 Likely you have heard the remark, “We no longer have heroes, we have celebrities.” Have you considered the difference between a hero and a celebrity? Both are models for others to emulate. Each considers his or her potential. But there the similarities end. You can tell celebrities because they gain from their celebrity status (whether power, wealth or fame). You can tell heroes because they lose something and others gain. Celebrities must be preoccupied with their own potential or they will lose their celebrity status. Heroes care not about themselves; their attention is on others. Is it any wonder we have produced a very self‑centered society? It is the price of modeling ourselves after celebrities. Imitating heroes, on the other hand, will diminish our narcissism (in and outside the church). It will enable us to gain once more a proper view of our potential and its fulfillment. We do not have to search far for a hero to emulate. Jesus himself is much more than an earthly hero. His attitude and actions provide us the highest possible model as we seek to fulfill our potential. “Who, being in very nature God, [Jesus] did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness” (Phil 2:6–7). A Voluntary Divestment Voluntarily Relinquish Your Rights. For Christians, the issue is not whether Jesus is God (we know He is!), but what He did as God. At first glance it looks as if Jesus conceded his position as God, laying aside his deity in order to take the place of a servant. But this is not quite Paul’s idea.[1] The word himself (Phil 2:7) is the direct object of the verb made (nothing) (emptied, NASB). In English, word order is important to communication. It is not as important in Greek. Greek writers positioned words in different places to help readers (who invariably read out loud) to hear a special point, a parallel thought or an emphasis. The Greek word order is “Himself he made nothing.” If you read it aloud, you can almost hear it. The priority of himself gives the impression that Jesus voluntarily “made himself nothing.” Here is the full sense of Phil 2:6–7: “Jesus voluntarily made himself nothing by becoming a servant, being made in the likeness of men, precisely because he was God” (author’s translation and emphases). Jesus did not treat his equality with God as an excuse for selfishness. Rather, he turned away from his potential in glory precisely because it was to our advantage for him to do so. Servant Attributes Added Add the Attribute of a Servant. The NIV translators used the words made himself nothing rather than the more familiar emptied himself (NASB). Obviously the translators of the NIV are attempting to circumvent what appears to be a vague statement about “emptying.” Of what did Jesus “empty” himself? He emptied himself of his glory, his throne, his majesty, his almighty attributes of omnipotence and omnipresence, his supremacy. Such suggestions are hardly necessary. There is, however, no real need to complete Paul’s thought. The idea of “emptying” (i.e., made himself nothing) is simply that Jesus poured himself out by becoming a servant. Jesus did not consider that being God gave him the right to consider his own potential. Instead, he poured himself out. He put himself totally at the disposal of others (1 John 3:16; 2 Cor 8:9). It is often perceived that the Christian life consists of “giving up,” “forsaking,” “abandoning,” “relinquishing.” Many look upon the faithful Christian life as a life of subtractions. Although abandoning sinful activity or attitudes is necessary, perhaps we have portrayed the Christian life in reverse. If Jesus is the model for Christian living, then this portrait of him in Philippians 2 indicates that Christian sanctification is not a process of subtraction—diminishing our potential—but of adding to our potential. The question is, What are we to add? What Advantage Can I Give? When Jesus became human he did not stop being God. As the One fully equal with the Father in deity and glory, he took on--he added—the attributes of a servant. Jesus, the king of glory, the almighty, powerful, everlasting true God, became a servant. It is not a question of what we should give up. Rather, how can we take what we have (our abilities, skills, talents, education, money, business acumen, creativity, even social status) to serve others for the sake of the gospel? For us to fulfill our potential, the question we must ask is this: “What advantage can I give to the church and to the cause of the gospel because of who I am and what I have?” The reference to servant in Phil 2:7 is significant. Many years ago I conducted a Sunday school class on discipleship. Throughout the sessions I referred to disciples as slaves of Christ. After one class a man reproved me. “I am not a slave to Jesus,” he protested. “I am not under compulsion. I freely give myself to him. I am a servant, not a slave. To call me a slave is to demean my love for God and lower my loyalty to him as mere conscripted service.” His point was well taken. Many translations (the NIV included) give the sense of “servant” when translating the Greek word doulos (Phil 2:7a)Our service and love is to be voluntary. But we must not miss the connotation the Greek word doulos had in Jesus’ and