The Mind of Christ and Minding Realities
By James H. Lehman***
Presented at Brethren Journal Association luncheon
Church of the Brethren Annual Conference, July, 2003, Boise, Idaho
When I was a boy, the congregation I grew up in still had the free ministry. Shortly after I joined the church, the congregation called another minister. I remember being told that each of us was to pray and listen and search our thoughts and feelings. The name would come to us. We were not to talk about it to one another. It was a serious matter. I can remember praying and thinking and searching my inner thoughts, even though I was only a kid and hardly knew what prayer and inner thoughts were.
Recently in the congregation where I am now a member, we called a new pastor. First, we had a session with the whole congregation to review our past life, talk about hurts or angers with one another, and release them. Then we had several gatherings of small groups and then another all-congregation meeting to help us understand who we were at that moment, what we hoped for, and what we were being called to do. We tried to listen to the congregation's deepest reality. The search committee carefully avoided any kind of pressure or persuasion on any candidate or on the congregation. We talked a good deal about discernment.
In the fifty years between those two moments I've been part of many decisions in the church. Some have been made in a spirit of discernment. Many have not. What's the difference?
First a word about discernment-a term that has crept into our vocabulary in recent years. A member of our congregation, a few years older than I am, a Bethany graduate, asked me. "We never talked about discernment when we were in seminary. When did Brethren start using the word?" I couldn't answer him. If someone knows the answer, I'd like to hear it. "Discern" is a good word though. And it is in English translations of the Bible-in 1 Corinthians 2. It's used in the same passage where we find the phrase, the "mind of Christ."
Now that's a good phrase. It's one of those powerful and evocative expressions you can use to good purpose even if you don't know what it means. We talk about seeking the mind of Christ, but we rarely say what it is.
The Greek word translated as "mind" in this 1 Corinthians passage, chapter 2, verse 16, can mean "mind" or "will." The phrase appears in a passage about the "true wisdom of God." In verse 10 we have these words, "the Spirit searches everything even the depths of God." Then verse 14 reads, "Those who are unspiritual do not receive the gifts of God's Spirit, for they (the gifts) are foolishness to them, and they are unable to understand them because they are spiritually discerned." The whole passage ends in verse 16 with Paul saying, "But we have the mind of Christ."
So it seems to me that seeking the mind of Christ is more than looking for understanding-for intellectual clarity, for principles or ideas. It is discerning the very depths of God, God's deepest will. And what is that? And how can we possibly know that great mystery? But on the other hand we do know. There is a simple answer. It is love.
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Have any of you ever been in a church meeting-at any level, congregation, district, denomination-and you heard someone say, "We have to be realistic!" What did they mean? Did they mean-Let's pray about this? Let's find the will of God! Let's do the loving thing. Or did they mean-How are we going to pay for it. Or who's going to be for or against it? Then again, have you ever heard someone say flatly, "That's wrong. I'm opposed to that"? Did they mean "I'm searching for God's deepest wisdom"? Or did they mean, "I made up my mind on that a long time ago"?
Financial concerns and preconceived notions-these often drive our decision-making. I think it might be argued that these two are driving many decisions and discussions right now in our denomination.
Think about Jesus. What drew his attention? Well, he had a good bit to say about money. And the people who made him angriest were the Pharisees, the ones who were sure they were right. Money and settled opinion-How often do these keep us from listening to the depths of God, from seeking the mind of Christ.
In 1640 a former soldier and footman joined a Carmelite monastery in Paris. He became a lay brother assigned to menial tasks, first in the kitchen then in the shoe repair shop. Over the next 50 years he came to be known for his great simplicity and holiness. We know him as Brother Lawrence, and we know his ideas and experiences from a little book called, The Practice of the Presence of God.
Brother Lawrence set out to be in touch with God-to be in God's presence-every moment of the day. It took him ten years of constant listening and focusing-and struggle with himself. Finally, he came to have a moment-by-moment connection with God.
Two things about Brother Lawrence move me. One, the unflagging effort it took; and two, the love that suffused his life when he came fully into God's presence.
Well, why bring up a seventeenth century mystic to talk about discernment and decision-making in the Church of the Brethren-a group of people who could hardly be called mystical? My answer is this. I think God intended all of us to live in the unbroken connection Brother Lawrence came to experience. That is how Jesus lived. Finding the mind of Christ is finding that.
