Tuesday
Aug032010
Another Totem on the Pole (or Brick in the Wall)
Bernie Anderson
I don’t remember the exact day it dawned on me that the Mongolian populace really doesn’t care whether I live in Mongolia or not. There are in fact some Mongolians who would just assume that I stayed here in Franklin, TN. I don’t remember if it was a day my ignorance of the Mongolian language was taken advantage of and I paid way more for a shoe shine than I ever should have. It may have been the day I punched a guy for trying to steal my camera, or the day I nearly came to blows with another man in the market because of his mistreatment of my wife. Whichever day it was, I know that the Mongolian people are not gathered rejoicing that the Anderson family lives in Ulaanbaatar (at least four out of five years). Hard to believe, I know. But it’s true.
I’ve figured something else out (I’m slow and incredibly egocentric when it comes to these things). The same is true when it comes to living in America. There are no ticker-tape parades celebrating the fact that a former pastor, missionary (err… International Worker) family is now living Stateside. There may have been a day when that would have been different. Possibly. Frankly, I am happy there were no parades and I despise the celebrity making of Christian workers who are supposed to be servants. So it’s all good.
As we reconnect with Southern US, Franklin, TN culture, I am seeing the obvious: things have changed and are changing. I am not an anthropologist or a sociologist or an any-kind-of-ologist. I have learned over the years that Christian ministry requires skills in exegeting the Word as well as exegeting the culture. The Word and culture must connect in a way that both heaven-reaching meaning and oak-rooted truth live peaceably with each other. This is contextualization, and is necessary work in both Franklin and Ulaanbaatar.
American culture has shifted in the past four years. It’s not really even that subtle. People are generally satisfied with their lives. There is little “need” at a conscious level. We are a truly post-Christian age. Albert Mohler makes this observation in a Newsweek article that was published last year:
"The post-Christian narrative is radically different; it offers spirituality, however defined, without binding authority," he told me. "It is based on an understanding of history that presumes a less tolerant past and a more tolerant future, with the present as an important transitional step." The present, in this sense, is less about the death of God and more about the birth of many gods. The rising numbers of religiously unaffiliated Americans are people more apt to call themselves "spiritual" rather than "religious."
There are interesting similarities between post-Christian American spirituality and the potpourri of spiritualities present in post-socialist Mongolia. For the most part, anything goes and tolerance reigns supreme. (Sidebar: Please don’t misunderstand. I am not for intolerance in the unloving, graceless, bitter way that the “God hates fags” crowd is intolerant. I am for finding the Biblical balance of grace and discernment). We need to seek how we are to engage a culture that is as interested in hearing about Jesus as they are about inner workings of the government in the Czech Republic. I once asked a woman in an Outer Mongolian countryside ger if she had ever heard about Jesus. She said she had heard of Jesus, but he “wasn’t interesting”. She followed the “yellow religion” (that is Tibetan Buddhism). I have a friend who works at a cafe’ in Franklin, TN. She has tried to share Christ with her coworkers, and they are no more interested in Jesus than the Yellow-Religion following Mongolian. One guy at the cafe’ believes in Kharma. Another believes all roads lead to heaven. There is a satisfaction in being a good heathen. Hardworking. Tolerant. Not a bitter anti-Christian. Simply satisfied to include Jesus as nothing more than another totem on the pole. People here and there will not be characterized by banging down the doors of our churches any time soon.
That’s what I see, culturally speaking. However, I am also wondering what the answer might be. How do we bring attention to need without carrying signs and yelling at people on street corners? I am pretty sure that Jesus will not generally be received this way. Nor will we. On the other hand, we must engage people in the conversation. People are not going to hear about Christ nor receive His grace because we simply exist.
I told a story at our church’s VBS last week. It was a story Jesus told about two men, a religious-worker-pastor-missionary-type who thought he had it all together and a worldly-wise thieving tax collector who had clearly blown it with his life. One prayed extensively with extreme gratitude that he was better than everyone else and one wouldn’t lift his eyes to heaven for the shame of what he’d done with his life. One was ignored by God and one “went away justified.” It’s a potent story for those who trust “in themselves that they are righteous and treat others with contempt.” It was powerful when I told it to church children. It had to be powerful when Jesus told it to religious Jews. (See more at Luke 18:9-14)
I don’t know for sure, but it seems to me that current cultural shifts are making way for the rediscovery of the power of story. Perhaps this is the day for artists and poets and photographers and moviemakers and singers in the church to use their gifts alongside the preachers and philosophers to tell the Gospel story to this generation in a way that is subtle, surprising and powerful. It seems to be true in Mongolia as well as in America. What would it look like if the church became something of a community of story tellers, missionally proclaiming the Gospel in Christlike humility? I’m convinced this a conversation we should be having in the world-wide Christian church of 2010. What will this kind of community look like in Mongolia and Franklin and the million other communities around the world where the church currently exits, and is disturbingly absent? Grace is much more subversive than we would have ever expected and the story must be told. Will we be bold enough to tell it?