Paul’s day. At that time there were but three classes of people: the rich, the poor and the slaves. When we hear the word servant,we think of a paid staff person—perhaps a maid, a butler, a cook, a chauffeur. Servants of the first century would have had no such privileges. Society granted them no rights or privileges. A slave was fully dependent on and submissive to his or her owner. When Jesus relinquished his potential in glory for the incarnation, he took on himself the attitude of a slave. And as such, Jesus put himself in a position where he had no rights granted by society. His only right was the fulfillment of the Father’s will. He had no privileges except the honor of being his Father’s servant. We are called to voluntarily add to our own potential the attitude of a slave. We are called to be people without rights save God’s will, people without privileges save God’s honor. We are to be fully at the disposal of others. We are to sacrifice our potential for the interests of others (cf. Phil 2:3–4). The mind of Christ moves us beyond saying “I have a need” to saying, “I volunteer my services to meet your need.” [1] Hawthorne, 85. Hawthorne discusses why Jesus did not concede his position in glory but rather, because he was God, poured himself out on behalf of others. This is an excerpt from my lay commentary on Philippians. This book can be purchased on Amazon, Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life
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 In the second follow-up parable (Mark 4:30–32), the Parable of the Mustard Bush, the imagery is consistent with Mark’s programmatic themes and reinforces a public dimension to evangelism: And He said, “How shall we picture the kingdom of God, or by what parable shall we present it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the soil, though it is smaller than all the seeds that are upon the soil, yet when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and forms large branches; so that the birds of the air can nest under its shade” (4:30–32). The picture of the proverbial small mustard seed producing a comparably large bush for the size of the seed is suggestive of small beginnings vs. large results. However, this, too, can obscure the subversive nature of this kingdom-parable. First, the mustard plant is not a tree; it is a large bush.[1] Second, this bush is an uncontrollable plant that tends to take over the garden. Finally, what farmer in his right mind wants birds[2] in his garden? Like Mark’s opening verses, the parable of the mustard bush “mingles”[3] three OT texts: Ezekiel 17:23, Ezekiel 31:6, Daniel 4:12: On the high mountain of Israel I will plant it, that it may bring forth boughs and bear fruit and become a stately cedar. And birds of every kind will nest under it; they will nest in the shade of its branches (Ezek 17:23). What is of interest is the contrast between the trees in the OT referents and the bush[4] in the Markan parable, and, as well an overlooked reference to the poor in the Daniel 4 context. The two Ezekiel referents are judgment-parables, while in Daniel the context is a parabolic vision of judgment on the king of Babylon. All three references utilize the tree motif,[5] which is OT imagery for kings and their kingdoms, and the branch imagery represents how a kingdom offers protection and sustenance to its subjects.[6] Jesus, on the other hand, alters the OT imagery, ever so slightly, replacing the noble Cedars of Lebanon and the large and strong tree of Babylon with a domesticated mustard bush. “It is hard to escape the conclusion that Jesus deliberately links the rule of God to a weed.”[7] Daniel’s interpretation (4:19–26) indicates that Nebuchadnezzar’s dominion would be taken away until he recognizes that the Most High is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth (i.e., the true sovereign ruler of all the trees, v. 25 NIV). Then, in light of the branch imagery, there is an interesting juxtaposition between the pending judgment and Daniel’s advice to the king of Babylon: Therefore, O king, may my advice be pleasing to you: break away now from your sins by doing righteousness and from your iniquities by showing mercy to the poor[underline by showing mercy to the poor], in case there may be a prolonging of your prosperity (Dan 4:27). This advice reflects the Exodus land stipulations concerning righteousness and the poor. Ironically, the warning is to a non-Israelite, anti-Yahweh king, ruling a Gentile empire. The OT trees vs. the Markan mustard bush, along with Daniel’s reference to showing mercy to the poor (4:27), infuse the concept of the “in-breaking of the kingdom” with a broader sense than simply individual conversion. The kingdom of God, having taken root and growing mysteriously, subverts “existing kingdom visions and power structures.”[8] The Parable of the Mustard Bush expands our understanding of evangelism to include issues regarding the dominions of mankind (i.e., socio-economic and power structures) and the poor.