Generational Differences 2

If you're in middle age (like myself) or older, and you start hanging around young Christians, you'll probably notice that they see the world a little differently.

The chart below compares a few basic beliefs of older and younger Christians.

This is part two in my comparision of generations. 

I'm defining "older" as 45 and up, "younger" as 35 and under. (35-45 can go either way.)

Of course these comparisons are general trends and don't represent every individual.

In any case, a question that I ponder all the time is what these differences mean for ministry in and through the church.

What do you think?

Generational Differences 1

For the next few weeks I'd like to highlight the differences between younger and older generations, in several different categories.

This should help you understand your younger (or older) counterparts at your church -- or in your home.

Roughly speaking, I'm talking about the differences between church people who are 35 and under, and 45 and older. That middle ground -- 35-45 -- can go either way.

Some of what follows may seem obvious. But don't be fooled. "We" think "they" are just like us all the time, which they most certainly are not.

This week's category: personal values

You may find yourself relating best to some of the values of the other generation. Congrats. That means you're moving toward understanding. No small feat these days.

Outreach Strategy Extraordinaire

A sophisticated outreach program in a church or parachurch ministry might look something like this:

Level 1: Social events. Invite everyone!

Level 2: Content events. The Christian worldview is presented in a thoughtful way. Venues could be talks, discussions, debates, panels, workshops. Audience is seekers.

Level 3: Harvest events. An explicit call to faith is made. Aimed at friends and acquaintances who may be ready to follow Jesus full-time.

Keys to success:

• Everyone in the ministry knows at which "level" the next event is offered. Then members know who (and who not) to invite.
  
  
• Quality: Especially important at the second level, events must be excellent. Building trust with your own people takes a long time to establish (but, of course, only a moment to break).

A Level 2 event I participated in recently with some atheists

One last thought: It seems to me the missing piece in many ministries is Level 2 above. Topics can range from apologetic (existence of God) to educational (managing your money).

At these events you want your people to be glad they brought a friend -- or disappointed if they didn't.

A Defining Moment

Recently on a college campus in the midwest I was informed by InterVarsity staff about a certain philosophy professor -- "in fact, he's sitting over there" -- who sometimes talks with our students.

He's an atheist, of course.

I went over and introduced myself and sat down.

He had no idea what to expect from this stranger from Minnesota. Nor was I quite sure what I was getting into.

But after a few minutes of dishing up Kant and Hume with some Descartes on the side, we were off and running.

Two observations after a lively hour of discussion:

1. Scattered: Atheist Professor (AP) lacks an organizing center. His views are patchwork.

2. Defining moment for AP: came not simply through philosophical speculation but by "losing" a female friend to Christianity when they were both teenagers. Subsequently, his reading of a Billy Graham book "gave me no guidance for becoming a better person. It was all about conversion."

I'd like to be friends with AP. I found him to be engaging and enjoyable as we traded polemics regarding faith, ethics and the existence of God.

But for Christians there is something more important in this encounter than rational case-making. And that is . . . our manner.

Would the Christian -- me, in this case -- care for AP through careful listening and respectful body language (i.e, my manner)?

Would I truly hear AP's defining moment above all the philosophy-chatter?

And would the aging intellectual come to trust a Christian again after losing faith in us 50 years ago?

This May Make You Envious

A couple of years ago I joined a theological discussion group that is one of the best, ever.

Let's just call it TP.

Guess what happened?

The friendships in TP grew so rich, the humor so hilarious, the fellowship so sweet, the discussions so penetrating, that we expanded by 25%.

We went from three people to four.

One is Catholic. One is Episcopalian. One is Covenant. And one is a generic evangelical.

We're not looking for new members.

When I describe the group to other friends, they look at me with longing and envy.

Seems many of us desire to be in a fraternity where we are deeply loved and deeply challenged. Where the level of honesty and transparency trumps the superficiality that often passes for Christian community.

Granted, TP is an unusual group.

But your TP is out there, waiting to happen. You may need to quit something else (maybe five other things) to get your group going.

Try starting with just one other person. And in that regard I have a simple suggestion:

Choose wisely.

A We Thing

I've always thought of myself as having something to offer the ministry profession.

Lately I'm reconsidering that thought. I'm changing it to what WE have to offer the ministry profession.

Who is "we"?

We is the people who send me out there to do God's work.

I recently talked with a successful person in the marketplace who is producing a lot of service, but without much input in his life.

He's feeling thin. Spiritually skinny.

My point is that I got nuttin'.

I got nothing to offer students on college campuses or my cussing golf buddies or the Sunday school class that I teach or my pastor when I meet with him or the young couples without church homes that I counsel and whose weddings I officiate.

Quality input generates quality output. It's a communal thing. It's a we thing.

Some of you are part of my we. Thank you for that. Thank you for your input.

But lack of input leaves us powerless to effect change or make a difference in people's lives.

How's your input quotient these days? How's the we factor?

Doing Less

In recent years I've become more interested in doing less.

But doing things better.

Quality grows. Quality is a magnet for new talent. Quality succeeds, reproduces, becomes all the envy.

To illustrate, there's a certain team of five guys at my church that does awesome work. But they don't let just anyone join the team. You have to show yourself approved -- that is, you have to demonstrate that you possess the requisite gifting, discipline, motivation and teachability.

It's a pretty exclusive group. And highly attractive.

I want in.

My System for Loving God

Spend a few days with me and you'll find out I am a systematic person.

Not naturally, however. Not like Sharon Mattson, who just automatically does things in order.

No, all my systems are constructed. And I follow them religiously. Otherwise, I pay the price, as does everyone in my path: anarchy followed closely by chaos.

So a hard question for me is, What is my "system" for loving God?

Not thinking rightly about God. Not fulfilling my vocation in ministry for God. But loving God.

In the Bible I find that loving God has a lot to do with transparency, repentance and obedience.

It's also about having a sensitive and soft heart toward God.

