Beatitude--It's Probably Not What You Think

Among contemporary church folks, maybe especially those in the "small 'b' baptist" or "small 'p' pentecostal" camp, the word "beatitude" has a very specific and technical meaning.  It refers to sayings of Jesus at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, in Matthew 5.  It means the list of "bless-eds," pronounced in two syllables, not in the usual one syllable way that someone might say, "Haven't we been blessed this year!"  Or for those of us who were around for the extremely popular launch of the Good News Translation, the beatitudes may be the list of "happy" things Jesus told the disciples. 

Happy are those who know they are spiritually poor;
the Kingdom of heaven belongs to them!

I'm certainly overgeneralizing, but the rank and file of these churches are not likely to be reading ancient and medieval theological and philosophical writings which use the Latin term that becomes "beatitude" in English.  Beatitude, sort of like the English "blessedness," describes a condition of well-being.  Unlike the idea of "well-being" in popular psychology, it is not talking about merely "feeling good about oneself."  It is not an inwardly achieved and uncontextual "self-esteem."  This sort of well-being, defined by a different set of assumptions than those of our individualistic age, encompasses a state or location within one's intended purpose.  Blessedness in a theological setting entails a proper relation to God and God's creation, including the people around us whom God has created. 

Beatitude, used this way in theological texts, points the church and believers toward the goal or telos of existence, including human existence in the larger whole of created existence.  It is where we strive to be, where we aim to be, what we are made to be.  Some theologians frame the notion by writing of the "beatific vision."  The beatific vision means to look upon the goodness of God, or in more familiar language, to fix our eyes upon Jesus.  In this use, looking upon is a way of receiving and absorbing into oneself the One who is looked upon.  It is focused attention toward being reformed in God's image.

There is a way of talking about the beatific vision that leaves me a bit uncomfortable, when it seems that the ancient writer has tried to Christianize some kinds of Greek and European thought without enough of the material scandal of Jesus, seeming to import Neo-Platonic "contemplation of the pure form," rather than following Jesus, as the ultimate calling of God. 

But we don't have to use the term that way.  To look upon the goodness of God, to fix our eyes on Jesus, to see now, through a glass darkly (but with intimations of face-to-face), what the Lord, the Spirit, is doing, is powerful language.  It can help us in the day-to-day to recognize God's presence and power, and it can motivate us and draw us onward toward the goal of the high calling of Christ Jesus.

One of the more recent theologians (from the 1700s in the American colonies) who made much good of this sort of language was Jonathan Edwards.  His phrases "consent to being" and "beneficence to being-in-general" are rooted in the notion of looking upon the goodness of God both in creation and uncreated being.  We consent to God when we acknowledge the goodness of God that surrounds and sustains us.  As Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians, "there is a new creation....All this is from God."  In our churches, we sing a contemporary song that captures well Edwards' thought: 

I'll say, "Yes, Lord. Yes,"
To your will and to your way.
I'll say, "Yes, Lord. Yes,"
I will trust You and obey.
When Your Spirit speaks to me,
With my whole heart I'll agree,
And my answer will be,
"Yes, Lord. Yes."

To behold the goodness of God, become immersed in God's good ways, participate in God's providential care--that is what beatitude is.  To know God better moves us to be able to love God better, and to love God better forms us to be able to love one another and all of creation better.  So the beatific vision, beatitude, is a telos that draws us ever toward the reason that we exist at all.  And as the Shaker's song says,

When we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

Having now chased down the historical and deeper meaning of the term beatitude, I'll get back to what got me started on this post anyway.  The beatitudes as we know them in Matthew are a kind of virtue ethics teaching.  They describe character traits, admirable qualities, that a community of Christians should exhibit in order to live well.  To have these characteristics is to be on the path of being blessed, of becoming happy, of finding ourselves in the place just right. 

It's certainly not original to me to point out that there are two Gospels which report on similar sayings, beatitudes, from Jesus.  It is probably in part because baptists tend to like the feeling that all the scriptures are easily harmonized that they tend to ignore the beatitudes from Luke and memorize the beatitudes from Matthew.  Matthew's list is longer and more comprehensive.  Matthew's list is also more easily interpreted individually and inwardly.  And although Matthew's list is certainly not without challenging and controversial language, Luke's beatitudes will really shake things up.

When John Howard Yoder sought in The Politics of Jesus to demonstrate the political and economic significance of Jesus' ministry, he pointed to Luke's beatitudes for contrast to the usual reading strategy of twentieth-century United States church people who watered things down by trying to make Matthew's beatitudes be about mere personal piety.  Barry Harvey states this argument well as he encourages better and more faithful reading of Scripture in Can These Bones Live? 