* Further notes on what the Mark 4 Parable of the Sower who sows teaches us: It is most certainly strange to depict the kingdom of God as a small seed that produces a wild mustard bush. Pliny the Elder wrote that such a bush was unwanted in a garden where it “grows entirely wild . . . once been sown it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once” (Nat. 19.170–71). I agree with commentators that see this parable describing the incredible growth of the kingdom of God as a threat to other existing kingdoms. The shrub/bush imagery should that the kingdom would be a danger to other kingdom visions and power structures Notes: [1] In the Matthew and Luke versions the bush is portrayed as a tree, which does describe what the mustard plant becomes—large and spread out. [2] Birds are equated with the nations, i.e., Gentiles in the OT imagery, and probably carry similar imagery here; thus, the term adds to the continued, increasing harvest of the gospel of the word imagery. [3] Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 203. [4] Here in Mark “the seed grows into the greatest of all shrubs, but in Matthew (13:32) and Luke (13:19) it becomes a tree” (Funk, “Looking Glass,” 3–9). To someone knowledgeable of the OT, where great trees symbolize great kings and empires, Mark’s reference to God’s dominion as a large bush “comes as a jolt, even a joke. The birds of heaven are taking shelter here under a tree of about eight feet. The great tree of God’s kingdom has gone domestic” (Funk quoting M. Sabin). [5] Along with the political connotations, the tree motif also carries a cultic and/or idolatrous connection as well. [6] Ezekiel’s cedar-trees, as well as Nebuchadnezzar’s vision, represent the power and growth of two non-Israelite empires, and the birds that find rest/nesting in them are the nations (see Ezek 31:6). [7] Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 172) quoting Oakman (Jesus and the Economic Questions, 127). [8] Witherington indicates the existing structures in Israel are in Jesus’ mind; however, the parable and the rest of the Gospel seem to point toward the dominion of God reaching well beyond the borders of Israel. And, as the “pigs” story is about to suggest, certainly the existing structure in place is there by the power of Rome itself (Gospel of Mark, 172).
 “Passing alongside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew the brother of Simon casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.’ And immediately they left their nets and followed him” (Mark 1:16-18).
We have truncated, narrowed what we think “fishers of men” means down to simply witnessing and “catching” people for Christ. Although not a bad or even wrong thing to do—and “witnessing” and leading people to Christ can be one of many applications for use here—but this is not what Jesus means in making the promise “I will make you become fishers of men” (Mark 1:17). Carry it through as a metaphor: Is fishing ever good for the fish? The coming of the fisherman for the fish is not good; it is not a blessing. It is not good news. It is dangerous, menacing, ominous, dire, and presents a very life-ending possibility. Fishermen use tricks, cons, lures, hooks, and false hopes to lure the fish to its doom. If winning souls for Jesus is the meaning of this metaphor, then it loses its seemingly clear metaphorical correspondence when it is transferred to the positive Christian activities of witnessing, evangelism, outreach, and church growth. Fishing is, simply put, not good for fish. [This paragraph is adapted from my book, Wasted Evangelism.] First, there is the command, “Come follow me.” [I prefer the more literal, “Come after me and follow me around.”] You are invited first to be followers of Christ, that is, following Him around as it were, observing Him, and, then, imitating Him (which is exactly what we have in Mark’s and Matthew’s Gospels). After you have followed him (around), then Jesus says “I will create you to appear publicly as fishers of men” (my very fair and appropriate translation of the fisher-promise in Mark 1:17). What we don’t realize, given the very eschatological context of Mark 1:1-15—and if you need a definition, “eschatological” means, end of the world, cataclysmic, predicted future, God's orchestrating of history, which Mark 1:1ff implies has begun, has been inaugurated now in our time and space, into history with the appearance of John the Baptist, the Holy Spirit, and of Jesus (all in verses 1-15). In fact, as an author in a book on Mark’s view of discipleship wrote, “Everything about Mark’s introduction points to the OT and its fisher contexts, identifying 'Jesus’ imperative as a call to eschatological holy war.'” As the OT references indicate (see below) and, even, as the actual image/metaphor of fishermen suggest—fishers turn the world upside down for people in the judgement passaged from the OT and certainly for actual fish . . . it is a call to eschatological holy war—though our weapons are unlike this world’s; more so weapons of love, service, persuasion, lifestyle, social action. Not sure, however, that we’re prepared for holy war. In fact, I think many of us Christians are kind of happy to have our stuff and really don’t want anything upsetting our consumer comforts--including church comforts. Still, it is the call—that is to follow Jesus—and it is the promise—that Jesus’ would create fishers of men. _________ Check out the OT background on “fishers” And Jesus