Centered-Church Story: My Expectations Were Too Low

The communion service moved me to tears. Being back in Honduras and worshiping with the people of Amor Fe y Vida church would be moving enough, not to mention that Arely Cantor, the pastor serving communion, had participated as a teenager in the studies of Galatians I led in that church in 1992 and 1993. It was, however, “Carmen” coming forward to receive the elements that especially moved me. It struck me that if the church had not worked to shift from a bounded to centered approach after our studying Galatians together, Carmen would have remained seated all these years while others from the church went forward. She would have remained on the shameful side of the bounded-church’s line.

As I recount on pages 44-45 in Centered-Set Church Carmen faithfully attended church but was not allowed to participate in the Lord’s Supper or serve in any leadership role because she was not married to her common-law husband. The study of Galatians propelled the church to shift away from bounded line-drawing. Church leaders visited Carmen and discerned that she was clearly oriented toward Jesus the center. She wanted to get married but her partner refused. She had been faithful to him during their, at that time, 17 years together. They invited Carmen to participate fully in the church. Today she serves on the church council. I have often reflected on and celebrated this positive fruit of Amor Fe y Vida’s centered approach. But I had not before imagined the alternative. What if Amor Fe y Vida was still bounded? Carmen would have lived draped in shame all these years. Tears came to my eyes as I saw her standing before me freed from that shame and receiving communion.

I felt even greater emotion when I saw who stood behind Carmen, next to receive communion —her husband “Rafael.” 

Although Carmen had been faithful to Rafael, he had several affairs over the years. Carmen had requested numerous times that they get married. He said “no” every time. She decided to stop asking, but prayed all the more that he would change his ways and marry her. Four years ago, at his initiative, he suggested they get married. Although he did not yet consider himself a Christian, he declared that Amor Fe Vida would be his church and wanted a church wedding. In terms of the centered-set church diagram would could say he was far from the center, but his arrow had begun to turn—slowly. He occasionally visited the church, but a year and a half ago he started coming regularly, made a confession of belief in Jesus, and 6 weeks ago he was baptized. After communion, during a time of sharing, Rafael stood and expressed his gratitude for being part of this church. The pastor told me he does this regularly. Rafael has said that since walking with Jesus he no longer feels the pull of pursuing other women. Although older and suffering from diabetes, Rafael is eager for opportunities to serve in the church.

I was deeply moved, but also challenged by seeing the married, baptized Rafael. The reality is that although I have told Carmen’s story numerous times, I have never thought about nor prayed for Rafael. I celebrated that Amor Fe y Vida’s centered approach had freed Carmen from shamed status and freed her to more fully serve. But when telling the story I had never said, “and let us pray that the gravitational attraction of Jesus, and the centered approach of Amor Fe y Vida will pull Rafael into a relationship with Jesus that will change his relationship with Carmen. Rafael’s standing before me receiving communion challenges me to have even greater expectations of the potential of a centered approach and, especially, of the transformative power of the God of the center.

Mario, the former pastor of Amor Fe y Vida that had led their transition from bounded to centered told me of other stories of the fruit of a centered approach. “Elena’s” marriage had broken and ended. When she remarried, her bounded church shamed her and ended her leadership and teaching roles in the church. Later, however, other leaders discerned her Jesus-centeredness and invited her to once again teach Sunday school. She later became the leader of the entire Sunday school, and eventually planted a church.

Mario is currently involved in a church plant himself in Talanga, his hometown near Tegucigalpa. It meets in a home. As Mario described it more I realized it was a church of refugees from bounded churches. Most all of them had not been attending church. Half the group were involved in a marriage that in one way or another did not meet the common Honduran bounded church standard. They tired of their shamed status and left their churches. A few of them had visited Amor Fe y Vida and asked Mario to start a church like that in Talanga. Do you know any bounded church refugees that you might invite to experience the life-giving experience of a centered church like these people in Talanga?

A number of years ago Iglesia Amor Fe y Vida changed their name as part the process of becoming legally recognized—another church had already filed under that name. Today their name is Viviendo en Amor y Fe, but I continue to use their original name to aid readers in making the connection with the church mentioned in my books.

Our Celebrity Problem

What is the difference between fame and celebrity? According to Katelyn Beaty, someone is famous for doing something, for a life well lived. A celebrity is known for their well-knownness, for a brand well cultivated (8, 13). In her book, Celebrities for Jesus: How Personas, Platforms, and Profits are Hurting the Church, she observes that celebrity is a uniquely modern phenomenon fostered first through newspapers, later film and television, and now the internet and social media. Mass media gives the illusion of intimacy with celebrities, but it is an illusion (12). Celebrities have social power without proximity (17). She argues that the tools of mass media are not neutral, or as I say, are not passive. “The primary functions of mass media are to entertain us and to get us to buy things. Thus, modern celebrities—including those in the church—feed the cycles of entertainment and material consumption” (12). The tools used influence the message transmitted by them, bringing that message into the realm of entertainment and consumption.