Alerted by Yoder, taught by Harvey, awakened by John Perkins and the CCDA, reshaped by Mt. Level Missionary Baptist Church and affiliate congregations of Durham CAN, I am at this moment inclined to say this should be a year for Luke's beatitudes.  They challenge the complacency of United States church folks who have believed too long that things will keep getting better for most of us if we keep doing the things we have always done.  They upend the assumptions that when we look upon the prosperity of the extremely wealthy we are seeing what beatitude must be.  They put the axe to the root of the idea that those who have large houses, magnificent churches, exhorbitant expense accounts, luxurious cars, exclusive addresses, and posh clothes, that they are the blessed.  It's probably time to take a look at Luke's text, chapter 6, verses 20-26.

Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
‘Blessed are you who are poor,
   for yours is the kingdom of God.
‘Blessed are you who are hungry now,
   for you will be filled.
‘Blessed are you who weep now,
   for you will laugh.
‘Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you,
   and defame you on account of the Son of Man.
 'Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven;
   for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
‘But woe to you who are rich,
   for you have received your consolation.
‘Woe to you who are full now,
   for you will be hungry.
‘Woe to you who are laughing now,
   for you will mourn and weep.
‘Woe to you when all speak well of you,
   for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. 

The first thing we notice is that Jesus paired these "blesseds" with a set of "woes."  The longer context of Matthew's Sermon on the Mount has many similarities with Luke's Sermon on the Plain.*
Both use moral contrasts as a rhetorical device.  The contrasts come later in Matthew's version.  In Luke's, they find their way into the beatitude/woe section.  Both gospels dictate challenging economic revisions, but in Luke those find their way into the opening beatitude/woe section.  It is not surprising that many of the radical movements in Christian history have drawn upon the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew, so we have to acknowledge that Luke is not offering a more revolutionary gospel than Matthew.  But when it comes to the limited section of the beatitudes and how we read them, turning to Luke's beatitudes and woes shakes things up.

The thought that struck me and led to my writing this post has to do with what pastors and church people think of when they think of a "blessed church."  What do pastors of small, struggling churches have in mind when they imagine to what a successful ministry career might lead?  What do church people who find TV preaching attractive think about the comparison between their own congregations and the opulence and exhorbitance of TV churches?  I find that quite often, the unstated (and occasionally stated) understanding of what a church could become if it were blessed and successful, what a ministry career could lead to if it were blessed and successful, is massive material wealth. 

Even people who deny the official line of the "prosperity gospel" still are tempted to idolize pastors who are bringing in massive amounts of cash.  They look with admiration upon conspicuous opulence.  Those who give in to the temptation of this false beatific vision are likely to believe that those who become wealthy through ministry "deserve" the material blessings they receive.  They are getting rich because God is proud of how faithful they have been.

I don't know what Bible these people read.  Well, I do.  It is the one I read, but they read it very differently.  And they don't read the Sermon on the Mount or the Sermon on the Plain very intently.  They don't let Jesus' words guide whatever else they read.  They prefer the Prayer of Jabez to the Prayer of Jesus. 

What are Jesus' words to that TV preacher who has people swipe their credit cards and go into debt to make him or her rich?  What does Jesus think about preachers getting folks to put money on the dais so that they can run their feet through it and kick it around and in the air?  "Woe! You have received your consolation!"  You thought money could solve your problems.  You thought money would make you happy.  And whatever happiness, whatever solutions you have found in it, that's all you're going to get.  That's the only love you have.  And when you are hungry, who in hell is going to care?  Not you or the people of the hellish world you are building for yourself.  And when you are weeping, let your swiped cards and foot-kicking cash wipe away your tears.  Woe unto you!  That is not how I taught you to live.

If church people could read the Bible better, could let the Sermon on the Mount and Sermon on the Plain speak with more authority than Wal-Mart, Starbucks, Armani, Jared's, Lexus, and the many other powers, authorities, principalities, and powers that organize our lives, then we could begin to break through to beatitude.  We might start to see the beatific vision.  We might realize that the material wealth we have is to be shared among all God's people, not denied to the masses.  We would see that any blessing we receive is not merely for us but for us to share with others in need.  We would see, as did Basil, Chrysostom, Augustine, and so many others, that to have surplus goods when others are in need makes us into thieves.  And that should make us open our tight-fisted hands and share with people in need.  For the sake of Jesus' calling, for the sake of being the body of Christ here and now, it is critical that we do so.