I recently wrote this in my journal:

"Do I regularly repent and believe, or is Christian faith, for me, merely a system (or metasystem) for 'doing life well,' the ultimate utility?"

 Fellow systematizers, beware.

On Going to Church Twice a Month

You have no idea of the temptations I face Sunday mornings, especially in the summer.

In the few weeks of pleasant weather Minnesota affords in this season, it is vitally important that I squeeze in all the golf I can.

Because soon I'll be back in jail: Minnesota winter.

Plus, most of the golf I play at my club involves outreach to some salty characters who could use a good dose of Jesus in their lives. I love these guys and feel called to them. Often.

So that leaves me with about two Sundays/month for church attendance between May and October. And that's not even factoring in excursions out of town with family and friends.

But wait a second. There's actually a different way to do church, different from what I've said above.

And that is to place it at the head of the line -- the top of the priority list -- before golf and all the other distractions which I so easily justify.

This prioritizing is what Sharon and I have tried to do.

Not that we never miss church. We do, on occasion.

But worship and fellowship with God's people --  with "our" God's people, where we find our sense of Christian identity and place of service -- is indispensable for the Christian life. We cannot live (properly) without it.

I have no interest in turning this principle into a legality.

But the spirit of the thing, the spirit of active participation, of being there -- yes, even of some sense of duty (an old fashioned word that I hope will make a comeback), is what really counts.

I hope to see you in the house of God this weekend.

Steady as She Goes

My friend Gary and I were talking the other day about the value of being steady.

As a businessman, Gary has seen many of the young ones attempt to make their millions overnight. They flash impressively for short sprints but have no endurance for the long run.

Contrast that with my buddy Jeff, who's been in ministry at a large university for decades.

No one would accuse Jeff of being flashy.

Rather, he is humble, consistent, understated . .  . and, most importantly: effective. He's pushing 60 and still delivers the goods. His restrained newsletters seem to under-sell the ministry while still celebrating God's work.

I wish to emulate Jeff.

Friends, which will it be for us: Fast and flashy? Or faithful and steady?

Sprinter or marathoner?

The Law Requires. . .

I'd like to share with you one of my primary internal commands (command to self):

Rick, you are supposed to be busy, productive, responsible and well-rounded.

These aspirations require that I run pretty fast in life. 

Why do I do it?

The answer is not hard to find. But it is hard to admit: I must accomplish all these things in order to fulfill the law and be justified.

If you are a New Testament believer, you'll find this sort of justification, when it is named in such an obvious way, off-putting.

So do I.

Yet, the desire to fulfill the law, whether that of Mt. Sinai or another source, can be overwhelming.

My spiritual director, Wayne, often asks me why I do things. He doesn't show a lot of concern for the things themselves. He's fine with my being a motivated, productive person. 

He just wants to know what drives me. . . .

It's an on-going conversation. :)

I find this verse to be quite liberating: "We have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit" (Rom 7:6).

Perhaps this verse will be an encouragement to you as well, fellow laborers. 


freebibleillustrations.com

See you in a few weeks

Responding to Atheism with Strength . . . or Weakness?

The Portable Atheist features an essay by Emma Goldman, a Russian-born "anarchist" who was deported from the US in 1919.

She writes,

The God idea express[es] a sort of spiritualistic stimulus to satisfy the fads and fancies of every shade of human weakness.

Atheists often paint belief in God as weakness:

Weakness of heart in that we lack the courage to face the harsh realities of the natural world.

Weakness of mind in that we cannot think for ourselves but must invent a deity to worship who then spoon-feeds us the answers to life.

A proper response for evangelicals?

One approach is to demonstrate the strength of evangelical fortitude and intellect. Challenge atheist assumptions, find chinks in their armor, stand strong.

The other is to admit our faults, agree that we are weak, and demonstrate that broken people can find healing and serve productively in society with the help of Jesus.

The first approach is modernist and is likely to feel natural to Christian baby boomers and older, like myself.

The second approach is more postmodern and would be adopted easily by young people (and others young of heart).

My suggestion is simple: Be who you are.

Generally, atheists are modernistic and tend to respect clear thinking and firm foundations. If you can articulate your case against atheism and for theism, go for it. Sure, be respectful. But be steadfast and "rock-solid."

But if you are not philosophically inclined, just be yourself. Be your authentic, loving, praying, funny, forgiven, somewhat-together self.

OR, do I dare write this. Yes, why not:

Do both. Be strong and weak.

Be linear, clear, incisive, logical (if you can).

But also be vulnerable. Show your weakness, for that is where power is perfected.

When you are both weak and strong you'll have summarized in yourself the life and ministry of Jesus, who was limited to flesh and bones, murdered by mere mortals, but resurrected in kingly dominion.

Atheism part 8 (give or take): Reason vs. Superstition

One of my atheist friends accuses me of looking at the arguments for and against God from a biased standpoint, that is, through rose-colored glasses.

He thinks I presuppose God before the arguments are in. Such presupposing is called "begging the question," a known logical fallacy.

He further insists that if I were to examine the evidence and arguments from a neutral, unbiased viewpoint, I'd see that there are no good reasons to believe in God.

Note that unbiased is a demarcation word, a semantic blade that severs the wide-eyed believer from rational (unbiased) modern man.

Cool reason thus keeps its distance from blind faith.

But two can play at this game. 

I ask my friend for some criteria that, if met, would guarantee that his judgements are neutral and objective.

In response, my friend provides a series of "criteria for belief." One is this, which I shall call "X":

   We should always keep in the front of our minds a demand for compelling evidence in support of any claim or assertion.

But of course X itself is a claim for which we should demand "compelling evidence."

So I am not so impressed with my friend's call for objectivity. It's a much tougher ideal to attain than he thinks.

Neither should you be impressed with the cold confidence of your cousin or nephew or next-door neighbor who's newly declared himself an atheist in order to take up the fight of "unbiased" reason against religious superstition.