 The book gives significant attention to how Christian celebrities gain their status, how their celebrity hurts them and others, and how it makes it easier for them to abuse power. Similar to the excellent podcast series about Mark Driscoll, The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, Beaty does not just focus on the celebrities themselves as the problem, but also on how other Christians enable and foster celebrities. As she states, the problem is not just with them, but with us (60). “The American church has overall mimicked celebrity culture rather than challenge it. We have too many institutions built around personalities” (19).

 She likens the allure of celebrity to the allure of the ring in Lord of the Rings. It is not a spiritually neutral tool. She observes that Jesus refused to do good things in the wrong way. Beaty advocates for a return to the small, the quiet, the uncool, the ordinary. “We must practice proximity—Valuing flesh-and-blood relationships over mediated ones, choosing intimacy over fandom, and letting others into the real contours of our behind-the-scenes lives, where our vulnerabilities and weaknesses are on display” (168-69). I appreciate that Beaty acknowledges her complicity in celebrity culture—both in contributing to the celebrity status of others and her own limited celebrity. Although not a major celebrity, she probably has more celebrity status than anyone reading this blog. Yet, let’s not let ourselves off the hook too quickly. As she states, “If people follow you on social media, you’re at least swimming in celebrity waters” (172). I will share some reflections the book provoked in me, and urge you to consider as well, what action steps it calls for.

 Beaty observed that people near a celebrity get refracted light and feel a bit of celebrity themselves. This can contribute to them putting inordinate and inappropriate effort into keeping the celebrity on their pedestal and continuing to support the celebrity even when there is strong evidence the person has major failings. I have not been in a celebrity's inner circle, so I do not think I have done the above. But, I recognize I am attracted to the refracted light of the famous and celebrities. As an enneagram 3, it is a way I can fill my longing for success. I have become more honest with myself about this in recent years. When I feel the pull, and recognize I am seeking to get close to someone primarily because they are a someone, I now stop. I remind myself that I am loved and embraced by God. From that place of acceptance, I find it easier to not chase the refracted light.

 Beaty is now the lead acquisitions editor for Brazos Press. To her credit, she includes a chapter in the book about how the Christian publishing industry has contributed to the problematic rise of celebrities. It “has added jet fuel to the problem of Christian celebrity” (96). Increasingly, publishers base decisions on what to publish on the platform of the author (number of followers, number in their congregation, etc.) rather than the quality of the book manuscript. She said this is especially true of Christian publishers that have been bought by multinational corporations. The platform pressure is present with other publishers as well. For instance, IVP Academic accepted my centered-set book for publication even though I do not have much of a platform. (About 400 people have subscribed to this blog.) IVP is not as beholden to platform pressure as some for-profit publishers. Yet much of the marketing guidance they give to all InterVarsity Press authors revolves around building a platform. It is seen as a key way of selling books today.

 As I sat staring at IVP’s suggestions of ways for an author to build a following, my recurring thought was: this is not about me. I do not want to promote Mark Baker; I want to promote the centered approach. Of course, the two overlap. I am the one doing the podcast interview on the book tomorrow. But I made an intentional decision to make a new website focused just on centered-set church rather than a new page on a Mark Baker website. I made an intentional decision to not work at building my platform and following but to keep the focus on the centered approach. So, for instance, rather than inviting people to sign up for updates on Mark Baker, I invited people to sign up only for notification of when the centered-set videos and my book on Galatians and the centered approach would be released.

 I feel a bit uncomfortable with the previous paragraph. It sounds too much like I hold myself up as the stellar example of turning away from celebrity, and, implicitly, point my finger in judgment at those who do work at building their platform. So, a couple of caveats. First, there is a Mark Baker website. It is about as flashy as you would expect from someone who just stopped using an overhead projector a few years ago, but it is there. Second, if I was 40 and had several other books in mind, rather than 65, I probably would be giving more thought than I am to gathering readers for future books not just the present ones. I can easily imagine I would follow the platform-building advice. I share my experience not as a categorical statement against seeking followers to promote one’s work, but as an example of the possibility of at times resisting the current of the day. At times it is better to not adopt the default approach, and it is possible to do so.

