The Body of Christ, Broken for You: What Communion Taught Me About Church

It may not seem like such a big deal to stand there holding a tray of bread squares. Don't be fooled. It's a very big deal.

Let me back up. Two years ago I arrived at Prairie College as professor of Old Testament. I was ready to teach and ready to serve. In my first couple of weeks here, a colleague approached me to see if I'd be willing to help serve communion at our convocation chapel. I was surprised at how much this meant to me. Forty years old at the time, I couldn't recall having ever been asked to serve communion before. I've attended church my entire life -- not casually, but devotedly. If there is such a thing, I'm a professional Christian. I've dedicated my life to this faith, to this message. I've been to Bible college and seminary. I spent 15 years as a missionary. But I'm a woman. Perhaps that's why I had never been asked to pass out bread squares and tiny cups of juice to fellow believers.

For chapel we passed the trays down long rows. Somehow I messed up the every-other rhythm or sent the wrong tray first down the row, which meant that people were trying to hold a cup while passing a tray and taking bread. That didn't work very well (these things take practice, of which I had none!). In the end, everyone was served and our job was done. I felt mostly like an imperfect cog in a machine. Happy to help, but nervous and clumsy.

The body of Christ, broken for you (Photo: C Imes)

This year was different. This year at our convocation chapel those of us serving stood at the front of the auditorium. Everyone came forward to receive communion. I held the tray of bread as people passed in front of me. I looked each one in the eye and told them, "The body of Christ, broken for you."

The music was a bit loud. I'm not sure whether most of them even heard me. But something powerful happened as I said over and over, "The body of Christ, broken for you." I knew most of these people by name. I knew many of their stories. Some of them I loved deeply. Others -- to be frank -- not so much. In context of these relationships, those simple words became profound as my heart silently completed each sentence:

"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . whose body is also broken."
"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . whose spirit is crushed."
"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . whose mental health is tenuous."
"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . whose family is estranged."
"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . whose sin is still hidden."
"The body of Christ, broken for you . . . who is growing in grace."

A few people approached who I've never really clicked with. People who annoy me. They've never seemed to like me, either, but they had no choice but to come to me for bread.

"The body of Christ, broken for you."

My words to them were the same as to all the others, and this time the Spirit gently convicted me. Would you withhold love from one I love enough to die for?

I felt ugly places in my heart close over with forgiving love as I silently repented.

I heard a still small voice say to me, "The body of Christ, broken for you . . . who have failed to love." I needed as much grace as every other person I served. The ground is level at the foot of the cross.

This story didn't take place in church. It was in a college chapel. But it illustrates one reason why listening to a sermon via podcast can never replace church attendance. Sunday morning is not primarily an intellectual transaction, nor is it primarily concerned with my vertical relationship with God, though it includes both of those dimensions. When we show up together at the foot of the cross, divisions are healed, grace is conveyed from one person to another, and we become just a little bit more like the family of faith God intended. As Kevin Peters said in his message that day,

"Our God is radically relational. . . . God designed us to be connected to him and to each other."

Mark Jonah had introduced communion with Hebrews 12:1-2, focusing particularly on the words, "Jesus . . . for the joy set before him, endured the cross." Mark always assumed that this joy was the joy of heaven awaiting Jesus, an eternal reward for faithfulness. Lately, though, he has been discovering a new dimension of Jesus' joy -- the joy of restored relationships now. Jesus knew that his death would have an immediate effect on relationships here. That joy made his suffering worth it. That joy is the reason we bother with church.

Yes, the body of Christ is broken. But it's brokenness brings life to you . . . and to me.

Book Review: Chris Wright's "Old Testament in 7 Sentences"

This is a very sneaky book.

Choosing just seven sentences to summarize the Old Testament would be a challenge for anyone, but for someone who has spent his entire career deeply immersed in the Old Testament it's almost painful! Which parts can be left out? How can decades of study and teaching be captured in a brief and accessible way? Christopher J. H. Wright is no newbie when it comes to the Old Testament. He has written commentaries on Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Deuteronomy, and Exodus as well as numerous books on OT ethics, preaching, and the mission of the people of God. Wright is just the right person write this book. (Did you see what I did there?)

