The Way of Jesus: 3 : 12 : 120

3 : 12 : 120, Andy Crouch's comments on Jesus and those numbers took me back to college days and a paper I wrote in a ministry course. The paper's prompt was: "What can we learn about discipling others from observing Jesus' leadership training methods?" I had yet to receive much training in biblical interpretation, but even my simple reading of the text yielded valuable insights. They have shaped my approach to ministry over all these decades. I noted that Jesus spoke to crowds, but he did not fill his days preaching to the masses. Instead, he gave special attention to an inner circle of 3, a group of 12, and a bigger circle of about 120. (That was the number of followers gathered on Pentecost.) I observed that Jesus spent time with his disciples. He did not just give lectures to them; he shared life with them. Jesus did tell stories, ask questions, and occasionally lecture, but he taught as much by modeling as by talking. He also gave them opportunities to learn by doing. 

During the years I was involved in youth ministry, I prayed every August, asking  who would be my 3 and my 12 that year. And then I would seek to do what Jesus did. I visited the 3 in their homes and invited them to mine. During the school's lunchtime, I sought to interact with the 12. I had a Bible study, open to all but focused on the 12. I gave the 3 opportunities to lead in the main group activities and encouraged them to each have their group of 3. The roles I later had as a missionary and seminary professor did not lend themselves to the same application of the 3 : 12 : 120 approach. Even so, most years, I still asked God: who are the 3 and the 12 you are calling me to prioritize and take initiative with? I have not done that for a number of years, but I will do so this week. Will you join me and do the same?

Andy Crouch's talk of 3 : 12 : 120 led me to recall these insights, but his reflection went deeper. He acknowledges that cultural transformation requires change at the systemic and institutional levels but argues it is a mistake to leave out the personal and relational. In his book Culture Making, he writes, "The essential insight of 3 : 12 : 120 is that every cultural innovation, no matter how far-reaching its consequences, is based on personal relationships and personal commitment." (243). He argues that the key move is not to get an audience of thousands and make a pitch but to build deep relationships of trust and shared vision with 3. Then gather a group where everyone in the room can still be seen and heard—12. The next circle of 120 is the max for people to know each other and have a personal sense of buy-in. To get a bit more explanation, I invite you to watch this four-minute video by Crouch, or read this blog by David Fitch reflecting on Andy's 3 : 12 : 120 and the church.

 As Crouch states, "The pattern of 3 : 12 : 120 is marvelously good news. Faced with the immense scale and scope of culture . . . we feel overwhelmed, justly concerned about many features of our culture that we will never be able to change. The temptation to withdraw or accommodate, to get away or just go along, is strong" (245). Yet, change is possible. We can all seek out a few others who share our convictions and vision and invest in developing relationships of deep trust. That can set the stage for inviting others to join in transforming work—in your church, your institution, your neighborhood, or beyond.

 It is good news and also a challenge. It challenges us to resist going it alone. It tells us relationships are crucial and that they take work.

 Is there a vision that God is stirring within you? Who might you invite to be part of your 3? Your 12?

Restoring Personhood – In the Early Church and Today

Gaius, mentioned in Paul’s letter to the Romans (16:23), was head of a household—meaning he likely had a large house that included his family and other workers and slaves. Andy Crouch observes that Gaius would have been a client to patrons above him as well as a patron to others with less status and power. Then Crouch makes this statement: "There is one other significant thing about Gaius that we need to grasp . . . He was a person" (15). Well, isn't that obvious? Do we need someone as brilliant as Andy Crouch to tell us that? What makes the statement significant is what Crouch explains next. In the Roman world at that time personhood was a legal category—someone with standing before the law. “Many people in Gaius’s world were, in fact not persons in this sense. Slaves, above all, though they were undeniably human, were treated under the law not as person but as property” (15). That helps us understand why Crouch told us he was a person, but why is Crouch writing about Gaius in a book on technology? (The Life We’re Looking For: Reclaiming Relationship in a Technological World.)

 Just as in Gaius’s day world forces hindered many humans from living as persons, Crouch argues that today technology and Mammon hinder humans from living as persons. Our machines and devices make us machine-like.

 Erastus, the next one mentioned in Romans, was a city official and also a person. The man mentioned before Gaius, Tertius, and the one after Erastus, Quartus, were not persons in Roman society. As Crouch observes, we know Tertius was a nobody partly because of his job—to take down dictation from important people like Gaius and Erastus. He may have been a slave, but even if a hired hand, he was still not considered a person. His name, "third," also points to his lack of status. Sons of slaves did not matter much, so they were often named by the month they were born or their birth order. Even non-slave families sometimes did this—only the first-born son really mattered. Out on the street, Gaius and Erastus are men of rank—persons, and Tertius and Quartus (Fourth) are nobodies—non-persons. But when they all gathered together as Jesus followers, the categories and stratification were left at the door. Slaves and free, scribes and city officials, men and women, all ate together at the same table. They all became persons.

