Sunday, July 01, 2007

"Follow Me" - The Call to Adventurous Living

The Christian life is an adventurous life. It is this belief, this discovery, which has been the driving force behind the shape of my journey. The Christian worldview is an all-encompassing perspective on reality, but within it lies a vast richness of models and metaphors for our daily life. And for this post I thought I’d share the metaphor that speaks most deeply to me—that of adventure, and of a missional and rather militant type. I’ve been thinking about it lately, since I’m in a place right now of waiting and preparation, and this missional focus reminds me that I have something to do right here and right now, something that will help to shake the world for Christ.

In Matthew 4:19 (and Mark 1:17), we have the call of Jesus to his first disciples. “Come, follow me,” he said, “and I will make you fishers of men.” The thing that strikes me about this call is its immediate connection to mission. Jesus doesn’t say, “Follow me, and I will save you from your sins,” or “Follow me, and you’ll go to heaven when you die.” Rather, he gives his disciples something to do here and now, a brilliant focus for their earthly lives. This is the missional perspective on the Christian life—wherever we are, whatever we may be doing, we always have a mission to fulfill. We are all chosen and placed by God to be agents of his coming Kingdom in a hostile land.

C. S. Lewis, in his Mere Christianity, compares Christianity to an underground resistance in a time of war. Satan has taken over the world, and we now live in occupied territory. We know that God will be launching his invasion soon—D-Day is coming. But for now we are the resistance, working in every moment and circumstance to prepare the way for the Lord.

I am, by nature, generally laid-back and gentle in public. But there is a side of me that few rarely see, a fire and intensity that marches out for times of spiritual war. And this missional understanding of the Christian life is what makes me come alive. Interacting with strangers frightens me, but some of the most exhilarating moments of my life have come when I chose to speak of the beauty of faith to people who had never heard it before.

But witness, whether spoken or lived out in daily relationships, isn’t the only way of entering the battle. We also have prayer. No matter where I am, no matter what circumstances have beset me, I always have prayer. I don’t know how or why God chooses to work through the prayers of his people, but if we take Scripture seriously, then we must acknowledge that there is incredible power in prayer, power that can shake the nations and magnify the glory of God on earth. Some things in my life tend to drain my spiritual vigor—allowing lust or gluttony to have their way in my heart, or frittering away my time on petty entertainment. But prayer fills me up with a life so full and so vibrant that it feels like I’m busting at the seams. I explode with smiles when I am faithful in my intercession. Then I am who I’ve been called to be—a warrior, fighting in this beautiful rebellion against the works of Satan. And the wonderful thing about this kind of prayer is that anyone can do it. Every Christian has the honor and the opportunity to enter into the presence of God, to take up the mantle of the prayer-warrior, and to be the face of courage for an embattled church.

And there are other ways to be warriors and missionaries here. Every choice we make is a message to our culture about what Christianity really is. Obedience—walking in the spirit and ways of Christ—is a weapon of unspeakable power in this fight. And it should be a constant warning to us that this battle is not merely external. None of us is untouched by the darkness. We can, and must be, warriors for our own souls. We must grieve for our losses to sin, for the times we choose to disobey, but we must not rest in our grieving. We must rise again, and with courage press on to win a victory for holiness in our hearts. We must learn to obey, and we should celebrate every successful step gained in this fight. Every act of obedience is a blow against the Enemy’s dominion. And we do not fight alone. God stands ready to support us. In the words of Thomas à Kempis’ classic devotional work, The Imitation of Christ: “If we, like valiant men, labored to stand firm in the fray, certainly we would experience the Lord’s heavenly protecting help. He stands ready to aid those who fight and who place their trust in His grace—it is He who provides us with these conflicts and He wants us to be the victors.”

This metaphor isn’t the only one for the Christian life, but it’s an important one, a biblical one. The New Testament portrays Jesus as the one who conquered the powers of darkness, and Revelation over and over bids us to be conquerors in this life (‘overcomers’ in many translations). It should be noted, however, that this metaphor extends only to the spiritual realm, and that it is not in any way an excuse for physical violence. Rather, it is a means of bringing proper courage and valor and strength back into a Christianity that has been all too often domesticated.

So join me in this adventure, friends—maybe the language of battle isn’t as compelling for you as it is for me, but we all need to understand it. We all need to recognize that, at least in some measure, our spiritual lives are a battle, and we have a mission to carry out for our King. Open your arms to embrace this wild, exultant living, and you will find that God will breathe new dreams into your heart. You will be able to see and taste beauty and joy in every corner of your life. You will learn to laugh as you have never laughed before. You will tremble with joy at the thought of the church expanding around the world, and you will be struck down with weeping at the sufferings of the nations. God will break your heart for the things that break His heart, and you will be driven to prayer, to enter the battle for your own soul, for the people and the cities around you, and for the work of God in the world. There is no life like this life, my friends. Come, and follow the Master, and he will make you fishers of men.