 I had made that decision before reading Beaty’s book. She led me to press deeper. She called for a greater focus on relationships, not just as a way of protecting from the negatives of celebrity lack of proximity, but also because it is the way of Jesus. She reflected on how relationships with ordinary, non-celebrity, Christians have kept her in the faith. In the world of celebrity, and in my Eneagram-3 mind, writing a book is of more significance than a discipling relationship with a few individuals. Jesus opted for the latter. I felt chastened and challenged. It is not that I repent of having dedicated so much time and energy to writing books, nor that I am putting aside the book project I am currently working on. Books have value. Although some Enneagram-3- grasping-for-status certainly fueled my desire to write my first book, principally I wanted to write a book because God had used books in such transformative ways in my life. I desired to make that sort of contribution to others. But I do feel challenged in two ways. First, to reorient and give relations with others and discipleship the prized position they merit. Second, her book spurred me to think about how to treat the books I am currently promoting, Centered-Set Church and Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism, in more relational ways. For instance, in the evaluation of the book's success, let comments from individuals carry more weight than sales numbers. (Perhaps, for instance, to not immediately go to numbers when I answer the question: "How is your book doing?" And perhaps more importantly, internally do not immediately go to sales numbers. Pray for me--easier for me easier said than done.) I also want to prioritize relational approaches in my use and promotion of the books.

 What might Beaty's insights and observations mean for you?

The Cross Upends the Status-Grasping Ways of Society

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world (Gal 6:14 NIV).

 Should we really boast about the cross? I grew up in a culture that looks negatively on boasting. Therefore, I have not paid much attention to Paul’s use of the word here. I didn’t think he actually went around boasting. I assumed he just uses the word here to connect and contrast with the previous two verses and the boasting of others. But then I read a dissertation on honor-shame and Galatians by pastor and New Testament scholar David Harvey.

 He points out that, like today, in Paul’s time boasting was public self-aggrandizement. But, unlike today it was socially acceptable. Boasting was to make a claim for honor. Think of it like a group of children coming to adults and proudly saying, “Look what we did!” They are seeking affirmation. Similarly, in Paul’s time boasts were submitted to the court of public opinion. If they were accepted, the boasting individual or group gained honor. In the Roman world boasting also was a tool for shaping the behavior of others. Returning to the example of children, suppose you were a child playing with a separate group but you observed the positive response the other children received. You would then know that what they did is something that would gain praise. The positive response to the boasting of one group guided others to know what was honorable behavior (Harvey, 93-97).

 So, perhaps Paul really meant what he wrote. He did boast in the cross. He did so in order to make a statement about his honor status that invited others to embrace the same definition of honor. Although best for us not to boast in the 21rst English sense of the word, let’s not just run past this word. How might we join Paul in accomplishing the same things as his 1rst century boasting did?

 To put the word “boast” in its first century context, however, immediately brings up the incongruity of linking it with a cross. In the Roman world if one had any association with a crucified one the common action would be to hide or deny the connection, not boast about it. Many today, understandably, emphasize the physical torment of crucifixion, but in the first century it was the shame of crucifixion that was most feared. The fact that crosses, including Jesus’, were placed near very public roads underscores the shaming intent. It was a public spectacle designed to degrade.

 Why then does Paul make this oxymoronic statement about boasting in the cross? If we think of the cross just in terms of forgiveness of sins and individual salvation, it might be hard to explain. But in Galatians the cross is that and more; it is also the means “of a value-neutralizing social revolution” (Harvey, 227) (1:4; 2;16; 3:13; 3:27-28). At the cross Jesus did the exact opposite of what Paul has accused the agitators of doing in the previous two verses (6:12-13). Rather than grasping for honor for himself, he repeatedly risked his reputation in order to express loving acceptance to the shamed and excluded—to the point of death on a shameful cross. His death exposed the honor systems of the day as distorted from the ways of God. The cross and resurrection not only exposed these systems but turned them on their head and provided freedom from them (Gal 1:4; Col 2:15). Through the resurrection God validated the way of Jesus as the truly honorable way. With this broader meaning of the cross in mind we can understand “the phrase ‘boast in the cross’ as an attempt to define Christ’s shameful crucifixion as a paradigm for honourable behaviour for the Galatian Christians” (Harvey, 181). Within the new honor system formed by the cross of Christ, Paul’s statement is not paradoxical. Shame is relative to a group’s definition of honor. The paradox is not within Paul’s boasting in the cross, it is that the bounded other missionaries he critiques in the previous verses are still seeking status in categories of differentiation dissolved by Christ’s death.

 When we allow “boasting” to have the sense of staking an honor claim and including an element of instruction about what is honorable, we can see that in the few words of this verse Paul is communicating key elements of this letter to the Galatians. Through Christ he, and the Galatians too, can be free from the bounded-group-status-grasping way of the world and embrace a radically different concept of honor. And it truly is radical. Paul is boasting, staking his identity, in the cross, something that undermines status differences. I invite you to pause for a moment and reflect on what that implies about a centered approach. It points to it not just being a retooling of bounded or fuzzy, it is a radically different third way. There is still honor, still a group sense of identity, of belonging, but it is of a totally different character—the bounded group’s honor system turned upside down.