 Crouch leads us to see this in the letter itself. He imagines Paul stopping dictation of his greetings and saying, “’Tertius, you should greet them.’ . . Suddenly the scribe is not just writing; he is speaking—and he has a name. . . Paul sees Tertius. He is Paul's brother, not just a hired hand" (115-16). Borrowing from Madeline L'Engle, we would say, Paul named him. “[T]he circle of brothers and sisters [expands] to include those who do the anonymous work, those who normally take orders, those who arrive without being greeted and depart without being noticed. Those who were named something like ‘number three’. . . But as they arrive and join the feast, every one of them is welcomed in the Lord. . . Because every one of them is a person” (116, 120).

The need for humans to be treated as persons, not things, is just as great or even greater today. There are still categories of people who, in the eyes of some, are less-than-human. Others perform machine-like labor and are often treated like machines. Yet now, even the personhood of those with status, today’s Gaius and Erastus, is lessened by technology and Mammon.

 Let us, the body of Christ, as individuals and communities, be instruments of naming—of restoring personhood to those who have lost or are losing it. Here are some ideas on how to do that.

          Table Fellowship – As in Gaius's time, inviting someone to share a meal communicates acceptance, restores dignity, and fosters human connection.

         Technology Fasts – In an earlier book, The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place, Andy Crouch shares some of his family’s practices, including fasting from their devices, one hour a day, one day a week, one week a year. Share the ideas, read the book with others—practice it together.

        Alternative Activities  – Don’t just take breaks from technology, but with intentionality do things that foster personhood—with friends, family, church community.

          Be Present  – Another area that calls for intentionality. In an age of absence be present to others.

          Give Dignity – Look for ways to increase the dignity of those with a dignity deficit.

         Evangelism – How might technology and Mammon's attack on personhood reframe how you think about and practice inviting others into a relationship with Jesus?

For Further reading –  In addition to the two books by Andy Crouch mentioned above, I recommend the following historical fiction books:

A Week in the Life of Rome  by James L. Papandrea

Lost Letters of Pergamum by Bruce Longenecker

 These narratives will help you feel and understand in greater depth the personhood-denying practices of Roman society and the radicalness of Christians' response.

Jesus: Carpenter or Construction Worker?

Imagine a carpentry shop. What are the images that come to mind? Imagine a crew of builders working on at a construction site. What comes to mind? What comes to mind when you hear the phrase, Jesus was a carpenter? What changes if you think of Jesus working for years on a building crew? A recent article I read by Jordan Monson persuaded me that “builder” or “construction worker” is a better translation than carpenter for the word in Matt. 13:55 and Mark 6:3. Now, instead of just thinking, "oh, those Bible scholars, always digging for details to argue about," I urge you to take a few minutes and join me in reflecting on what difference it might make whether we think of Jesus working at a carpenter’s bench or on a construction crew.

 I will briefly mention some of the main points in Monson's argument and then share some of his thoughts and my own on why it matters.

 “Carpenter” is not technically a wrong translation of tektōn, but the word is broader than that—more the sense of a builder who uses various materials—wood, stone, metal, thatch, plaster, etc. “Carpenter” may have seemed like the most fitting word for Bible translators in 17th-Century England, surrounded by woods and buildings made of wood, but does it make sense in Galilee? There were not many trees around Nazareth; hence little work was done with wood.

Monson, does not, however, just base his argument on building materials available for Jesus the tektōn. He asks the astute question, from where does Jesus draw his examples and metaphors? He often spoke of farming, occasionally of fishing, but not of carpentry—only one mention of wood and sawdust (Matt 7:3). But, Jesus often mentioned stones, foundations, and rocks. That points to him being a mason, working with stones.

Like other builders of the time, Jesus likely did not just work on small projects in his village. He and his father probably traveled to the nearby Sepphoris and worked with others on large building projects that Herod and others built. Jesus, at times, would have worked under the authority of head builders and perhaps had less-skilled laborers under his authority. This work experience shows up in his teaching. Jesus talks about wages, managers, hiring and firing, and building projects.

What difference does it make that instead of spending time cutting boards and hammering nails in a carpentry shop, Jesus, God incarnate, was chiseling, carrying, and laying stones?

