go further and deeper, the Reformed understanding of the Christian faith must be organized in a systematic way. He wrote the Institutes of the Christian Religion. He did not write this “textbook” to speculate Christian faith. He did it to help reformed Christians to understand their new emerging faith.

In his Institutes, Calvin addressed the doctrine of sanctification first (Book 3: chapters 3-10), then the doctrine of justification (chapters 11-19). Calvin was very careful to tackle a double grace because there was a thin line between working for one’s salvation and working it out. The topic sanctification preceded justification because Calvin might see the reality that cheap grace was so prevalent in Christian life.

As William Johnson comments, “It is interesting that Calvin presents his theology of sanctification, or regeneration, before discussing justification. Given the centrality of justification in the sixteenth-century Protestant movement, this is not what we would expect. By discussing repentance and renewal first, Calvin seemed to want to avoid any implication of ‘cheap grace.’ We can receive the gospel, in Calvin’s view, only by obeying it.”[2] Even though I have a hard time to read through these chapters, I admire Calvin’s theological ability to analyze this single gift in such details.

Calvin paid a lot of attention to explain the importance and necessity of sanctification in Christian life and yet make sure that it’s distinguished from justification. However, they are inseparable. It’s Calvin’s theological effort to respond to his contemporary theological distortion.

In John Calvin’s Stroke of Genius, Paul Helm wrote at the end of his article after analyzing Calvin’s double grace, “This way of thinking preserves the Reformation and biblical teaching of the forensic character of justification, the imputation of an 'alien righteousness'. But it also retains what is the essential truth behind the medieval misunderstanding of justification, that subjective renewal is essential; not essential to justification, but an essential consequence of it, bound inseparably to it, not something which is simply tagged on. The one gift is of two graces in parallel, though the way each gift blesses the recipient is very different.”[3]

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[1] John Calvin, Reformer for the 21^st Century (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 27.

[2] Ibid., p. 66.

[3] http://paulhelmsdeep.blogspot.com/2007/09/analysis-6-john-calvins-stroke-of.html

Pure in Heart

I wrote this on Saturday, January 22.

Since last Sunday, Sue and I have realized that it’s time for us to redefine ministry in our lives. She asked me whether she participated enough in my ministry before.  She shared that she didn’t have much time to participate in my ministry due to work. On top of regular meetings, it was hard for her to participate more, such as discipleship. And she implied that I didn’t have a strong tendency to co-work with her. (I think it’s kind of true.)

Now we don’t have those obligations to attend this or that meeting. We have more time and freedom to meet up with people on a personal level. As a couple, we both enjoy meeting different couples (e.g. pre-marital meeting). We can spend one to two hours to listen to them and to talk about our lives and struggles.. We realize that we are up to a life stage where marital (or couple) ministry is what we should focus on. How meaningful to build solid relationships with couples

I remember one night I shared with her, saying, “How powerful for a pastor to build solid relationships with different couples (e.g. ten) in ministry. In near/distance future, you have at least twenty people to co-work with you and develop ministry. Marital ministry is very important, etc….” In response, she said something like this: “Perhaps you shouldn’t always focus on developing ministry. Even though you talk about building lives or making disciples, you are basically talking about ministry. People is not as same as ministry. Perhaps it’s time for us to redefine our ministry at this point of life. It’s time for us to focus on relationship without developing ministry as the hidden motive. Especially now we don’t have a church context to develop ministry, etc…”  

It makes me recall this verse: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matt. 5:8). Only those who are pure in heart can see God. In order to see God in our relationships, I ought to be pure in heart. The desire to develop ministry adulterates my heart, blurs my vision, and distorts the images of others as God’s people. That desire turns “I-Thou” relation into “I-It” relation. Whenever you become something I utilize so that I can develop my ministry, you are no longer “Thou” but “It” in my heart. You are merely an object. I am the only subject in this relation. God never occurs in this kind of relationship, for He never treats us as an “It” even though we sometimes disobey, even rebel against, Him.

That's what it means when we say that God is a personal God. It’s in this person-to-person relation in which we experience mutuality, reciprocity, and symmetry. “Both partners retain their own subjectivity in the encounter, in which they become aware of the other person as a subject, rather than an object…An I-Thou relation involves the encounter of two mutually active subjects. It is the relationship…which is the real focus of personal interaction.”[1]

It’s scary how often time we practice “I-It” relation without even a sense of awareness. Or we’re aware, but who cares?

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[1] Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction. 2^nd Edition (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997), p. 247.

From House To House

I am reading and studying at Whole Foods, located at East Houston Street. A group of Chinese people is having a Bible Study near my table. I am impressed by such a small gathering in the city, and I miss the times that we spent together. I don’t know whether the group leader is a pastor or not. If he is, he is good. If he is a lay-leader with a full-time job in the secular world, he should be praised. It’s such an effort to keep up the good work while having a full-time job at work.

I paid and still pay a lot of attention to personal or small group meetings outside of church setting.  I know that regular activities are important for Christians on the weekend. Without them, we lose the regular means through which the Holy Spirit transforms us. If we fail to attend them regularly, forget about spiritual growth, for it’s our minimum requirement.

