| | Preface
What follows are the details of a transforming experience I had in the Fall/Winter of '01-'02 that I've never told anyone the full details about. The reason is this: I had no idea what meant until this morning and even now I only see the implications of these events in part.
During my first year of Tyndale I applied to be a youth worker/custodian at an Anglican parish in a wealthy area of North Toronto, and got the job. Now at the time I was very Baptistic theologically but I was willing to overlook this and the fact that at the time they had a woman priest because it seemed like a good chance to gain experience in ministry; plus they were paying me close to double what I'd ever been paid before.
Due to the fact that I never really bothered to understand the situation among the mainline churches I was totally unprepared for the rank liberalism I faced as soon as I assumed my duties. The youth over whom I had charge had up until this point, I learned, were excused from the worship service, retiring to the youth lounge where they played darts and foosball and generally enjoyed themselves. Immediately I set about to change this; during my first meeting with the kids, after introducing myself and learning there names I told them that every week we'd study the Gospel of Mark until we were done the entire book. I told them that at any time they could ask me any question they wanted, but told them that while we'd do fun things, Sunday morning would generally be reserved to study. During that meeting there was about twenty people at the meeting. Over the next few months the numbers shrank and shrank until more often than not there were no youth at the service. Nonetheless every week I showed up with a lesson prepared. Even if there was only one kid, I'd give over the lesson...and more often than not it was impossible to generate any kind of discussion. On two or three Friday evenings I organized a games night, where the youth could come and pretty much have the run of the church facility. These nights, oddly enough, were attended by as much as thirty youth, all the while my Sunday morning class continued to dwindle.
The custodial end of my job I actually enjoyed, really enjoyed. On Friday evenings I'd show up in the morning and prepare for Sunday's worship services. I putting the hymn-numbers up on the board, printing the liturgy sheets, cleaning the silver communion ware and all the other little things I'd busy myself with. The church building itself was very old and full of interesting things to look at. In fact I enjoyed it so much I began to think I might to become a janitor (I'm serious).
One Sunday after church the priest approached me and asked if I'd like to preach in the service two weeks hence. I accepted the offer and immediately started to consult commentaries concerning the lectionary portion for that week, which had to do with the preaching of John the Baptizer in Luke 3. That Sunday I arrived in church and was startled to find that I was required to wear a big, puffy cassock with a huge oversized white t-shirt over top. Needless to say, as a Baptist I felt very silly.
The sermon, I thought, went rather well. I preached only for ten minutes, explaining from the text, utilizing three points that piety, prestige and parentage aren't what entitle people access to the Kingdom. Only the one to whom John pointed, the very substance of the Kingdom would. I have a hard copy of the sermon in front of me, and while I can't say that I was that profound, I was organized and sensitive.
No sooner than when I hung up my big, poofy dress, the priest bursts into the room, demanding to know why I was so "accusatory" and "insensitive" in my preaching. The content of my sermon, I assured her, was completely drawn from Anglican sources. She informed me that that was to be the last time I would address the congregation. I almost quit right there.
The very next Sunday I had all the motivation I needed to leave. In her sermon the minister made mention of the fact that "Christians, for the first 1,800 years of the church indeed believe that Jesus rose from the dead" then she let the cat out of the bag..."but we've got much better ways of explaining that now." After the coffee social I asked the priest to speak with me in her study. I explained that I could not continue my employment. Not satisfied to let me go, she demanded that I tell her why or I wouldn't get my final pay cheque. "1 Cor. 15 says that if Jesus didn't actually rise from the dead," I explained "everything we do here is vain and we're the most pitiable people in the entire world. When I became a Christian, I didn't sign up for that and I'm certianly not here to tell people they're losers." Seeing I was convinced, she told me that I didn't have to come back.
Life continued and I wasn't phased at all by the experience...at least not at this stage. One afternoon about a month after I left the church I was sitting in my room preparing for an exam. My phone rang and to my surprise it was the priest of the Anglican church. I had borrowed a book of hers, she told me, and that I should send it back. Now I wasn't in the mood to go back there so I said that I would mail the book back ASAP. I wanted to be polite so I asked about the church, to which she said everything was tickety-boo. I asked her how the youth programme was and after a long pause she said "They've all come back to church." I ended the discussion, and wished her a nice summer.
Neither before this experience or after have I felt something quite like what I felt after I hung up the phone. As the flaming darts of the enemy pierced my soul I was overwhelmed by a flood of sheer disappointment, fear and nausea. I ran to the bathroom and vomited, after which I showered and took a 3 hour nap. After waking up I remember praying to God that if there was something else other that my own failure working in that situation then He should let me know. I picked up a Bible and started reading 1 Corinthians and by the time I got to chapter two I found something I was sure was an answer from heaven. In 1 Cor. 2:2 Paul says "when I was among you I knew nothing but Christ and Him crucified." Paul, blessed with charisma and intelligence came to the city of Corinth and spoke to them about nothing but Jesus. It was this preaching about Jesus that brought these people to faith.
From that point I became 100% convinced that the Gospel is what God uses to bring people to salvation, not gimmicks. Yes there are times when there is no discernable harvest, but that doesn't mean the God isn't glorified. Paul came to Corinth armed with what? Jesus. It worked. Right away I asked the Lord to never let me lose sight of this truth and He hasn't. From that point on I knew that ministers of the Gospel talk about Jesus because He's Someone worth talking about.
This is why, I think, I'm so averse to liberalism or any flirtations pertaining thereto. More times than I'd like to recount I've been labeled as anachronistic but the fact remains that I believe there should be nothing in church which would shift our focus from Him. Being in a church that compromises isn't worth it therefore, even for the sake of ministry May it be that I'll never budge, at least in this regard.
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| | Posted 4/28/2008 11:02 PM - 77 Views - 14 eProps - 10 comments
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