Christopher J. H. Wright is a giant in Old Testament studies.
Just a few of his many books are pictured here.
(Photo: C Imes, at the Regent College bookstore)

So what makes this book sneaky? Wright acknowledges the difficulty of an endeavor like this. Based only on the table of contents, I made a list of all the things "missing" from the book, important moments in Israel's history and key aspects of biblical theology (image of God, covenant formula, the character of God in Exodus 34, Israel's failure to keep covenant, exile, etc). By the end of the book, Wright had covered everything on my list. Back to my point, Wright has managed to sneak a massive amount of biblical theology in this slim volume. He may have chosen just seven sentences, but attached to each one is a wealth of insight into surrounding texts. His book is a wonderful antidote to Old Testament illiteracy (not to mention Andy Stanley's exhortation to "unhitch" from the Bible Jesus read). It would make a great choice for a Bible Survey course or an adult Bible study. Discussion questions for each chapter are found in the back of the book.

So why would I spend my time reading a basic introduction to the Old Testament when I already have PhD in the subject? I'm always on the lookout for solid resources to recommend. This book in particular piqued my interest because Wright wrote the foreword to my new book. I'm a big fan of his work. He and I agree that the Old Testament law is a gift, and that the exodus demonstrates God's character. We agree that our destiny is not a disembodied existence, but that God plans to renew this world and restore the beauty of creation (see page 27). We share a passion to help believers discover the psalms as way of bringing all of who we are into God's presence (see page 149). Frankly, we agree on just about everything. If you flip through my copy of the book, here's what you'll find in the margin: stars, "exactly," "right," "cool," and "YES!"

Where do you read #ivpress? I brought Wright's book
 along this summer on a 6-hour hike at Lake Louise
in Banff National Park. (Photo: C Imes)

I'm grateful to InterVarsity Press for providing a review copy. It's no surprise to me that this was an outstanding read. Wright's The Old Testament in Seven Sentences: A Small Introduction to a Vast Topic delivers what it promises -- a small book with wide-ranging insights. Light enough to bring on a travel adventure . . . inspiring enough to want to read it when you're there.

Author Interview: Patrick Oden

Author and Theologian Patrick Oden
(photo: Amy Oden)

I interviewed author and theologian Patrick Oden on the release of his newest book, Hope for the Oppressor: Discovering Freedom through Transformative Community. I've already given a synopsis of his book and you'll find my endorsement on the back cover. Here Oden takes us behind the scenes to discover how this book came to be and what he hopes will be the outcome for those who read it.

The content is worth the hefty price tag for this book, but you can order directly from the publisher using discount code LEX30AUTH19 for 30% off until July 15, 2020. If you still find the cost prohibitive, encourage your library to purchase a copy. 

What inspired you to write this book?

Life!  Well, that’s true but it’s not a very specific answer.  More formally, it started with my experience in missional churches back in the 1990s. All was an attempt to embrace a very holistic community, getting outside the structures and programs of the establishment, including forms of controlling leadership.  All the while, I was reading Newbiggin, Hirsch, and other missional writers alongside academic theologians like Pannenberg and Moltmann. I realized there was a shared ecclesiology. I wrote a book, It’s a Dance, that covered key themes of the Spirit’s work, and that led to PhD studies, to explore more about this connection. My goal was to put emerging/missional churches in conversation with Moltmann, who is the grandfather of liberation theologies.

Early on in my studies, I realized that a lot of what these churches were doing sounded like the efforts of liberation theologies, only directed toward the industrial West rather than oppressed. It was an ecclesiology that shared liberation methods, but to oppressors! And Moltmann has argued over the decades that liberation has to happen from both directions, the oppressed need to be liberated from oppression and the oppressors have to be liberated from oppressing. Both together. I realized I was onto something, that there was a practical community oriented approach that encouraged people to live in new ways.

There was a lot written on liberation of the oppressed, but very little about truly liberating the oppressors.  When I got started on my dissertation, I realized I had to first provide a focus on Moltmann’s ecclesiology, showing he has argued for a liberation of the oppressors since his earliest works.  I had to start with the model of the church, and only then could I think about the bigger picture.