It is easier to romanticize Jesus the carpenter meditatively working on a wood project with the sun streaming through the window. Few people plaster walls or build cement-block walls as a hobby, but many love spending time creating something out of wood at a home workbench. Thus it is easier to turn Jesus the carpenter into a more dignified respectable job.

The reality is that tektōn at that time, whatever building materials used, was a lowly position. Monson writes, "Jesus was not elite. His trade was not respected. Early church leaders of an aristocratic bent found Jesus' trade to be embarrassing. They wanted to distance him from it. The first substantive polemic against Christianity attaches the respectability of Jesus precisely on this account. In the second century, the pagan philosopher Celsus disparaged Jesus as 'only a tektōn'" (42-43).

God, through Jesus, did not just practice solidarity with and bring dignity to the marginalized through a few meals during his ministry. He spent years of living, working, and eating with the lowly. Thus, thinking of this word correctly enhances the significance of the incarnation for many who work in low-status jobs. God was quite literally one of them. What is the import for these people that Jesus was a construction worker? How might it challenge higher status people and their practice of viewing people differently based on their jobs?

There are multiple other reasons why the incarnation matters for us. One is that through Jesus’ being a human, God has experienced the joys and sufferings of humans. To move Jesus out of the quiet carpentry shop into the rough and tumble world of a construction crew broadens the sense of what he experienced. Think of conflicts you have had with co-workers, frustrations with a supervisor, drudgery on the job, unfair pay, or being totally drained after a long day. God incarnate likely experienced all this and more. Jesus experienced, as we do, many ways that human sin complicates the work-day world and causes suffering and pain. We pray to a God who does not just know about but has experienced what we go through. I invite you to take some time consciously praying to the God who worked as a stonemason on a building crew.

What are other ways that your thoughts or feelings about Jesus are enriched by thinking of him on a construction crew?

Based on: “The Stonemason the Builders Rejected” by Jordan K. Monson, Christianity Today, Dec, 2021: 40-43.

To further explore the significance of Jesus' humanity and divinity and do an in-depth study of the atonement, consider auditing my Christology class this fall. Write me for more details.

Liberated from Bounded-Church Shame by the Cross

“Is there a way I can sing these lines?” It’s a question I often ask myself when singing songs that refer to the cross. So much of the language and imagery flows from the penal substitutionary theory of atonement and the idea that Jesus’s death appeased God, that God had to punish Jesus to be able to forgive humans. Notice that I looked for a way I could sing. I did not just ask, "can I?" Having written two books that critique penal substitution theory of atonement, you might expect there are lots of lines I don't sing. But generally, I can fill the words with other meanings. I too affirm that Jesus died in our place, died for our sins. I can even interpret a phrase like, "he paid for our sins" in a way that allows me to sing it. Although there are some lines I don't sing, I asked the question Sunday with an expectation that I could sing them—and I did. As the song continued, however, I began to have second thoughts. READ MORE

The songwriter’s words of release through his sin being nailed to the cross had a sense of finality. It made it hard not to picture a western-courtroom God releasing a condemned sinner because the fine has been paid. By now I had moved past the original question and was asking myself other questions. "So, Mark, how about shame? Could you sing a line with that sense of finality, about shame?" I immediately thought of Luke 15. The father in the parable bore the prodigal son's shame in his place. Jesus removed shame from the despised and excluded through eating with them. Then he stood in solidarity with them through telling three parables—and, eventually, through dying on the cross. Yes, I said to myself, “We can think of Jesus taking on our shame with the same sense of completeness.” Then my next question, “Have you experienced this freedom from shame in its fullness, Mark?”

I immediately thought of the shame of being on the wrong side of a bounded group's line. On one hand, my answer was, "Yes, definitely." I have numerous times experienced release from a burden of shame through prayer and remembering Jesus and the cross. Yet, the internal question asker said, "But, the lines drawn by bounded churches still stir up anxiety and shame in your being. You do not have to live with that. You do not have to let them affect you." At that moment, I pictured Jesus bearing all of the shame I have experienced for feeling looked down upon by people on other sides of lines they had drawn—all the shame I have experienced, am experiencing, will experience. I heard the Gospel proclamation: “Mark, you are free; you have the possibility of living in freedom from the shaming effect of those lines.” To borrow imagery of our current reality, I did not feel that I had just taken a pill that would relieve the symptoms of a particular moment of shame, but a vaccine—the possibility of immunity.