Fideism Considered. (If you don't know what "fideism" is, now's your chance!)

Continuing our discussion from last week, fideism is the claim that belief comes before reason, that one cannot "think" rightly about God until one has made a faith commitment to God.

For many atheists, this whole approach of believing without evidence is a head-scratcher.

They think, Why would you just dive in like that? What if you're wrong? How can you force yourself to believe if you really don't? And what about evidence that seems contrary to your position -- you just ignore it all? Bury your head in the sand?

Fideism tends to reinforce for the atheist the old saying by Mark Twain:

Faith is believing what you know ain't so.

My opinion (since this is in fact my blog :) ??

I think fideism is misguided, especially in its strong forms.

I remember sitting with the Free Thinker's Club at a university in California a few months ago. They tried to make me admit that I believe in God without any evidence or reasons for doing so.

So when I gave them my evidence and reasons, and actually considered their contrary arguments, they responded much like the Athenian philosophers of Acts 17:

We want to hear you again on this subject.

Friends, atheists are made in the image of God. Many are sincerely concerned about finding truth. Right there is your common ground, a basis for dialog.

We may not be able to provide perfect arguments for God's existence and our belief in Jesus. But that doesn't mean we have no arguments at all. In fact, we have some darn good ones.

And it is these arguments along with the confident but humble manner in which we present ourselves that may gain a hearing from our atheist friends and opponents.

Atheism part 6 (approximately): Fideism

One of my favorite Christian philosophers is C. Stephen Evans. He is sophisticated yet accessible to thinking lay people.

In his Philosophy of Religion, co-authored with R. Zachary Manis, he contrasts two opposing approaches to faith: neutralism and fideism.

In the fideistic way, believing tends to come before critical thinking.

There is no stepping back in order to rationally evaluate the arguments for and against God.

Rather, you simply believe in God. You commit yourself. You step out in faith.

It's only after this step of faith is made that you can think rightly about God, because now you're standing on the proper ground.

Any supposed "neutral" posture toward God is actually a state of rebellion.

Generally, fideism drives atheists nuts.

They ask, "Why do you believe?"

You reply, "You just have to have faith."

But then, "Faith in what?"

"Faith in Christ."

"Why Christ? Why not the Buddha?"

"Because Christ is true."

"How do you know that?"

"I know it from experience. You'd know it too, if you just had faith."

"You're driving me crazy. I'll never make a blind leap of faith like that."

"Blind? This is the clearest vision I've ever had in my life."

Dear readers, what do you think of fideism? Since I am out of space I'll comment next week -- and introduce neutralism.

Faith Expanded

A few years ago, noted author James Sire visited Macalester College in St. Paul where I was working (and have, this past year, returned) and made this statement to a group of students gathered in a dorm lounge:

"Faith is much more than logical. But it is not less."

He went on to say that Christian faith also entails (in addition to logic) emotion, commitment and volition. As a Christian you are embracing a person -- that is, God, not merely a religious proposition or the idea of God.

So while I share with atheists a kind of generic philosophical faith in the probabilities of certain things, (see my last two posts), this further step of committing myself to the Lord Jesus is more similar to a marriage than to a syllogism.

Faith is thus relational.

I say all this to atheists. A few of them get what I mean, others not so much.

Evidence and Religious Faith

Secular Student Alliance leader and myself panel-discussing
atheism and Christianity at Winona State University.

Atheists and Christians often disagree about the nature of religious faith.

One group says faith is blind, a leap in the dark, definitely not based on evidence.

The other says faith is sighted, a leap in the light, supported by much evidence.

Which is it?

I think you can only describe your own experience and the experience of like-minded people. In my own case, faith is the result of critical reflection on arguments and empirical evidence.

When my atheist friends tell me that faith is blind and not based on evidence, they presuppose a universal definition of faith.

(And if Rick Mattson would only look up the word "faith" in the universal dictionary, he'd discover that faith, by definition, cannot be based on evidence. But of course no such dictionary exists.)

My reply to the atheist is this:

I do not hold to your definition of faith, nor am I obligated to do so. My faith is based largely on critical reflection of arguments and empirical evidence. 

In a recent public debate with an atheist friend, I made the simple request that he not impose his definition of faith on me.

You should make the same request of your atheist friends.


At this point you may be thinking to yourself that the faith I describe above comes off a bit cold and calculating. Shouldn't there be something more to it? What about emotion? Attitude? Commitment?

Tune in next week.

Atheism Part 3: Two-stage Faith

Christians often accuse atheists of having more faith than Christians.

This is off-putting to atheists because they think of faith as believing without any evidence. Or believing contrary to evidence.

In other words, faith is blind.

Here is a two-stage definition of faith that I've found helpful in my discussions with atheists:

Step 1: Generic trust based on evidence.

Example: In the years leading up to 2007, both Christians and atheists drove their vehicles over the I35W bridge in Minneapolis. We trusted the engineers, the inspectors -- the whole "system" -- that built and maintained the bridge.

And we observed thousands of other vehicles successfully traversing the bridge.

Our conclusion: Venture out! Trust the steel trusses and concrete with your very life.

Christians and atheists had a ton of evidence the bridge was safe. But not proof.

In 2007 the bridge collapsed, killing 13 people.

In summary, step 1 faith is choosing to believe something based on evidence that stops short of proof.

Step 2: Personal trust and commitment. This is my faith in Jesus.

Now here's the point. As a Christian I have evidence (but not proof) that a biblical worldview is true.  That's step 1, and it's pretty much the same as trusting the bridge.

Step 1 faith is what I have in common with atheists. I choose a generic kind of faith based on evidence.

But when it comes to religion, what really counts as evidence? Atheists and Christians disagree here.

I'll discuss it next week.

See you next week

Atheists and Faith

Recently I had the privilege of engaging in an informal discussion with an atheist student ("Matt") in front of a class at a prominent local high school.

After the class period, Matt said to me that he wished he and I could come to an agreement on the definition of faith.