Come and ride the restless wave with me;
Leave behind the petty worries of the day.
Open your eyes to a world wild and alive,
And ancient realm forever young,
Possessed of the breathtaking fervor
Of endless possibility.
Come and dance upon the mountains,
Drink the wild and reckless tide of life—
There is wonder in the radiance of small things,
The music of an ever-circling round
That overflows all boundaries of reason and belief
In its race to reach delight.
Traces of Eden surround us still,
In the bright sun that casts a million sparkling diamonds
Onto the endless wave;
In the vibrant green of springtime,
Responding to gentle rains of grace;
In the radiant smile of a little child
As he raises his wondering eyes for one glimpse of the heavens.
Come with me, and meet the Maker here.
Come with me, and taste the life He gives.
This world shouts His praise,
And it shouts for you to hear.
Oh, kindred friend,
Join your heart in the laughter of the dawn,
The exultant chorus of the boundless sea.
Drink deep from the fountain of heaven’s joy—
It flows for you,
Oh, come and see.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Update

Well, the spring semester ended for me about a month ago, and the intervening time of freedom has been welcome indeed. I’m still working at my part-time job in the seminary library, but most of my free time toward the end of May was consumed in finishing a revised draft of my first fantasy novel, Freedom Cry. It was a story I began writing while I was in North Africa in 2004 (where I was devoid of any resources with which to write historical fiction, my genre of choice), and it was mostly written for pleasure. But it turned out better than I expected, so the past few years have been spent in fine-tuning it, writing a prequel, and developing a plot for the third installment of the trilogy (which I’m now beginning). I’ll try to get it printed by a good publisher, but the market isn’t great for Christian fantasy (unless your name is C.S. Lewis). It’s understandable, though—for the greater part of the Christian reading audience, fantasy doesn’t have much appeal. Chances are high that reputable publishers won’t even bother to glance at my manuscript, so I’ll probably be publishing it with a print-on-demand house sometime in 2009. (But if any of you who know me are interested in reading an ‘advance copy’, I’d be happy to email the files your way; just ask me for them).

Two of my dear friends from Houghton College (and now, happily, my relatives!), Jason and Naomi, came out to visit us and we spent all of last week together, including an adventuresome trip to cold, windy Rocky Mountain National Park. You never would have known that it was June. If felt more like January, but I think we all enjoyed it.

Rachel is in the middle of the first leg of a summer school program for autistic teens, and so far it’s been going well. She’s also gearing up to start taking classes toward a master’s degree in education, which is exciting. Her classes start at the beginning of July, just about the time when I dive back into a seminary course.

It should be a good course, but I know I’ll begrudge it the loss of all my glorious free time. Denver Seminary is a great institution, but my background in most of the areas we study is already fairly deep. I’ve tested out of a few classes and hope to test out of a few more, but some of the introductory courses these past two semesters have seemed inordinately dull. Part of the reason, I suppose, is that I do have a solid background in the Bible and theology, and the amount of time spent in class and reading doesn’t compare favorably with the amount of new material I’m learning. I feel like I could have learned far more on my own program of study within the same period of time.

The benefit of the coursework, though, is that it focuses my attention more fully on areas that I probably wouldn’t engage directly if I was given free rein. I do learn more on my own, but it’s a scattered affair that focuses mainly on history. During my month off, for example, when I wasn’t finishing my book, I was studying the early history of Mormonism, the history and culture of New England’s Native Americans, and the history and sociology of ‘ecstatic religion’, both within Christianity and outside of it. I’ve also taken time to brush up on my French, started learning some classic chess openings, and read most of a collection of the early Apostolic Fathers. Further, I feel like I have more time and freedom to pray when on my own schedule (and it should be noted that all of this is while working nearly full-time at the library, but the job does afford significant reading-time). So while I do learn a fair deal of new things in seminary, it’s not in the volume I’d like, nor in the areas that most interest me. They are, however, areas helpful to the teaching of the Word, so, as a prospective pastor, I just have to give up my complaints and study hard. There certainly are times, though, when I wonder (hopefully) if God might be calling me to study history, or for us to enter foreign missions, instead of pursuing pastoral work. But preaching is my great love, and it remains the strongest reason that I continue on this course. There is nowhere that I feel more alive and more used of God than behind a pulpit. And I truly love the church, and believe that it is the shape of Christ to the world. I would gladly study hard on an arduous track in order to bind myself to the ministry of God’s church. So, it would seem that seminary is my lot for now, and hopefully, now that the introductory classes are largely behind me, I’ll begin to appreciate it more. My discontent probably reflects more poorly on me than on the process of seminary education.

