Preston Sprinkle's Blog, page 4

Americans have many earthly freedoms. Freedom to vote, freedom not to vote. We are free to marry, have children, own property, travel across the country and into most countries in the world. We can bear arms or not bear arms; we can even hunt bears if they’re in season. America is, as the saying goes, the land of the free.

But American Christians have a dilemma. Our earthly freedoms were relativized when we submitted to the Lordship of King Jesus. We march to the beat of a different drum and follow a Savior who breathed out a countercultural ethic when he called us to come die with him. And when we gave our allegiance to Jesus, we exchanged our earthly freedoms for the scandalous freedom of submitting to our risen King, a King who gave up his own freedoms as the son of God to serve those who were against him.

Christians are, indeed, free. Free to serve, free to give, free to love our neighbors and enemies alike. We are free to “follow the Lamb wherever he goes” (Rev 14:4), even if it means giving up our earthly freedoms in the process. On the night Jesus was betrayed, he gave up his divine freedom to be served and instead opted to serve (John 13:1-17). He shed his outer garments and took the form of a household slave to wash the disciples’ feet—including the feet of Judas who was betraying him. And then he commanded us to do the same: “I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet” (John 13:14).

Our national freedoms allows us to serve ourselves, defend ourselves, and love ourselves. But these freedoms conflict with our heavenly freedom for selfless sacrifice, radical generosity, and a countercultural love which includes our enemies. We should joyfully lay down our passports and pick up a cross to “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.”

Freedom does not mean we do whatever we want. It means we’re finally released from the bondage of self and sin, to do whatever Jesus wants—to become servants of all people and wash the feet of even those who betray us.

Above all, you must live as citizens of heaven, conducting yourselves in a manner worthy of the Good News about Christ (Phil 1:27 NLT)

 

This post was originally published as a devotional for Sword of the Spirit Ministry. Check out their website for many more great resources! 

God’s scandalous grace invaded Portage, Wisconsin, with unwelcomed splendor in April of 1994. It targeted a criminal serving multiple life-sentences in the Columbia Correctional Institution. It’s not uncommon for thieves and murderers in prison to receive God’s grace, but this day was different. The person who attracted God’s love was a man who killed 17 young men.

Reviled as the epitome of human depravity—if human is even a fitting term—Jeffrey Dahmer turned heads and stomachs with his horrible acts of terror.

His vial behavior elicited a shocking and nauseating response when it hit the news in the early 90’s. How is it possible that a human conscience can become so seared, so cemented in depravity, that one would fornicate and then eat dead bodies? America—a country that doesn’t lack imagination when it comes to immorality—was stunned with disbelief. But what happened in April of 1994 trumps Dahmer’s depravity.

While in prison, Jeffrey Dahmer gave a TV interview and mentioned in passing that he wished he could find some inner peace. A Christian woman named Mary Mott saw the interview and immediately thought, I know where you can find inner peace, and so she mailed several Bible studies to Dahmer. He received them and, to Mary’s surprise, he immediately worked through all the studies and wrote Mary Mott back asking for more.

And so she sent more. After a while, Mott contacted Ron Ratcliff, a minister who lived near the prison, and asked him to visit Dahmer to share the gospel with him. Ratcliff nervously agreed, and so he told Dahmer the good news about Jesus, answered some questions, studied the Bible with him, and eventually saw God’s grace enter Jeffrey Dahmer’s soul and transform his eternal destiny. After receiving Christ and repenting from his sin, Jeffrey Dahmer was baptized on May 10th, 1994.

God, yet again, had transformed an unworthy sinner into a spotless saint. Dahmer’s blood stained hands were washed clean with the blood of the Lamb. All the acts of murder, pedophilia, necrophilia and cannibalism where removed as far as the east is from the west—no longer to be remembered. Six months later, Dahmer was killed by an inmate with a broomstick, and now, as far as we know, he’s in the loving arms of Jesus.

Such splendor of grace, however, was unwelcomed when it invaded Portage. Many people—especially Christians—were cynical, doubtful, or even angry over Dahmer’s “religious experience” in prison. Ron Ratcliff talks about his encounter with other Christians after they heard about Dahmer’s conversion. Ratcliff recollects:

One of the most common questions put to me about Jeff has to do with the sincerity of his faith. And I usually hear this from Christians. They ask if Jeff was truly sincere in his desire for baptism and in his Christian life. My answer is always the same: Yes, I am convinced he was sincere.

Ratcliff admits that this question bothers him. “Why question the sincerity of another person’s faith?” If a person confesses Christ and yet does not demonstrate any evidence that the confession was genuine, then there’s room to doubt. But the cynicism lobbed at Dahmer’s conversion did not focus on his post-converted life—whether or not he demonstrated faith and obedience—but the heinous evil he committed before he came to Christ. “Jeff was judged not by his faith, but by his crimes.” God could not actually forgive Dahmer for his wickedness—this was the sentiment that drove the questions. We’ve got to draw the line somewhere. We’ve got to put grace on a leash.

But grace has no leash. It’s untamed, unbound, and runs wild and free. I bring up Jeffrey Dahmer not to defend his conversion. As far as we can tell, it was genuine, yet only God knows for sure. But the church’s response to Dahmer’s conversion is quite telling. The cynicism and doubt toward Dahmer’s conversion reveals a perverted view of grace among the Christian questioners. They believed that Dahmer’s crimes before God were too great to be forgiven. Or they desired—with Jonah and the prodigal’s brother—that God would judge the wicked rather than save them. Either way, we want grace to have at least some limits. When it runs wild and free, it scares us.