Timeout.

I've always enjoyed the company of atheists. I seem to click with them.

But they can be sneaky on this question of faith.

Their definition of faith is believing without any evidence, and they tend to impose this definition on me.

But my definition is believing because of the evidence.

So what do you think? Should I go with the atheist definition (Matt's), or with my own definition and experience of faith?

That's easy. It's my faith. I can define it however I choose (that is, from within my theological tradition).

Folks, Christian philosophers remind us that we are under no moral or intellectual obligation to play by atheist rules in our discussions.

I think it unlikely that Matt and I could settle on a common definition of faith.

After all, by my definition, he has as much faith as I do.

Atheists Big and LIttle

In my travels I interact with many atheists.

Generally, there are two levels:

1. The Big Boys: professional philosophers who bring a sophisticated product to the table.

A sampling of names: William Rowe, J.L. Mackie, Quentin Smith, Kai Neilsen, the early Antony Flew.

Thoughtful Christians should read their books and essays, and interact with their arguments. They force us, quite helpfully, to elevate the quality of our apologetic.

2. The Pretenders: the "new" atheists such as Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens.

Lots of rhetoric here, not much philosophical substance.

Many devotees of the new atheists are not aware of their own professionals. Rather, they parrot the dismissive tones (and sense of victimhood) of the Pretenders.

One can hear their harsh tones at school and office.

If you've been confronted by a disciple of the Pretenders, I'd like to assure you that it's mostly bluster.

My advice is to ask questions, show love and respect, find out what they really think -- and why. Don't get into a verbal shoving match.

At some point your manner will open a door for witness.

See you next week

New topic next week: atheism

Evoke

note: this post is longer than my usual one-minute special. Worth the read, I hope. :)

If you read my post from last week you'll see that high school and college students have a lot of questions about God and faith, but there's one catch:

They don't know what their questions are.

Wait, there's a second catch:

Even if they're aware of their questions, they're not likely to talk about them very easily.

Part of the problem is that evangelical culture is not conducive to questioning.

A culture that is truly conducive to questioning doesn't give answers impatiently. Rather, it provides an extended process for working through issues, gives multiple sides of the story, suggests possible solutions, involves students in the process of reasoning and research and challenging and deciding.

In short, a healthy "questioning" environment does the one thing that evangelicals find almost impossible to do: refrain from giving answers.

Seems counter-intuitive, I know. But if we want students to truly embrace their own faith (rather than their parents' faith), we have to ease up a little, stop "telling" them what to believe.

Here's an approach I have practiced many times on the topic of religious pluralism: 

I figure almost every evangelical student (and their nonChristian friends) have questioned the claim that Christ is the only true pathway to God, while all the other religions are supposedly false.

But if I take on that issue directly, it won't stick.

But it might stick if I work through an interactive process of discovery.

So I draw a proposal on the board from John Hick, the world's most famous religious pluralist. Hick's proposal, roughly speaking, is that the "Real" (god) revealed itself to all the world's major religions, each getting a slice of the pie.

Differences in the religions can be attributed to the different cultural contexts in which each revelation was received. There's more to it than that, but I'll move on for brevity's sake.

After I draw (and explain) a diagram similar to the one at the right, I simply ask students, "This is Hick's proposal. What's kind of cool about it? And what's screwy about it? You tell me."

Then we go at it hard for about 45 minutes.

Students poke and ponder, speculate and critique. If they get stuck, I give them another piece of information so they can move ahead.

Eventually they start to see that Hick's proposal doesn't hang together. The cracks and flaws become evident.

And students themselves start to articulate the problems. 

There's your golden moment, right there.

Now, for the very first time, I am in position to do a little teaching. My job is to affirm what they've discovered, then take it just beyond their horizon.

They got us 90% of the way to our destination. Hopefully I can add the last 10% that they could never come up with.

But friends, please hear this: If I try to do 90% of the work, most of the time students can't even carry that last 10%. And probably, they did not buy my 90.

The moral of the story: Don't tell, ask. Don't declare, prompt.

Teach at the end, not the beginning. That's the only time they can hear us.

Student-speak

Me trying to say something helpful to college students at Cedar Campus, MI

Every year for about two weeks in May I spend more time with college students than my usual high dosage.

And it always comes just when I'm being released from winter-time prison in MN, so it's a little tough on my golf game.

But holy cow, them students gots tons a questions.

Questions about ministry and theology, and of course about their personal lives. In fact, these three topics run together and overlap with each other so much that half the time I don't know if I am acting as pastor, counselor, or theologian.

Nor does it matter, I guess.

Folks, NOW HEAR THIS: The church must find ways to engage the questions of their high school and college students. They are starving for answers.

But here's the tough part: They don't appear to be that curious.

Just try asking them what their questions are. They won't respond. They won't tell you.

Why?

Because they don't know what their questions are.

That means the sensitive evangelist or discipler must know how to evoke their questions, draw them out, get them talking. That's the art in all this.

Students are more interested in the great questions (and the small ones) than they think they are.

So how do we draw them out?

Next week I'll unveil the grand secret.

Or maybe it will just be a meek suggestion :)

The Time Diet

Assumption #1: If I don’t plan my time I will drift.

Assumption #2: My wisest moments happen in advance – that is, during the planning phase of life.

When I skip planning and just ad lib “in the moment,” things fall apart. I make bad decisions on the fly.

Note: I married a person (Sharon) who is naturally organized inside her own head. She goes from one thing to the next, efficiently, without getting sidetracked.

Not me.

Thus, I present to you: The Time Diet. 

It’s how I cut the fat from my schedule and actually do what I’m supposed to be doing (well, mostly):

Step 1: Make a list of all the things I need to do in the next few months. This is a rolling list that I update every day.

Step 2: Choose the things I must do this week and write them into my calendar.