The world in which we live is ever more structured around maintaining the poverty of most of its inhabitants.  Even in the wealthiest of nations, the masses become poorer each year while a tiny percentage grow richer and richer.  The gap between rich and poor is as wide as ever, both in this country and in most lands of the world.  Slave labor, child labor, debilitating labor conditions, pittance wages--these are the primary tools of wealth-building in this age.  Financial maneuvering to create schemes that transfer masses of wealth from the middle class to the elite are the standard for Wall Street.  Profiteering from mortgage scandals, foreclosing on houses, shipping jobs overseas, ignoring the human costs of financial advantages--this is the world in which we live.

It is a world to which the church needs to say a clear and powerful, "Woe to you!"  There is a better way.  It may cost us, because the wealthy will not easily change their ways.  Just think how hard it is for any of us to give up the luxuries and pleasures and material things we enjoy.  The prophets always had a tough road, and Jesus says we should realize we are blessed when the powers and dominions start to fight back against our challenge to their ways.  And he also warns us, that if everyone likes us, we are probably just like all the false prophets who figured out how to get the status quo powers to butter their bread on both sides.

I hope that every preacher, every teacher, every Bible lover, will make this year a year to preach, teach, and converse about Luke's beatitudes and woes.  Beatitude may not be what we have been thinking that it was.  What we thought it was--that may actually be woe.  So let's get ourselves on the path to beatitude.  Speak a word.

*(People resolve the similarity and difference in various ways. Some would say that they are two different lengthy sermons that Jesus delivered in different places and at different times, but with similar thoughts and purposes, returning in each case to topics and phrases he regularly spoke about, and in each case also taking up different topics.  Others would say that the Gospel writers collected sayings and grouped them together into a "typical" or summary sermon, and each had access to different sayings and chose to use some identical and some different sayings.  Both sound pretty reasonable to me.)

An Honest Preacher

In mid-October, I participated as one of several teachers in a course for seminarians and college students as part of the Christian Community Development Association annual conference.  Jimmy Dorrell of Mission Waco coordinated the course.  He is one of the bright stars of Christian ministry in recent decades.  You can read about his work in his two books:  Trolls and Truth and Dead Church Walking.

I gave a presentation on the church and the economy, and if you follow this blog you would be familiar with much of what I had to say.  I was on a panel with several leaders discussing Community Transformation.  There were students from a dozen colleges and seminaries participating, including a pastor from North Carolina who will soon complete his M Div degree at Shaw University Divinity School, Elder Henry Rodgers, of Bethlehem Disciple Church.  Among the other students present were Jeff and Kathy Burns of Truett Seminary of Baylor University.  As we became acquainted, I found out that they attend a church not far from where I am living in Salado.

Miller Heights Baptist Church is on the southeast side of Belton, Texas, in a neighborhood that reminds me of parts of Durham.  There are small houses and some multifamily dwellings, some built for working class families and others likely built as subsidized housing for the working poor or disabled.  A little research revealed that the neighborhood is multiethnic and transitional, as a generation who first settled there gives way to new arrivals.  Having been part of urban churches for my adult life, I recognized these characteristics of the neighborhood, common from small towns to big cities.

I went to worship with the folks at Miller Heights Baptist Church this week, and there were many ways in which it felt like home.  Their web site told me I could come dressed as I felt comfortable, so I wore my standard uniform of a guayabera, slacks, and sandals.  I was a bit early.  A few dozen people were conversing the sanctuary, but the Sunday School classes had not arrived.   I found a pew near the front and hoped I was not taking someone's "assigned seat."  I apparently chose well, because people came in to sit all around me, saying their polite, smiling hellos.

Soon Jeff came in, making his way through the crowds, greeting, chatting, and doing those important pastoral things he has to do on the run before service.  Along another aisle came the pastor, Bro. Mike Meadows.  I took it as a good sign when I found the website listing him with the title "Bro."  I've always held a deep respect for my dad's commitment to be one among many, a minister set aside but not set above the people.  He always chose the title Brother, refusing to be Reverend as long as he was a pastor.  As he got older and no longer served a single church except in interim roles, it was harder to enforce, but he never changed in his convictions.