Honestly, I feel a bit hesitant to write the above lines, perhaps even a bit of shame. A not-so-kind internal voice says, "You co-authored books on the atonement, co-authored a book on honor-shame, and wrote a book on bounded, fuzzy, and centered churches, and you still had not fully realized this? Had not fully experienced it?” Probably more accurate to say I had, but I needed a reminder. Regardless, let us accentuate the wonderful reality that God’s work through Jesus’ death and resurrection is of such depth and breadth that we can expect to continue to experience its liberating and healing significance in new and profound ways. May those of you who need it experience another layer of freedom from the debilitating shame of bounded group religiosity through Jesus and the cross, as I did this past Sunday.

Centered-Set Church: The Story Behind the Book

If you ask me, “how long were you working on the centered-set church book?” I might respond, “Since January 2018.” That was when I began doing interviews and focus groups with practitioners of the centered approach and then started writing. The book is filled with stories and examples gleaned from that field research. Yet, students’ questions birthed the idea for the book years ago. After I explained the centered approach, students often asked how to apply it in specific situations. There was no resource to offer them. A desire to fill that void and write a book addressing their questions grew within me. For that and other reasons, I dedicated the book to my students. As I state in the dedication, "without you this book would not exist." But as I worked on the book, it dawned on me that I was actually still working on a question that unsettled and captivated me in 1983.

In the fall of 1983, a lecture at the one-semester Oregon Extension study program grabbed my attention, disturbing me deeply yet leaving me wanting more. After four years of ministry and teaching high school in Honduras, I had become a student again. On that memorable day, Doug Frank wove together insights from sociologists Peter Berger and Jacques Ellul in a lecture contrasting religion and Christian revelation. He described religion as something humans construct as a security system that gives us the means to draw lines defining who is in and who is out. Religion also provides us security by giving us the means to please and appease God or the gods. 

None of this would have rattled me if Doug Frank had contrasted other religions with Christianity, but he gave many examples of Christian religiosity—including ones that mirrored my life. If I had heard Frank’s lecture a few years earlier, I imagine I would have reacted defensively or perhaps just dismissed it all. But after four years of ministry in Honduras I was worn down from working to stay on the right side of the lines I and others had drawn and burdened by all the to-do’s I had piled on myself. Doug Frank’s words unsettled me but rang true.

Frank was not, however, anti-Christian. He did not dismiss the gospel of Jesus Christ. Rather, following Ellul, he said that Christians had a propensity to turn Christian revelation into a religion. Frank’s lecture, like Christian revelation itself, not only exposed and confronted religion, but also pointed to the possibility of liberation from religion. In one sense he called into question everything that I had dedicated my life to, and at the same time he excited me with unimagined possibilities for my life. I left the lecture shaken but convinced, and asking, “How about the church? How can we have a non-religious church?” This question consumed me. I had never been so engaged by a topic for an academic paper. I read Ellul and Berger and had numerous conversations with Doug Frank, and wrote the paper. One paper was not enough. In different ways, the question was one of the strands of my MA thesis, my PhD dissertation, and my first book, Religious No More. I did not know it in 1999, the year that book was published, but I was still not done.

In 2001, after a church service, my friend Larry Dunn approached me and said, “Mark, I read your book Religious No More. Have you read Paul Hiebert’s work on bounded and centered sets?” When I replied that I had not, Larry countered, “You should.” He knew he did not need to say more. Larry knew that, once I read Hiebert’s article, I would see connections to my own work. Indeed, Hiebert’s diagrams and definitions captured me immediately, clearly communicating something for which I had been seeking language. 

I have been using Hiebert’s diagrams and concepts ever since—principally in my ethics course, but in many other settings too. As I wrote on the dedication page, students’ “challenging questions pressed me to refine and clarify my explanations of bounded, fuzzy, and centered sets.”  If I have been working on the question behind the book since 1983, I would say I have been working on the explanations of Hiebert’s categories, the first three chapters of the book, for twenty years. So, how long did I work on the centered-set church book?” Since 2018? Since 2001? Since 1983? In different ways, all are accurate. I do not know what the future will bring, but I think I am done—ready to turn in to Doug Frank the truly final version of my response to the question I asked leaving his lecture in 1983. The work on the book is done. The work of introducing people to the centered approach through the book and videos has just begun. Please join me, and let others know about these resources. Please share this link https://www.centeredsetchurch.com/

The middle paragraphs of this blog are adapted from Centered-Set Church, InterVarsity Press, 2021.

Passing God’s test or commands of love?

As children, many of you probably sang the catchy tune, with fun hand motions, of the wise man building his house on the rock and the foolish man on the sand. The song conjured in my mind a house built on a beach—a dumb thing to do. When I have read the text in Matthew or Luke I bring that childhood image with me and, frankly, give little attention to the short parable. Recently, I saw it differently, but before I get to that, another song.