In many ways, the word “grace” has lost its stunning beauty, and perhaps through overuse, it’s become just another Christianeze buzzword. And so we use the word “grace” in very flat ways. My students will ask for “grace” when they turn in assignments late. “Come on, Preston, give me grace.” But divine grace is more than just leniency, more than just allowing exceptions to a rule. The grace of God is also more than just unconditional acceptance, which is the typical way in which grace is defined. Unconditional acceptance: God accepts people even though they have not met his standard. Again, there’s some truth to this, but grace is more than just acceptance.

The grace of God is more than just leniency and unconditional acceptance. Divine grace is God’s relentless and loving pursuit of his enemies, who are unthankful, unworthy, and unlovable. Grace is not just God’s ability to save sinners, but God’s stubborn delight in his enemies—even the really creepy, twisted ones. Grace means that in spite of our mess, in spite of our sin, in spite of our addiction to food, drink, sex, porn, pride, self, money, comfort, and success—in spite of these things, God desires to transform us into “real ingredients of divine happiness” (Lewis, Weight of Glory).

Grace is God’s aggressive pursuit of, and stubborn delight in, messed up people. And since we’re all really messed up—home school moms, porn stars, Awana champions, and suicide bombers—we are all equally in desperate need of God’s grace.

This post was the opening two paragraphs of my book, Charis: God's Scandalous Grace for Us

I wrote this article for Relevant Magazine last year and it's been picked up by a few other outlets including Faithit. I thought I'd reproduce it on my blog, as I originally wrote it. 

 

Christian subcultures are an entertaining phenomenon. Multiple brands of Christianity claim the same Lord and read the same Bible, and yet they promote a set of values sometimes as different as apples and orangutans.

I once heard a story about a Christian woman from the East Coast who confronted a West Coast youth-pastor, who allowed “mixed bathing” at youth events. “I can’t believe any so-called Christian leader would allow boys and girls to swim together!” She expressed her concern, all the while puffing on a cigarette. The youth pastor couldn’t help but smile, speechless at the irony.

I attended a conservative Brethren church when I lived in Scotland. Some of the women wore head coverings and none of them spoke in church. When I had our Irish pastor and his wife over for dinner, I asked them what he would like to drink. “Beer please,” the preacher said. “And for you, madam?” “I’ll take a glass of Chardonnay, thank you.” Were they liberal or conservative? I guess it depends on which subculture you come from.

When you try to cut out Christians with a religious cookie cutter, you not only tarnish diversity, but you trample on grace. It’s one thing for Christian subcultures to cultivate unique values. But it becomes destructive when those values are chiseled on Sinaitic tablets for all to obey.

It’s even worse when Christians expect instant holiness from recent converts—holiness, that is, in areas where we think we’ve nailed it.

It’s a shame that some believers have scoffed at some of Shia Labeouf’s recent comments about converting to Christianity, pointing fingers at the fact that he still uses bad language weeks after becoming a Christian. It’s worth noting that some are speculating that Labeouf’s conversion may have actually been more of a rather dramatic example of method acting than a true conversion but, regardless, many Christians chose to focus on his language instead of his heart. God only knows the true believers from the false. But to judge a man’s faith because there’s a residue of potty mouth?

Bad language may take years to weed out. Even more difficult to extract is the pride that drives judgmental Christians to mock the Spirit’s work in a man seeking his Creator. That sin could take decades to discover. Grace means that we are all works in progress, and God shaves off our rough edges in His timing. Just look at the thugs God works with in the Bible.

I know we’re programmed to see the 12 apostles as saints with halos and contemplative faces. But actually, they were criminals. These guys were more like prisoners than pastors, and few of them would have been let inside our churches today.

Take Peter, for instance. Peter walked with Jesus for three years, witnessing miracle after miracle, sermon after sermon. Still, on the night before Jesus’ death, a servant girl asked Peter if he knew Jesus. “I do not know the man!” Peter responded. And he even evoked a curse on himself to prove he wasn’t lying (Matthew 26:74).

Can you imagine if your pastor did that? “Good morning, church. I just want to say that I don’t even know who Jesus is!” We have a hard time forgiving pastors who commit adultery. I don’t think we’d know how to handle a pastor who had a public bout with doubt.

Then there’s James and John, whom Jesus nicknames “sons of thunder.” Apparently, they never made it through an anger management seminar. On one occasion, these two hotheads wanted to nuke an entire village because they wouldn’t let them spend the night (Luke 9:51-56). The whole village—women and children. Luckily, Jesus stepped in to prevent the destruction. These two holy apostles would have been better fit as bouncers outside an expensive casino in Vegas owned by a mobster, than preachers of the gospel of love.

 

My favorite pair is Simon the “Zealot” and Matthew the tax-collector. How did those two thugs get along?

Matthew’s vocation was nothing less than political and religious treason. Tax-collectors were Jewish agents of Rome, who mediated pagan oppression through taking money from innocent people. Imagine if you found out that your childhood friend was making a living off funneling money to ISIS. Would you use him to plant a church? Apparently, Jesus did.

Tax-collectors were more than extortionists. They were known for living excessively immoral lives and hanging out with all the wrong people. Religious Jews, in fact, believed that tax-collectors were past the point of repentance. Matthew didn’t have a moral bone in his body. But of course, after becoming a Christian, he immediately stopped sinning and never used bad language ever again.