I also consider that activities or meetings on the weekdays are equally important. This “extra curriculum” is purely voluntary. And it usually happens at someone’s home or in the world, not in the church—the place where we spend less time in comparison with our homes and workplaces. Whoever shows up, he/she can’t just attend, but participate with openness and authenticity. Whenever we are voluntary, vulnerable, and authentic in front of one another, it involves trust, dependence, and embrace. Transformation starts to foster in this environment.

Acts 20:20-21—“How I did not shrink from declaring to you anything that was profitable, and teaching you in public and from house to house, testifying both to Jews and to Greeks of repentance toward God and of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ” (ESV). Based on these verses, concerning the office of the pastors, John Calvin wrote, “The manner of teaching not only consists in public discourses, but also has to do with private admonitions” (Institutes, 4.3.6). Public proclamation and personal encounter must go hand in hand. They are two sides of the same coin. Pastoral work is incomplete without one or the other.

The works of pastors are clearly defined on the weekend. As long as we handle preaching and teaching well (and some other minor matters), we are fine. But there are no clear job descriptions for pastors on the weekdays. Paul’s idea of “from house to house” should be the job descriptions, meaning that pastors should meet up with people privately on the weekdays: private talks, private sharing, private encouragement, and private admonitions.

I understand why many pastors fail to relate to others privately, personally, and intimately. Kenneth Leech, a parish priest in Soho and Race Relations Officer for the Church of England, notes, “In fact, the nature of the pastoral relationship is one which does not allow us to escape from inner struggle, but rather intensifies it. The pastor or spiritual guide will experience and absorb the conflicts in others; indeed, it is probably the fear of this experience which scares so many pastors away from too intimate relationships in caring.”[1] True caring can be scary, for it could become our scar. Theologically, Jesus’ scar shows that He came to practice true caring. In Henri Nouwen’s language, we are wounded healers.[2]

I admire this group of Chinese folks doing something like this in the city. Basically, they are teaching and sharing God’s Word “from house to house.” “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.’ (Matt. 18:20)

Believe it or not, I find it quiet odd to have a Chinese Bible Study in a place like this. I find it strange that I think of it this way. Perhaps, it has something to do with the fact that I didn’t have a chance to lead any Chinese Bible Study in a place like this.

I wish I could join them and tell them that the way they tackle the Scripture is not so good. You know that it’s a sin to misinterpret the text. And you know that I sin a lot.

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[1] Spirituality and Pastoral Care (Cambridge: Cowley, 1989), p. 35.

[2] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society (New York: Doubleday, 1979).

Eugene Peterson's Pastoral Ministry 3

Hope that you enjoy reading Eugene Peterson so far. I found out three weeks ago that there is a new book written by him. It's called The Pastor: A Memoir (HarperCollins, 2011). It will come out in February. You can imagine how excited I am. 

Here is Part 3:

How has the pastoral life shaped your family life and how has family life shaped your pastoral life?

Peterson: I think the most significant influence on my pastoral life has been my family. Early on I determined that I was never going to treat my parishioners better than I treated my family. So it was in the context of our family life that I learned forgiveness, grace and discernment -- all the things that influenced everything I did in the parish.

The life of the parish did not shape our family life as much as our way of being a family shaped the life of the parish. The influence went from the family outward rather than from the parish inward. As I see it, my kids were lucky. They had 20 uncles and aunts and grandparents. It was a wonderful place for them.

We often had people living with us -- runaway kids, abused women, people who needed a place to live for a short time. The unintended consequence of this effort on our part was that it became a witness to the congregation of the practice of Christian hospitality. It took about ten or 12 years of living this way before the congregation began to practice this same kind of hospitality. Without me ever saying anything, they started doing it. How we live as pastors can have a real impact on our congregations -- for good or for ill. All too often our family lives appear just as hassled and harried as everyone else’s. But then we just contribute to the general ill.

What you’re describing makes me think that we need to begin thinking about such a thing as "the vocation of the pastoral family." For example, in your case, it’s impossible for us to understand your life as a pastor apart from your life as a husband and a father.

Peterson: That’s true. Without that context, you wouldn’t know anything. And Jan has functioned as a pastor. I mean, there’s a pastoral quality to her life. It’s a shared life and we both liked it.

But I don’t think we could have lived this kind of a life in a large church. There must be ways to do it in a large church, but I haven’t worked that out. If the gospel is basically relational, if what we know of God through the Trinity means that knowledge of God is fundamentally incarnational, then shouldn’t pastoral life have an incarnational cast to it? Shouldn’t it be intensely relational?

There is a lot of talk these days about communication, understood mainly as a technology. In this case, people are not talking about conversation. They’re talking about getting out words that are either motivational or informational.

One of the advantages of being in a place a long time is that you realize that the most important stuff you do doesn’t feel all that important when you’re doing it. That is what it means to be a witness. Your life speaks when you’re not looking or speaking. As a pastor, you’re a witness -- but you’re mostly a witness when you don’t know you’re being a witness.

In Under the Unpredictable Plant and in other books as well, you have written of the necessity of staying in place over time in order for the pastoral life to develop the kind of capacity for "witness" that you’re describing. You talk about the pastoral life as requiring a "vow of stability."