Jeff introduced me to his pastor.  Bro. Meadows made the obligatory self-effacing remarks upon finding out I was a seminary professor--he would have to go back and work on his sermon some more.  I continued to watch him work the crowd, and he has the face of someone who cares for the people God is sending his way.  Near the front of the sanctuary, he passed through several rows of children who sat together with a few adults mixed in.  They seemed neither awed nor afraid of him, but greeted him playfully, or blissfully ignored his passing by.

Having mentioned that the children were sitting in the front, I should remark on the arrangement of people in the sanctuary.  The building has a traditional central-aisle arrangement, with pews facing the front; there is a small, low platform area with a pulpit and a choir stand behind it.  The piano was moved forward toward the congregational seating, and a group of four miked singers stood just behind the piano.  One of the singers also played a guitar.  Opposite the younger children on the front left side, many of the teens sat in the front pews on the right side.  Jeff, whose duties include youth ministry, sat in that general area, as did Kathy and a few other young adults.  The rest of the pews were not stuffed full, but a respectable sized crowd mostly filled them.  Overall, the congregation looked like many urban protestant churches of this era, with many senior adults. 

One of the clearest signs that the church is making transitions from what it once was to what it will become was the music leadership.  In the more traditional location and arrangement for a choir sat a group of mostly older women.  As already mentioned, there was also a group of what many churches call "worship leaders" off to one side, and these four plus the pianist had individual mics for leading the songs.  The singers blended together well, and we sang a collection of songs of the sort that I like to see:  some hymns from the hymnal along with some contemporary chorus or worship songs that were strongly tied to biblical texts.  The congregational singing was robust, but what was more notable to me was that I did not see anyone opting out of the songs to listen or let the mind wander. 

Finally, to get to the point of my title, I want to comment on the pastor's worship leadership and preaching.  My judgment on this day was that far more significant than his sermon content (which was fine) was the way the pastor offered himself to the people through his leadership.  I use the phrase "an honest preacher," knowing that it could be interpreted differently.  Some preachers think that being "honest" means saying whatever thought they have on their minds.  They think it means telling people off by "being honest about what I believe."  There is a difference between honesty and arrogance, and there is a difference between honesty and untested emotive outbursts.

What I am talking about with Bro. Mike is an honest presentation of himself.  He chose what he knew would be a controversial topic, and he chose to deal with it in a nondogmatic way.  That in itself is admirable.  But even more important was his willingness to open up his own reflective process and growth to the congregation.  He gave them a picture of himself as a real person, and in the process created the reflexive space for them to be real people before one another and before God.  He assured them that even if they did not agree on everything, they would be able to continue to grow together and serve together.  He was respectful toward the people in the pews. 

Let me emphasize again what I saw as the key opportunity for communion with God in this worship service.  Along with everything else, the pastor lifted up God as he offered himself to the people.  He gave them a person on pilgrimage with God, and through that narration offered them a glimpse of what walking with God can be for all of us.  If this Sunday is in any way a snapshot of the ongoing work of God at Miller Heights Baptist Church, they should have many opportunities to be blessed and be a blessing in the place where God has planted them.

servant church, Austin: Another Coffee-Friendly Congregation

On Sunday, March 13, I attended servant church in Austin.  Everly and I were staying in Austin at Ruth and John's house while they went on vacation.  I was glad for a weekend in Austin so I could go to another church and learn some more about Austin's eccesial communities.

I chose servant church because a friend of mine is the pastor.  Eric Vogt is a fellow traveler of mine.  We first met when I was passing through Jackson, MS, one summer Sunday, and he was the guest preacher at Voice of Calvary Church.  Eric had been in a summer internship with the CCD ministries in Jackson, working with John Perkins and others who had forged a new model of faithful church life among the poor of Mississippi.  It turned out Eric was a student at Duke Divinity School in Durham, where I also lived at the time.  Before going to Duke, he had participated in another creative experiment in church life in Austin, TX.  A small start-up congregation had at that time been meeting in the building of First Baptist Church, where another friend of mine is pastor, Roger Paynter.

As our life stories had already intersected in many ways, eventually Eric enrolled in a class I was teaching at Duke Divinity, called "Church and State:  Modernity, Liberalism and the Nature of Political Engagement."  My friend Willie Jennings thought up the title to make it grab the attention of Duke Divinity students.  But I digress.

Church growth technocrats would be happy about at least one feature of servant church:  it is not hard to find.  A few blocks into residential neighborhoods on a street that has an exit from the interstate, I found my way straight to the location.  Signs outside assured me that I was at the right location, a Methodist church site where two congregations are meeting.  Without difficulty, I parked and made my way to the location.  I stumbled into a prayer meeting already in progress, but was greeted warmly and located the coffee without difficulty.  Yes, it was another coffee-drinking-allowed-and-encouraged congregation.