Step 3: Choose the things I must do today and make a detailed schedule of my time for the day, including: 

• When I will start and stop each task.
• Exact time I must leave for appointments. Otherwise, I'll be late, guaranteed.
• Fudge time. Add some extra time here and there for interruptions. 
• Rest and fun. Can’t work all the time! 

If I get off track, I re-write the schedule for the rest of the day, and move an item into tomorrow.

If I have big tasks, I make an appointment with myself at an exact time this week to get it done. Example: Wednesday 3-5pm, create proposal.

The whole thing seems a little crazy, eh? A little extreme?

That’s because I’m crazy and extreme.

I don’t have the gift of internal organization. Rather, I’ve got the gift of daydreaming -- the floaties. 

The Time Diet helps me lead a more balanced life . . . 

. . . and maybe even clean the bathrooms on occasion for Sharon, who feels the love vibe from her husband through acts of service.

That reminds me: Sunday 9pm, scrub shower stall.

The Drifter

I'm a drifter.

No, not a vagabond. Different kind of drifter: I daydream, float, meander.

If you know me fairly well this might surprise you. Outwardly, I appear highly organized -- maybe even "focused."

But if you know me beyond "fairly," to REALLY well, you know that my head is in the clouds most of the time.

Yes, I can tell you what I read on page 37 of a philosophy book ten years ago. Just don't ask me where my car keys are. Or where I left my new track jacket.

The magic solution to my severe case of the floats?

Systems.

Systems don't seem very spiritual to some, but in my case they're my only hope for showing up at my appointment with you at the correct coffee shop on the correct date, maybe even arriving five minutes early.

Furthermore, systems are my only hope for telling Sharon, my wife, that I love her. Yeah, I confess, I actually create a plan for taking out the recycling and fixing the mower and maintaining the vehicle. Sharon "hears" these chores as true love.

Highly motivating for me.

What's my system? Next week I'll tell you. If you're a bit of an airhead like yours truly, I think you'll be blessed.

Professor of the Year Speaks Wisdom

Lendol Calder is a professor of history at Augustana College, Rock Island, IL., and the "professor of the year" in the state of Illinois.

His observation about students:

“Students today are like adventure tourists walking through a jungle,” says Lendol.

“‘Nothing here but trees and grass,’ says the student while their guide shouts ‘Look! There’s a tiger in the grass!’

Except that young people today don’t have guides. They have iPods, they have cable TV, they have each other. But no real guides.

We may be the first society in human history to create a cultural environment in which the young are turned loose in the world without benefit of the wisdom of elders telling them how to find a vocation, how to find a mate, how to make love last.

Cut off from adults and entombed in their peer culture, they are expected to make maps of their own. No wonder they don’t have time to read and prepare for class. They’re too busy trying to figure out how life works.”

from InterVarsity alumni news: Lendol Calder

My response: Students are hungry for wisdom and guidance.

HOWEVER: You have to earn their trust, first. That takes some doing.

Up in the Air

Jen said in a roundabout way that maybe she'd join me for lunch in one of O'Hare's many eateries.

Chicago's O'Hare airport: my new friend. We've spent a lot of quality time together this past year.

Now it appeared a third party was inserting herself into our relationship.

Jen had plopped her luggage and computer bag across the aisle from me at the terminal gate, and started talking. Talking rough. Expletives laced her sarcastic tone, especially when referencing a former husband.

Eventually she learned what I do for work. That always changes things.

Tough girl went sincere, cuss words evaporated.

I was beginning to enjoy this. She was, say, five years younger than me. The conversation picked up.

After a few minutes a stunning realization gradually came to my dull consciousness. I fought it off. It couldn't be true.

Call me slow afoot. Asleep at the wheel, surprised. I simply do not think of myself as a prospect for --

OK, three lessons learned for a married person such as myself:

1. Keep the ring finger exposed and glistening. But don't count on it as a sure-fire deterrent (it isn't).

2. Don't underestimate the human drive for intimacy and security, either in yourself or that person sitting across the aisle.

3. Eat alone. I did.

A Simple Suggestion

My current job takes me around the country to many ministry venues on college campuses and churches.

An observation from my travels:

Keep it simple.

Comparing the ministries that are moving ahead with those that aren't, the growers keep it simple while the dwindlers keep it not-really-very-simple.

The growers develop leaders around a compelling, incisive vision.

Dwindlers muddle along organically with whatever people "God provides."

Growers NEVER reward dysfunctional people and systems by propping them up or dancing around them.

Dwindlers tap dance in fear of the 800lb gorillas who have seized (or fallen into) power in their ministry.

The G's wait until they're doing a couple things really well before adding a third. Their stuff is thoughtful, compelling.

The D's, by contrast, "empower" people to do whatever ministry activity they feel led to do. Their stuff is spread out, disconnected.

G's pay the price to develop a culture of evaluation and accountability.

D's don't dare.

So let's say I visit two ministries. The first is crisp, simple, thoughtful, prayed up. 65 minutes fly by. I hang out afterward for a cup of coffee.

The second is kinda sloppy. Wrong people up front. Music is a C-. 88 minutes aggravate my squirm threshold. Afterward, I bolt for the door.

To which ministry will I return next week?

Last in the series: The Modern, Postmodern University, part 7: reaching the modern student with a postmodern veneer

I've talked the past few weeks about reaching

• Postmodern students: with trust
• Modern students: with logic
• Modern students with a postmodern veneer: with trust and logic

Now this week, the postmodern student with a modern veneer.

This is the student who's firm on the outside, soft inside. Like an egg.

First,  connect with that firm, logical exterior by appealing to reason. I say something like this: 

"I'm a fellow truth seeker. I want to know the truth just like you do. Let's talk together and learn from each other."

Secondly, when you discover the squishy postmodern stuff underneath, you have two choices:

a. Back off on the logic and work to establish trust through shared experiences.  OR

b. Address the philosophical quicksand on which the postmodern view rests.

It depends on the person. I'd suggest going with "a" above -- shared experiences. 