Peterson: I don’t want to sound dogmatic about this because there can be so many exceptions. Some congregations are truly neurotic, and you’ve got to get out to save your life and your family’s life. There are circumstances that change, illnesses, different seasons -- these realities need to be taken into account. But, all other things being equal, the longer you can stay the better.

Now it can happen that a long pastorate just puts you to sleep. That’s not good for either the pastor or the congregation. Hopefully, in those circumstances, a bishop or some church leader will step in and say, "Get out of here fast!"

But those situations are still the exceptions. Dwelling in one place over time makes all the difference. A place is what allows stories to develop. Even when people would leave -- go to California or Texas -- they maintained a connection with our congregation in Baltimore. Over the years, the congregation dispersed because of the way companies move people around, but for the most part these folks never lost that connection with me or my family or with others in the congregation.

You write about wanting to leave your congregation at different times and even trying to. But you worked through those times and now are obviously grateful that you did.

Peterson: I think the primary reason for wanting to leave was boredom. After one episode of boredom, I realized that the boredom was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to things. It was like I was walking through a field of wildflowers and not seeing any of them because I’d seen them 500 times before. So I learned to start looking. For me, writing helped me see what I was missing. My writing became a partial cure for the boredom, because it made me look more closely.

Another cause of my unrest was -- I’m ashamed to say it -- ambition. I was in an obscure place and nobody seemed to be noticing me. I just thought, "Well, I’m 40 years old -- I’d better make a move so somebody notices me.

Is ambition a bad thing? You’ve written a score of books over the years -- that strikes me as an ambitious endeavor.

Peterson: In the best sense, ambition is wanting to do your best. But sometimes ambition can be simply the need to be noticed. And I think, in me, there was that kind of ambition in my restlessness. But fortunately I had a good spiritual director who punctured that balloon. Then, after I was about 42, I was OK. The issue never really came up again. I was saved.

It seems a real challenge to discern when that restlessness is just part of the journey one is on and when it’s a sign that one is on the wrong path.
Peterson: It is a challenge. Our capacity for self-deceit is enormous. I wouldn’t trust myself to make those decisions. That’s why it’s important to have a spiritual director.

I think there are people who can be pretty good pastors for ten years and then realize that this is not their vocation. Such a decision has nothing to do with success or failure. Some people do a really respectable job, and may be gifted as pastors, but they are never really given to it -- their heart is never in it. They’re following somebody else’s directions, doing what their parents wanted them to do, or what their professors wanted them to do. In such cases getting out is the honest thing to do, and should be done without guilt.

Slow Down, the Upward Way

Psalm 142 is David’s prayer in the cave in the wilderness. Being chased by Saul, he ended up in this cave where he could only talk to himself and God. David talked to himself: His talking became his self-examination and contemplation. David talked to God: His talking became his prayer, and he became a pray-er.

David was a poet. He articulated his thoughts. He structured his talks. He developed his imagination about God in the wilderness. He related to God in an intimate way. He talked to God theologically and relationally. He talked to God with his head as well as his heart.

“I cry out to the Lord;

         I plead for the Lord’s mercy” (Ps. 142:1).

In the Book of Psalms, psalmists intentionally repeat themselves. Line 2 reiterates line 1. But it’s more than reiteration. It clarifies as well as elaborates it. It’s called Synonymous Parallelism. In Old Testament poetry, such repetition invites readers to slow down. It invites us not to move on so fast. It’s time to slow down, to look at the heart of the psalmist, to enter into his experiences, and to identify such experiences with ours today. Repetition slows us down. Life is repetitive and yet multi-layered. Only slow pace can pare it off and see it through. In this case, a psalm of David invites us to get in touch with David’s heart through David’s prayer so that we can be touched by the heart of God who touched the heart of David in the text.

“I pour out my complaints before him

          and tell him all my troubles.

                    For I am overwhelmed,” (Ps. 142:2-3a)                                             

In the cave, David was aware of external troubles. He was in the desert, anyway. What about internal turmoil? His troubles from within?  Kenneth Leech wrote, “It is in solitude that we begin to discover our true self, and this begins with an awakening to the unreality of our false self. The desert is initially a negative encounter; it is the place where illusions are smashed, the place of stripping, of unmasking, of purgation. It is therefore inevitably a place of great pain and upheaval.”[1]

The other day Sue and I talked and said that people in general look for success in the first half of life. For the second half, they tend to aim at significance. The reality of whether we are able to live significantly has made her to ask and seek the meaning and purpose of life. So do I. According to Daniel Levinson’s Development Model, Sue and I are in the stage called “Early Adulthood Era”, which is divided into four stages:[2]

1. Early Adult Transition: Age 17-22;

2. Entry Life Structure for Early Adulthood: 22-28;

3. Age 30 Transition: 28-33;

4. Culminating Life Structure for Early Adulthood: 33-40.

At this stage of life, transition and integration are the two key terms to describe our state. We are, of course, not successful. (Maybe she is. But we have a joint bank account.) Because we are pretty much set in terms of education, career, marriage, etc… and we have reached this life stage, the reality of significance starts to hit us. For us, there may be some new possibilities like having kids and pursuing higher education. Anyhow, what we have or do not have, what we can or cannot achieve, we have tasted the possibilities and known our limits. We still dream, but we only dream with our feet on the ground.