In any case, I’m really enjoying life at the moment, and my hope and prayer is that I can direct some of my current learning-energy into my formal studies. You can certainly be praying for me in this area, friends. I find it’s a lot easier to feel hungry for solid biblical study when I’m actively involved in a teaching or preaching ministry (I felt almost insatiable in my personal study of theology in Angola), but unfortunately I have no such regular ministry here. I do get to preach every now and then at our home church, though, and I always appreciate the experience. You can pray, too, for Rachel, as she begins her studies—it’s an exciting time for us, but we’ll probably be even busier this coming year. On the bright side, it’ll give me someone with whom to commiserate about classwork.

Well, I’ve stolen too much of your time writing about myself. This was just a quick update; next time I’ll have something substantial for us to think about. But for now, thank you for your prayers, friends, and for your interest and support.

Blessings in Christ.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Echoes of a Weary Discontent

Be gentle with me,

For I am weary beyond breath.

I, who have held in my hands

And in my mind

The stuff of empires,

Am lost within the silence

Of a disquieted heart.

Time pulls at me like a lion’s claws,

The foul and twisted offspring

Of a bleak world that has now forgotten

The beautiful secret of rest.

O rampant shadow,

Which chases me by night

And dances in the corners of my mind!

Why do you toy with me?

Neither lost nor found, I wander discontent

And know not what could make me smile

Save you.

Soft! Does he hear my lonesome cry?

Will now he come and slay the beast

That lurks within my heart?

Oh, I yearn for it.

Come quickly, Lord.

Monday, May 28, 2007

The Hero's Crown

This is another attempt at a rhyming poem, focusing on the virtue of humility--it's not particularly profound, but you might enjoy it.

It came betwixt the clock and day,
When time turned men’s designs away
And round about the ancient light
There gathered heroes to recite.

All the charm and zest we laud
Were found within these self-styled gods,
The ones we follow and adore,
The ones we love and yet abhor.

They took their seats and filled the sky
With cries of valor so sublime
That e’en the stars seemed moved to shine
Their glory on these gods of time.

They gathered there for one great quest,
One vaunted goal to crown the best,
To find the truest hero there
And ne’er again that glory share.

The first who spoke was garbed in white,
Reflecting back the vibrant light,
And giving voice his noble song,
He held at bay the jealous throng.

“I was he who shook the earth
With shouts for every human’s worth;
I purged the world of hate and fraud
And thus myself became a god.”

“A god indeed!” cried one beside,
“But not so godly as am I!
They followed you to justice, true,
But they loved me and did not you.”

All eyes turned to this young man,
Who smiled and then began to stand.
“Twas I who captured all their praise;
I was their god for countless days.”

“They looked on me and they were mine,
And shall be mine throughout all time,
For charms like mine will never fade,
Nor can they ever be re-made.”

“Your beauty pales against my own,”
Replied a woman to her foe.
“You they wished they could be like,
But I was their worship and delight.”

“A thousand men lust after me,
And mortals make eternity.
I am the goddess and the rain,
I am Venus, returned again.”

Now another stood to speak,
And smiled condescendingly
At the woman, and he sighed:
“Lust is not virtue, but a vice.”

“I, however, am virtuous;
The pinnacle of cleverness.
I mocked the masses and their dreams,
And set them bowing at my feet.”

“Mockery is no virtue, friend,”
And the final hero bowed his head.
“If you seek virtue, look at me,
I doubt a humbler man could be.”

“I am selfless, unlike you—
I’ve risked my life to save a few.
My sacrifice is boundless, friends,
As is my constant kindliness.”

He fell silent, but there was still
Another, who had yet to tell
His tale to the gathered band,
The greatest heroes of the land.

He was a boy in simple garb,
And round he looked with eyes afar,
The wonder of that timeless place
Shining joyous from his face.

“I am not wise,” he said, and grinned,
“But I love to hear your wisdom, friends.
You are beautiful and strong indeed,
And it is the hero’s life you lead.”

The heroes smiled scornfully,
And the boy beamed back in raptured glee,
Then stood and took his leave of them,
Into the night from which he came.