 It is upside down because at its foundation a centered group is about God acting, not human actions. It is not about Paul, his ethnic group, his religious tradition. It is about God’s gracious action and trusting in that saving action (2:16) enough to live according to this way instead of the world’s status systems.

 The cross of Jesus opens up a radically different alternative to these status games. We do not have to put others down or live up to twisted standards of success and status in order to have a sense of value and identity. Through the cross, Jesus exposed and tore down one system and replaced it with another. Let us live according to the honorable ways defined by the cross.

 • What are different ways status is measured, gained, and lost in the society you live in today? What are the implications for you of taking seriously Paul’s proclamation that these distinctions have been dissolved by the cross? (both in the sense of release from shame for not measuring up, and in the sense of turning away from judging others according to these standards).

 • What does Jesus’ honor code look like today? What types of behaviors/attitudes are worthy of “boasting” about within the upside-down honor code?

 The above is an adaptation of portions from pages 233-37, 244-45, Mark D. Baker, Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, Kindred Productions, 2023.

 David S. Harvey, “Face in Galatians: ‘Boasting in the Cross’ as Reconfigured Honour in Paul’s Letter,” Ph. D. Thesis, University of Manchester, 2016.

Even Better than TV

Imagine slicing through a big ripe juicy tomato from a backyard garden and putting the slice on your sandwich. Imagine the anticipation you feel of biting into that sandwich. Now, in the middle of winter, imagine slicing through a pale, uniformly-round, juiceless tomato. It was picked green on a huge tomato farm in south Florida and made the long journey to your grocery store. You may still be glad to add the slices to your sandwich, but it is not the same experience. They are so different perhaps we should not even give the same name to both. In other areas of life do we too often settle for the equivalent of factory-farm tomatoes?

Over the years I have read hundreds of students’ reflections on TV watching and screen use. Although there has been great diversity in their habits, one line shows up repeatedly. They say something like: “I get home and watch some videos to unwind,” or “at end of the day before going to bed I watch a couple of shows to relax and decompress.”

After reading about this use of TV/videos so many times, last year I asked the important question: does it actually work? This is what I found.

Study results are mixed. Yes, it can do good things to your brain waves, but it depends on what you are watching. Some shows and videos increase stress or rev you up. So, a qualified yes. But what if we ask another question: Are TV shows the best means of decompressing and lowering stress? Is scrolling through videos a very good way to do so? Here, the answer is clear. No.

What are better ways? One researcher stated you would be better served by just closing your eyes and breathing. Here are some other ideas adapted from this article by Jessica Stillman.

 Writing - screens increase the chatter in your brain, writing decreases it. Research affirms that journaling is an excellent way to clear your mind, reduce anxiety, and sleep better.

 Nature – Studies also show that spending time in nature helps reduce stress and anxiety and increase creativity and empathy. A hike in the wilderness is great, but just taking a few minutes focused on some flowers in your yard or a walk in a park is beneficial.

 Prayer/worship – For reasons you can imagine. What are reasons that prayer and worship would help one decompress?

 Exercise – Again, no explanation is needed here. We know this is true. The next one might not be as obvious . . .

 Reading is better for stress relief than TV/videos. 

I want to make clear, I am not totally opposed to relaxing via TV. I like watching a movie on Friday evening after a long week. And there are other appropriate reasons for watching videos or TV besides just stress relief. I enjoyed watching a TV show with family last night. But I do exhort you to not have screens be your default for stress relief and unwinding. It is easy, but not the best. The above alternatives are all like juicy backyard vine-ripened tomatoes. Why settle for industrial-picked-green tomatoes when the juicy alternative is right at hand?

Less is More

Mary Hirschfeld, theologian and economist, tells the following parable about two families she calls the Aardvarks and the Warthogs. Both families enjoy music and both make their living as potters. The Aardvarks decide that a grand piano would best enable them to pursue their musical interests. They work hard and each month set aside money toward purchasing the piano. After they buy the piano, they cut back their hours at their pottery shop so they can enjoy the piano. They work enough to cover their needs but no more than that. They become good musicians and invite others into their home to join in the music.

The Warthogs follow the same plan. They too are pleased when they have saved enough to buy a grand piano. “But it occurs to them that it would be even better to supplement the piano with a cello and a violin. That way they could play those lovely trios by Schubert. So they go back to their pottery shop and keep working” (126). They are glad to bring those two instruments into their home, but immediately think how wonderful it would be to branch out musically and play jazz too. “So they earn enough money to get a saxophone, a trumpet, and a bass. Now their house is a bit crowded, and so they decide they need to get a larger house. And so they redouble their efforts at the pottery shop. And on it goes. At the end of the day, the Warthogs never do have much time for music; their hours are mostly spent making more pots” (126).