Yeah right.

Simon, as a “Zealot,” probably grew up on the other side of the tracks. The “Zealots” were named such not because they were prayer warriors. They were just warriors—Jewish jihadists. The “Zealots” were known for killing their Roman oppressors or other Jews who were sell-outs. They were aggressive, violent and they did anything but love their enemies. Had Simon met Matthew on the streets, there’s a good chance one of them would have been found lying in chalk.

To build His Kingdom, Jesus handpicks what could be compared to the leader of the Black Panther party and the grand wizard of the KKK. I doubt anyone closed their eyes at that first prayer meeting.

You cannot sanitize grace. You can’t stuff it into a blue blazer and make it wear khakis. Grace is messy, offensive and it sometimes misses church. To expect God to pump prefabricated plastic moral people out of a religious factory is to neuter grace and chain it inside a gated community. If God’s scandalous relationship with the 12 thugs means anything, then we should expect a variegated spectrum of righteousness and be patient—or repentant—when such sanctification doesn’t meet out expectations. God meets us in our mess and pushes holiness out the other side.

Not anti-mixed-bathing holiness. But the real stuff. The holiness that serves the poor, prays without ceasing, redeems the arts, loves enemies, elevates community above corporate success, and preaches the life-giving Gospel of a crucified and risen Lamb in season and out.

Through various blogs and podcasts and talks I’ve given over the last couple years, I’ve made some critical remarks about the church. As recently as last week, I blogged about some reservations I have about how the church (generally speaking) spends its money—or our money—on stuff that doesn’t appear to further God’s mission to share His glory among the nations. I’ve also publicly wondered about the effectiveness of how we “do church,” the centrality of Sunday services, and the lack of authenticity and community that most people failed to experience in the current model of the American church.

 

In the midst of my wondering—some would say wandering—I want to make one thing very clear. Any critiques I have with the way we go about doing church should not be taken as a critique of church leaders. The leaders I know have generous hearts, authentic ears, forward-thinking minds, and itchy hands and feet eager to serve Jesus and the poor. I’ve gotten to know dozens of church leaders across the country over the last few years, and I continue to be convicted and impressed by their steady godliness and contagious humility. And these pastors aren’t just spiritual Bible geeks. They’re the type of guys I’d still want to hang with if I lost my faith tomorrow.

 

So I genuinely apologize to any pastor or leader who has felt like I’ve criticized the work they are (or aren’t) doing. My primary question is and always will be: Is our current way of doing church the most effective and biblical way of cultivating disciples who make disciples? All my critiques of church are fueled by my love for the church—the called out people of God living as communal exiles in a foreign and hostile land.

 

To be clear and concise, here are some of my main questions I have about the current model of church. Obviously, these are generalizations and there will always be exceptions to the norm. It's the norm that I'm questioning. 

 

First, it appears that most of the church’s time, energy, money, staff, building, is focused on producing church services on Sunday. And yet it also appears—and many different surveys and studies have shown—that Sunday services play a small role in producing and sustaining long lasting discipleship. Someone once compared Sunday services to an “on ramp.” That is, they aren’t the best place for community, relationships, and discipleship; rather, they are the on ramp that leads to these things. Be that as it may, I would never hire a company to build a freeway if the on ramps to that freeway sucked up 80% of the budget.

 

I would love to explore ways in which our church structure and culture are centered on discipleship and mission, where Sunday gatherings celebrate that mission but don’t become the mission.

 

Second, and related, whatever “primary” gathering we focus on in church, it should incorporate the gifts and voices of the congregation as a whole. As it stands, our primary gatherings (Sunday services) are often dominated by 2% of the Spirit’s gifts that occupy the room (the preacher and the worship team) while the rest of the gifts lie dormant.

 

Third, I’m tired of hearing about committed Christians going to church and yet not finding any real, authentic, Christ-honoring community in church. At least 8 out of 10 people I talk to say they don’t have genuine community at their church. So many Christians are disconnected, lonely, isolated, depressed, struggling with life and marriage and drink and porn—and no one in their church knows about it. If I had a penny for every struggling soul I encounter, who has no one at church close enough to be real with, I’d have at least enough cash to buy a decent bottle of Scotch.

 

Vibrant Sunday services can’t fill he void of the intrinsic human need for relationships. Until the church elevates such need as an upmost priority, we’ll continue to fail to make disciples who make disciples. We might have to invert the entire way we do church to ensure that our primary needs are kept primary.

 

I have several other thoughts on the way we do church, but that’s not the primary point of this blog. My main point is to celebrate and acknowledge the impressive work that church leaders and pastors are engaging in. After all, they—you—are the primary ones who are exploring these concerns with me. We’re all after the same goal: Cultivating Christ-centered communities that live out the radical ethic of the New Testament together as a body. I’ve yet to meet a pastor who doesn’t want this. 

 

Let’s figure out how to get this together—even if it hurts. 

For years, I’ve been troubled by how many churches spend money—God’s money, as we call it. When I’m in church, I often look around at all the sound equipment, chandeliers, carpets, decorations, and everything else that’s “necessary” to pull off a church service week after week. I’m not a troublemaker, so I usually keep my mouth shut. But I’ve often wondered: Is all this stuff necessary for discipleship? Are there other ways that we could spend our money that would more effectively further the kingdom of God? If we pulled way back on our church expenses, would we be able to send more missionaries overseas? Or rescue little girls from sex-trafficking? Or help the poor around us?