And as he walked that lonely way
The heroes shouted out in rage,
For the ancient fires had died down
And the bright young hero bore the crown.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

The Rise of Virtue

I've been thinking a lot lately about virtue and its relationship to current American society. While it would seem that many if not most Americans are what we might call 'good people,' it is also increasingly evident that the culture as a whole is doing little to promote any classical virtues. The contrast is stark when I think of the difference between my grandparents' generation, which grew up knowing the power of virtue and a good work ethic, and my own, which exults in materialism and being entertained. That's not to say that there aren't good people among my generation, but that a shift has taken place in which common vices which would have been looked down upon a hundred years ago are now lauded. Where once modesty and meekness were actually good things, now they're often perceived as weaknesses. Pride and self-absorption seem to be the ethos of the day, with teenagers proudly wearing shirts with slogans like "It's all about me."
Sex has become an object of pleasure and obsession rather than of honor and holiness. For many, it has become about satisfying personal desires rather than a self-giving expression of faithful, committed love. It comes as no surprise that many men and women in my generation suffer from an inability to relate on the level of meaningful and perseverant relationships.
The pervasive influences of television have changed the focus and measure of our ability to think, and have created a culture of entitlement. We expect to be entertained. In fact, most people have this as their life's goal. They may work hard at their jobs during the week, but it's often toward the end of being able to spend their leisure time on vacations and weekends as they would like. Retirement, too, can tend toward this goal--rather than using those years as a time to find a new and rich form of work for the Kingdom of God (or simply for our fellow men), we spend it taking cruises and playing golf and watching TV. There's nothing wrong with leisure, but there is something wrong with making it our life's goal. There's something wrong with an entire generation that grows up watching television and playing video games and doing little else.
These observations aren't new to anyone, but they bear repeating. And, of course, they're generalizations with many exceptions. There are hints of redemptive virtue all throughout our culture, but unfortunately they don't seem to make a great impact in forming the pattern of our day-to-day lives. The trend seems to be leaning toward disregarding traditional virtues like moderation and humility, and embracing the vices of self-centeredness.
Historically speaking, this is nothing new. It's troubling, but not a cause for obsession. The Roman-Hellenistic world of the first century, bathed in the legacy of the noble virtues of Greek philosophy, was, in some of its facets, at least as twisted and self-indulgent as we Americans are today, and perhaps more so. Britain, in the years preceding the Methodist revivals, was likewise in a cultural slump toward vice. In those instances, the emergence or re-emergence of Christianity effected a profound change.
But this trend toward embracing vice is a bit worrisome because it's one of the reasons why so many other people groups despise us. Frankly, we're becoming morally odious to the traditional paradigm of virtue which many cultures still treasure. In as much as we are becoming the 'Hollywood nation,' we are becoming an offense to people all around the world.
So the great question for American Christians concerns how we address this issue. Some lead by the power of example, engaging in social action toward justice and the relief of poverty, and that's good. Others enter the political fray, seeking to elect virtuous people and to pass legislation that protects the moral capital of our nation. That too is good, but it's a road that must be treaded carefully, or else Christians will be seen as a dangerous and power-hungry sect. The basic problem of this tactic, though, is that in a representative democracy, a push toward virtue will only work if the people truly want it.
So how do we go about turning our nation back toward a love of virtue? The most basic way is through friendship evangelism, turning men and women and children, one by one, back to the way of the Cross. Christianity, as the truth of God, is the ultimate fountainhead of virtue. It has a spotted legacy from mistakes made by those who wear its name, but that does not rule out or tarnish its metaphysical truth and power. The second way is through a genuine revival, a work of God. This is not something we can bring upon ourselves, but it is something for which we can prepare the way through repentance and prayer. Many of us Christians are deeply impacted by the self-centered temper of contemporary culture, and only by repenting of that and having God turn our hearts back toward him will we be able to show the power of virtue to a culture that is increasingly disinterested.
The third way, and the central suggestion I want to make in this post, is fairly practical and not necessarily connected with Christian involvement. In his scathing critique of the influence of television on American culture, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman suggests that the way to counteract TV's degradation of our epistemology is through the means of public education. I would make the same suggestion here. While I believe that Christianity, because it is 'true' in the deepest sense of the word, conveys the highest form of virtue, at present Christianity has very little voice in touching Americans who aren't churchgoers. So, how do we reach young people, to show them a better way of living than total self-absorption? Through the schools. Christianity may not be allowed into schools, but virtue might. Why not build in a class or set of classes that focuses on teaching classical virtues, for the betterment of our society? Even those who are rabidly opposed to Christian involvement in schools would probably agree that our kids need a fair dose of virtue, something that they're not getting from their TVs and apparently aren't getting much of at home, either. Virtue has been an important part of philosophy and culture, from the time of Plato and Aristotle to today. Native American culture is saturated with wisdom on living the virtuous life. Virtue is something that is wholly noble and honorable, and because it stems from the spirit of Christ, which we were made to be in communion with, most people will always have some attraction to it when they see it as it is. Even with our fallen sinfulness, there is an inherent goodness to people, and even though we can't consistently live virtuous lives on our own power, there is something in us that desires virtue. The virtuous life is the heroic life, and most of us know that and want it.
My generation needs to taste the power of virtue again, and public schools are the only place that I can think of where they might get that taste. Even if special classes can't be arranged for teaching virtue in the context of social studies, virtue could be a core quality that comes out of the teaching of history. History should be more than just facts, it should be formative for how we live our lives today. The teaching and learning of history should be, at least in some of its aspects, radically counter-cultural. And there is enough of the golden thread of virtue in history to make it available and attractive to today's youth.
The same burden falls not only on the public schools, but also on the churches. We have many young people who, whether Christian or not, don't understand the power of a virtuous, God-honoring life. We need to develop ways to show them the power and beauty of virtue. We need to bring ourselves back to the place where merely hearing the word itself opens for us bold and imaginative horizons, heroic dreams, and vistas of unparalleled beauty. That is what virtue is to me, and it is that hopeful vision that I want Americans to see.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Valor is My Breath: The Joy of Intercession