One evening my wife, Lynn, and I started singing songs from our youth-group past; one led to another. I found myself signing:

Do you ever search your heart 

as you watch the day depart 

Is there something way down deep 

you try to hide 

If this day should be end 

and eternity begin 

when the book is open wide 

would the Lord be satisfied? 

Is he satisfied, is he satisfied 

is he satisfied with me 

have I done my best 

have I stood the test 

Is he satisfied with me? 

Our daughter Julia, who was visiting, disbelieving, asks, “You sang that? What did that do to you?”

 It is a song about not falling short, measuring up. What is the character of this God? What is the purpose of commands given by this God?  Evaluative tool, a test. Julia was right, a bad song, toxic, but in another way not outlandish, normal. It displays a common view of the relationship between humans and God.

The parable of two housebuilders comes at the end of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew and the Sermon on the Plain in Luke. What happens if we combine the song from my childhood and the song from my youth and read the parable in light of those songs? The point of the parable becomes: don’t be dumb and ignore God’s commands. Watch out; you better measure up! 

When referring to the commands in Jesus' sermon, many people refer to the upside-down nature of the Kingdom of God. True, Jesus’ commands contrast the ways of the world. But if we only look at the upside-downness of the content of the commands, we have not done enough. Let us also recognize the radical contrast between the God giving the commands and the typical religious ways of thinking about commands and God.

Joel Green, commenting on the commands of the sermon on the plain, describes them as “Practices determined by the gracious character of God”  (The Gospel of Luke, 280). A gracious God loves enemies, calls us to do the same; a gracious God is forgiving, calls us to do the same; a gracious God gives without expecting something in return, calls us to do the same.  

The commands are gracious in another way. Because God loves us and loves others, God gives these upside-down kingdom commands.  Jesus’ exhortations come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Now let us turn to our parable of the two housebuilders in Luke 6. What is the key point? Jesus says, “I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, hears my words, and acts on them” (6:47). The emphasis is on obeying, putting the words into practice. But perhaps the most important word in this verse is “me.” Who is calling for the actions? Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Now back to my childhood image, is this parable about a person doing a dumb thing, building on a beach? It helps a bit that Luke's version doesn't say "sand," but even more helpful is to bring the lens of loving upside-downness to the parable.

“That one is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when a flood arose, the river burst against that house but could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not act is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, immediately it fell, and great was the ruin of that house” (Luke 6:48-49).

One dug deeply to get to rock. The second person is not doing the ridiculous thing. He does the lazy thing. The ground looks ok, solid enough. He hopes it will work.

Listening and not obeying may appear to be ok. One might think, “Why obey these difficult, strange commands? I’ll be ok.” Jesus says, "no, don’t be fooled. You are better off obeying.”

The one telling the parable loves us. Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Based on the song of my youth, what would motivate me to obey? Fear of falling short and not satisfying God’s standards. How about based on gracious ethics? Obey because floods will come, better to be part of a loving, caring community.

To say they are loving commands does not mean they are easy. Like the hard work of digging deep in the dirt, they are challenging but worth it.

Out of love, Jesus calls us to obey the commands of Luke 6.

From the security of God’s love, we are called to love those hard to love, even enemies –who might that be for you?

God has given us so much; we are called to share from what we have received, to give, to lend without expecting a return.

As forgiven people, we are called to forgive. Who might God be calling you to forgive?

God receives us with a warm embrace, does not look down on us judgmentally. Jesus calls us to do the same in this sermon. What are judgmental thoughts he might call you to let go of?

Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Same Text, Different Lens: From Burdensome to Energizing

Tell the truth; don't steal; get rid of bitterness, rage, slander; be kind, etc. For much of my Christian life, I would have read Ephesians 4:25-5:2 as a list of infractions to avoid and positive things to do. In bounded churches we seize upon commands like these to draw lines to differentiate “good” Christian individuals from those who fall short. And the keyword is individuals. I most naturally read this text as a set of standards for individuals—a guide to individual morality. But what happens if I take off my individualistic bounded lenses and put on centered lenses? Recently, during a Bible study, someone in the group pointed out that the purpose of the commands is to ensure the thriving of the church community, not a means for individuals to achieve success on a moral checklist. I invite you to read over the passage and note how every command is explicitly or implicitly linked to the community's health or the thriving of others in the body of Christ. For example: "speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body;" "[they] must work . . . [so] that they may have something to share with those in need;” “be kind and compassionate to one another.” And even when the purpose is not stated, the single-word commands carry the same communal orientation. You cannot slander or brawl alone; others are involved and get hurt.