Speaking of missionaries, I often think of the ones who are under-supported, or have returned home because their support ran dry. Or the many aspiring missionaries who never got off the ground because they can’t raise enough funds. I think of the two billion people in the world who live on less than two dollars a day—millions of whom are Christians, our very own brothers and sisters. Or the one billion people who don’t have adequate access to clean water. Or the 1.5 billion people who live without electricity. I think of other needs at home, in our own communities. The homeless, the widows, the elderly, the ten thousand refugees who live in my hometown of Boise. By the time you finish this chapter, more than three hundred children will have died due to hunger or malnutrition.

I look at all of this and I can no longer look away. American Christians give $50-60 billion to the church every year. About 18 percent of this money goes toward the cost of church buildings. The real estate owned by churches in America is worth over $230 billion. According to Richard Stearns, president of World Vision:

Simply stated, [the American Church] is the wealthiest community of Christians in the history of Christendom. How wealthy? The total income of American churchgoers is $5.2 trillion. . . . It would take just a little over 1 percent of the income of American Christians to lift the poorest one billion people in the world out of extreme poverty.

Have we made Christianity in America too expensive? Are we spending God’s money on the things he would spend it on? Are all the resources (time, energy, personnel, and money) that go into pulling off church services every Sunday producing radical, Christ-like disciples? It just seems like we’ve created an expensive machine called “church” that’s so dependent upon money (and lots of it) that it’s hard to sustain or reproduce. And the return—making disciples who make disciples—has been far less than what we should expect.

A friend of mine who used to be a megachurch pastor asked ten of his pastor friends these questions:

·      If money wasn’t an issue, would you continue doing ministry the way you’re doing it now?

·      If you had unlimited funds, would you have the same programs, the same types of services, the same staff positions, and everything else that your church is devoted to?

·      Would Sunday morning look the same?

You know what they said? Ten out of ten said, “No.” Ten out of ten pastors admitted that at least some—or most—of what they’ve created is necessary because it keeps people happy and maintains a steady or growing attendance. A church that retains its people can pay the bills, because more people means more tithe money. And more money helps sustain the expensive ministries we’ve created. And around and around we go.

On the flip side, if the pastor rocks the boat too much, or implements ministries that turn people off, or cancels ministries that aren’t helping people become more like Jesus, then people might leave. And if too many people leave, the church can’t make budget to sustain all the ministries. Or it won’t be able to pay its staff, or, worst-case scenario, if enough people leave then the pastor won’t get paid.

Please don’t get me wrong. I believe most pastors are filled with integrity and aren’t trying to make a lot of money from doing ministry. I believe most pastors truly desire more than anything to see people come to faith in Christ and then grow closer to Jesus through fellowship, teaching, communion, and prayer (Acts 2:42). My concern isn’t so much with the intention or motivation of church leaders. It’s with the system of doing church that’s been passed down to us (in America)—a system that’s inherently expensive and oftentimes overly complicated.

 

This post was adapted from chapter 9 "A More Simple Way" of my forthcoming book: Go: Returning Discipleship to the Frontlines of Faith (NavPress, 2016), which is due to release Sept. 15th. 

 

 

 

The following post was written by my excellent friend and killer author, Joshua Ryan Butler. This dude rocks like none other and his latest book, The Pursing God, is absolutely incredible. Here's an excerpt from it: 

 

Where was God when Jesus died? Some have characterized the cross as divine child abuse—the Father beating the snot out of his Son—to critique the notion that God is actively present doing something at the cross. Others claim if God left the building, it’s neglect and abandonment. While both of these are caricatures, it’s worth asking:

“Was the Father absent or present during the death of his Son?”

Exile is a helpful lens, I would suggest, to look at this question through. Jesus understood his death as bearing Israel’s exile–and our exile, our distance from the presence of God–in his crucified humanity on that tree. And Israel understood exile as arising from both the absence of God (from one important angle) and the presence of God (from another).

Let’s see how this worked.

Exile as Absence

First, Israel saw her exile as the result of God’s absence. God pursued his people relentlessly throughout her history, but Israel repeatedly worshipped idols and unleashed injustice—becoming more and more corrupt. God sent prophets and messengers to call her back, but the people killed the prophets and rejected the messengers, preferring to live on their own.

Israel essentially asked God for a divorce; so finally, God left town.

Catching his wife in bed with another man one too many times, God packs his bags and vacates their home. In a famous passage, Ezekiel sees God’s glory departing the temple, the place where God dwelt most intimately with his people. With suitcase in hand, God walks out of the “bedroom,” exits the temple courts, and leaves the building. It’s as if God is saying,

“I’m tired of her cheatin’ ways. She wants her other lovers; she can have ’em. I’ll take up shop in a heavenly hotel, and she can sleep around down here with whoever she wants.”

The unrequited Lover gives his wayward wife the separation she craves. This is the climax of Ezekiel’s prophecy.

God’s glory departs the temple.

Without God’s protective presence, Babylon invades. God’s presence was what kept her safe from invasion in the first place. God was her Defender from the mighty empires that surrounded her. Now, with her husband away, the cruel lovers pounce. With the King gone, Babylon swoops in to seize his kingdom: the pagan empire destroys the temple, sets fire to Jerusalem, lays waste to the land, and takes the people into captivity in a land far, far away.

Israel is given her lovers, handed over to what she’s chosen.