If you get philosophical too quickly,  s/he will just say, "Whatever. That's your deal, not mine."

Thirdly, Start moving in two directions. The first direction is into that person's community, where you incarnate yourself in the manner of Jesus. 

The other direction is that you invite the person into your community. 

But here's the thing: What you invite them to needs to be a hospitable environment for a postmodern person. 

To my thinking, when the kingdom of God is functioning fully, it is HH: 

Highly Hospitable.

Unfortunately, often it is CC:

Closed Community.

Friends, let's open our communities to the stranger and alien among us -- in this case the postmodern person who appears modern on the outside.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 6: reaching the modern student with a postmodern veneer

To summarize and catch you up on this series so far (skip this section if you wish):

1. A postmodern student thinks nobody has a monopoly on the truth. 
2. A modern student believes that through critical reason one can arrive at the truth. 
3. A modern student with a postmodern veneer: see below.
4. A postmodern student with a modern veneer is the person who at first seems to believe in one ultimate truth, but really doesn't. I'll talk about how to reach this student next week.

Start reading here: The modern student with a postmodern veneer is the most common of the four profiles that I encounter on campus. This person is, so to speak, soft on the outside and firm on the inside.

Step one: Establish Trust. 

You can't skip this step and go right for case-making. First you gotta connect. Ask about their life and share a bit of yours. Show that you care, or you'll never get past the surface.

Another way to say this is to start with the heart, then move to the head. 

Step 2: Make your case.

Here's where your apologetics and appeals to the mind kick in. Don't forget to illustrate your case with concrete stories, images and diagrams. I use a lot of diagrams. 

Step 3: Circle back.

Circle back to the heart. Be transparent, work on the relationship, provide cool experiences, build community.

So, in order to reach this most common of the four profiles, remember to create an environment of trust, community and shared experience.

Inside -- I repeat, inside -- this environment you make your case for faith in Christ.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 5: a critical pause.

In this multi-part series, we're talking about how to reach out with the message of Christ to four student profiles:

1. The truly postmodern student (March 6 post).
2. The truly modern student (March 13 post).
3. The modern student with a postmodern veneer (next week).
4. The postmodern student with a modern veneer (likely in two weeks).

But now I want to pause and say that in my many travels to college campuses, I can tell when I'm entering into a situation that is all prayed up:

Dorm lounges, student unions, quads and classrooms feel like sacred space, as if God is walking in the cool of the garden around campus.

I am convinced that we won't reach any of the four profiles unless we plant the garden of prayer.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 4: Reaching Moderns

I'll be hanging with these Bemidji State crazies all of next week

This is week four on the topic of reaching today's young people with the message of Jesus. See prior posts dated Feb 20, 28, Mar 6.

• Last week: reaching postmodern students.
• This week: reaching modern students.
  
  

Step One with modern students: Show yourself a player. 

That is, show that you care about being reasonable and rational. I heard one of my mentors, Jim Sire,* state in a public talk awhile back that faith is never less than logical.

Yes, it's much more than logical. It involves commitment, passion, risk.

But it's never illogical. That stuck with me.

So I try to establish early on that, like many young atheists, I care about the rational process of arriving at truth.

Step Two: Admit fallibility. 

Amazingly, this step is tough for many evangelicals.

Actually, all I am saying is that while God is perfect, I am not. God makes judgments without error, I do not.

If I were infallible rather than fallible, I'd be God.

Admitting my fallibility to young "free thinkers" makes them think I am actually listening to them--actually open to their perspective.

Which I am.

Step Three: Love.

Whereas with postmodern students the relational part comes first, with modern students it comes last.

(Yes, I'm exaggerating. In real life it varies from student to student.)

Most modern students care about truth, science, rational method. So connect with them on that level first. Show yourself a player there. 

Then at some point step 3 kicks in: You draw them into experiences of the kingdom. Not even hard-headed, cynical atheists can say no to genuine expressions of Christ's love.

OK, some can.

But not usually.

* Dr. James Sire, author of The Universe Next Door and a lot of other excellent books.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 3: Reaching Postmoderns

For explanations of the four student profiles we are discussing, see the past two weeks' posts.

This week: What does it take to reach the truly postmodern student?

Three steps:

1. Connect. You MUST establish trust. I'm talking personal, heart-felt, self-disclosing trust; traveler-to-traveler bonding, shared human experience.

But take it slow. Don't look like you're in a hurry.

Think we-ness.

Not us and them, or us versus them (traditional evangelical categories).

Rather, "we" are in a life boat together. We are trying to survive. We are trying to make a life, figure things out, have a few laughs along the way.

2. Go into their world and affirm whatever you can.

If you're 45 and older, learn to chill and hang out (If you're 35 and under you already know how to do this).

Tell your story and listen to theirs. Incarnate yourself just as Jesus did.

Then invite them into your world, and at some point into your ministry context.

But remember, most evangelical ministry settings will be a cross-cultural experience for postmoderns. So you'll have to explain things to them as well as offer some excellent (but casual) hospitality, or they won't be back.

3. Optional third step: Question. Bring up the fact that if if everyone merely has their own perspective on things, and there's no ultimate truth, then I can do whatever I wish to other people, with impunity. After all, my actions, good or bad, merely flow from my perspective.

Like I said, that last step is optional. Some postmoderns don't care about such things.

I walked through step three with my friend G, awhile back. He was quite startled when he realized the implications of his deep relativism. So in some cases the conversation is worthwhile.

Next week: reaching the modern student.

Suggested resource: I Once Was Lost (five thresholds of postmodern conversion), by Everts and Schaupp. Best book on evangelism I've read in a long time.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 2

See last week's post for part 1 of this series.

"Postmodernism" (PM) took American universities by storm in the 1980s and 90s. When I arrived at Macalester College (St. Paul, MN) as the InterVarsity campus staff in 1992, PM hit me full in the face.

Gone were objective truth, autonomous reason, caucasian triumph.

Present were subjective truths, politicized reason, and cultural diversity.