The dissertation was published by Fortress as The TransformativeChurch, so it was time to get to the heart of the project. My key question was what would a liberation of the oppressor look like if we listened to Moltmann’s caution to not start with what they have to give up, but instead point to what they have to gain. That is, I realized I needed to offer a positive approach to liberation, and that meant I had to go a very different direction than most of the ‘prophetic’ books written on contemporary political and social challenges—all while not ignoring the need for transformation, reconciliation, and justice.

Describe your ideal reader. Who did you have in mind as you wrote?   

My ideal reader is anyone who is aware that we have big problems in our society and wants to find new paths forward. This could be either because they’re frustrated by the dysfunctional rhetoric but don’t know how to think about these themes differently, or because they are yearning for their own freedom and wanting to understand how to lead well in their context.
  I’ve also tried to go beyond the American context and would love to have a global readership, since oppression happens all over the world.

One of the critiques of an earlier draft was that I wasn’t ‘prophetic’ enough. I got to thinking how it was too easy to just address issues in ways that would be preaching to the choir. So, given my academic audience, I’ve made pointed remarks about the particular kind of oppressing that happens in academia, and how we’ve excused ourselves. 

One of the most illuminating parts of your book to me personally was your discussion of how systems depend upon the anonymity of participants -- that individuals only matter so long as they contribute to the maintenance of the overall system. How is this the case today in higher education?

Higher education is in a challenging era. The goal of education should be, presumably, education. But there’s a lot of money, power, and status in the mix, and all that contributes to arrangements focused more on perpetuation than education.  A never-ending supply of students paying exorbitant sums have to keep passing through. In many cases they only deal with teaching assistants or adjuncts rather than full-time faculty. And if the students can’t pay, there’s no concern about their personhood or potential, it’s out they go. 

With faculty, much of the growth of institutions has been built on expansive use of adjuncts. Lured into PhD programs, they graduate with passion, significant knowledge about a narrow subject, and often very few other professional skills. They then become cogs in the system, treated as disposable because of the flood of candidates for any given position. More and more PhDs are produced without regard to their job futures, in order to continue to float the prestige that comes from having PhD programs, and the low-cost labor they provide. Those who finish have to stay in the system in order to hope for eventual validation via a permanent position.

Until they do find a position, life can be very hard, trying to navigate all the demands with very little pay and benefits. Adjuncts don’t matter as people, they’re just needed to help the institution continue. Students likewise often don’t care about professors as real people. They’re hoops to navigate on the way to graduation. While many are frustrated at this, most are unwilling to push for change, lest they lose their spot in the system.

You identify yourself as part of the problem, but your family has also been part of the solution. How did your grandfather learn to work outside the power systems of his day?

My grandfather was a farmer in Southern California, beginning in the late 1930s. When his Japanese neighbors were forcibly removed from their land during World War 2, my grandfather was among those who worked their land and made sure that all their bills were paid and the land wasn’t sold off. My grandfather, and my great grandfather as well, were real neighbors, willing to sacrifice their time and energy for those the government deemed untrusted. The Powers of that time acted in anxiety and greed. My grandfather farmed the land so the loss would be minimized.

During and after the war, my grandfather also began working extensively with Mexican workers as part of what was called the Bracero program.  There was, to say the least, a lot of racism and classism directed towards these laborers. As he worked with them, he learned the language and began developing a calling to both minister to them and to train more ministers. He had a degree from Biola, so his farming and ministry training went hand in hand. After he lost his farm because of a few years of bad storms, he saw this as a cue from God to start a Bible college and training center for Mexican pastors.

He made it his life work to empower men and women leaders, and spread the Gospel among those the power structures often ignored.  His method was just starting it and doing it, not waiting for others.  I think of that as the California spirit put to a fruitful use rather than greed.

If you could give readers one takeaway, what would it be?

When it comes to liberating the oppressors, start by looking at yourself.
 We get seduced by the systems to perpetuate them -- whether it be politics, religion, or education -- and we actually contribute to the oppressing even when we might be against these patterns. We want change from others, we assert power, then the struggle for control continues. If we’re not willing to do it in our zone of control, why should anyone else trust we want the best for them or for others?