 So first, stepping away from a bounded reading and looking through a centered lens brings to light the communal nature of the text. It also deepens the interpretation of some of the commands. For instance, through a centered lens, the exhortation to speak truthfully calls for more than just avoiding lies. It includes lovingly confronting rather than keeping concerns about another Christian's actions to ourselves. Mostly, however, reading through a centered lens changes the character of the passage and points to the radically different character of a centered church. Rather than the verses weighing me down with additional boundary line demands, when read through a centered lens, they energize me! I hear the text saying, “Live like this for your thriving and the thriving of others.” The passage leaves me with a sense of the promise and possibility of a centered church community. It is a community that mirrors the very character of God. As the text says, as those loved and forgiven by God, let us share that love and forgiveness with others. How wonderful it is to be part of a group that treats each other in the ways described here.

Kicked Out of the Band: Good News or Bad?

Imagine you were in a rock band struggling to break through. The group finally signs a contract, but then you get kicked out of the band just days before the first recording session. Ouch! How would you feel at that moment? Now ask, how would it feel decades later if the band had then fallen apart and not made it? But how about if the band had become incredibly popular after you got kicked out? How would that feel? Let’s look at two people who had the latter experience.

 In 1983 a heavy-metal band, about to start recording their first album, gave guitarist Dave Mustaine a bus ticket home and told him he was no longer in the band. He sat on the bus stunned and perplexed. What had he done wrong? Soon, however, he became consumed with the idea of starting a new band and achieving success and stardom that would leave his old band envious and filled with regret for dumping him. His revenge-fueled anger drove a work ethic that did lead to success. Many consider him one of the best and most influential heavy-metal musicians. The band he formed, Megadeth, sold more than 25 million albums. It appears his plan worked. One significant problem. The band he got kicked out of was Metallica. It has sold more than 180 million albums. Mustaine has admitted he still considers himself a failure—the guy who got kicked out of Metallica and has not matched their success.

 In 1962 a four-person band in Liverpool, England was causing a stir. After two years of effort, John, Paul, George, and Pete had a contract. Just before starting to record, the others kicked Pete Best out of the band and invited Ringo Star to be their drummer. The Beatles quickly shot to global stardom; Pete Best failed in other musical projects, became depressed, and attempted suicide. Things did improve for Best; he got a civil service job, married, had children, and remained active in music. He never, however, had the sort of success that Mustaine did. Yet, his reflections on the past and what he missed because of his dismissal from the Beatles are much different than Mustaine’s. In 1994 Best said he is happier than he would have been if he had stayed with the Beatles. He stated that what he gained through his marriage, family, and a simple life are of much more value than all the attention, adulation, wealth (and all that came with it) that he would have had as a Beatle.

 The surprise twists in both stories call for reflection. Society considers Mustaine a great success. Surprise. He does not. Society considers Best unfortunate, surprise. He does not.

 Mustaine’s revenge-driven striving to prove himself better than others and thus adopting an extremely high standard of success seeped into all he did. It was toxic. His experience calls out a warning to us: are we seeking status and security through besting others? Do unrealistically high standards crush us?

 Best's experience, however, calls us to an even deeper reflection—not just about whether the standards are too high, but what values inform the standards? The default assumption for many in society is that Ringo was the fortunate one who got the lucky break. Pete Best thinks he was. In conversations in my jail Bible study, I regularly make the observation that it is not just many men in jail who have embraced a set of values and measures of status that hurt themselves and others. I say, "in office buildings just a couple of blocks from the jail many people have embraced a set of values and grasp for status in a way that hurts themselves and others." Society punishes one way of status seeking and affirms another,  but neither is the way of Jesus.

 What are ways that societal values and societal definitions of success may be infiltrating your being? Your faith-communities character? Are you grasping for status or goals that, in the end, will hurt you and others? Out of love God challenges us to repent and turn to the way of Jesus.

 What reorientation do these stories call you to?

(Thanks to Wade French for sharing the Pete Best story with me and point me to the book he read the two stories in, Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F___, pages 76-81.)

Enough for All

Guest blog post by Diane Clarke

 "22 We know that the whole creation is groaning together and suffering labor pains up until now. 23 And it’s not only the creation. We ourselves who have the Spirit as the first crop of the harvest also groan inside as we wait to be adopted and for our bodies to be set free."