Last week I mentioned how it has taken evangelicals 20 years to come to grips with this sea change. We're finally getting it.

Alas, think again.

The most prevalent type of undergrad student (by far) I encounter in my many travels is not the truly PM person, but this:

Student profile #3: PM veneer, modern underneath.

Yeah, it's complicated. By bathing in the direct PM sunlight their entire formative years, students absorb much from their environment.

But it's only skin deep, a suntan. When you get past the outer layer, they seem to bear a striking resemblance to moderns of the past. They want rational answers to their questions.

Careful, though. Don't assume you can skip past that tawny exterior. Failure to account for it will crash the conversation.

Student profile #4: Modern exterior, PM underneath.

Rare, but it's out there. This student appears at first to engage in rational discussion of a reality to which we both subscribe. But soon, squishy PM stuff derails the conversation into troubled waters -- or quicksand; pick your image.

Next week: We'll begin connecting the gospel message with the four profiles.

Note that definitions of PM and Modernism vary. My use of "Modernism" is rather generic and is probably more in line with the word "Enlightenment." Wikipedia has some nice articles on Postmodernism and the Enlightenment. In old fashion hard copy, I'd suggest Stan Grenz's A Primer on Postmodernism.

The Modern, Postmodern University, part 1

I travel a lot. Over 25 college campuses, the past few months.

People ask me what I'm learning about students.

This:

Student profile #1: Postmodern all the way through. 

You may be surprised to know that in the so-called "postmodern" university the truly postmodern student is fairly rare. That is, the student who thinks there is no overarching truth at all, but only competing stories and "versions" of reality, is a famous but ultimately phantom figure.

Though scarce in number, postmoderns have become the target profile to whom we evangelicals have finally adjusted our ministry sites, now twenty years after their first explosive appearance.

Student profile #2: Modern all the way through. 

This student never really went away, but was considered passe for a decade or more as campus and pop culture embraced personal--that is, non-institutional--spirituality.

But such ungrounded spirituality was bound to falter after a season.

Believe me when I tell you the young modernist has stormed back into prominence. Following "new" atheists such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens, he's a hard-headed, common sense pragmatist. 

And like his mentors just mentioned, he can be aggressive and derisive. Unfortunately, he seems quite able to bait Christians into following suit.

                                      ***********************

Next week I'll cover two more student profiles, including the one I encounter most (by far).

Later, I'll outline a strategy for reaching all four profiles.

In the Slot

I stood in front of a bunch of college students the other night in Duluth and told them to stay in the church and work for reform.

See, when you're young and a little cynical, the temptation to ditch the church and just do the Jesus thing by yourself is pretty strong.

But consider: An ancient church father named Cyprian famously declared that there is no salvation outside the church.

Maybe Cyprian was a little extreme, but in my view he leans in the proper direction. After all:

The church is God's only plan for saving the world.

The option of skipping church and just growing in Christ on our own isn't really open to us, biblically speaking.

Here's something that could make church participation more appealing to those on the sidelines:

Find your slot.

By "slot" I mean finding what you love doing and are really good at; then -- get in there and dig.

My slot(s) at Grace Church Roseville:

• Tunes: Once or twice/month I make the big commitment (about seven hours' worth) to play in the worship band. FYI: At 53 I am still a young rocker!

• Sermon prep: My buddy Jim and I serve as Pastor Jason's advisors for sermon prep. As a trio we study the passages together and determine preaching themes. We have awesome discussions.

• Service assessments: My given assignment is to "write up" the Sunday service from beginning to end -- every minute, every inch. Then I email the assessment to the pastoral team. I am supportive, constructive in my comments. 

Those jobs play into my strengths, passions and sense of team.

Are you doing what you love at your church? Doing what you're good at? Serving the body of Christ?

Tell us your story.

In and Out

Consider the following pattern:

www.freeimages.co.uk

• Teenager: heavily involved in church youth group. On fire for Jesus!
  
  
• College age and early 20s person: drops out of church, grows cynical, apathetic.

• Late 20s: He/she realizes need for grounding, brings new spouse and toddler to church twice/month.

• Age 30: A dramatic fork in the road distinguishes in-group from out-group:
• The outs remain on the fringe of the church. They take what they can but give little. Nominalism sets in.
• The ins find warm fellowship, dive into the deep end, make a commitment to a local body of believers.

• 30s and 40s: The ins commit huge time to church work and wonder at those who opt out.

• 40s and 50s: The ins start to fade once again, feel burned out.

• 50s and 60s: The former ins sit on the sidelines, feel they've done their share, go to the cabin a lot, switch to being outs.

• 70s and beyond: The outs upgrade to more regular church attendance in order to encourage grandkids, but have little personal investment.

Of course, many Christians defy the above pattern and are faithful to the church their whole lives. This I applaud.

But for the fickle masses, church seems to be just this: optional. I suppose we can blame it on individualism, self-determination, maybe just laziness.

But we cannot blame it on the Bible.

We're told in Ephesians 5 and other places that the church is the bride of Christ.

That means we Christians are married, spiritually speaking.

What does that mean for the outs?

Mystery Fire part 2

This is the conclusion to last week's story about a mystery fire in my neighborhood. See the post below for part 1.



The fire crew finds no flames inside Ann's house, no over-heated walls, no smoke. Nothing.

Finally, after poking the three-story patient with several sharp surgical instruments and taking her temperature multiple times, they slide the biggest truck in the fleet neatly into curb-side position, and crank the extension ladder up over the chimney to take a peek down the steel pipe.

Empty.

"Could'a been a bird's nest in there that fired up every time the heater kicked in," the chief observes out loud.

I wince a little and ask if it had been right to call the department at all.

"Absolutely," he replies.

And that was it.

Many times since that day I've looked out my picture window to try and catch a repeat performance of furnace gas transfigured by sun splash. It ought to look like a flag of flame up there atop Ann's roof.