Most Christians will tell you they believe in the power of prayer, but at the same time, most Christians don’t live like they do. So, having recently pointed toward intercessory prayer as the proper focus of spiritual warfare, I thought it would be worthwhile to share my own testimony on the subject.

Intercessory prayer has been a large part of my faith-journey since high school, but even I have difficulty keeping up the discipline. It’s easy to find oneself in a season where prayers come slowly, and answers to those prayers never seem to materialize. Recently I found myself in just such a place, and so I wanted to share the story of how God drew me back into the fight.

When I was in my junior year of high school, I read an article about a man who took a dare to pray for Africa every day for 45 days. Within the course of those days, this man, who had never been to Africa before, was able to travel to Uganda, and there met the president of that country, influenced him to show merciful justice to political prisoners, and was later requested to assist in the selection of government ministers. (The story is called “Uganda, a Bet, and a Prayer,” by Doug Nichols, if you want to look it up).

Inspired by this story, I decided to accept the same dare. I searched for the country that seemed to need the most help, and settled on the Sudan. At that point, Sudan was still struggling through its brutal 30-year civil war between the north (largely Islamic) and the south (Christian and animistic), with the slave-trade thriving in the midst of the horrors of war. It was a place where the Muslim world met Christian tribes in violent overlap, a place regularly ravaged by famine and drought. So I started to pray for the Sudan and for its leaders—President Omar al-Bashir and John Garang, leader of the south at that time—making this the central aim of my intercessory ministry.

After going to college and studying under Dr. Jon Arensen, who had served in southern Sudan for twelve years, I had the opportunity to go to Sudan myself. So in 2004, after more than four years of praying for Sudan, I set off alone to join a team of workers in the capital city of Khartoum. I lived there for three months while assisting on a linguistics project. It was around that time that we finally saw the resolution of the civil war against the south, or at least the best chance for peace that the region has had for many years. But those were also the days when the Darfur conflict began to intensify, and even now, despite belated international intervention, it still seems to go on.

The peace with the south was an incredible answer to prayer, but other than that, I saw little fruit from my years of intercession. But just because we don’t see the answers doesn’t mean that they aren’t coming.

A month or two ago I heard a story about something that happened in the Sudan seven years ago, just after I had first begun praying. This was a secondhand testimony, and unfortunately, due to the sensitive nature of Christianity’s status in the Sudan, and especially in the north, I won’t tell the story in full. But it was the dramatic testimony of how God called a young woman through a dream from halfway across the Middle East to come and witness in the Sudan. So she traveled on her own all the way across the desert, and her journey carried her into direct contact with the highest leaders of Sudan. As a result of her warnings and witness, sweeping changes came to the capital city.

I had never heard this story before, but I can testify that I was surprised at the amount of freedom given to Christians in Khartoum (a city officially under a form of Islamic sharia law) when I came there in 2004. Churches worshiped openly, and there was even a multi-denominational open-air evangelistic campaign in the middle of the city. In addition, the radical Muslim politician who had helped raised the new Islamic government in Sudan, Hassan al-Turabi, was under house arrest during that time. If the secondhand testimony about the young woman’s witness is to be believed, all these developments can be traced, at least in part, to that meeting eight years ago. And that was when I had started praying.

I’m not saying that it was my prayers alone that effected these great changes. But I know that my prayers, along with the prayers of thousands of others who lift up Sudan and its leaders, were directly used and answered in those events. I have been a part of the work of God in Sudan. Mountains have been moved, and they are still moving. The shaky peace between the north and south is a miracle of incredible proportions. And I’m sure that even among the current bloodshed in Darfur, more miracles are happening.

I don’t know all of the theological answers as to why or how God uses our prayers in conjunction with his sovereign will, but I know that he commands us to pray and that he does, indeed, use our prayers. He has given us this incredible privilege of being an active part of his work in the world. Just as we can build up the kingdom of God among those immediately around us, so we can build up the kingdom of God half a world away. And that is simply extraordinary.