We go to this school. We choose that major. We discipline. We work hard. Success is not too far to reach. But, significance is a different ball game. It cannot be grasped with ambition, intellect, and hard-working. It has to do with our listening and discerning: to listen and discern our inner voices and His still small voice in our hearts. It is passive-aggressive. It is not about what people expect of us. It is not about how the world looks at us. It is about us and our God.

Could David suffer from a compelling reality of significance?

“You alone know the way

           I should turn” (Ps. 142:3b).

As David prayed, his prayerful language started to shift from “the Lord” and “Him” to “You.” When we read the Psalms, this is what we need to pay attention to. A change of pronoun can be a marker to indicate a change of relationship between a pray-er and his God. Pronoun can be an intimate language in prayer. In David’s prayer, God is no longer someone who is out there. Rather, in prayer, the wholly Other becomes the intimate companion.

God can be known. We can be known. We cannot fully comprehend Him; however, He knows us inside out. We don’t know it all. We can possibly think of one or two ways in us according to our limited knowledge. But God knows the Way in us according to His unlimited knowledge.

“Wherever I go,

          my enemies have set traps for me.

I look for someone to come and help me,

         but no one gives me a passing thought!

No one will help me;

        no cares a bit what happens to me." (Ps. 142: 3c-4)

Wherever David turned to, he was trapped. For David, no one seemed to be helpful and have understanding. Wilderness indicates solitude and aloneness. It is a stage where David needed to approach God with his lostness and emptiness. Friends are there. They can offer helps and walk alongside us. But they cannot walk that path for us. God has a path for each of us. In the path, sooner or later, the stage of wilderness will emerge. Where do we turn to? When David turned outward, he was trapped; downward, blocked; and inward, emptied. The upward way is the Way he can turn:

“Then I pray to you, O Lord.

          I say, “You are my place of refuge.

                    You are all I really want in life.

                            Hear my cry,

                                   for I am very low.

                          Rescue me from my persecutors,

                                  for they are too strong for me.

                          Bring me out of prison

                                 so I can thank you.

                         The godly will crowd around me,

                                 for you treat me kindly” (Ps. 142:5-7).

At the end, the mood of the psalm shifts from distress to hope, from lament to thanksgiving, and from disorientation to new orientation. Each psalm is a unique journey. It’s a pilgrim’s soulful pilgrimage. It may start off with unknown and uncertainty. With God’s own mercy and kindness, He will show us the way.

 

[1] Experiencing God: Theology as Spirituality (New York: Harper & Row, 1985), p. 149.

[2] Jack O. Balswick, et. al, The Reciprocating Self: Human Development in Theological Perspective (Downers Grove: IVP, 2005), p. 203.

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Eugene Peterson's Pastoral Ministry 2

This interview is taken from a link that I will send you after I posted the entire thing. I know that you won't read the entire thing if I post it up altogether. (Of course, I assume that you read my blog from time to time. Elisabeth is my first follower. Praise her. But I know that she has already stopped reading a long time ago, for each writing is too long for her. Even my tigress said that it's too long, stupid.)

Eugene Peterson has had a huge influence on me in terms of my pastoral mentality, style, and spirituality. He has helped me keep the main things the main things. The reason why I post his interview is that when you read him, you can understand what and how I think about certain things, especially about ministry, church ministers, personal life, and culture. 

Over the years, I've read and re-read his books many times in order to save my pastoral/personal soul. For example, he wrote four books particularly for pastors: Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work (Eerdmans, 1980);
Working the Angles: The Shape of Pastoral Integrity (Eerdmans, 1987); Under the Unpredictable Plant: An Exploration in Vocational Holiness (Eerdmans, 1992); and The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Eerdmans, 1989).

I believe I read and re-read each of them at least 3-5 times in different periods of time.

Here is Part 2:

What do you mean by "fairly small"?

Peterson: Somewhere between 50 and 500 people. The only way as a pastor to be discriminating and aware of the deeply ingrained idolatrous nature of human beings is by learning to love a particular group of people in one place over time. They’ve got to know you are on their side even if you don’t give them what they want you to give. They’re not going to know that just from hearing you from the pulpit. You can only convey that to them by being with them, by listening to them, by feeling their pain and suffering, and even by sharing their wrong ideas, but all the time giving witness, whether verbal or silent, to the work of the spirit.

If you’re just confronting them all the time, you lose all pastoral sense. I often use the word "story" or "narrative," as a way of understanding pastoral life. The pastoral life is best lived when it is experienced as participation in an unfolding narrative. You can’t do the discerning or the criticizing from a standpoint outside the narrative that is the life of the congregation. It has got to be done from within the story. The pastor must understand himself or herself to be one of the people there.

Of course, we’re part of the sin in the congregation’s story as well. But hopefully, as pastors, we are so well formed by the biblical story of redemption and forgiveness as not to be overwhelmed by the story of the congregation.

How did you achieve this kind of narrative correspondence with people? What practices were essential to that kind of engagement?

Peterson: Nothing fancy. I spent a lot of time with them. I was in their homes. I would go to their workplaces and see what they were doing. My kids played with their kids.