I’ve figured something else out (I’m slow and incredibly egocentric when it comes to these things). The same is true when it comes to living in America. There are no ticker-tape parades celebrating the fact that a former pastor, missionary (err… International Worker) family is now living Stateside. There may have been a day when that would have been different. Possibly. Frankly, I am happy there were no parades and I despise the celebrity making of Christian workers who are supposed to be servants. So it’s all good.
As we reconnect with Southern US, Franklin, TN culture, I am seeing the obvious: things have changed and are changing. I am not an anthropologist or a sociologist or an any-kind-of-ologist. I have learned over the years that Christian ministry requires skills in exegeting the Word as well as exegeting the culture. The Word and culture must connect in a way that both heaven-reaching meaning and oak-rooted truth live peaceably with each other. This is contextualization, and is necessary work in both Franklin and Ulaanbaatar.
American culture has shifted in the past four years. It’s not really even that subtle. People are generally satisfied with their lives. There is little “need” at a conscious level. We are a truly post-Christian age. Albert Mohler makes this observation in a Newsweek article that was published last year:
"The post-Christian narrative is radically different; it offers spirituality, however defined, without binding authority," he told me. "It is based on an understanding of history that presumes a less tolerant past and a more tolerant future, with the present as an important transitional step." The present, in this sense, is less about the death of God and more about the birth of many gods. The rising numbers of religiously unaffiliated Americans are people more apt to call themselves "spiritual" rather than "religious."
There are interesting similarities between post-Christian American spirituality and the potpourri of spiritualities present in post-socialist Mongolia. For the most part, anything goes and tolerance reigns supreme. (Sidebar: Please don’t misunderstand. I am not for intolerance in the unloving, graceless, bitter way that the “God hates fags” crowd is intolerant. I am for finding the Biblical balance of grace and discernment). We need to seek how we are to engage a culture that is as interested in hearing about Jesus as they are about inner workings of the government in the Czech Republic. I once asked a woman in an Outer Mongolian countryside ger if she had ever heard about Jesus. She said she had heard of Jesus, but he “wasn’t interesting”. She followed the “yellow religion” (that is Tibetan Buddhism). I have a friend who works at a cafe’ in Franklin, TN. She has tried to share Christ with her coworkers, and they are no more interested in Jesus than the Yellow-Religion following Mongolian. One guy at the cafe’ believes in Kharma. Another believes all roads lead to heaven. There is a satisfaction in being a good heathen. Hardworking. Tolerant. Not a bitter anti-Christian. Simply satisfied to include Jesus as nothing more than another totem on the pole. People here and there will not be characterized by banging down the doors of our churches any time soon.
That’s what I see, culturally speaking. However, I am also wondering what the answer might be. How do we bring attention to need without carrying signs and yelling at people on street corners? I am pretty sure that Jesus will not generally be received this way. Nor will we. On the other hand, we must engage people in the conversation. People are not going to hear about Christ nor receive His grace because we simply exist.
I told a story at our church’s VBS last week. It was a story Jesus told about two men, a religious-worker-pastor-missionary-type who thought he had it all together and a worldly-wise thieving tax collector who had clearly blown it with his life. One prayed extensively with extreme gratitude that he was better than everyone else and one wouldn’t lift his eyes to heaven for the shame of what he’d done with his life. One was ignored by God and one “went away justified.” It’s a potent story for those who trust “in themselves that they are righteous and treat others with contempt.” It was powerful when I told it to church children. It had to be powerful when Jesus told it to religious Jews. (See more at Luke 18:9-14)
I don’t know for sure, but it seems to me that current cultural shifts are making way for the rediscovery of the power of story. Perhaps this is the day for artists and poets and photographers and moviemakers and singers in the church to use their gifts alongside the preachers and philosophers to tell the Gospel story to this generation in a way that is subtle, surprising and powerful. It seems to be true in Mongolia as well as in America. What would it look like if the church became something of a community of story tellers, missionally proclaiming the Gospel in Christlike humility? I’m convinced this a conversation we should be having in the world-wide Christian church of 2010. What will this kind of community look like in Mongolia and Franklin and the million other communities around the world where the church currently exits, and is disturbingly absent? Grace is much more subversive than we would have ever expected and the story must be told. Will we be bold enough to tell it?
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