Random Thoughts Triggered by a Month of Reformation

I carry a notebook and jot down thoughts continually, half formed thoughts that are more like questions then answers.  Sometimes I work them out more completely, other times I just think them and leave them for someone else to work.  Here are some that I want to record because I lack the time just now to whip them into any type of fuller coherency.  Most deal with concepts related to the month of celebrating the Reformation in our church (which strained a little at my former Roman Catholic upbringing).

Why do we hate silence in our church services?  There is never a moment to be quiet before God.  In our church we always have to sing.  We sing to enter, we sing to worship, we sing at the offertory, we sing at communion, we sing when we leave.  And consider prayer, when was the last time you heard the pastor call you to prayer and then had a silent church for ten minutes as each soul wrestled inside itself.  Nature abhors a vacuum, and church congregations abhor silence in prayer.  After thirty seconds of silence, someone is guaranteed to pray.  My soul needs silence in church, places where I can appropriate what I have heard, what I have done.  Places where there are no longer the distractions of the spiritual cacophony that often fills our sanctuaries.  I am reminded that it was only in the silence that Elijah heard the still small voice of God speaking to Him.

Why are Protestant robes black, and Roman Catholic robes white?  For as much as we Protestants like to lean on scriptural warrant, it seems from on-line sources that the Protestants chose their robe color because they placed a high emphasis on trained and educated clergy, and black was the color of the academic robe.  Who can tell from the internet whether anything is really true nowadays, but this one sort of rings true in my ears.  The Reformation aftermath saw a significant shift in the understanding of ministry as a calling to that of a profession.  And it always seemed to me that one of the legacies of the Reformation was the constant reminder that all of our righteousness is as filthy rags.  Perhaps that’s why we prefer black to the white that the saints of God are always clothed in.  Sometimes we put too much emphasis on our depravity, and not on the image of God in which we are created.

I recently attended a wedding at a church where there was no altar or table at the front, just an elevated pulpit that dominated the entire front center of the church.  There was no cross, there were no adornments of any kind, and there was this strange scripture verse displayed across the front, “Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set.” Proverbs 22:28.  I wondered if the church had ever seen true spiritual life in its sanctuary.  It was typical New England style, with pew boxes and austerity.  No room for a choir, little room for any instruments of worship, just the stark reminder of truth, forever set as a plumbline, and always condemning.

I remember the part in the movie about Martin Luther where his confessor Staupitz counsels him to pray simply to God from Psalm 119:94, “I am yours, save me.”

Staupitz:   “Martin, what is it you seek?

Luther:     “A merciful God.  A God whom I can love.  A God who loves me.”

Staupitz:  “Then look to Christ.  Bind yourself to Christ and you will know God’s love.  Say to Him,

                 “I’m yours.  Save me.”

Luther:     “I am yours.  Save me.  I am yours.  Save me.  I am yours.  Save me.

How great a difference that simple confession is, how much more compassion and comfort it brings, then the most robust theological discussion of the doctrines of salvation, justification, and sanctification.  I am yours.  Save me.

Last one for today.  We have been discussing the Great Commission in church for some weeks now, but I find one disagreement in me regarding the initial premise of the whole thing.  I don’t think the thrust of the Great Commission is to make disciples, with the emphasis again on “teaching” and the underlying assumption that this is doctrine, truth, and right belief.  I think the entire purpose of the Great Commission is to bear witness to Jesus, His person, His message, His actions, His calling.  At least for me that is different then teaching right doctrine.  It is also interesting that the account in Mark is never mentioned as the Great Commission, even though it records the same historical occurrence.  Then again Mark says “Preach the gospel” as his rendition of the commission.  Luke’s account is broken up between his gospel and the first chapter of Acts, but even he says “You are my witnesses…”  I have been known to strain at a gnat and swallow a camel, but to turn the Great Commission into a command to teach right belief seems too Reformation to me.  Bearing witness to the work of God through His Son seems to be the starting point.  But we surely do like our doctrinal or propositional faith.