 Hirschfeld observes that although the Warthogs saw themselves as pursuing music, seeking more income ends up being the real good they pursue. She states that economists categorize things like what the Aardvarks and Warthogs bought as instrumental goods because their purpose is to help us achieve desired ends. Thus economists consider wealth instrumental, a tool. Yet Hirschfeld argues that “instrumental goods can only remain instrumental if they are in service of clearly specified ends” (126). For too many today wealth itself is pursued as if it is the end, not a means to an end.

 I will let the parable function as a parable and let it speak to you rather than listing the meanings and connections that I or Hirschfeld see. I will share just one response her parable led me to think about.

 We could say this is a parable about resisting the lie of consumerism that more wealth and the things it can buy produce a better life. That is an aspect of the parable. But why were the Aardvarks able to resist? It was not just a commitment to resist the lie. Rather they had clarity on what they valued. So too with us, there is value in saying to each other: resist the lies of Mammon and consumerism. Even more important is to develop alternative values to what Mammon tells us we should value.

 What are values you can foster that with growth will make it much easier to ignore the empty call by Mammon to pursue wealth itself as a value?

 How might the Spirit be calling you to begin a conversation about this with others in your family and faith community?

From: Mary Hirschfeld, Aquinas and the Market: Toward a Humane Economy, 2018

The Way of Jesus: 3 : 12 : 120

3 : 12 : 120, Andy Crouch's comments on Jesus and those numbers took me back to college days and a paper I wrote in a ministry course. The paper's prompt was: "What can we learn about discipling others from observing Jesus' leadership training methods?" I had yet to receive much training in biblical interpretation, but even my simple reading of the text yielded valuable insights. They have shaped my approach to ministry over all these decades. I noted that Jesus spoke to crowds, but he did not fill his days preaching to the masses. Instead, he gave special attention to an inner circle of 3, a group of 12, and a bigger circle of about 120. (That was the number of followers gathered on Pentecost.) I observed that Jesus spent time with his disciples. He did not just give lectures to them; he shared life with them. Jesus did tell stories, ask questions, and occasionally lecture, but he taught as much by modeling as by talking. He also gave them opportunities to learn by doing. 

During the years I was involved in youth ministry, I prayed every August, asking  who would be my 3 and my 12 that year. And then I would seek to do what Jesus did. I visited the 3 in their homes and invited them to mine. During the school's lunchtime, I sought to interact with the 12. I had a Bible study, open to all but focused on the 12. I gave the 3 opportunities to lead in the main group activities and encouraged them to each have their group of 3. The roles I later had as a missionary and seminary professor did not lend themselves to the same application of the 3 : 12 : 120 approach. Even so, most years, I still asked God: who are the 3 and the 12 you are calling me to prioritize and take initiative with? I have not done that for a number of years, but I will do so this week. Will you join me and do the same?

Andy Crouch's talk of 3 : 12 : 120 led me to recall these insights, but his reflection went deeper. He acknowledges that cultural transformation requires change at the systemic and institutional levels but argues it is a mistake to leave out the personal and relational. In his book Culture Making, he writes, "The essential insight of 3 : 12 : 120 is that every cultural innovation, no matter how far-reaching its consequences, is based on personal relationships and personal commitment." (243). He argues that the key move is not to get an audience of thousands and make a pitch but to build deep relationships of trust and shared vision with 3. Then gather a group where everyone in the room can still be seen and heard—12. The next circle of 120 is the max for people to know each other and have a personal sense of buy-in. To get a bit more explanation, I invite you to watch this four-minute video by Crouch, or read this blog by David Fitch reflecting on Andy's 3 : 12 : 120 and the church.

 As Crouch states, "The pattern of 3 : 12 : 120 is marvelously good news. Faced with the immense scale and scope of culture . . . we feel overwhelmed, justly concerned about many features of our culture that we will never be able to change. The temptation to withdraw or accommodate, to get away or just go along, is strong" (245). Yet, change is possible. We can all seek out a few others who share our convictions and vision and invest in developing relationships of deep trust. That can set the stage for inviting others to join in transforming work—in your church, your institution, your neighborhood, or beyond.

 It is good news and also a challenge. It challenges us to resist going it alone. It tells us relationships are crucial and that they take work.

 Is there a vision that God is stirring within you? Who might you invite to be part of your 3? Your 12?

Restoring Personhood – In the Early Church and Today

Gaius, mentioned in Paul’s letter to the Romans (16:23), was head of a household—meaning he likely had a large house that included his family and other workers and slaves. Andy Crouch observes that Gaius would have been a client to patrons above him as well as a patron to others with less status and power. Then Crouch makes this statement: "There is one other significant thing about Gaius that we need to grasp . . . He was a person" (15). Well, isn't that obvious? Do we need someone as brilliant as Andy Crouch to tell us that? What makes the statement significant is what Crouch explains next. In the Roman world at that time personhood was a legal category—someone with standing before the law. “Many people in Gaius’s world were, in fact not persons in this sense. Slaves, above all, though they were undeniably human, were treated under the law not as person but as property” (15). That helps us understand why Crouch told us he was a person, but why is Crouch writing about Gaius in a book on technology? (The Life We’re Looking For: Reclaiming Relationship in a Technological World.)