Exile arises from God’s absence.

Exile as Presence

And yet, from another angle, God is also present. In a sweeping turn of phrase, God calls Babylon his “sword,” her king “my servant,” her armies his armies “to bring disaster on the city that bears my Name.” (Jer 25:9, 29; 43:10; Ez 21)

What?! This is crazy. How is God present in the godless, brutal butchers desecrating his holy home?

God declares he is at work in this event: chastising his people, driving them from the land, giving them over to what they’ve chosen, in hopes that the experience of destruction downstream will shake them to their senses and drive them back to the life they were made for—with him.

So Israel saw Babylon as God’s “iron yoke” and “cup of wrath,” doling out the paycheck her injustice and rebellion had earned. (Jer 25, 28-29, Ez 39:28). “I am raising up the Babylonians,” God says, “that ruthless and impetuous people.” The prophet Habakkuk responds, “You, Lord, have appointed them to execute judgment; you, my Rock, have ordained them to punish.” (Hbk 1:6, 12)

Second Chronicles recounts this logic of exile:

“The God of their ancestors, sent word to them through his messengers again and again, because he had pity on his people and on his dwelling place. But they mocked God’s messengers, despised his words and scoffed at his prophets until the wrath of the Lord was aroused against his people and there was no remedy. He brought up against them the king of the Babylonians.” (2 Chr 36:15-17; emphasis added)

The Babylonian captivity is the sovereign judgment of God.

Throughout the prophets, God repeatedly says he is the One sending them into exile, driving them out of the land, carrying them away, scattering them, and giving them over to the destruction they’ve chosen. God is actively involved in his people’s removal from the land.

The prophets reveal that when God seems to have left the building, he may be most powerfully at work.

Here’s the thing to recognize, however: though God and Babylon are both involved in the same event, their motives are starkly different—even diametrically opposed. The mighty empire simply wants to tear Israel down, while God ultimately wants to lift her up. The pagan power strives to distance the people from God; God’s endgame is to draw them to him.

It’s as if God and Babylon are driving together through Phoenix, but God’s final destination is to get to Los Angeles, whereas Babylon’s simply aiming for Death Valley.

The same event is oriented toward two very different goals. And God is ultimately in the driver’s seat.

Exile arises from God’s presence.

 

Forsaken and Indwelt

As Jesus bears Israel’s exile–and our exile, our distance from the presence of God–in his rejection, crucifixion, and death, this same imagery is at play. On the one hand, the cross arises from the absence of God. At the climax of Jesus’ crucifixion, he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46; cf. Ps 22:1) God’s protective presence has left the building, the Father’s glory has departed the temple of Jesus’ body, and his Son is now vulnerable as the pagan powers invade to tear down this Most Holy Place, to desecrate the sanctuary of his flesh and bone, to demolish him to rubble and carry him down to captivity in the grave.

Jesus is forsaken, the temple of his body destroyed.

The cross arises from God’s absence.

And yet, from another angle, God is present in the crucifixion. When Jesus cries out, he cries out to My God! And you don’t cry out to someone who isn’t there. More so, Jesus’ final words are of trust: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” (Lk 23:46) As Jesus breathes his last, he entrusts himself to his Father and looks to him for vindication on the other side of the grave.

As we murder God’s Son, the Father’s arms receive the tattered, lifeless body of his beloved child.

God is present at the cross.

Here’s what’s crazy, however: God is doing something through this event. The Father is present not only over his Son, but in his Son. At Golgotha, Paul declares, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” (2 Cor 5:19; emphasis added) In Jesus’ darkest hour, the Father is actively present accomplishing something—the reconciliation of the world. Colossians declares in a similar vein:

“God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” (Col 1:19-20)

God is dwelling in Jesus, working through Jesus, actively present at the cross—and his endgame is reconciling the world.

As with Israel’s exile, however, God’s motives are radically different from ours: we are out to crush the Son, while the Father is bearing our destruction in him to exalt him as Savior of the world. We kill Jesus to tear him down while God is at work uniting us to him as our new head, tearing our corrupted body down in him to ultimately build us up and lift us up through him.

We are striving to keep our world distant from God, while God is—in the very same event!—drawing our world most intimately close to him. As Jesus bears our distance from the presence of God upon himself (in his humanity), he simultaneously bears the presence of God within himself (in his divinity) into our distance. The Father is present through his Son and in his Spirit at the cross, working to bring us home.

Adapted from Chapter 15 of The Pursuing God: A Reckless, Irrational, Obsessed Love That’s Dying To Bring Us Home (Thomas Nelson: May, 2016).

That title makes me think of a killer Pearl Jam song from the mid-nineties. Or was it the late nineties? Can’t remember. That era of my life is a blur for various chemical reasons.

Anyway, as you may have noticed (I hope you’ve noticed), my blogs have been few and far between recently. Part of this is because I was out of the country for the month of June, along with other 2-3 day excursions with my friends and family. Most of all, July and August are incredibly busy months for my job as VP of Eternity Bible College, which has left me little time to do anything that’s not related to recruiting students and fundraising. But I wanted you to know:

Oh, I—I’m still alive

Hey, I—Oh, I’m still alive

And I’m going to pick up my blogging rhythm over the next few weeks. In the meantime, here are some other things I’m doing that you might be interested in.

First, I’ve got a new website! It’s the same prestonsprinkle.com but it’s got a whole new look—and a blog. Browse around and see what you think. And let me know what kinks you see. It still needs a bit more fine-tuning.