I always preferred to go to people’s homes, because then I was on their turf. If there was a special problem, then it was easier to have them come to my study. But I always went to their homes when I could. To tell you the truth, I hated doing that, since I’m shy and introverted -- it was never easy for me. But once I got there I was fine.

I did a lot of home and work-site visitation because I wanted to be their pastor -- and I couldn’t be their pastor if they encountered me only on my turf, in the place where I was the authority.

You’re describing a pastoral life that doesn’t fit squarely into the round hole of what we have come to call "the professional life," which is premised on the division between public and private, work and family, the personal and the social. There is a definite "boundary ambiguity" to the way of life you are describing. For many pastors, it’s this "boundary ambiguity" that constitutes the unambiguous downside of the pastoral life.

Peterson: I grew up in a small town and my dad was a butcher with a shop in the middle of town. Between that shop and our home, in a sense, there was no boundary. So I had modeled for me a way of life in which work and home were not distinct things. My dad addressed everyone who came into our shop by name. At one point I realized that I’m doing as a pastor just what my dad had done as a butcher.

I also remember early in my ministry listening to colleagues who often seemed irritated and angry with their congregations, as if the congregation was the enemy. I remember making a conscious decision to not adopt that view. The congregation is not the enemy. They are my friends. I am their friend. We are in this together, even when we don’t like each other very much.

If there was any substitute for having boundaries, it was knowing when and how to ask for help. Some advice I have remembered well is this: "The two most powerful words in the world are ‘help me."’ So I asked my congregation to help me.

I did have needs. One of my strong needs is the time and space for solitude. So I didn’t feel uncomfortable about locking my door or making set hours for study or for when I would be available for calls.

Asking for help was a regular part of my conversation with the congregation. Twice a year I would go on retreat with my elders and deacons, and I would share with them what my needs were as a pastor. I’d say: I want to help you live your Christian life, but I need your help too. This put us more on an even playing field, and they developed ideas and strategies for how to accomplish our common aims.

For example, they knew that writing was important to me. One day they had a private meeting in the session and came back and said, "We want to give you six weeks a year just to write." Well, I never would have dared to ask for that. That was pretty generous. We learned to take each other seriously, and that made all the difference for how we worked together. This approach is a whole lot more effective than the more contractual approach that is so common these days. For the most part, I never felt hassled or pushed or had demands put on me that were inappropriate.

To live this kind of life -- which I wanted to do and my wife wanted to do -- you do have to be wise and careful, so that you aren’t exploited by neurotic or even psychotic people. You can’t be naïvely open all the time to everybody. There’s got to be some protection. But that being said, from the very beginning of my pastoral career I reacted against the professional model of keeping the boundaries clearly defined. I found other ways to protect myself from exploitation.

Such as?
Peterson: Well, the major one was keeping a Sabbath. Monday was a Sabbath. My wife and I would spend the day in the woods quite regularly. I told my congregation what I was doing. About every three years I’d write a pastoral letter explaining "why your pastor keeps a Sabbath." In time they started to see me as a person who had needs, which I was taking care of. And they started to recognize and respect the fact that I was not simply someone who was available to them all the time, but someone who, on Mondays, was out in the woods watching birds. I think this helped create a sense of identity which transcended their need of me.

Another protective pattern I developed was this: If somebody called to ask to meet with me, and I sensed it was not a crisis, I would say, "Could we do that in three days?" Or, "Could we do that next week?" I’d set up an appointment. That kept me from overreacting to the needs of my congregation.

Eugene Peterson's Pastoral Ministry 1

This is Eugene Peterson's interview. It's only part of it. 


I sense from reading your books and conversing with you that you are generally filled with gratitude for the life you have lived and grateful also to have been a pastor. Is that right?

Peterson: I’ve loved being a pastor, almost every minute of it. It’s a difficult life because it’s a demanding life. But the rewards are enormous -- the rewards of being on the front line of seeing the gospel worked out in people’s lives. I remain convinced that if you are called to it, being a pastor is the best life there is. But any life can be the best life if you’re called to it.

How did you become a pastor?

Peterson: I think I was attracted to the intense relational and personal quality of this life. At the time I decided to become a pastor, I was assistant professor at a seminary. I loved the teaching, but when I compared it with what I was doing as an associate pastor, there was no comparison. It was the difference between being a coach in the locker room, working out plays on the chalkboard, and being one of the players on the field. I wanted to be one of the players on the field, playing my part as the life of Christ was becoming incarnate again in my community.

That’s interesting, because if there’s one life that many pastors idealize, it’s the academic life.

Peterson: That’s strange, isn’t it? When people say, "I don’t want to be a pastor, I want to be a professor," I say, "Well, the best place to be a teacher is in a congregation." Everything I taught during my tenure at Regent College was first developed and taught in my congregation. At Regent, of course, I embellished it. I put in footnotes. But the motivation of the people in the classroom was different from those in the congregational setting: they were looking for a degree, whereas in the congregation, people are looking for how to live the next day.


Many people think there’s a crisis in ministry today -- a crisis of morality or of morale. How do you see it?

Peterson: My sense is that many people take on the role of pastor without ever learning it from the inside out. As I said, I do think for those who are called to it the pastoral life is really a good life. Not an easy life, but one full of resonances with everything else that’s going on in creation and in history.
I get the sense these days that many of my colleagues have external rewards in view. How do I become a good leader? How do I get published? How do I do this? How do I do that? Those are questions that are beside the point.