 Just as in Gaius’s day world forces hindered many humans from living as persons, Crouch argues that today technology and Mammon hinder humans from living as persons. Our machines and devices make us machine-like.

 Erastus, the next one mentioned in Romans, was a city official and also a person. The man mentioned before Gaius, Tertius, and the one after Erastus, Quartus, were not persons in Roman society. As Crouch observes, we know Tertius was a nobody partly because of his job—to take down dictation from important people like Gaius and Erastus. He may have been a slave, but even if a hired hand, he was still not considered a person. His name, "third," also points to his lack of status. Sons of slaves did not matter much, so they were often named by the month they were born or their birth order. Even non-slave families sometimes did this—only the first-born son really mattered. Out on the street, Gaius and Erastus are men of rank—persons, and Tertius and Quartus (Fourth) are nobodies—non-persons. But when they all gathered together as Jesus followers, the categories and stratification were left at the door. Slaves and free, scribes and city officials, men and women, all ate together at the same table. They all became persons.

 Crouch leads us to see this in the letter itself. He imagines Paul stopping dictation of his greetings and saying, “’Tertius, you should greet them.’ . . Suddenly the scribe is not just writing; he is speaking—and he has a name. . . Paul sees Tertius. He is Paul's brother, not just a hired hand" (115-16). Borrowing from Madeline L'Engle, we would say, Paul named him. “[T]he circle of brothers and sisters [expands] to include those who do the anonymous work, those who normally take orders, those who arrive without being greeted and depart without being noticed. Those who were named something like ‘number three’. . . But as they arrive and join the feast, every one of them is welcomed in the Lord. . . Because every one of them is a person” (116, 120).

The need for humans to be treated as persons, not things, is just as great or even greater today. There are still categories of people who, in the eyes of some, are less-than-human. Others perform machine-like labor and are often treated like machines. Yet now, even the personhood of those with status, today’s Gaius and Erastus, is lessened by technology and Mammon.

 Let us, the body of Christ, as individuals and communities, be instruments of naming—of restoring personhood to those who have lost or are losing it. Here are some ideas on how to do that.

          Table Fellowship – As in Gaius's time, inviting someone to share a meal communicates acceptance, restores dignity, and fosters human connection.

         Technology Fasts – In an earlier book, The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place, Andy Crouch shares some of his family’s practices, including fasting from their devices, one hour a day, one day a week, one week a year. Share the ideas, read the book with others—practice it together.

        Alternative Activities  – Don’t just take breaks from technology, but with intentionality do things that foster personhood—with friends, family, church community.

          Be Present  – Another area that calls for intentionality. In an age of absence be present to others.

          Give Dignity – Look for ways to increase the dignity of those with a dignity deficit.

         Evangelism – How might technology and Mammon's attack on personhood reframe how you think about and practice inviting others into a relationship with Jesus?

For Further reading –  In addition to the two books by Andy Crouch mentioned above, I recommend the following historical fiction books:

A Week in the Life of Rome  by James L. Papandrea

Lost Letters of Pergamum by Bruce Longenecker

 These narratives will help you feel and understand in greater depth the personhood-denying practices of Roman society and the radicalness of Christians' response.

Jesus: Carpenter or Construction Worker?

Imagine a carpentry shop. What are the images that come to mind? Imagine a crew of builders working on at a construction site. What comes to mind? What comes to mind when you hear the phrase, Jesus was a carpenter? What changes if you think of Jesus working for years on a building crew? A recent article I read by Jordan Monson persuaded me that “builder” or “construction worker” is a better translation than carpenter for the word in Matt. 13:55 and Mark 6:3. Now, instead of just thinking, "oh, those Bible scholars, always digging for details to argue about," I urge you to take a few minutes and join me in reflecting on what difference it might make whether we think of Jesus working at a carpenter’s bench or on a construction crew.

 I will briefly mention some of the main points in Monson's argument and then share some of his thoughts and my own on why it matters.

 “Carpenter” is not technically a wrong translation of tektōn, but the word is broader than that—more the sense of a builder who uses various materials—wood, stone, metal, thatch, plaster, etc. “Carpenter” may have seemed like the most fitting word for Bible translators in 17th-Century England, surrounded by woods and buildings made of wood, but does it make sense in Galilee? There were not many trees around Nazareth; hence little work was done with wood.

Monson, does not, however, just base his argument on building materials available for Jesus the tektōn. He asks the astute question, from where does Jesus draw his examples and metaphors? He often spoke of farming, occasionally of fishing, but not of carpentry—only one mention of wood and sawdust (Matt 7:3). But, Jesus often mentioned stones, foundations, and rocks. That points to him being a mason, working with stones.