Wearing my standard uniform (guayabera and jeans), I was a little overdressed for this crowd.  Besides a couple of women in what my gramma would have called "everday dresses," jeans and t-shirts were the rule.  Oh, yeah--one guy had khaki pants on.  At 53 I would have to say that I was the senior adult of that Sunday's gathering.  As my daughter Naomi loves to remind me, I was probably at the distant end of the "cool" continuum as well.  Not being clued in to much of the Austin culture, I learned during conversations that the insider's way to refer to the big music festival is the shorthand "South By."  I was proud to know that later in the week when a NC public radio broadcaster, in a halting voice, called it "Ess Ex Ess Double-you" (SXSW--South By SouthWest).  Again, I digress.

I was blessed to sit next to a young woman who grew up in Austin and had recently married in servant church, with Eric officiating at the ceremony.  She was warm and sincere, and worshiping alongside her and her husband made me right at home.  I could tell I was in a university town by the sound of the congregational singing.  My experience in Waco, Austin, Durham, and other university towns is that there are an abundance of people who have vocal training, and with the Austin music industry that gets magnified.  Lots of folks were willing to cut loose and experiment with harmonies, exactly how I like to sing.  The guest worship musicians for the day were two young women.  The lead played acoustic guitar and the other played soft percussion.  There was a kind of Emily Saliers feel to the singing.

The music impressed me, as it had at Ecclesia Church in Houston.  Many familiar hymns formed the core of the singing, along with some contemporary worship songs (but not the mindless repetition of emotive states).  The lyrics were posted to help the uninitiated.  The rest of the liturgy may have relied a bit too much on a single projection screen, and sometimes there were too many words on the screen at once, meaning the font may have at times been too small.  That sort of minor issue goes with the territory of being a very new congregation, still charting its ways. 

Eric's sermon addressed the lectionary text from the Gospel of Matthew, the narrative of Jesus' temptation.  The central theme of the sermon was that Jesus did not choose the easy way, but was willing to suffer for doing right.  It was a respectable interpretation and reflection, so his Duke teachers should be satisfied.  The call for a response to the Word included coming to the Lord's Table, bringing prayer needs to the altar, writing letters to leaders about the state or national budget as a moral document, using art supplies to explore one's faith response, or looking for ways to become more part of the life of servant church.  Tables with appropriate materials were strategically located around the room, with paper and "talking points" for letter writing, a place to write out and place prayer requests or to light a candle in prayer, announcement boards and sign-up sheets, and art supplies.

This congregation is definitely on the youthful side, as congregations go.  Young adults, married and unmarried, with and without children, and a children's area for smooth movement in and out of the formal worship made this a comfortable setting for those who find certain patterns of traditional worship unnecessary or out-of-date.  Yet it was not a rush to contemporaneity for its own sake.  The traditional liturgy remained the backbone of the service.  Biblical and theological texts shaped the sermon and reflective conversations.  Ancient symbols of the faith remained prominent.

I was proud to see what this congregation had done and what my friend Eric was helping to lead.  If you are in Austin on Sunday, don't be timid about "hanging out" at servant church.

Remembering the Incarnational Vocation

Rev. Noel Castellanos, the executive of the Christian Community Development Association, recently sent a note that I thought worth sharing here.  In our time of economic crisis, we may be inclined to turn selfward, whether as families, individuals, or churches.  We see so many challenges and fear we cannot do anything but survive. 

But turning in on ourselves is the opposite of what to do in this crisis.  We have to continue to realize that God's calling to us, all the way back to the calling of Abraham, is a calling to be a blessing to others.  God blesses us, that we may bless others.  The incarnation reveals the superabundant love of God, shared among the three persons of the Trinity, turning outward toward blessing all humanity.  As followers of Jesus, we get to join him in that incarnational work.  Thanks, Noel, for the words here.

This past Sunday during my church's prayer time, a long-time member stood up to give a testimony before his church family that after two hard, long years, he had finally found a new job. Not just a job, but the perfect job, provided by God. This encouraging testimony came after "Coach" Wayne Gordon's Biblical teaching from the book of Job, which reminded us that bad things often happen to good people.

I am reminded that our core ministry is to live with and among men and women who know this lesson all too well. Violence, unemployment, kids struggling in bad schools, and overall difficult lives are not the exception, but the norm in our most of our neighborhoods, even for those who love God are serving Him diligently.