We’re not a market-driven church, and the ministry is not a market-driven vocation. We’re not selling anything, and we’re not providing goods and services. If a pastor is not discerning and discriminating about the claims of his or her vocation and about the claims of a congregation, then the demands or the desires of the congregation can dominate what he or she is doing -- and that creates the conditions for nonpastoral work.

And then you can lose your morals and your morale, because you’re not working at anything that has any biblical order to it. One’s experience lacks, if I could use a fancy word, any trinitarian inclusiveness or integration.

If you look at the numbers and money, American churches in some ways are the most successful churches ever. And yet, I think it could be argued, we’re at probably one of the low points because of the silliness and triviality that characterize so much of church life these days. This is one of the reasons I think pastoral work is best handled in a fairly small setting.

What do you mean by "fairly small"?

Me: Don't you want to read Part 2 tomorrow? :)

An Eye for An Eye, A Tooth for A Tooth

This morning I was reading 1 Kings 13-15 and 1 Thessalonians. In 1 Thess. 5:14-15, Paul said, “And we urge you, brothers (and sisters), admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone” (ESV). This is Paul’s pastoral advice to the Thessalonians. Pastoral work requires patience. In the church, we deal with different kinds of people. Some are strong; some, weak; some, consumers. Paul said, “Be patient with them all.”

In v. 15, it said, “See that”. In 和合本, it’s translated as “要謹慎”. It’s more than just seeing. It involves carefulness and awareness. This is what should be aware of: “No one repays anyone evil for evil.” After Jesus finished the six anti-thesis (anger, lust, divorce, oaths, retaliation, and love enemies) in Matt. 5:21-47, he concludes with 5:48—“You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” In Greek, it’s telos, which also indicates goal, completion, and end. We are incomplete. We miss the goal. We are far from the end.

Paul said to the Thessalonians and us to pay close attention to "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" mentality. Otherwise, we are moving further away from the telos. In the process of sanctification, it’s easy for us to de-create what Christ has re-created in us through the work of the Spirit. The conjunction but points us to the way of living in new creation: “always seek to do good.”

Today, I am reminded by the Scripture that don’t de-create the process, but…

John Calvin's Knowledge Of God

For John Calvin, the knowledge of God and of ourselves is intertwined. When we think of God, not only do we meditate upon his greatness, but we also turn to our sinfulness. In our sinfulness, it compels us to turn to Him with confession, repentance, and grace. It’s this dynamic of the knowledge of God and of ourselves that sets the tone for Calvin’s theology.

In the beginning of his Institutes of the Christian Religion, Calvin starts off with his theology of the knowledge of God:

“Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves…In the first place, no one can look upon himself without immediately turning his thoughts to the contemplation of God, in whom he ‘lives and moves’ [Acts 17:28].” (1.1.1)

For Calvin, we cannot meditate upon the greatness of God and his benevolence toward us without scrutinizing our own sinfulness. True knowledge of ourselves leads us not merely to turn to ourselves but “arouses us to seek God” (1.1.1.).

On Sunday, January 09^th, I listened to an on-line lecture instructed by Dr. Christopher Morse, a professor of Theology and Ethics at Union Theological Seminary. He lectured on Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion. He said,

“It’s only from the standpoint of the positive, in Calvin’s understanding, we can confess the negative. It’s only from the positive standpoint of being brought home, that we can face how far from home our lives have truly been…Negativity is only recognizable from the standpoint of how good and God’s benevolence are toward us. In other words, only from the standpoint of grace, we can confess sin. Thus, for Calvin, to refer back to the positive is to reflect the negative.”

I think this is an insight to understand Calvin’s theology. Paul would agree with it. “For all have sinned; all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet now God in his gracious kindness declares us not guilty” (Rom. 3:23-24).

In light of it, that is why the goal of Calvin’s theology is to promote true piety/godliness. It is relational knowledge, not theoretical knowledge even though Calvin’s knowledge of the knowledge of God is very rational. In his prefatory address to King Francis I of France, Calvin wrote down the purpose of writing the Institutes of the Christian Religion, “My purpose was solely to transmit certain rudiments by which those who are touched with any zeal for religion might be shaped to true godliness” [Edited by John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), Book I, p. 9.].

As Joel R. Beeke comments, “For Calvin, theological understanding and practical piety, truth, and usefulness are inseparable. Theology first of all deals with knowledge—knowledge of God and of ourselves—but there is no true knowledge where there is no true piety” [“Calvin on Piety” in The Cambridge Companion to John Calvin. Edited by Donald K. McKim (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2004), p. 125.]. Calvin’s concept of knowledge of God is practical knowledge. It not only affects our heads, but also our hearts and hands. I believe when Calvin wrote the Institutes, he was definitely thinking of the people of the congregation. In Latin word Institutio means instruction in or principles of the Christian religion.