Have any of you looked at the recent literature on near-death experiences. These are instances when someone seems to have died and may even have been pronounced clinically dead and then is resuscitated. These people often report meeting a "being of light." Many identify the being as Christ. When they meet him, they often see their whole life pass before their eyes. And it's the truth about their life that they see, not what they want to believe about themselves. It's a moment of judgment. But the judgment does not come from outside. It rests in the truth about who they are. They experience it internally. Think about that. How would we feel if every moment of our lives passed before us and without any of our self-justifying filters? People report it as an experience of shame and chagrin. But at exactly that same moment they are suffused with love. And the love comes from Christ, the being of light, and they feel profoundly accepted.
We have trouble putting judgment and acceptance together. Truth and love are uneasy companions. But in Christ they are the same reality. The people who have this experience report it as wonderful and liberating. They are filled with life. Often when they return to consciousness their lives are forever changed, and their relationship to God, themselves, and others is changed.
Deep daily connection. Unflinching self-understanding. Unconditional love. The mind of Christ. This leads me to say something that I think most Christians will agree with. Finding the mind of Christ is not only finding truth, it is finding a relationship. But after we have said this, for many of us-I guess I would say for most of us-the question of truth quickly rears its head, separating itself from the reality of the relationship.
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So, we have a congregation that needs to cut its budget. Or a district that needs to deal with a congregation that wants to ordain a man who is gay. Or a denomination that needs to reorganize. Or a denomination being asked to define the person and work of Christ. How do people of faith discern the mind of Christ in these instances? I think that some are beginning to ask this question and are trying to find better ways of preparing for and making decisions. What is the difference between deciding and discerning? Are Roberts Rules of Order the best way of ordering a discernment process? Do you order a discernment process? Are there instances where the process is more important than the decision at the end?
Several things to note. Some congregations have been experimenting with worshipful work, interlacing prayer with mundane board and committee work. The board and staff of On Earth Peace has begun to operate by consensus. It's slow at times, but they do not move forward till they have a strong sense among them. The Quakers have a tradition of waiting in silence. Recently a district executive suggested changing Annual Conference so that every participant, delegates and well as attenders, would be placed in a small group of about 20 people. This would be done randomly during registration. These groups would meet for an hour each morning to sing and pray together, to try to understand the business of the day coming up and the larger challenges facing the church, to seek in silence and in respectful discussion a sense of direction for the day. This would mix people of different age, geography, theology, and experience. It would counter the increasing Balkanization of Annual Conference. It is presently possible to go through a whole Conference attending only the breakfasts, luncheons, and insight sessions that support your own view of the church, never meeting someone you might disagree with or learn from.
These are examples of or ideas for group efforts to come into the presence of God, as Brother Lawrence was trying to do. Each shifts the emphasis from the final outcome-the "moment of truth"-onto the relationships that grow and enable the church to get there. In fact, I would say that the relationships are more important than the final outcome.
But most of us believe deep in our soul that the outcome is the most important thing. We believe this even if we think we don't, or try not to. We live in a world where results matter. We got our education in a system that gave us grades, which we were proud to earn. We know money isn't the measure, but I'll wager all of us in this room would be delighted and feel affirmed if we were given a $20,000 raise. I'm not commenting on the rightness of wrongness of this, but simply that it is. And so when someone says in a church meeting, "We have to be realistic here!" we know what that means, and we find ourselves instinctively giving assent to the assumption of importance behind the comment.
And when a difficult decision needs to be made, we want to get it made. I want to ask you to think about this. Does finding the mind of Christ mean finding solutions and getting results?
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So let's go back to cutting the budget, ordaining a gay person, reorganizing the church, or deciding on the person and work of Christ. There is one thing I know about these four matters. I have never heard of a group of Christians quickly and joyously agree on them. Whether the process is contentious and argumentative or respectful and loving, there is always disagreement.
There is story of a Jewish congregation. I first heard it when Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm told it in her Annual Conference sermon at Long Beach. It's found in the book, Jewish Humor, by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin:
A rabbi comes to a well-established congregation. He's troubled. Every week there's a fight-on the Sabbath-during the service. It's over the Sh'ma Yisrea'el. Holy words! Jews have said them for millennia. Among the holiest! "Hear, O Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One." The fight is over how to say it. Half the congregation stands to say it. And the other half sits.
The half who stand say, "Of course we stand for the Sh'ma Yisra'el. It's the credo of Judaism. Throughout history, thousands of Jews have died with the words of the Sh'ma on their lips."