If everyone considers their own life, their own workplace, their own neighborhood, and begins to live in ways that empower others, using freedom and choice for the benefit of others in real and tangible ways, all these small changes can add up to a massive social transformation.  It’s what I call a fractal community of God’s kingdom, the pattern of the Spirit working from below. People are looking to trust, people are looking for genuine community. If we do it, people believe us and see how freeing it can be. They then can hope for a deeper reality in their lives, and let go all their other attempts to establish meaning and power as part of the process. 

Book Review: Richard Mouw's "Restless Faith"

Do you wrestle with your evangelical identity? Do you ever wonder whether it's time to throw in the towel and walk away?

If so, this book is for you.

As president of Fuller Seminary and former professor at Calvin College, Richard J. Mouw has spent many decades as an evangelical. All of them, he says, were restless years. This book is his explanation of why he's choosing to stay.

These are trying times for evangelicals. Cultural pressures from the outside and deep disagreements on the inside make evangelicalism an uncomfortable place for many Christians. The most recent national election in the US, to cite just one example, threatened to split families right down the middle.

Mouw takes us behind the scenes in the institutions where he has served to demonstrate that evangelicalism has always been this way. He reminds us of the core tenets that hold such a diverse group together, suggesting that these central values -- belief in the need for conversion, the authority of the Bible, the centrality of the cross, and an emphasis on daily discipleship -- cannot be found in this combination anywhere else.

He talks about Billy Graham, Christianity Today, Ann Voskamp, World Vision, and the National Association for Evangelicals on the one hand, as well as Norman Vincent Peale, Robert Schuller, Rob Bell, and the National Council of Churches on the other. We learn about his efforts to promote Mormon-Evangelical and other types of inter-faith dialogue without watering down his own Evangelical commitments. We read of his lonely engagement in the civil rights movement and politics during the 1960s when many Evangelicals' only concern was to "save souls." He wrestles with the individual and communal aspects of salvation and considers the value of both hymns and contemporary worship songs. In the end, he advocates "holding on while staying restless" as an Evangelical.

Speaking as an academic, I did not find the book to be heavy reading, but rather patchwork autobiography in accessible prose. Yet one does not have to know Richard Mouw to appreciate his reflections -- his wisdom shines through on every page and offers hope for Evangelicals who are feeling squirmy in today's politicized climate. He concludes,

"For me, the only way to be a properly functioning evangelical is to keep arguing about what it means to be an evangelical. Restlessness in claiming that label has long been the way I have kept moving. I hope that many of us can stay restless as we hold on while exploring together whether the best way to remain faithful to the legacy is to let go of the label. . . . For the present, I am inclined to go with the second option -- working for evangelical renewal, rather than simply allowing the movement's label to be co-opted by leaders who have departed from the best of the legacy." (174)

If you share his restlessness, this book may be just the thing you need to refresh your perspective and refuel your evangelical commitment. Mouw does not suggest that we hold doggedly to the label "evangelical," but he offers good reasons to keep it for the time being.

Book Review: Ben Witherington's "Priscilla" and Paula Gooder's "Phoebe"

Two of the most recent contributions to the burgeoning collection of novels written by biblical scholars are worth reading. Historical fiction about the Bible is not a new genre. What's new is that reputable scholars, with PhD's in New Testament and an impressive array of other academic publications, are harnessing their training for this unique genre and publishing these works with academic publishers (in this case IVP Academic).

Ben Witherington III fills out the story of the biblical Priscilla, or Prisca, mentioned in Acts 18 and Romans 16. The New Testament does not tell us much about her -- she's a tentmaker and church leader with her husband Aquila, both of whom work with the apostle Paul, and mentor the young evangelist named Apollos. Witherington weaves these facts about Priscilla into a coherent narrative in which the aging church leader tells her story to her adopted daughter, who is coming of age.

Witherington's story is well researched and loaded with historical and theological insight. Each chapter begins with an excerpt from a historical document (e.g. Pliny the Younger). And yes, this novel has footnotes. Historical fiction is an enjoyable way to learn about life and culture in the first century, making history more accessible to students and laypeople. The chapters are short. The plot is believable. His interpretation of scripture and its context is plausible.