Calvin wrote the first edition of the Institutes in 1536 when he was twenty-six years old. Then he was stopped at Geneva and called to be a pastor even thought he wanted to be a scholar at the time.  In 1538, he was not welcome by the city and the church of Geneva. He was sent into exile and went to Strasbourg. He was downcast, and yet he was released, for he could continue to pursue his scholastic dream instead of doing the work of ministry.  Nevertheless, by God’s providence and intervention, he was called to be a pastor of a group of French refugees who went to the city of Strasbourg due to a political upheaval around the same time. As a French, Calvin became the pastor of a congregation of French refugees. The exile ministered to exiles.

He revised his Institutes there in 1539 [The fifth as well as the last revision was in 1559.] Calvin wanted to promote true godliness in the lives of the exiles as he himself sought for true piety as an exilic pastor. The Institutes was written for God’s glory as well as for congregants’ spirituality. Calvin was a theologian as well as a pastor. As a pastor-theologian, his theology was born out of a particular context. He developed his theology of the knowledge of God because of his increasing knowledge of the congregation. His knowledge of the congregation deepened his understanding of God.

My Sword, My God

In 1 Kings 3:16-28, the incident that the two prostitutes came to see Solomon to settle a dispute among them shows the wisdom of Solomon. At Gibeon, the Lord appeared to Solomon, asking, “Ask what I shall give you.” In response, Solomon asked for wisdom to govern the people (3:5-9). “It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this” (3:10). This incident laconically indicates that God answered Solomon’s prayer by granting him wisdom. Even though Solomon realized that the Lord appeared to him in a dream (3:15), his prayer became a reality, somehow.

When I was reading this narrative this morning, what caught my attention was that people revered Solomon because they perceived the way of God in Solomon. 1 Kgs. 3:28—“And all Israel heard of the judgment that the king had rendered, and they stood in awe of the king, because they perceived that the wisdom of God was in him to do justice.” To look at it from a leadership perspective, people followed Solomon because he aimed at God and His ways of doing things. Solomon had followers because he asked for wisdom to govern the people based on godly wisdom (biblical principles). People see how we manage things. Do we manage things randomly, or do we manage it with biblical principles? People perceive what is in us: to do justice or injustice. Like it or not, people perceive.

Leaders are out there to be perceived. However, leaders are not for display only. Leaders learn to lead in leading. On the one hand, followers perceive leaders. On the other hand, leaders lead consistently to change followers’ perception. Followers should perceive with grace and follow with obedience; leaders ought to lead with consistency, courage, and character.

The story is not so much about the two women. It is about Solomon and his God, or it is about how God shaped Solomon. The way Solomon handled business in chap. 2 is very different from chap. 3. Perhaps, after the Lord appeared to him the first time (3:5; The Lord appeared to him the second time in 9:2), he has changed gradually.

I like how Iain Provan, Professor of Biblical Studies at Regent College, comments on this text: “Certainly the focus of the narrative’s conclusion is not on what has happened to the women, but on what has happened to Solomon. The transformation of the king is by the end of the story complete. His old ‘wisdom’ had led to the use of the sword for executions whose justice is questionable. His new wisdom leads him in more constructive paths. He still uses the sword, but in a more positive way, threatening execution only to achieve justice. The sword is functioning in the service, not of the ruthless self, but of the kingdom as a whole” [1 and 2 Kings (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1995), p. 52.].

The wisdom of God in Solomon has put the sword of Solomon into a rightful place.

Always On The Run

I've begun to write my spiritual journal since the first day of this year. This is part of what I wrote on Thursday, Jan. 6th.

Thursday, January 6^th

This morning, I was reading 1 Samuel 29 ff.  In chapter 30, David and his men returned home at their town of Ziklag, they found out that their town was destroyed, and their families and all the possessions were captured by the Amalekites. In 30:6, it said, “And David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke of stoning him, because all the people were bitter in soul, each for his sons and daughters. But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God” (ESV).

In the narrative, David is usually described as a calm and capable person. He is “a man of valor, a man of war, prudent in speech, and a man of good presence, and the Lord is with him” (1 Sam. 16:18). But now, during this exilic period, his faith and spirituality were put into a test. In exile David was not in his comfort zone. Rather, he was always on the run. Or I should say that he was forced to be on the run by Saul. He lived with uncertainty and unpredictability. He moved on as if there were no tomorrow. This wilderness period revealed His true character. He was greatly distressed. In our language, "He's stressed out." In 1 Sam. 25, we see that David’s anger almost got him into trouble. Due to Abigail’s wise approach, David’s anger did not lead to David’s sin.

David was “forced” to grow up in exile. He grew up in the Lord. He no longer dealt with others with his fake images. Rather, he dealt with them just as he was, for he had nothing left except himself. In the wilderness, he was "naked." I believe the wilderness was a place—a sanctuary— for David to worship God. It was in the wilderness David learned to pray to God in worship and worship God in prayer. It wasn't that he suddenly loved God so much at that place. Rather, he just recognized that he needed Him at the time. He then continued to develop and nurture that relationship with Him while he was on the run. The recognition of that divine need stirred the inner emptiness of David.

In 1 Sam. 24 and 26, we see that David had two chances to kill Saul, but he didn’t. Why? Eugene Peterson wrote, “The wilderness taught David to see beauty everywhere. The wilderness was David’s school in the preciousness of life; through wilderness-testing David learned to see God in places and things he would never have thought to look previously…The holiness of wilderness had entered David’s soul, and now he saw holiness everywhere, even in Saul” [Leap Over a Wall (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), pp. 77-78.].  Is it only Peterson’s pure speculation? David saw holiness in the most unholy person, Saul, in the most unholy place, wilderness?