Some might object and say that intercession is a special gift given to only a few—‘prayer warriors,’ we call them. And it may well be a spiritual gift in its own right. But for those of us who don’t have the gift, we aren’t excluded us from the responsibility or the honor of prayer. I don’t have the gift of generosity, but that doesn’t give me permission to be a miser.

We are commanded (and shown by example) throughout the New Testament to join in intercessory prayer, especially in lifting up our Christian brothers and sisters around the world. This would be a difficult command if we never saw any fruit from prayer. But we have the promises of God that prayer does indeed bear fruit. The power to shake whole nations for the sake of Christ has been placed within our hands. It is a quiet and unglamorous role for ministry, but God uses it in ways that defy our imaginations. I expect that one of the brightest and most beautiful revelations of heaven will be in looking back at our earthly lives and seeing all the ways that God used our prayers to do his extraordinary work around the world.

It is my honor and delight to be bound in spirit to the awesome work of God in the Sudan. It is a road rich in tears and longings, but it is more than worth the journey. I can’t always see the fruit of my prayers, but I have seen enough to know that God is using them in breathtaking ways. I believe that he is still using those prayers, and I would urge you, brothers and sisters in Christ, to take up the call to pray. Adopt a community or people group or country of your own, and allow God to use you in active participation with his kingdom-purposes. When we get to heaven and look back at our lives, even if we served no other role in ministry, we will have the honor and absolute joy of seeing God’s work made manifest through our prayers.

Below I’ve added a poem I wrote about my own intercessory ministry a few months ago, as I was returning from a long period of prayerlessness. (Note: ‘Imminya’ is the personal name for God from some of my fictional works). More than anything else, it reflects the centrality of intercession to my spiritual life. It’s called “Valor is My Breath.”


I stand against the world now,
And valor is my breath.
Here I find my life, my heart,
Within this simple act.
I have broken my vows
And my commission,
But in this moment I return;
Now I take them up again,
And I will shake the world.
I cannot live without this task,
Cannot find my heart.
Here is where I come to life,
In a surge of faith unseen
And unlauded sacrifice.
Here I am courage,
Here I am strength,
Here I am the vicar of Christ
To a broken, bleeding world.
This is my battlefield,
And I have been idle too long.
This is the mission
That pleases You greatly.
So now I take up arms
Against the princes of this world,
And now I break their thrones.
This violent peace is my best defense,
And here I rest my heart.
Take this sword and use it well;
May each stroke be as Your own.
And in all the silent battles
That rage from this stout heart,
In every breath and battle-cry
May You be glorified.
Alone I stand,
But not alone,
For here You carry me.
Be Thou my tower and my rock;
Imminya, be my shield.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

How Are We to Wage Spiritual Warfare?

I had the onus of a specific request placed on me recently—to write some reflections on the topic of spiritual warfare and to take special note of my African experiences. This is an area of interest to me, but one which, I freely admit, I don’t know much about. I have many more questions than answers, but perhaps the questions will be helpful in pointing us in the right direction as a church. I don’t believe that this is a topic that demands as much attention as some Christians would have us believe (or at least not in the form they present it), but I do think it’s worthy of far more attention than most Americans give it. We are all called to be warriors in the kingdom of God, to fight spiritual battles for the sake of the gospel, and that is no small commission. We should learn how to do it well.

When it comes to questions of the spiritual realm, and specifically the demonic, C.S. Lewis hits the center of the mark in his preface to The Screwtape Letters: “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” The American church is all over the spectrum on this. Most of us go through our day-to-day lives without even giving a second thought to demons. Others seem to be obsessed with them. In researching this topic, I found some intriguingly fanciful books in our seminary library, including one that claimed to know that demons named “Ahab” and “Jezebel” were behind much of the lack of spiritual power in the church’s men and women, respectively, and that the Babylonian goddess Ashtoreth is responsible for the feminist movement.

To those who live their lives in willful ignorance of the spiritual forces at work in the world, I would urge that this issue be seriously considered. And to those who “see a demon behind every bush,” I would suggest that we have missed the forest for the trees. In his book Breaking Strongholds in Your City, C. Peter Wagner thanks his “less informed critics” for keeping him conscientious in his studies of spiritual warfare. I think this article would probably fit into that category. I’m not very well-informed on this subject, but it is of interest to me, and I’d welcome any additional thoughts or critiques.