(Romans 8:22-23, Common English Bible)

 For the last two years I've been part of a group of fellow Christians working together on our relationship with money, and specifically our attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors around our wealth. This group, which we named, "Enough for All," grew out of an experience I had ten years ago, when I heard theologian, activist, and author Ched Myers speak on "Sabbath Economics," a biblically-rooted vision of stewarding our resources so people and creation can thrive. Challenged, I tried to look more critically and biblically at self-serving ways I thought about and used my wealth. But I was doing this largely alone, and even after eight years, practical behavioral change was slow, small, and spotty. I really needed companions to witness and support the radical changes I was trying to make. As previous contributors of this blog have affirmed, profoundly countercultural work such as this is "against the current." We need to hold hands and do it together. I shared about Sabbath Economics with others in my faith community, and six of us decided to meet quarterly to work together on these issues. When we meet, we each share about our particular work, our stuck places, our longings, and our laments and concerns. I think this helps us renew our courage and commitment to this radical, transformative work.  

 In wealthy western countries like ours, we've deeply absorbed malformed, individualistic beliefs and behaviors around money that, collectively, have led to gigantic wealth gaps and scandalous, abject need in vast swaths of our country and world. In fact, we're so deeply immersed and implicated in this way of thinking that we think of our wealth as our own, as something we've earned. This is in stark contrast to the consistent biblical witness that everything we have is unearned, a part of God's generous provision for everyone, owned by none of us.

 I've been deeply shaped by this milieu. For me, a fundamentally important element of our meetings has been the permeating atmosphere of communal confession. It's a safe place to talk honestly about my struggles with idolatry around wealth (i.e., habitually turning to wealth to boost my sense of security and well-being -- a tragic quest, since this is something that wealth can never do). While each of us in the group has their own specific challenges under the status quo, I think we all share a common hunger to "figure out what God's will is -- what is good and pleasing and mature" (Romans 12:2). I've found that our work together helps unmask the empty promises of wealth our culture purveys, diminishing their deceptive power. I believe this communal, truthful setting is progressively liberating each of us to better hear and follow the gospel in our relationship to our wealth.

 It's a long haul. Ched compares the challenges of this work to 12-Step recovery work -- needed because we are in the grip of an addiction to "affluenza." I like the AA analogy, because AA identifies alcohol as "cunning, baffling, and powerful." The cunning part of affluenza for me is its ability to "fly under the radar" in my life. On the path of recovery, our group finds it necessary to saturate ourselves in scriptural views about jubilee justice and redistribution. This immersion in God's vision prophetically confronts our blind spots around our wealth so we can respond and change our attitudes and behaviors. Ched quotes Jesuit theologian John Haughey, who sums up our basic challenge, lamenting, "we read the Gospel as if we had no money, and we spend our money as if we know nothing of the Gospel." Our group came together for encouragement and support in this dilemma, so we could start working in practical, impactful ways toward God's vision of enough for all.

 Key Elements of Sabbath Economics

Ched's basic framework is laid out in his book, The Biblical Vision of Sabbath Economics. Specifically, he summarizes Sabbath Economics in three axioms:

 1) the world as created by God is abundant, with enough for everyone -- provided that human communities restrain their appetites and live within limits;

2) disparities in wealth and power are not 'natural' but the result of human sin, and must be mitigated within the community of faith through the regular practice of redistribution; and

3) the prophetic message calls people to the practice of such redistribution, and is thus characterized as 'good news' to the poor.

 Our Work Toward Recovery: Practicing the Household Sabbath Economics Covenant

In the spirit of addressing our "actual (as opposed to our professed or idealized) economic and spiritual values," Ched developed a practical guide, "Experimenting with a Household Sabbath Economics Covenant". Our group decided to use this guide to help us work "where the rubber meets the road." We're actually one of many groups throughout the country that have formed to "work" this Covenant, which focuses on our own specific household behaviors around surplus capital, negative capital (debt), giving, environmental and green living, consumption, solidarity, and work/sabbath. Different members of our group have worked on each aspect of the covenant at different times, as the Spirt has led.

Examples of Our Work So Far

I want to share a few examples of work our members have done, and some comments they've shared about the work so far. A number of us have felt strongly led to work on surplus capital. One couple has moved a percentage of their surplus capital into "community investment notes," managed by Calvert Impact Capital. Calvert puts this money to work with partners around the world who focus on affordable housing, microfinancing, environmental sustainability, community development, sustainable agriculture, and gender equity, among other needs. This couple said, "It is so good finally to be taking responsibility around our privilege, and to know that some of our surplus is being used to meet the needs of others, instead of just accruing interest in a CD. We plan to increase our community investments as we work toward simpler living."

 Another member finds himself focusing deeply on attitudes, saying, "I long for a life characterized by gratitude, generosity, and simplicity . . . . Simplicity can be complex, in Richard Foster's phrase, and I think gratitude and generosity toward God and others have to be my first priorities." He added, " It’s been good to be with others who are similarly committed and to hear their ideas and struggles, journeying together on this path. We are very different in our approaches and understandings, for which I am grateful, since the perspectives of others challenge me."