The half who sit say, "No. According to Jewish law, if you are sitting when you come to the Sh'ma, you stay seated."
The people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, "Stand up!"
The people who are sitting yell at the people who are standing, "Sit down!"
Disrupts the service. Destroys the mood. Charges the atmosphere. Drives the rabbi nuts.
Finally, someone tells th rabbi about a ninety-eight-year-old man at the nearby retirement home. A founding member of the congregation.
So following the tradition of the Talmut, the rabbi appoints a delegation. Three men. One who stands for the Sh'ma. One who sits. And the rabbi himself. They will go and they will interview the old man.
They enter his room. The man who stands rushed over to the old man and says, "Was it not the tradition in our congregation to stand for the Sh'ma?"
"No," the old man answers in a quavering voice. "That was not the tradition."
So the other man, the sitter, jumps in excitedly. "Was it not then the tradition in our congregation to sit for the Sh'ma?"
"No," says the old, "that was not the tradition.
So now the rabbi is really angry. He can't control himself anymore. He bursts out, "I don't care what the tradition was! Just tell them one way or the other! Do you know what goes on every week. The people who stand yell at the people who sit, and the people who sit yell at the people who stand!"
"Ah," says the old man, "that was the tradition."
That story is about our humanity. But I wonder if it doesn't point to something about divinity. Is it possible for God to be on both sides of an issue-even if that issue seems to be a matter of fundamental truth-like whether homosexual activity is a sin or a natural expression of human sexuality, or defining exactly who Christ was and is anyway?
Well, there's one place where God is on both sides. Right there. The person and work of Christ. The incarnation. Christ was and is both divine and human. The divine and the human really seem separate to most of us, even if we say we believe they are not. The New Testament says they are one. God is in both. A paradox the church has been trying to understand for two millennia. Invariable one side or the other is stressed. And when is either pushed to the max? In the search for truth. When we try to nail it down.
Mutually exclusive truths neither of which will go away. Maybe paradox is given to us so that we have to deal with each other. Maybe if we could have absolute certainty, those who had it would kill, or at least exclude, those who didn't. Well, we know that happens. Maybe God wishes for us not to agree but to learn from each other, because there is a larger reality God wants us to reach that encompasses the competing realities over which we are fighting. And that larger reality must be love. What else could it be!
When Christ comes to Brother Lawrence, to the person who nearly dies, to the mystic in a vision, to one of us in the still small voice, to a group grappling with a troubling decision-people almost never report that he delivers truths. They always want to talk about the extraordinary love they receive.
* * * * * *
Well, that man in my home church (his name was Henry) who was called to the ministry when I was a boy dutifully took his turn in the preaching rotation. At the end of a year he came back to council meeting and said that he just did not find the call of the church confirmed in his own spirit or by the events of the year. The church accepted this and he continued as the excellent farmer and deacon he had been. He was my Sunday school teacher and a pillar of the church-a man of integrity, faith, and good spirit. He just died a few years ago.
The new pastor, Joel Kline, we called at our church in Elgin is just coming up on his second year. He is hitting his stride. He fits the congregation, and there is a sense that we are on the right track.
So here's the question. Did we find the mind of Christ when we called Joel and miss it when we called Henry. I don't think so. Because there's one more thing. With God we are on a journey. We want to arrive, God wants us to keep moving. That year of preaching was an important part of Henry's journey of faith. It was important for the congregation because it reminded us of how much we valued him and how he fit into the life of our church. We don't know if Joel will be right for us for 15 years. We don't need to know that. All we need to know is what we are called to do together right now.
God is a creator and an actor; God makes things and does things. Jesus resisted being pinned down both in his ideas and in his person. He preached in parables and he moved from place to place. Maybe this is the hardest part of finding the mind of Christ. We don't want to have to keep moving. But we have to. It's the nature of the created world that things change. It's in God's very deepest nature. This God of love is also a holy wind that blows through us and clears us out and moves us forward.
So the task before us is not just to make decisions and find truths. It's to live in the love and sweeping activity of God. Find the mind of Christ is finding a dynamo. If we remember that, if we open ourselves to that, we will not suddenly begin to agree with one another, we'll not suddenly stop worrying about money realities, we will not stop having this impulse to nail down truth-but we may begin to listen to each other. We might even learn from each other. We will be on a journey that will lead us to some surprises.
James H. Lehman
Boise, Idaho
July, 2003
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