said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him (Mark 1:17-18). Jeremiah 16:16-18: “Behold, I am sending for many fishers, declares the LORD, and they shall catch them. And afterward I will send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain and every hill, and out of the clefts of the rocks. For my eyes are on all their ways. They are not hidden from me, nor is their iniquity concealed from my eyes. But first I will doubly repay their iniquity and their sin, because they have polluted my land with the carcasses of their detestable idols, and have filled my inheritance with their abominations.” Ezekiel 19:4: The nations heard about him; he was caught in their pit, and they brought him with hooks to the land of Egypt. Ezekiel 29:4–5: I will put hooks in your jaws, and make the fish of your streams stick to your scales; and I will draw you up out of the midst of your streams, with all the fish of your streams that stick to your scales. And I will cast you out into the wilderness, you and all the fish of your streams; you shall fall on the open field, and not be brought together or gathered. To the beasts of the earth and to the birds of the heavens I give you as food. Ezekiel 38:4: And I will turn you about and put hooks into your jaws, and I will bring you out, and all your army, horses and horsemen, all of them clothed in full armor, a great host, all of them with buckler and shield, wielding swords. Habakkuk 1:14–15: You make mankind like the fish of the sea, like crawling things that have no ruler. He brings all of them up with a hook; he drags them out with his net; he gathers them in his dragnet; so he rejoices and is glad. Amos 4:2: “Hear this word, you cows of Bashan, who are on the mountain of Samaria, who oppress the poor, who crush the needy, who say to your husbands, ‘Bring, that we may drink!’ The Lord GOD has sworn by his holiness that, behold, the days are coming upon you, when they shall take you away with hooks, even the last of you with fishhooks.  Recently, Tracy Chapman’s iconic song “Fast Car” hit the stage of the 2024 Grammies as a duet with Luke Combs and herself. What a moment. You can see the star-studded crowd feel it. Even the newer, millennial+ felt and grooved to the older, nostalgic vibe. This song was written back in April of 1988, “a poignant narrative about the struggle of escaping poverty and seeking a better life.”
Even before I read up on the song, I knew it was about “escaping poverty and seeking a better life.” This morning, as I do most Thursday mornings, I was returning from shopping for Saturday’s Sidewalk Breakfast and I was playing the recent Grammy version of “Fast Car” (the gone viral Chapman’s and Comb’s version) as I pulled into my Trowbridge Hill neighborhood, rounded the park where we do the summer Park BBQ evening meals, and I thought of our neighbors, struggling with the issues and barriers of poverty. Like the song, wondering if they’d find “a better life.” As the chorus blow up with that wonderful Chapman and Combs harmony, my eye caught about a half dozen of our local neighborhood homeless in the Park. (How do they sleep in the freezing cold? Amazing. Sad. I cannot imagine) Tears. I wondered, who’d write their songs. Seriously I did. Corny. Perhaps. But seriously. A whole country of folks right now are grooving on repeats of that, now gone viral, Grammy duet of “Fast Car” YouTube video. Heck, I am. They be grooving. Sure. But not actually identifying with (as that celebrity filled Grammy audience was not) nor thinking about the poor and homeless . . . as the song was imagining me to think. As I made the block from the Park to my apartment, I thought about the 35 to 40 folks who’d be at this Saturday’s Sidewalk Breakfast & Church (like each Saturday). Toilet paper among my purchases this morning. I thought about the 18, sometime 20+, folks who’d stop by my Wednesday Sidewalk Coffee & Conversations with the pastor. Mostly homeless. If it takes making coffee and buying some pastries each week to build relationships as a pastor (as anyone really for that matter!) with these folk, who most likely don’t know a pastor and are forgotten by most (even Christians), then, coffee and pastries it is. Cold. Rain. Sun. No matter for Saturday nor for Wednesday. If it takes food to reach and win these folks, I’d gladly give my pay-check (with some help from my friends!). “Fast Car” isn’t just a feel good groove from some bygone classic pre-millennial music era. It’s real life here in the Hill. Minus the “Fast Car.” Postscript to my thoughts as the song played rounding Trowbridge Square Park: I prayed, “Father, give me more folks [outside the Hill; God knew what I meant] who’d minister with us to these good folks and please, O please, send us someone to play music for us on Saturdays. Maybe even someone who could play “Fast Car.” Seriously, that’s what I prayed.  This morning on the Sidewalk and at Sunday service tomorrow, I begin a series through the prophet Jeremiah’s book. What got the ball rolling in my thought process—on why did I pick Jeremiah as the next series—was a question I had been asking since my alma mater’s (Crown College’s, aka St. Paul Bible College’s) 100th anniversary’s gathering a few years ago.