1 and 2 Samuels as one book depicts the outer life of David vividly; the Book of the Psalms gives us an access to the inner sanctuary of David. He prayed, “For the enemy has pursued my soul; he has crushed my life to the ground; he has made me sit in darkness like those long dead. Therefore my spirit faints within me; my heart within me is appalled” (Ps. 143:3-4). David gained his strength from remembering: “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land” (Ps. 143:5-6). In times of exile, David knew that he needed to remember, meditate, and ponder. And in the place where it seems to promote God’s absence, David thirsted for His presence.

David was on the run; I am also on the run.

To Agape Fellowship

I wrote this letter on 12/30/2010. Now I send it to you through my new blog. I am a changed man. I use iPad and write blog. As you can tell, my life is pretty exciting. I will write something here and there, I need to write in order to survive. Check it out when you are too "excited" like me. 

A Letter of Thanksgiving

My Dear Friends,

Thanks for being there every Sunday to listen to God’s word through me even though my interpretation and understanding of His word may be inaccurate, and my own embodiment of His word has been filled with flaws. Over the years I wrote down every sermon. I printed out every sermon to practice at home even though I never used manuscripts when I preached. This is what I learned from my preaching courses at Gordon-Conwell. I believe it is a good practice and habit. When I look at a pile of sermon manuscripts on my bookselves, I see His grace. All these manuscripts remind me of most Saturdays in which I struggled and worried. In my worry and struggle, when I look back, I have a better understanding of 2 Cor. 12:9--"My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness" (NLT).  

Over the years I have realized that people do not usually hear what I want them to hear. Sometimes I thought I prepared a good sermon and expected people to say something good about it. But people were usually silent and continued to live as if they never heard of it. God knows how many times I preached with inadequacy, and how much I disliked what I had to say on Sundays. When I preached with my inadequacy, you would say something good about what I said here and there. Besides that, what was beneficial to you was not what I wanted to stress on. That makes me humble and realize that the word of God is mediated through the work of the Holy Spirit who has absolute freedom to guide us into His truth in a mysterious way. The essence of the ministry of the Holy Spirit is self-effacing. The Spirit never claims that this is my ministry, for He always directs attention to Christ (Jn. 16:13-14): Christ is in the front; the Spirit, at the back. How many times I have violated this biblical principle!

But inadequacy is different from unpreparedness. The Holy Spirit works through the means, which is, my effort to prepare. To serve God without preparation is a great sin in God’s church.

Thanks for being there in Sunday school. I had no pressure to prepare and teach Sunday school. The only thing I regret is that I wish I wrote more over the years. I am amazed that I can write “that much”. To write is to think; to think is to write. And I like to think. I do not like to think about my own thoughts, for I do not want to repeat my own memory. Thus, I like to read. To read is to think about what others have to say. Writing helps me integrate my thoughts and think about my integration. I did not know that I can write something like this. I can say that in serving I discover God’s gift in me. When I decide to serve Him, He never ceases to amaze me. Thanks for being part of the process of my discovery.

Thanks for strong ties of relationship and friendship. I know that I can be personal. But I do not know that my personal relationship with you can become a mark of my pastoral style. I think I will approach people in various ministries in a similar way. A pastor can be a jerk if he/she relates to people only as a pastor. I wish that  the slogan “just as I am” is my pastoral attitude to approach and being approached by others, for God has saved me “just as I am”, not as a pastor. It is relational, not functional. Whenever a pastor-parish relationship becomes functional, it no longer works. My understanding of that is that grace seems to flow through relations, not functions.

In my last discipleship letter, I found out that I spelled the word “minister” incorrectly. I spelled “minster” instead. How could I spell this word, which defines who I am and what I do, incorrectly? I find it amusing and ironic because I made little mistakes like this till the last day of ministry. A minster is who I am; to minster is what I do. God seems to tell me that a minster will and should never be a professional.

“We pastors are being killed by the professionalizing of the pastoral ministry…Professionalism has nothing to do with the essence and heart of the Christian ministry. The more professional we long to be, the more spiritual death we will leave in our wake. For there is no professional childlikeness (Matt. 18:3); there is no professional tenderheartedness (Eph. 4:32); there is no professional panting after God (Ps. 42:1)” [John Piper, Brothers, We Are Not Professionals (Nashville: Broadman and Holman, 2002), pp. 1-2.].

A minster is someone who answers God’s calling and shepherds His church with a limp. A minster is spiritual and stupid at the same time. What is a minster? A holy idiot. (cf. 1 Cor. 1:18-25)

Thanks for the video and all the sharing in it. I like it because you did not praise me. You just let me see myself through your words. In your words I see that I am in your lives. I am touched by that. As you know, it is hard to allow someone to enter into our lives these days. We rarely open our inner chambers for others. For me, that is meaningful. In the video, I see my future: you know how much I love my fat wife with a pair of hairy hands. You never know in the kingdom of God. His blessing can be turned into a curse. If my future will one day come true, I will pray to God: “You better kill me before I slaughter her.”