Second, I’ve still been active on my podcast/radio show “Theology in the Raw.” I’ve been talking about stuff like:

·      Do you have to tithe to the church, or can you just give your tithe to the poor?

·      Are tongues and miraculous gifts for today?

·      Which OT laws should Christians obey? And why (or why not)?

·      And a somewhat sassy episode on how the church spends money. Sorry, but the church keeps giving me much material to work with.

I’m particularly excited about my recent conversation about racial tensions in America with my special guest, Dr. Michael Ross! We talked about the Black Lives Matter movement, whether declaring that “all lives matter” is helpful, what the church should do in light of racial tensions, and what it’s like for a black man to get pulled over by the cops. And much, much more. If you can only listen to one of these podcasts, check out the second one. It's probably the most relevant and engaging. 

Lastly, I have a couple books coming out this Fall: Go: Returning Discipleship to the Frontlines of Faith (Sept 15) and a counterpoints (i.e. 2 Views) which I served as the general editor titled Two Views on Homosexuality, the Bible, and the Church (Nov 15). I’ll be releasing some portions of the Discipleship book very soon. I’m pretty stoked about it. If you’ve heard me talk about church, the dechurched, the Millennial flight, how we “do church,” the church and money, racial segregation in the church, the death of the sermon, empowering the outliers, and why I don’t feel very “churchy,” well—it’s all there in the book. Whenever I talk about this stuff, I usually get a ton of responses from you all, like: “That’s totally me.” Anyway, I think you’ll dig the book.

 

Look forward to more blogs very soon! And thanks for your patience. 

In less than two months, the fairgrounds in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, will be filled with a talented bunch of non-Christianeze Christian musicians. And I can’t wait to be there!

AudioFeed is a rather new music and arts festival; it started in 2013 and runs every year around the 4th of July (July 1-3 this year). AudioFeed is more than a festival. It’s a community. Which is why I absolutely love it. If you’re anywhere near Champaign-Urbana (IL) this July, you’ve got to check us out! (Click HERE to buy tickets.)

I’ve been part of this community since its inception and there’s something addicting about the vibe. I can’t explain it. If I tried, it wouldn’t do it justice. You just have to come and experience it for yourself, and there’s no better year than this year. Not only will there be tons of great bands like Emery, Josh Garrels, Listener, Sean Michel, Flatfoot 56, Forrister, Noah James, but you will also hear from poet-prophets like Jackie Hill Perry, Propaganda, and Levi the Poet. If you don’t know who some of these names are, you should. Google around and check them out. They rock. All of them. And I can’t wait to be rocked and challenged at this year’s AudioFeed festival.

I’m also excited to hang out with my friends at the Bad Christian podcast—Matt, Toby, and Joey. AudioFeed is having a “Bad Christian” day on Saturday, July 2nd, and I’m going to be in the front row. These guys are a real piece of work, and I mean that in the best possible sense. Viewer discretion advised—the name ain’t no joke. They’ve got to be one of the most honest podcast dudes in Christianity. Imagine putting a mic to your brain and hitting record. Ya, I’m not sure I’d want that to go public either. But these guys don’t care. And they’re going to be there. At AudioFeed. Can’t wait to hang with ya’ll!

I’m also excited to hang out with my new friend Jarrid Wilson, who will be one of the speakers this year (I’m always the other speaker). Jarrid’s awesome. A brother from another mother. We had a drink in Nashville last year and we’ve been social media buds ever since. And this summer, we get to hang out together as we mix it up on stage with a bunch of Christian misfits.

And of course I’m stoked to see my good friends Sean Michel and Jay Newman, along with other fine humans whom I’ve met at AudioFeed over the years: Kevin Schlereth, Destroy Nate Allen, Levi (the Poet), Jim and Jen Eisenmenger, and Timbre who shreds on a harp…you’ve got to see it!

If you’re still yawning and not sure if you want to come, then here’s one last incentive. I’m planning on doing a stage-dive with my 7 year old son during Flatfoot 56’s show (Chicago-based Irish punk band…see vid below). No, my wife doesn’t know and she rarely reads my blog, so I think I’m good. It very may well be the last thing I do. Be there. And please bring some Advil and crutches.

July 1-3 (2016) at the Champaign fairgrounds. Buy your tickets HERE.

We’re coming up on Eternity Bible College’s second year in Boise, and I’m excited about the students God is going to bring our way. I’m particularly thrilled since as of this week, Eternity Bible College is now, officially, no doubt, yes it’s true—FULLY ACCREDITED! That’s right, folks. After 9 long years of pursuing accreditation, we’ve finally received a two thumbs up from our accrediting body (ABHE). There’s never been a better time to come to EBC! (Apply HERE.)

As I’ve been thinking and dreaming and praying about our future, the number “20 students” keeps coming into my mind. I’m not sure if this is significant, but it just so happens that my assistant, Lance Hancock, has also been praying for the Fall semester and he too has been praying for 20 students.

20 students.

We’re looking for 20 students to come to EBC Boise to deepen their knowledge of God’s word and become enflamed to further God’s reign over the nations.

One of the great things about teaching at Eternity Bible College is our teacher-to-student ratio. On average, we have about 10 students for every faculty, and some classes are as low as 5 students to 1 faculty. This means that our method of education is deeply relational and authentic—the way Christian education should be. We don’t put a cap on enrollment; whoever is accepted is welcome. But I personally would love it if we had 20 new students for this next semester in Boise.