But every time: nothing more than white exhaust floating on the wind, maybe with a dash of pink, at most. Certainly not. . . "FIRE!"

                                                * * *

The lesson: I acted on what I believed to be true. I had no proof, but I did have evidence that something was wrong at Ann's house--and my observation was corroborated by my wife Sharon.

Foolproof? Infallible? Absolute certainty--is that what Sharon and I had?

No way. But we had enough to go on. And as it turned out, in this case we may have been wrong--I still don't know.

For our atheist friends and acquaintances who wait around for proof before believing in anything, I'd fear for Ann's life.

It seems to me we have a lot of evidence that the Christian faith is true. But the evidence falls short of proof. Let's just admit that.

Still, we've got enough to go on--enough reason to pick up the phone and call the Fire Department.

Enough reason to believe.

Mystery Fire part 1

See that chimney atop my neighbor's house? There's a mystery associated with it.

One day in Dec. I'm sitting in my comfy chair looking out my front window when something glittery catches my eye. I look up and see what appears to be a reddish/orange flame streaming out of the extension pipe of Ann's chimney.

Ann is a lovely, elderly woman who lives alone in that three-story edifice.

Thing is, the flame is intermittent. It seems to sync itself with the on-off cycle of a typical furnace in a Minnesota winter. Furnace on: red blaze. Furnace off: zippo.

One more factor.  A spectacular pink sunset is framing the house from behind.

I call for backup.

Sharon agrees with me. Fire.

Not some trick of Mother Nature. Not harmless white exhaust seen through the rose-colored glasses of a splashy sunset. Nope, definitely fire.

I phone the fire dept and explain everything. I'm being overly cautious, hesitant. It's only intermittent I keep saying. The sunset. . .

The dispatcher cuts me off. "We'll be right there."

"But. . . "

Seven minutes later there's five giant red trucks with hoses and ladders protruding like tentacles, overrunning my Lilliputian neighborhood. Four guys in heavy fire gear, wielding axes, march into Ann's front entrance, while another eight of their comrades (and I) observe from the street.

In a moment of shameful weakness I secretly hope they find something . . .

Meanwhile, the crew chief questions me. Seems like he's been down this road before. He probes my story from different angles, rubs his chin--not quite a skeptic, not quite a believer.

And of course the big candle atop Ann's house had been extinguished five minutes before the Invasion, when we pulled her out of the place, shut off the furnace, and watched the fireworks on the horizon fade into gray.

                                                      * * *

Next week: the end of the story--and a spiritual angle to consider.

Love Your Enemies, or Not

Tuesday night I found myself unexpectedly $49 and two cab fares lighter in the wallet as I spent the night at the Chicago O'Hare Motel 6, waiting out a snow storm.

You know the drill: cancel-cancel-delay-delay-cancel. Now it's 11:30pm.

Earlier, about 10pm, with the snow falling outside and tempers flaring around O'Hare, a boarding ramp closed on the last flite to Denver, just as it's supposed to, about ten minutes before liftoff.

Two minutes later, breathless Middle-Aged White Professional rushed in and insisted the ramp be re-opened for him. Arab Gate Attendant, maybe 28 years old, politely refused.

You can guess the result. MAWP berates and shouts down AGA like an abusive husband. I guess his logic is that closing the gate on time as instructed by the airline and TSA should be blamed on AGA.

Shoot the messenger.

I was proud of AGA. He handled it like a pro. He didn't cower, cave or even fight back. He simply stood his ground. The gate was definitely closed.

Similar to MAWP,  many of us church people think little of firing off a gruff word or tirade at employees in restaurants, gas stations, public transit.

Yet, they are made in the image of God. Our chance to be different than the secular public awaits us each time we go face to face with a sales clerk.

Moving on

Five of my elder relatives and friends moved on the past two years.

What does it mean?

I'm richer for their lives, poorer for their deaths.

Dr. Russell Arndts was among the travelers. He departed July 23.

In his retirement years I sat on the couch opposite his easy chair many times to debate biblical theology with the former chemistry professor, while soaking in the famous Betty Arndts hospitality.

Nor did it stop there. You should see our email logs.

Now a resident of the Next Life, my elder friend has presumably discovered the truth: Mattson was right all along.

Or wrong.

In one sense it doesn't matter.

I'd give a lot to resume the toe-to-toe scrapping with my friend, not in his current State--I can wait awhile for that--but in the familiar St. Cloud setting: fireplace, Diet Pepsi, leaning into my point, up in the man's face, he in mine.

We relished not merely debate, but friendship. He'd smile at me and half-apologize for his intensity but I'd wave him off. I knew he cared for me as much as correct theology, which is saying a lot.

Russ, save me a spot on the Couch. The next chapter of our talks will undoubtedly stretch on interminably.

Readers: Do we have good friends these days that challenge us? Debate with us. . . and still love us? Tell us your story.

Great Expectations

An acquaintance promised to call me back but never did. Again.

People let me down. They let you down as well.

How do we respond?

For me, differently than 20 years ago (or even ten years ago). This is middle age speaking right now, so beware.

Some of the best advice I ever received was to lower my expectations of others. So when they let me down I don't have as far to fall.

If you don't read my blog or if you forget my birthday or leave me off your party guest list or miss a coffee appointment with me or neglect to show your appreciation after I've shoveled your walk or if you just plain leave me holding the bag. . . .

. . . I'm not saying it doesn't affect me at all. What I'm saying is that as a young man I thought I was entitled to these duties and courtesies from you. These days, not so much.

By the way, this lowering expectations thing--I think it's biblical. Not to over-spiritualize, but the person I expect a lot from is not you, but me. Christ calls me to love you. Your love of me is your business, not mine. If you give it, I'll gladly receive it! But I'm not holding my breathe.

A lot of it gets down to this: Which would I rather be most of the time, disappointed? or pleasantly surprised? That's an easy choice for me.

By the way, lowering expectations works well with movies and restaurants as well. Try it.