Like other builders of the time, Jesus likely did not just work on small projects in his village. He and his father probably traveled to the nearby Sepphoris and worked with others on large building projects that Herod and others built. Jesus, at times, would have worked under the authority of head builders and perhaps had less-skilled laborers under his authority. This work experience shows up in his teaching. Jesus talks about wages, managers, hiring and firing, and building projects.

What difference does it make that instead of spending time cutting boards and hammering nails in a carpentry shop, Jesus, God incarnate, was chiseling, carrying, and laying stones?

It is easier to romanticize Jesus the carpenter meditatively working on a wood project with the sun streaming through the window. Few people plaster walls or build cement-block walls as a hobby, but many love spending time creating something out of wood at a home workbench. Thus it is easier to turn Jesus the carpenter into a more dignified respectable job.

The reality is that tektōn at that time, whatever building materials used, was a lowly position. Monson writes, "Jesus was not elite. His trade was not respected. Early church leaders of an aristocratic bent found Jesus' trade to be embarrassing. They wanted to distance him from it. The first substantive polemic against Christianity attaches the respectability of Jesus precisely on this account. In the second century, the pagan philosopher Celsus disparaged Jesus as 'only a tektōn'" (42-43).

God, through Jesus, did not just practice solidarity with and bring dignity to the marginalized through a few meals during his ministry. He spent years of living, working, and eating with the lowly. Thus, thinking of this word correctly enhances the significance of the incarnation for many who work in low-status jobs. God was quite literally one of them. What is the import for these people that Jesus was a construction worker? How might it challenge higher status people and their practice of viewing people differently based on their jobs?

There are multiple other reasons why the incarnation matters for us. One is that through Jesus’ being a human, God has experienced the joys and sufferings of humans. To move Jesus out of the quiet carpentry shop into the rough and tumble world of a construction crew broadens the sense of what he experienced. Think of conflicts you have had with co-workers, frustrations with a supervisor, drudgery on the job, unfair pay, or being totally drained after a long day. God incarnate likely experienced all this and more. Jesus experienced, as we do, many ways that human sin complicates the work-day world and causes suffering and pain. We pray to a God who does not just know about but has experienced what we go through. I invite you to take some time consciously praying to the God who worked as a stonemason on a building crew.

What are other ways that your thoughts or feelings about Jesus are enriched by thinking of him on a construction crew?

Based on: “The Stonemason the Builders Rejected” by Jordan K. Monson, Christianity Today, Dec, 2021: 40-43.

To further explore the significance of Jesus' humanity and divinity watch two 15 minute videos at the bottom of this page on my website.

See also, a blog that explores similar themes through looking at a Greek name in Romans

Liberated from Bounded-Church Shame by the Cross

“Is there a way I can sing these lines?” It’s a question I often ask myself when singing songs that refer to the cross. So much of the language and imagery flows from the penal substitutionary theory of atonement and the idea that Jesus’s death appeased God, that God had to punish Jesus to be able to forgive humans. Notice that I looked for a way I could sing. I did not just ask, "can I?" Having written two books that critique penal substitution theory of atonement, you might expect there are lots of lines I don't sing. But generally, I can fill the words with other meanings. I too affirm that Jesus died in our place, died for our sins. I can even interpret a phrase like, "he paid for our sins" in a way that allows me to sing it. Although there are some lines I don't sing, I asked the question Sunday with an expectation that I could sing them—and I did. As the song continued, however, I began to have second thoughts. READ MORE

The songwriter’s words of release through his sin being nailed to the cross had a sense of finality. It made it hard not to picture a western-courtroom God releasing a condemned sinner because the fine has been paid. By now I had moved past the original question and was asking myself other questions. "So, Mark, how about shame? Could you sing a line with that sense of finality, about shame?" I immediately thought of Luke 15. The father in the parable bore the prodigal son's shame in his place. Jesus removed shame from the despised and excluded through eating with them. Then he stood in solidarity with them through telling three parables—and, eventually, through dying on the cross. Yes, I said to myself, “We can think of Jesus taking on our shame with the same sense of completeness.” Then my next question, “Have you experienced this freedom from shame in its fullness, Mark?”

I immediately thought of the shame of being on the wrong side of a bounded group's line. On one hand, my answer was, "Yes, definitely." I have numerous times experienced release from a burden of shame through prayer and remembering Jesus and the cross. Yet, the internal question asker said, "But, the lines drawn by bounded churches still stir up anxiety and shame in your being. You do not have to live with that. You do not have to let them affect you." At that moment, I pictured Jesus bearing all of the shame I have experienced for feeling looked down upon by people on other sides of lines they had drawn—all the shame I have experienced, am experiencing, will experience. I heard the Gospel proclamation: “Mark, you are free; you have the possibility of living in freedom from the shaming effect of those lines.” To borrow imagery of our current reality, I did not feel that I had just taken a pill that would relieve the symptoms of a particular moment of shame, but a vaccine—the possibility of immunity.