I’m not asking you to come for 4 years or even 2 years. You can come for as long as you want, and we have several 2 and 4 year degree options. But I would love it if 20 students would come to Boise for 9 months for our Certificate in Transformational Leadership. This certificate has been designed for people who don’t want to become vocational, full-time pastors or missionaries. It’s designed for Christians—all Christians. Christians who want to become doctors and baristas and bartenders and artists and musicians and graphic designers. Christians who want to…you know…be a Christian in all areas of life.

Think about it. If you’re a Christian, your primary vocation is not to make a lot of money and build a white-picket fence around your suburban castle. It’s to be a disciple-maker, a culture-shaper, a kingdom builder. And you don’t need to be a pastor of a church to do this. You just need to be filled with God’s Spirit and a passion for the gospel—the good news that penetrates all areas of life.

20 students.

In Boise.

For 9 months.

We’ll learn together. Eat together. Drink together. We’ll hang out at my house and you’ll stay too late, and I’ll love it. We’ll study, ask hard questions, confess sin, pray, seek, teach, live, learn, and enjoy God’s bountiful creation.

20 students.

9 months.

Join me as we seek to turn the world upside-down for Christ (Acts 17:6). Apply nowHERE.

Blog RSS

I want to thank Doug Wilson for the challenging and thoughtful dialogue about the issue of guns, violence, and the Christian way. I’m sure Doug’s a busy guy, so in no way do I assume that he needs to, or desires to, keep responding to my posts. My flurry of blogs on the topic began as an effort to continue our Q Denver dialogue, but over the last couple posts, I’ve moved beyond the Wilson-Sprinkle debate and have tried to shore up some thoughts on the topic in general.

In any case, this will probably be my last post for a while on the topic. So I’d love to end where we began: by looking at the scriptural and theological support for what I call a Christocentric nonviolent ethic. But first, let me state a few things in summary form about our dialogue.

I don’t view the gun control debate to be central to the Christian conversation about violence and nonviolence. Whether “more guns means less crime” or “more crime” is a step sideways in the discussion about Christian ethics. Even if “more guns” does “mean less crime,” this doesn’t make “more guns” the Christian way. As I’ve said before, just because something might beeffective doesn’t make it faithful to Jesus. There is a certain logic to stuffing every murderer and pedophile and thief in a gas chamber, and this might lessen crime and make society a better place. But this doesn’t mean it’s the Christian thing to do. The whole “love your enemies” nonsense pretty much throws a wrench in that engine.I actually haven’t decided on what I think about gun control and gun violence. Based on the research I’ve done, I would certainly lean toward more gun control as a way to lessen gun violence, but I still have a lot more work to do. And I certainly believe that America is infected with a militaristic spirit, which is celebrated on a national level yet mourned when it blows back in our faces on an individual level. Such spirit inevitably spawns societal violence. In any case, as a gun-owner myself (I own more guns than Doug Wilson; hippee ki-yay…!), I’m certainly not against guns per se. At the same time, my values as a Christian are not shaped by the 2nd amendment, which, as a man-made law, is neither here nor there. I sort of shrug my shoulders at how earthly kingdoms try to rule the world—the Babylons and Romes and Americas of our day. King Jesus rules over all, and this will become very clear in due time.As stated throughout my previous blogs, it’s a shame when the discussion of Christian ethics cites a few verses out of context and then spends the bulk of its attention drumming up theoretical scenarios to try to show the impossibility—or at least inconsistency—of the nonviolent way. To be blunt, most American Christians assume a secular narrative about how we should use lethal force to defend our families, kill the enemy if he’s trying to kill us, and support our troops as our nation fights against worldwide enemies.Then, when faced with a scripturally based nonviolent ethic, they turn to theoretical scenarios to show that this won’t work. It’s odd that I’m the one who is often ridiculed for suggesting a nonviolent ethic; ridiculed by Christians. Our whole method of going about constructing a Christian view of violence and nonviolence (and gun control) is deeply syncretistic.I’ve still yet to see a compelling case, driven by Scripture, biblical theology, and early church history, for using violence as a Christian way to defeat or confront evil—that is, stopping bad guys from doing bad things. Almost every argument I’ve seen is profoundly utilitarian, secular, and almost completely (sometimes completely) ignores the nature of Jesus’s upside down kingdom. It usually comes down to cultural assumptions salted with a few (mainly Old Testament) verses taken out of context, which are then baptized in the bloody images from Revelation.

So, let me lay out my reasons for advocating for Christocentric nonviolence in the briefest way I can. The evidence for my following points can be found in my bookFight: A Christian Case for Nonviolence.

First, Jesus’s vocation as “Messiah” was loaded with militaristic expectations. The Jews expected a military conqueror who would destroy his enemies. Jesus’s posture and teaching was diametrically opposite to these militaristic expectations. In other words, Jesus constructed an intentional paradigm shift designed to create new ethical categories for how Yahweh followers are to confront evil. People who say that Jesus and his followers didn’t use violence because they were a small group and it wouldn’t have worked against the massive Roman empire should stop saying they believe in a divine Messiah. There’s nothing in the New Testament that shuns violence for utilitarian reasons.