We're introduced to the apostles Peter and Paul as well as Apollos, the emperors Nero, Claudius, and Domitianus, seasons of persecution and pressure for the young church, the tension between Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus, the gladiatorial games, and even the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. We're given Witherington's conjecture about Paul's mission to Spain, his return to Rome, and his death -- none of which are recorded in the New Testament but are matters of great curiosity for biblical scholars. 

If I have one complaint, it is near the end of the book, as Priscilla and her daughter discuss the relationship between Jews and Gentiles. Their re-reading of Paul's letter to the Romans (chapters 9-11) is surprisingly flat. I've not read much of Witherington's voluminous contribution to New Testament scholarship, so perhaps his interpretation here is in keeping with what he has said elsewhere. For a stronger reading of that passage, see N. T. Wright's work. Still, my disappointment with this one chapter should not detract from the overall quality of the book. It remains a solid introduction to the contributions of women in the earliest churches.

Witherington's other books of this genre include A Week in the Fall of Jerusalem (IVP, 2017) and A Week in the Life of Corinth (IVP, 2012).  

Another outstanding book in this genre is Phoebe, by Paula Gooder (IVP, 2018) which reconstructs the life of the female deacon who delivered Paul's letter to the Romans. It's a page-turner and well worth reading!

How does a woman with a slave name end up delivering Paul's letter to the Romans? How does she have the means to undertake such a journey? How was she educated to the point that Paul chooses her to explain his letter? What did she think of the church in Rome? Gooder answers all these questions in a compelling way. She kept my attention from beginning to end. Friends who are not biblical scholars have enjoyed the book, too. Highly recommended. 

One of these days, biblical scholars need to start writing historical fiction on the Old Testament . . .

Foreword by Christopher J. H. Wright!

I'm so grateful that Dr. Christopher J. H. Wright agreed to write the foreword for my new book, Bearing God's Name: Why Sinai Still Matters (IVP). 

Chris Wright is the author of my all-time favorite book, The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible's Grand Narrative (IVP) as well as many other helpful books on the Old Testament, including the just-released The Old Testament in Seven Sentences (IVP), which I plan to read soon. Wright has a special gift for making scholarship accessible to the church, and he's devoted his entire career to cultivating biblical scholarship around the globe. One book I've recommended countless times is The God I Don't Understand:Reflections on Tough Questions of Faith (Zondervan).

Wright's IVP author page gives an impressive list of published works and ministry roles:

Christopher J. H. Wright (PhD, Cambridge) is international ministries director of the Langham Partnership, providing literature, scholarships, and preaching training for pastors in Majority World churches and seminaries. He has written many books including commentaries on Deuteronomy, Jeremiah, Lamentations, and Ezekiel, The Mission of God, Cultivating the Fruit of the Spirit, Old Testament Ethics for the People of God, and Knowing Jesus Through the Old Testament. An ordained priest in the Church of England, Chris spent five years teaching the Old Testament at Union Biblical Seminary in India, and thirteen years as academic dean and then principal of All Nations Christian College, an international training center for cross-cultural mission in England. He was chair of the Lausanne Theology Working Group from 2005-2011 and the chief architect of The Cape Town Commitment from the Third Lausanne Congress, 2010.

When I first read The Mission of God, I was beginning my doctoral work on the concept of bearing Yahweh's name under the supervision of Dr. Daniel Block at Wheaton College. I found that Wright had already zeroed in on this biblical theme and explained it beautifully, but he had not connected the wider theme with the command "not to bear the LORD's name in vain" (Exodus 20:7). I'm delighted that Wright found my interpretation convincing, and that he was willing to let this project bear his name as well. It's an honor to have his partnership in introducing my new book to the world!

Book Review: Oden's Hope for the Oppressor

You are part of the problem. So am I. But there's hope for us.

In this daring book, Patrick Oden invites us to step outside of the systems we've relied on for our identity and enter a different kind of community.

To cite just one example of oppressive systems among many, the world of white privilege is waking up one person at a time. That's a good thing. But often those who benefit from systemic injustice are left feeling awkwardly helpless. What can be done? Is everything I attempt just another iteration of oppression or paternalism? Oden opens the door and lets in a fresh breeze, inviting us to another way of doing life together. He draws on the diverse voices of men and women from around the globe as he makes his case.