At one of the weekend’s events, they gathered together the previous Crown presidents for a Q&A. The final question was, “What is one thing that isn’t being taught at Crown College that needs to be taught at Crown College?” The last answer came from the oldest and most senior of the former Crown College presidents (he was back in the 70s; I was there ’81-’84), Dr. Grubbs, a kindly and wise Christian & Missionary Alliance elder statesman; he said: “How the students will endure persecution.” This stuck with me. For years, now, his answer has been festering in my heart and thoughts during my time here as a pastor in the Hill: Am I teaching my flock how to endure persecution? Do I even know how to teach them how to endure persecution? So, I have been asking myself, “How do I teach my CPC in The Hill flock to endure persecution?” As I was finishing up my sermon series through Galatians, I had been praying, “What’s next?” The Book of Jeremiah seemed to be what was being presented—almost everywhere I turned (books and material I was reading; podcasts I was listening to; casual conversations) pointed to Jeremiah. So, I am preaching through Jeremiah—both to listen for myself and to help my people reflect on that question: “How does a Christian, a church, endure persecution?” And then, hopefully, answer the question for myself, “How, as a pastor, do I train/teach my CPC in The Hill flock to endure persecution? How?” I think Jeremiah will help answer all these related questions. *We will get to what “persecution” is in the coarse of the series.
 One of the uniquenesses of the Gospels is that they are truly a new genre in the ancient Greco-Roman world. Ancient literature would never give roles of significance to the poor or marginalized--never. In this the Gospels are unique and should play a part determining what God is doing in Jesus through the gospel.
One thing that stands out in the New Testament Gospels is that we should understand God's interest in the "little guy," the poor and marginalized. Rather, we, Christians and the larger Christian community, tend, like our culture, still to prize the celebrity, the rich and powerful, the well platformed--whether they be Christians or not. It is also one reason we tend to prize celebrity conversions or "if the mayor . . ." or ". . . bank president . . ." or ". . . athlete gets saved, think of all the influence and good they'd do." It is why--at least one reason why--we have university ministries and not community college ministries. The list can go on, but I think you get the point.  If you caught this yesterday, my sermon text for Sunday is Galatians 4:8-20. A text that reveals Paul’s heart for the Galatian house churches and his perplexity (v. 20) over why the Gentile Galatians would even consider adopting—even more so, getting circumcised and identifying with--the Law and, thus, old age, living in exile, under the covenant curse Israel current position before God?
Breaks his heart (as this text reveals). In this section, Paul also tells the Galatian house churches what his goal is. This is found in verse: “my little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you!” (V. 19). Most English readers take the “you” as “you individuality,” assuming Paul means “I desire to see each Christian looking like, acting like Jesus.” While this is a good thing of course—and would be if that’s what Paul meant here. But it begs the question: What does looking like and acting like Jesus look like? And, is Paul referring to the individual Christian? Here in this text, not only is the “you” plural, it is a part of a prepositional phrase: ἐν ὑμῖν (“among you,” i.e., among you, the house churches in Galatia). So, Paul is saying, “My little children [those whom I led to Christian among the house churches in Galatia], for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Messiah is formed among you.” It is so much more preferable to take the “in” (of most English translations] as “among,” a perfectly reasonable rendering of what Paul wrote. Now we should ask what does Paul mean by formed “among” the house churches in Galatia? The apostle has already told us in chapter 3. “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (vv. 27-28). Since the Law has fulfilled its purpose (which is why it was temporary and why it is so perplexing you--Galatian, Gentile Christians--would even consider circumcising yourselves to this Law), additionally, you all have been baptized into Christ, listen, and now there is neither Jew nor Gentile; there is neither slave nor free; there is neither male nor female—you all are in Christ and you all are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise [given to Abraham].” This is what is means to have Christ formed among them, namely churches that present “neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female” (3:28); house churches where “you are all one in Christ Jesus” (v. 28d). This observation makes me think that when our churches are majority peer-like congregations, I wonder if we are then returning to the elementary principles that govern the world—or, as Paul says in our text, we have returned to idol-worship. The risk early Christians took in doing church--and pausing to think we aren't risking too much9/26/2023  The risk everyone took in the apostolic and early church period (till about 300ish AD) was immense and totalling. Saw this quote and thought how unlike the young church we have become: “Church should be your excuse for missing everything else.”