Anyone who takes the Bible seriously must take the demonic realm seriously as well. One of the clear agendas of the gospels is to portray Jesus’ authority over these dark powers. However, a biblical theology of demons doesn’t tell us much more than that. The Old Testament, in contrast to the gospels, is almost entirely silent about demons. It does far more in attacking idols and foreign gods, so some have conjectured that demons and pagan gods are one and the same (for example, “Beelzebub” is not merely a demonic prince cited in the gospels, but also appears as “Baal-zebub,” the god of Ekron, in 2 Kings 1:2). But to be honest, we don’t know much about the connection between demons and pagan gods. Some later OT writings imply that idols and foreign gods aren’t real at all in the spiritual sense. Satan makes a few interesting cameos, but other than his sporadic appearance and the intriguing cases of harmful or deceitful spirits actually sent by God (1 Sam. 16:14; 1 Kings 22:19-23), the OT tells us little on this matter.

Though the NT tells us more, one must admit that outlining a robust theology of spiritual warfare is very low on the priority-list of the writers. Clearly, spiritual warfare is a proper part of kingdom-life, but we are seldom told how to do it, and those passages that do address the subject are rather vague. Perhaps the clearest statement we have comes from Mark 9:29, where Jesus instructs his disciples that a certain kind of demon can only be cast out by prayer. The best exposition of spiritual warfare in the Bible (at least to my knowledge) is the famous passage in Eph. 6, which tells us that our battle is against “the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” But when Paul instructs his readers how to go about this battle, he gives no strategies for “warfare prayer” or “spiritual mapping.” Rather, he tells them to gird themselves with defensive weaponry in order to stand fast in their faith and to live the Christian life in righteousness and active witness. When Paul finally gets around to addressing prayer, which is the focal practice of most discussions of spiritual warfare, he focuses exclusively on intercessory prayer rather than on directly attacking or claiming authority over spiritual powers.

This is a topic which should be addressed carefully. Not only is there a lot that the Bible doesn’t tell us, but there are a lot of curious things that it does tell us which seem to go against the grain of what we’re usually taught about demons. This extends further than the OT instances of God sending harmful spirits. 1 Peter 3:19-20 appears to allude to 1 Enoch’s interpretation of the odd story of the “sons of God” in Genesis 6. According to early Jewish traditions, this is a tale of spirits (possibly demonic, depending on how one uses the term) who mated with human women and were locked up by God until the final judgment. This, then, would apparently be a different class of beings than the demons Jesus confronts during his ministry. Moreover, 2 Peter and Jude both warn against “slandering celestial beings,” and both contexts imply that these celestial beings aren’t angels (Jude explicitly puts Satan in this category as a being who shouldn’t be slandered or spoken about without understanding). Perhaps these are demons. Or perhaps there are other classes of spiritual beings, rather more independent in their allegiance than angels, who also have power over earthly affairs. We just don’t know.

This doesn’t mean that the Bible isn’t concerned with spiritual warfare. But it does mean that the Bible isn’t as concerned with it as with the glorious truths of the gospel and the importance of living a faithful and obedient life. In the relative dearth of explicit biblical treatment of this subject, Christians have filled in the gaps with their own experience. And rightly so, for we can learn much that is true from experience. For me, experience has confirmed the biblical worldview of demonic powers, but it has done little beyond that. I saw a few exorcisms during my time in Angola, and it was clear that there were evil spiritual powers at work. I have seen women who came to the pastors for help, and in the middle of a prayer which they had been listening to quietly, they suddenly burst into wild trances, sometimes fearful and sometimes angry. I have spoken to Angolan men who freely admitted the power of evil spirits in their lives, especially as harnessed by the witchdoctors. Many of the stories they tell would be impossible to deny, even if one appealed to psychological manipulation. For instance, one man told of a village a bit further down the Kubango River, where a certain man’s son had been eaten by a crocodile. After doing some asking around, the man discovered that the crocodile had been sent by a witchdoctor at the request of a jealous neighbor. When confronted, the neighbor admitted to the deed—he had asked the witchdoctor to have a crocodile eat the man’s son. There were even first-person witness accounts of dark magic that my discipleship group told me, including demonic manifestations at a witchdoctor’s funeral right in Menongue, the city where I worked. Evil spiritual forces are a known factor of life in most Third-World countries.

Beyond this simple confirmation of the biblical worldview, however, my experience falls short. The exorcisms I witnessed seemed at least temporarily effective, but they also seemed to be a bit syncretistic in their methods and attitudes (using the Bible and Jesus’ name as magical charms in themselves—one pastor even began beating a possessed woman with his Bible).