 What Time is It?

Because I've been meditating on Paul's letter to the Romans during most of the time our group has been together, I've often thought about what we're doing in light of Paul. Specifically, Paul rightly challenges us to be aware of "what time it is" -- i.e., to realize that we are gospel people living between the cross and the eschaton, the "now and not yet" of the Kingdom of God. What is our role as disciples in this "in-between" time? In Paul's framing (quoted above), in the current age we are to be willing to suffer "labor pains." But this is actually wonderful news, because these sufferings are literally the birth pangs of the Kingdom. As the Spirit of the resurrected Christ helps each of us do this transformative work around economic justice, we are participating in the blessed work of bringing in the "not yet" of God's heavenly kingdom. All of us in our group groan in some way under the status quo of gross injustices and the vast suffering of those who don't have enough. As each of us in the group faces their own complicity and specific challenges in the work, we're aware that this is a critical, costly part of our lifelong path of maturing together in Christ, of helping to bring in what we groan for -- the heavenly jubilee.

 Ched Myers and Elain Enns live and teach "radical discipleship" in their nonprofit ministry, Bartimaeus Cooperative Ministries. Besides Sabbath Economics, they have done extensive work around environmental and indigenous justice and solidarity, all rooted in the gospel vision of shalom. To learn more about their work, visit https://www.bcm-net.org. Additional helpful resources can be found at the Faith and Money Network, https://faithandmoneynetwork.org.

 If you're interested in discussing Sabbath Economics work further, or want to explore organizing a support and accountability group of your own, feel free to contact me at dmclarke@omsoft.com, or Ched and Elaine at inquiries@bcm-net.org.

The Need to Hear the Good News Again, and Again

People often think of biblical commands and ethical direction in the Bible as a test and imagine God gave them as an evaluative tool. I begin my ethics course by stating that that ethical direction and commands in the Bible are a gift from God. In responses that students write to the class, they frequently share how radically the idea of ethics as gift contrasts with the view they had. Often they reflect on how this new perspective changes their view of God (or at least it points to the possibility of seeing God differently than an accusing figure ready to scold them). It is both a very fulfilling moment as a teacher, to observe the positive impact of the class material, and very sad to see how many need liberation from this mistaken image of God and Christian ethics.

A God of conditional love and bounded group religiosity are intertwined and mutually supportive. So, a couple weeks later in the course when I teach about bounded, fuzzy, and centered churches I once again have a fulfilling and sad moment. Many students respond to the class by sharing how they have struggled under the weight of trying to stay on the right side of the lines of a bounded church and the God associated with those lines. Some write of having been shamed and wounded by bounded churches. Again, as in the first week, talk of a centered approach and a God of unconditional love sparks hope for the possibility of an alternative.

This happens each time I teach the course. I expect it. Yet this semester it impacted me more than usual. I had follow-up conversations with a few students who seemed both especially eager to experience an alternative and unable to imagine how they might do so. They had been Christians for years. You might sit next to them at church, in a Bible study, or in a seminary class and not guess that under the surface, deep in their being, they do not feel unconditionally loved by God. You may be unaware that they strive to measure up to the expectations of God and their bounded churches.

I talked to one of the students by phone as I took a walk, listening, empathizing, asking questions, and then talking about Jesus. I encouraged her to read through a gospel looking at Jesus and continually reflecting on how Jesus differed from her view of God. I suggested she do this with a friend of hers who I knew had experienced significant healing in this area. After we ended the call I kept walking; I felt a deep conviction. There is such great need, we must proclaim the good news that God is love; we must invite people to relationship with Jesus and help them experience Jesus’ loving embrace.

A voice within me said, “those words sound familiar, like saying, ‘we must do evangelism.’” Yes, certainly, but what I felt in that moment was a need to re-evangelize, continue evangelizing—proclaiming to not just non-Christians but also Christians the good news that God is not the God of bounded group religion, but the God revealed by Jesus Christ.

I encourage you to do three things. First, take a moment and rest in the reality of God’s love for you. What parts of your being need to experience Jesus’ loving embrace today?

Second, in settings where you teach, preach, counsel, lead Bible studies look for opportunities to more frequently proclaim this good news. Odds are in those settings, as in my class, there are people desperate to hear it. (And with our natural religious tendencies, the truth is all of us need frequent reminders.)

Third, pray and listen. Are there people in your life who in the depth of their being do not believe God loves them unconditionally? How might you help them know and experience that God loves them?