Honestly, I feel a bit hesitant to write the above lines, perhaps even a bit of shame. A not-so-kind internal voice says, "You co-authored books on the atonement, co-authored a book on honor-shame, and wrote a book on bounded, fuzzy, and centered churches, and you still had not fully realized this? Had not fully experienced it?” Probably more accurate to say I had, but I needed a reminder. Regardless, let us accentuate the wonderful reality that God’s work through Jesus’ death and resurrection is of such depth and breadth that we can expect to continue to experience its liberating and healing significance in new and profound ways. May those of you who need it experience another layer of freedom from the debilitating shame of bounded group religiosity through Jesus and the cross, as I did this past Sunday.

Centered-Set Church: The Story Behind the Book

If you ask me, “how long were you working on the centered-set church book?” I might respond, “Since January 2018.” That was when I began doing interviews and focus groups with practitioners of the centered approach and then started writing. The book is filled with stories and examples gleaned from that field research. Yet, students’ questions birthed the idea for the book years ago. After I explained the centered approach, students often asked how to apply it in specific situations. There was no resource to offer them. A desire to fill that void and write a book addressing their questions grew within me. For that and other reasons, I dedicated the book to my students. As I state in the dedication, "without you this book would not exist." But as I worked on the book, it dawned on me that I was actually still working on a question that unsettled and captivated me in 1983.

In the fall of 1983, a lecture at the one-semester Oregon Extension study program grabbed my attention, disturbing me deeply yet leaving me wanting more. After four years of ministry and teaching high school in Honduras, I had become a student again. On that memorable day, Doug Frank wove together insights from sociologists Peter Berger and Jacques Ellul in a lecture contrasting religion and Christian revelation. He described religion as something humans construct as a security system that gives us the means to draw lines defining who is in and who is out. Religion also provides us security by giving us the means to please and appease God or the gods. 

None of this would have rattled me if Doug Frank had contrasted other religions with Christianity, but he gave many examples of Christian religiosity—including ones that mirrored my life. If I had heard Frank’s lecture a few years earlier, I imagine I would have reacted defensively or perhaps just dismissed it all. But after four years of ministry in Honduras I was worn down from working to stay on the right side of the lines I and others had drawn and burdened by all the to-do’s I had piled on myself. Doug Frank’s words unsettled me but rang true.

Frank was not, however, anti-Christian. He did not dismiss the gospel of Jesus Christ. Rather, following Ellul, he said that Christians had a propensity to turn Christian revelation into a religion. Frank’s lecture, like Christian revelation itself, not only exposed and confronted religion, but also pointed to the possibility of liberation from religion. In one sense he called into question everything that I had dedicated my life to, and at the same time he excited me with unimagined possibilities for my life. I left the lecture shaken but convinced, and asking, “How about the church? How can we have a non-religious church?” This question consumed me. I had never been so engaged by a topic for an academic paper. I read Ellul and Berger and had numerous conversations with Doug Frank, and wrote the paper. One paper was not enough. In different ways, the question was one of the strands of my MA thesis, my PhD dissertation, and my first book, Religious No More. I did not know it in 1999, the year that book was published, but I was still not done.

In 2001, after a church service, my friend Larry Dunn approached me and said, “Mark, I read your book Religious No More. Have you read Paul Hiebert’s work on bounded and centered sets?” When I replied that I had not, Larry countered, “You should.” He knew he did not need to say more. Larry knew that, once I read Hiebert’s article, I would see connections to my own work. Indeed, Hiebert’s diagrams and definitions captured me immediately, clearly communicating something for which I had been seeking language. 

I have been using Hiebert’s diagrams and concepts ever since—principally in my ethics course, but in many other settings too. As I wrote on the dedication page, students’ “challenging questions pressed me to refine and clarify my explanations of bounded, fuzzy, and centered sets.”  If I have been working on the question behind the book since 1983, I would say I have been working on the explanations of Hiebert’s categories, the first three chapters of the book, for twenty years. So, how long did I work on the centered-set church book?” Since 2018? Since 2001? Since 1983? In different ways, all are accurate. I do not know what the future will bring, but I think I am done—ready to turn in to Doug Frank the truly final version of my response to the question I asked leaving his lecture in 1983. The work on the book is done. The work of introducing people to the centered approach through the book and videos has just begun. Please join me, and let others know about these resources. Please share this link https://www.centeredsetchurch.com/

The middle paragraphs of this blog are adapted from Centered-Set Church, InterVarsity Press, 2021.