Other Christians have much more extensive experience in this realm than I, and it seems to me, in reading some of the literature produced by the spiritual warfare movement, that it is these experiences which drive their understanding and their methods. A number of Christian counselors, even here in America, have developed a detailed demonology based on their interactions with evil spirits in people’s lives. Many missionaries, also having come into contact with spiritual powers, incorporate symbolic and direct spiritual warfare tactics into their ministries. The practices of “prayerwalking” and “spiritual mapping” emerged largely from charismatic impulses, in which the Holy Spirit gives specific insights about the spiritual realities behind a certain place. Now armies of prayer warriors are marching through unevangelized countries, praying against the local demonic powers. Some even suggest that this spiritual mapping—uncovering the spiritual background of a place through research into local history, sociological observation, and discernment through prayer—is the key to breakthrough to revival.

I’m not criticizing these practices. If counselors do indeed have to face demonic spirits from time to time, they should at least have some idea what to do. No doubt missionaries are keenly aware of the reality of demonic powers, and they understand the power of prayer better than I do. Prayerwalks in unevangelized countries may well be one of the causes behind the dramatic worldwide expansion of the gospel. Furthermore, I admit that charismatic insights, direct from the Holy Spirit, are very rare events for me, so I would be out of place to assume that those who do receive such insights are merely engaging in flights of fancy. However, I would urge that such practices be subjected to the rigorous tempering of the biblical perspective, because I get the feeling that we often lose our proper outlook.

I should also address the issue of “territorial powers,” since this is one of the base assumptions of contemporary demonology and spiritual warfare studies. It is assumed that the same demonic powers rule over specific locales for long periods of time, if not permanently, and that by discerning the nature of those powers, warfare-prayers are given an added power. Aside from the issue of charismatic insights concerning specific locales, which I’m not qualified to speak about, I can say that we don’t know much biblically about territorial powers. The only passage that is regularly cited is Daniel 10, in which an angelic character tells Daniel about his wrestling with the “prince of Persia” and the “prince of Greece,” often interpreted as demonic powers (and apparently refers to Michael as an angelic “prince”). Even if these characters are interpreted as demonic rulers, which probably isn’t the only interpretation available, it must be noted that nothing in this passage actually directs Daniel to the sort of warfare-prayer which many Christians now advocate. Aside from this example, most if not all of the instances of demons in the NT (at least that I’m aware of) are attached to persons, not places. Nevertheless, this doesn’t mean that demons couldn’t be geographically organized. There seems to be a belief in early Christianity that angels are associated with specific churches, so I suppose demons could be associated with specific places or groups of people as well. I am in no position to overturn the experience of hundreds of missionaries who attest to territorial powers in the venues of their ministry.

What does trouble me, though, is the assumption that this form of spiritual warfare is the answer we’ve been looking for. Not only does the Bible never tell us to pray directly against demonic powers, but this development is fairly recent, as even its leaders admit. I’m a bit of a conservative, and so if no practice has ever been used fruitfully in the long history of the church, I am very wary of accepting it. There are certainly instances of “power encounters” with demons throughout church history, but these take the nature of casting demons out of people and destroying pagan shrines. To my knowledge, there has never before been a movement of Christians who assumed that they could directly discern the organization of specific spiritual powers and then directly attack them. That should give us pause.

No doubt it is very beneficial to research local spiritual history in order to pray better for our communities, because history does indeed affect the present situation in countless ways. But I’m not convinced that it’s either wise or efficacious to pray directly against specific spiritual powers. The picture of intercession in the Bible is overwhelmingly about beseeching God for the sake of people, not against spiritual powers. Is it wrong to pray authoritatively against spiritual powers? No, I don’t think so. In fact, if the Holy Spirit leads us in that direction, that is precisely what we should do. But why do we need to know the specifics of local demonic powers? Is God’s power restricted when we pray “Lord, please break the power of the evil spiritual forces in our community” rather than, “Lord, please break the power of the Ahab and Jezebel demons in this place”? For that matter, why would either of these prayers be better than, “Lord, please bring your light into our community”?

In short, spiritual warfare is an essential part of Christian life. But, first and foremost, it should consist of conventional intercessory prayer rather than prayer-assaults on demonic powers. Second, we should never assume that this no-holds-barred spiritual warfare is the key to revival. Revival is a work of God, and when he chooses to send it, no demonic power can stand in his way. Revival comes with an understanding of sin and grace, and it comes from faithful living and fearless witnessing. Third, we need to embrace the Ephesians 6 paradigm and, rather than focusing exclusively on offensive assaults on spiritual powers (which is more God’s task than ours), we need to focus on equipping the church to stand its ground in faithfulness. And finally, we should embrace the biblical focus toward spiritual warfare—that the battle has already been won by Christ, and that the church is the vehicle of Christ’s authority on earth. Let’s not get so wrapped up in a spiritual battle we don’t understand that we miss the point of the victory of Jesus Christ.

And a final caveat—these observations and critiques are written as a relative outsider to this movement, so I may have missed the real emphasis and thrust of these spiritual warfare efforts. I’d love to hear some responses.