I recently had the privilege of meeting and eating with some Chinese believers who are a part of China’s underground church. In a broken English conversation, I asked one elderly gentleman: “What would happen to the church in China if the Chinese government made church legal?” Without hesitation, understanding me completely, he replied: “It would destroy the church.” Since here in America there is little to no risk at doing church, we act as if it’s an option among many options of our week.  Four years of Bible college with weekly Missionary Cabinets focused my attention on the foreign (overseas) mission field and calls to be a missionary to the ends of the earth. Then, another two years of chapels at Seminary to remind me of the importance of listening to God and keeping in step with the Spirit in God’s world-wide mission. And to top it all off, five years as a Bible College professor with weekly chapels with the students and two large missionary conferences (which I had the privilege of helping to design and set up) to keep before me the regions beyond, the burden to reach the unreached around the globe. Hundreds of great speakers and preachers and missionaries, but I will not forget one particular illustration that was used at all three venues a number of times. A speaker, missionary, or preacher would ask 25 or 50 or even 100 of the students to join them on the platform with prearranged chairs set up, each with a 3x5 card on it—the students would sit randomly, for it was what was on the cards that mattered. Here’s the gist of what happened during the illustration: The speaker would explain that the United States and Canada provide and train missionaries for the world, but most seemed to be called to stay and minister in the United States and Canada. The students represented those responding to God’s call to minister. The speaker would have the students respond to the cards on their chairs: a certain number of students would stand to represent those “called” to areas unreached by the gospel and unchurched—the lowest percentage out of the 25, 50, 100 (whatever number the speaker was using at the time)—two percent (2%). Then, students would stand representing the number “called” to foreign fields where the gospel had already been preached and churches planted—a little larger, but still a small percentage of the 25, 50, 100 students—maybe three (3%) to five percent (5%). Then, students of these two groups would sit down and the rest would stand—the vast majority, 90% to 95% of the number of students, would stand to represent the percentage of students “called” to stay in North America. Then the speaker would look at us and say something like, “95% stay and minister to 5% of the world’s mostly already reached population and 2% to reach 95% of the world and its unreached people who have not heard the gospel or have a gospel-believing church in their community. Broke my heart every time—convicted me. This always made an impression. The vast majority of Christians “feel” called to stay where the gospel had already been preached and the land was plentiful with churches. And only a small, very small percentage heeded the call to go where the need was greatest. Now, the reasons for this are various and complex, ranging from comfort level to potential places and platforms for potential success, from levels of commitment to fear and discomfort. And to be fair, I am sure some honest personal calculation as well. (This isn’t judgment, for I have used the same criteria for “spiritual” decision-making as well. Plus, it’s simple reality.) I often think about this illustration when I talk about the need for church planters in uncool places and the need for lay-folks to join, support, and go to our own inner-city, poor neighborhood churches. The vast majority still “feel called” to go or be among their own in places and neighborhoods that have the resources for church ministry. I have more than a few times been told (mostly by young, abled-bodied Christians settling in the burbs), “The wealthy and those in the suburbs need Christ, too, you know.” I am well aware that most will go to where there is less need and there is already an abundance of resources and claim God’s leading. I get that. It was and is true of missionary “callings” and it is as true for reaching those in neighborhoods of scarcity and lack in the uncool places in North America (or anywhere for that matter). While it is true we are dependent on the gracious gifts of those with resources, that is, outside funding, so that we can both build up our church and reach our Hill neighborhoods (couldn't do this with out them), I am still praying that God moves (calls) into our neighborhood and into our church those who have resources—to actually be a part of the daily, weekly ministry of our church and mission to the Hill. I still am hoping, praying for some