Cruci-fiction?

A cult leader in Beslan, Russia, is offering to ressurect the victims of last year’s hostage siege for money. Read story. As can be imagined, a public outcry has followed, even though several mothers allegdly believed the guy. Not that I blame them, their grief must be horrible, and any sort of consolation must be welcome.

Obviously from a Christian viewpoint, this is exactly the sort of madness Jesus warned us about in Matthew 24. I’m more worried, though, about the media coverage in general. Suddenly some lunatic in Russia is talking about resurrecting people from the dead – people must be out of their mind to believe such superstition. Nobody believes in resurrection anymore.

I’m no crazy Russian, but I do believe that one day the dead shall arise and we’ll all be together with the Lord. I’m not charging money for it, though, and neither is He. Maybe that’s why that doesn’t get the same sort of media coverage. Old news, anyone?

For all the Peoples

Two years ago I wrote this short piece, which was published in Collegiate Quarterly, Sabbath School guides for young people. The long editorial turnaround had me almost forget about it. But just last week it featured in the guide, as the piece for September 8. I do hope someone read it.

For all the Peoples

Isa. 56:6, 7

God has no limits. As Creator, He is not confined to one race, one nation, or one culture. Even in Old Testament times, His grace was not exclusive to the Jews. In Nineveh, one of the world’s largest cities, thousands repented. Foreigners who turned to God and accepted His covenant were welcome in Jerusalem. The temple was to be called “a house of prayer for all the peoples” (Isa. 56:7, NASB).

Even more so after Jesus’ time on earth. The apostles were shown through Peter’s experience with Cornelius (Acts 10) that the gospel of salvation is indeed for all people. We will worship God in unity, for we are all equal before the Cross.

But no two people are identical, and no two groups of people are identical. The Jews would come to Jerusalem for the feasts but attend their local synagogue the rest of the year. Today we no longer go to Jerusalem to worship, but “worship the Father in spirit and truth” (John 4:23, NKJV).We are united through the work of the Holy Spirit and the truth of the Word of God. And, of course, there are cultural differences.

A rural Midwestern church in the United States will not worship in the same way as an inner-city church in London, England, and both will differ greatly from a village in Papua New Guinea. Hopefully, though, spirit and truth will transcend cultural differences, so the love and grace of our Savior is evident in our worship, regardless of the setting.

A lot of things are changing in the world today with terms such as “globalization,” “network society,” and “the global village” having an impact on how we view our identity. Culture is no longer decided solely by geography; we choose for ourselves which networks and societies we wish to be a part of; hence we live very different lives from those of our next-door neighbors.

This obviously represents a great challenge for outreach and worship, as exceedingly individualistic persons will prefer different styles of worship. Merely lamenting this development would be pointless; instead we should continue to explore new ways to reach unchurched people and new ways to worship a Lord who is too great to be restricted to one human culture. And remember that to worship in spirit and truth is not about us and our desires, but about focusing on the God who unites us.

Back For Good?

Today it’s been exactly four weeks since I returned from my RtW summer trip. Time sure flies sometimes. And now I find that living in Denmark is, sadly, not that bad. Even my home town of Aarhus, which usually is way too small, actually feels like a nice place to be. I’ll probably end up living here for another year.

Don’t get me wrong. I would still love to go away, as I probably always will. But now I’ve come to accept that Denmark is, in fact, not as bad as I thought. But I miss the longing. I miss the all-encompassing desire to be somewhere else. I lament my own complacency. I’m sad that I’m happy.

I don’t know if this makes any sense. Actually, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.