While sitting in a White House briefing tasked with developing the new Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, I caught myself reflecting on my friend's two-year struggle to find a job. It struck me that families are vulnerable to making bad financial decisions and falling victim to fraud when faced with these kinds of employment challenges. With so many of our families struggling, it is easy to feel overwhelmed!

As we approach Lent, let us take the time to re-examine our commitment to follow the God who left the comfort of heaven to enter the hurt and pain of our sin-filled world. Moreover, let us root our lives and our neighborhood work in a deep, daily walk with Christ. Let us be empowered to be agents of hope and justice wherever we see someone’s God-given dignity compromised.

Some leaders from the MetroIAF were at this meeting with Noel, Jim Wallis, and others.  Our national organizing work on the economy is one part of the bigger picture.  But Noel reminds us that nothing short of blending our lives into the lives of the world will move us toward the calling to let God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Chicago in July

I spent a few days in Chicago this week. The first two days were full-time family time with Naomi and Lydia, my daughters (seen here mugging for the camera at the church Community Day). We went to museums, the aquarium, the Taste of Chicago festival, and the Sears Tower. On Saturday night, we attended the hip-hop worship at Lawndale Community Church, called "The House."

The rest of the time, I attended the Ekklesia Project annual Gathering at DePaul University North Campus. I was pleased to see friends I had not visited with for some time: James Lewis, Phil Kenneson, Andrew Adam, Trecy Lysaught, Mike Budde, Steve Long, Kyle Childress, and Rodney Sadler. And that is just naming the professional theologians and not all of the church leaders. I presented a paper entitled, "Racialized Ecclesiology, Catholicity, and Oneness," based on work I am doing currently on the relationship of race, in particular whiteness, to theology. Some parts of what I presented has appeared in this blog earlier.

One of the highlights of the meeting was sharing discussions with Craig Wong, Glen Kehrein, and a variety of other folks, concerning ways that the Ekklesia Project and the Christian Community Development Association might fine common cause.

John Perkins has been saying lately that "we have over-evangelized the world too lightly." He is remarking on the contrast between the reported religiosity of the U. S. in comparison with the lack of fruit in the form of compassion, justice, and reconciliation. He is pointing out that the so-called evangelistic fervor of modern churches has asked less and less of the convert. A mere momentary statement of desire to know God becomes enough to be deemed "saved" or "Christian." He challenges evangelical and evangelistic churches to review the Great Commission, which says to go and make disciples through teaching and training in the ways of Jesus. What we have is Christian Lite, Church Lite, Jesus Lite.

A professor from another institution took me aside after my workshop at the Christian Community Development Association on Thursday. The workshop title was "On-the-Ground Theology: Seminaries Learning from Faithful Practices," and I was reporting on some parts of my research on exemplary churches and church-related organizations. This professor wanted to talk more about what I had said about how these churches understand the term "gospel." He said that he and another professor from his institution had discussed this same topic after hearing some speakers earlier in the program. If they were to accept what they were hearing at CCDA, and if they were to hope to teach it at their school, they would have to spend some time redefining "gospel" among their constituencies. He was right. Christian Community Development is not merely a set of techniques and programs. It's a theological renewal movement.

I have found myself over a number of years experimenting with ways to articulate this very issue. Gospel has been watered down so much in the U. S. churches that it often has little resemblance to the ways that it was used in stories told about Jesus and in his recorded sayings. It's almost a homeopathic gospel--like a solution so diluted that no more molecules of the active ingredient remain. Often, it seems the gospel comes down to following a four-step syllogism and repeating a prayer composed by someone else. That is considered by many the essence of bearing good news. The assumed result is an invisible transaction in a hidden place within a person.

The CCDA movement has been committed to sharing the whole gospel for the whole person and the whole community. They resist the temptation to boil down and dilute the gospel. They look to the word when it is spoken by Jesus (Luke 4:16-21), and find it to be inseparably linked with liberation of the poor and oppressed. John Perkins talks about how God finds us at our point of deepest need and brings good news to us. Those needs can take many forms, including physical needs, economic issues, and longings for justice. They also recognize that the redemptive work of Christ includes the establishment of loving community according to the pattern of God's intention for creation. Community itself is good news. That was Jesus' way of describing how people would know which group were his followers--because of the love they have for one another (John 13:34-35).

Why would we have settled for anything less than the full richness of the whole gospel? The beauty of the good news is far greater than many of us have ever heard in church. It's time we swear off Gospel Lite.