of our able-bodied, young adults to hear God’s call to minister among our Hill teenagers. I am still praying that those with skills and resources to come join us to reach Hill children (and their parents) with the gospel. I still pray that God would burden the hearts of those with musical talent to come among us to develop a music ministry—both for church and for the street. Still, I realize that 95% of Christians within the sound of my voice, who read my Wasted Blog posts, and my prayers will “go” to the 5% that already have the resources and platforms for success; and, 5% will go to the 95% who are under-resourced and have little to no platforms for success. Combine this with the uncomfortable tension that well-resourced folks have with the poor and unsafe neighborhoods and the disparity in percentages are even worse. Yet, I still pray. And, I still make the appeals. Hear God’s call. I think of Keith Green’s old song, “Here am I, Send Me,” and two of the lines: Oh Lord, you said the harvest was great, The bottom-line: I’m looking for able-bodied Christians to come be a part of our Hill ministry to minister to Hill kids, Hill teenagers, to develop a music ministry, some to bring resources to the ministry. This isn’t one of the cool-places nor is it a typical venue for success. It’s a messy ministry. It is an under-resourced ministry in an under-resourced place. It is a place of great need. Still, the harvest is great. It is a call to ministry that is against the odds. PS Anyone interested in a ministry against the odds here, please email me at [email protected] or friend me on Facebook (Pastor Chip) and IM me.
PSS You can check out our Hill ministry through my webpage: Pastor Chip PSSS Check out this Wasted Blog as well: Open Air Preaching and the Forgotten Elect: Not doing ordinary  Luke 21:13: “This will be your opportunity to bear witness.” Luke 21:10-38 is my text for the Saturday sidewalk and Sunday sermons. Usually—at least when I have been in the pew listening—this text is a “let’s get the timing of the second coming right” (i.e., when is Jesus coming back and let’s prepare for it) text. Luke isn’t asking (or telling) the timing on the second coming, but that soon all hell is going to break loose and you need to stay faithful to Me through it all. Luke 21:13 stands out—and it’s not usually a verse covered too much when Luke 21 is viewed as a “timing of the second coming” passage. Here it is: “This will be your opportunity to bear witness.” More straight forward, this verse, after all the disaster that is described to take place, this verse is actually, like a pause . . . like this: “There will be wars and natural disasters and before all this you will be jailed, persecuted, and brought before authorities on account of Me . . . an opportunity for martyrdom.” This takes all the power from us. Something even as Christians we shun and do whatever we can to retain our power. Still . . . Yep, that’s the word here: μαρτύριον, martyrdom. Makes sense this word can be martyrdom or testimony, witness (which is how the ESV and most Bible translations render it). But we can’t loose sight over the fact this word conveys being a martyr. When all hell breaks loose and you are persecuted and jailed and killed for being My followers, all this will present an opportunity for you to be a martyr, an opportunity for a witness. When Jesus goes on afterward, saying don’t plan on what you’re going to say at your defense, I will give you the words (v. 14-15). Many use this to take back the power, to retain our power. Many take this as God will supernaturally give you words to say. We all like to be able to claim that—makes us out to be powerful, special to God, a force to be reckoned with; heck, God is speaking through me! Yea. No. It points in another direction: “Don’t try to defend yourself when brought before the court because you’re a follower of Me. Testify—witness, be a martyr—of Me. This will be your opportunity to be My witness, My martyr.” This speaks. We are too prone to defend ourselves. To claim power. Rather we are called to testify (to loose all power) of Jesus, even when all hell breaks loose. Perhaps we can fathom this type of bearing witness in places like Afghanistan, Syria, China, Iran, Venezuela. Maybe, someday we’ll be in a place like that. But what about now? We can’t even take the tough times here and now and see the opportunity to be a witness, let alone when all hell breaks loose. This is an opportunity for you to be a witness, a testimony, a martyr.
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AuthorChip M. Anderson, advocate for biblical social action; pastor of an urban church plant in the Hill neighborhood of New Haven, CT; husband, father, author, former Greek & NT professor; and, 19 years involved with social action. Archives
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