I had the opportunity to read this book before it went to print. I'm so glad I did. Here's my official endorsement:

Hope for the Oppressor is a brave undertaking. Patrick Oden suggests that efforts to liberate the oppressed will never be successful until oppressors experience liberation, too. Without true liberation of all parties, new cycles of coercion result. But there's hope. He locates that hope in Christian community, where our notion of selfhood can be reconceived and our fractured selves healed in light of God's holy love. Oden's thesis is grounded in theologically rich readings of biblical texts and skillful engagement with historical and systematic theology. His book issues a life-giving invitation for all of us — those with privilege and those without — to participate in a different kind of kingdom. His book has the potential to fuel a revolution for those who dare to reexamine their lives in light of his claims.

Much more could be said about Oden's book than what could be fit on the back cover. The following synopsis of each chapter will give you a sense of his breadth of engagement, from classic theologians to systems theory, from spiritual psychology to lived experience, from the Bible to the early church to pastoral theology -- there's something for everyone!

Chapter 1: The Crisis of Social Identity

Oden introduces Luhmann's systems theory, showing how systems seek to define everything, but in the process they anonymize participants who depend on them. This chapter is illuminating.

Chapter 2: The Crisis of Self-Existence

Here he introduces Kierkegaard's concept of sin, namely, an expression of our anxiety in seeking selfhood as part of these systems.

Chapter 3: The Crisis of Becoming

Loder's spiritual psychology argues that oppressive behavior develops from a false notion of self tied to systems that perpetuate false intimacy. The solution is a reconstituted self in relation with other whole selves.

Chapter 4: The Liberating Way of God

Oden looks at biblical selfhood in the Old Testament to illustrate how oppression has always been the result of a selfish quest for self-fulfillment apart from community. The creation pattern and the exodus narrative hold out the possibility of a different way.

Chapter 5: The Liberating Way of Christ

The New Testament contributes a vision of a new way of life opened up by Christ, one defined by self-giving love in community.

Chapter 6: The Way of the Early Church

Oden introduces the writings of Clement as a window on early Christian communities. They understood that Jesus redefines personhood, calling the wealthy to radical generosity rather than participation in oppressive economic systems.

Chapter 7: The Liberating Way of the Desert

The desert fathers and mothers, such as Anthony, taught that we become who we were meant to be when we participate in the life of God and see ourselves in him.

Chapter 8: Hope from God

World War II-era theologians help us reconsider the classic attributes of God, showing their relevance for the Christian vision of the good life. Pannenburg demonstrates that only God provides a coherent basis of identity. As we're drawn into God's holy love, we become coherent, loving beings. Moltmann teaches that Trinitarian relationality opens up a liberated way of life, free from coercion.

Chapter 9: Hope with God

Jean Vanier models the relinquishment of systemic power. He embraced his own brokenness by living with the disabled, and he suggests that we become fully ourselves in messy and loving community characterized by mutuality. Sarah Coakley broadens the notion of systematic theology to include the arts and to insist on the value of contemplation and the primacy of desire as a signal of our true theology. 

Chapter 10: Hope for Transformation

Oden considers how the resurrection introduces a powerful hope for transformation that is grounded in this life. It rightly orders our passions for participation in the mission of Jesus.

Chapter 11: Hope in the Kingdom

Participation in God's kingdom requires vulnerability and the relinquishment of our need to derive identity from others. Honest prayer, love that flows from holiness, cultivation of belonging, exercise of forgiveness -- all these make possible the re-orientation of our disordered loves.

Chapter 12: Hope among Community

Participation in loving community provides a way forward. Self-denial, forgiveness, and openness to others makes possible a new kind of life. We can only be our true selves in this kind of community.

Chapter 13: Conclusion

Oden's concluding chapter gives a retrospect of the book's argument, weaknesses, and challenges. 

Patrick Oden deserves our thanks for his careful scholarship, pastoral sensitivity, and illuminating vision of Christian community. You can pre-order his book here. If your personal budget is strained at the moment, encourage your school's library to purchase a copy.