Second, Jesus never acted violently to fight injustice or defend the innocent. And there were many innocent people suffering right under his nose in first-century Palestine. Jesus endured unjust accusations and physical attacks, and yet he never responded in kind. He was spit upon, punched, slapped (Matt 26:67), and had his head pounded with a stick (Matt 27:30), yet he never used violence to defend himself or attack his perpetrator. Jesus therefore models his own command to not “violently resist evil…but turn the other cheek.”

Jesus was tortured and crucified unjustly for treason, yet he offers only forgiveness and love toward his enemy. Jesus’s life is peppered with violent attacks, yet he never responds with violence. He embraces suffering, not because he is weak, but because suffering contains more power in defeating evil than using violence, and suffering is the pathway to resurrection glory (Rom 8). In doing so, Jesus shattered all Jewish expectations of how a Messiah should act. It’s not that Jesus just happened to act nonviolently. Rather, he directly and intentionally demilitarized the meaning of messiah and kingdom.

Third, Jesus taught his followers to follow the same rhythm of nonviolence and enemy-love. “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also” (Luke 6:27-29). Whenever violence is mentioned, it’s always shunned. There’s no biblical evidence that only some of our enemies are to be loved, or that we should love our nonviolent enemies, but kill the ones who are trying to harm our families or our nation. Jesus’s countercultural commands are unqualified and absolute. And whenever the disciples try to confront evil with violence, they are rebuked (Luke 9; 22).

Now, some will say that Jesus’s nonviolent journey to the cross was necessary for Jesus to atone for our sins. He had to suffer; he had to die. His nonviolence wastheologically necessary not practically mandatory for all. But the Bible says that it was both…

Fourth, Jesus’s nonviolent journey to the cross was both theological andethical. Yes, Jesus had to die, so he chose not to resist his death. But NT writers view his nonviolent journey to the cross as a pattern for believers to follow. 1 Peter 2, Romans 12, Philippians 2, and other passages draw upon Jesus’s nonviolent journey to the cross as a model for believers to follow.

The sheer volume of NT commands that flow out of Jesus’s teaching andposture in the face of violence is striking.

“Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse” (Rom 12:12:14)“Do not repay anyone evil for evil…”“Never avenge yourselves…”If your enemies are hungry, feed them, if they are thirsty, give them something to drink”“Overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:17-21)When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly” (1 Cor 4:12-13)“Let your gentleness be known to everyone” (Phil 4:5)“See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all” (1 Thess 5:15).“Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten” (1 Peter 2:21-23).“Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless” (1 Pet 3:9)“strive for peace with everyone” (Heb 12:14).The author of Hebrews commends believers for “joyfully accepting the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one” (Heb 10:34).

Again, all of these commands flow out of the life and teaching of Christ; what he said and what he did; what he taught and how he lived—especially in his last days as he journeyed to the cross.

By far, the most dominant WWJD moment in the entire New Testament is when later writers referred back to Jesus’s nonviolent teaching. There is no single ethical theme that garnered as much interest among our inspired authors as Jesus’s nonviolent posture. 

That’s kinda huge.

Fifth, even though injustice and evil were rampant in the first century, there’s no verse in the New Testament that commands or allows believers to use violence to confront evil or defend the innocent. Some say: using violence to defend the innocent or defend yourself is never forbidden in the New Testament, and therefore it’s okay. But given the dominant and pervasive rhythm of Jesus’s nonviolent posture and countercultural teachings on how we are to treat our enemies, I believe the burden of proof lies with those who think that violence can be used against our enemies in certain circumstances. There are many more passages which would suggest that Christians shouldn’t use violence against their enemies (Matt 5; Luke 6; Rom 12; the book of Revelation), compared to possible passages that would permit a believer to use violence.

Sixth, the pre-Constantine early church almost unanimously read the New Testament the same way I do. This is striking. Shocking, actually, and profoundly so. The early church could hardly agree on anything. They couldn’t even agree on the nature of Christ or which books should be in the Bible! But when it came to the question of killing, whenever early church theologians (whose writings we have) address the question of whether Christian should kill, they all say “no!” Origin, Tertullian, Cyprian, Athenagoras, Lactantius, Arnobius, and others always condemned killing; Christians should never kill. They even went out of their way to distinguish between unjust and just killing—that is, killing bad people who deserve it. Yet Christians aren’t ever to kill, even if they deserve it. Across the board, killing is always and everywhere forbidden. Christians should never kill. Here’s just one example from Lactantius:

When God forbids killing, he doesn’t just ban murder, which is not permitted under the law even; he is also forbidding to us to do certain things which are treated as lawful among men. No exception at all should be made: killing a human bing is always wrong because it is God’s will for man to be a sacred creature (Lactantius, Divine Institutes).

Anyway, that’s a 1,000 word summary of my 70,000 word book, and the most concise way I could sum up a very complicated topic. I fear that my non-pacifist friends have not appreciated the upside down rhythm of the New Testament’s prescribed method of dealing with evil. And, as I said before, I have yet to see a compellingChristian case made for the sanctity of using violence against evil. One that makes sense of the nonviolent posture and teaching of Christ, the New Testament’s pervasive repetition of Jesus’s nonviolent commands, and the early church’s strikingly unified celebration of this ethic. The early church would have yawned at this blog. To be honest, I tend to ho-hum all the theoretical scenarios thrown my way, in light of such rich and multilayered Christian reasons for advocating a nonviolent way of life.

Faithfulness, folks. Jesus calls us to faithfulness, not perceived effectiveness. When I face my Savior, I want him to know that I tried my hardest to live a faithful life which sought to replicate his own life on earth.