Christian Ministry in the Future Which Is Now

On my desk for months has been a little book I’ve finally opened. It has been eye-opening.

In the Name of Jesus was written by priest, professor, and writer Henri Nouwen and includes his “Reflections on Christian Leadership.” Originally published in 1989, the book was Nouwen’s look ahead to Christian ministry in the twenty-first century.

Well, here we are. And the future is now.

When Nouwen wrote the book, he was in his fifties, and his ministry was undergoing serious change. For two decades, he had been teaching and writing at the Menninger Institute, Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard. He was very well-known. In 2003, seven years after his death, a survey named him as the first choice of authors for Catholic and mainline Protestant clergy.

But after all his success, Nouwen found himself feeling empty. In a “very dark place” in his life, he began to realize that ‘burnout’ was a convenient psychological translation for a spiritual death.”

At that point, he felt led to make a complete change, and he accepted the invitation to move from Harvard to the L’Arche “Daybreak” community for mentally handicapped people near Toronto, Canada, to serve as pastor.

From daily association with the brightest and most “upwardly mobile” of society Nouwen found himself daily ministering in very physical and “non-glitsy” ways to the weakest of the weak, the simplest of the simple, who could read none of his books nor understand his former lectures. The only thing that impressed them was love.

It’s a depressing time (1989) to be a pastor, Nouwen wrote, a time when increasingly people don’t feel a need for God, the church, and a minister. Ministers see little real change, attendance is down, apathy is on the rise. For care, folks look more to psychologists, counselors, doctors, often seeking a “do it yourself” fix in which God and spirituality enter in not at all. Nouwen thought it would get worse.

In an effort to be timely, he said the church and her ministers would face three temptations, the same basic temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness. Worship and prayer would be devalued and forced to bow to “relevance,” the “worth” of churches and ministers being based on their production of social services. Selfless leadership in ministry would give way to “self-made” stardom among rock-star “ministers.” And “leadership” would be seen as the right of the powerful rather than the example of shepherds being humbly led by the Chief Shepherd. Ouch.

But what would really matter? The “leader with outstretched hands,” “praying, vulnerable, and trusting,” who “chooses a life of downward mobility,” who knows that he is weaker than any to whom he ministers and that he needs worse than any to hear the word God speaks through him, “You are loved.”


 Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Tree Swing Plans and God's Plan for Love

Given the rare opportunity, I can go a long time without answering a phone of any kind and be just fine. In fact, one of the things I like about motorcycles is that talking on a phone on one is almost impossible and not recommended, unless you’ve installed a BlueTooth helmet connection to be able to be bothered on two wheels. Why?!

But my phone rang twice last night, and both times I was absolutely delighted. In fact, I’m still basking in the glow of those calls. I like calls from friends and family and, blessing of blessings, I LOVE calls from my granddaughters, and each of the little beauties called last night!

The conversation with three-year-old Brylan was the longest phone talk we’ve ever had. She chattered and chattered, and I understood about 73% of what she said, but I just loved being the person she was talking to. Among other things, we continued work on some plans for a tree swing we’ve got in mind. Her reaction to the whole project? “Let’s do it, PawPaw!”

And then just a couple of hours later, the phone rang, and little two-year-old Brenley was calling from her bathtub. That little sweetie walks around the house, I’m told, with her plastic toy cell phone on her ear saying, “Hi, PawPaw.” (Ah, God is good!) But this was Brenley in person on a real phone which Mom was doing a fine job keeping dry. Brenley had called to sing, Shayla told me. “Baby B,” as cousin Brylan has christened her, launched beautifully into “Jesus Loves Me.” Celine Dion has never done a finer job with any tune!

It’s funny. We all go through most of the same stages of life, but no matter how many folks have preceded us, we can’t really understand what we’ve been told about the stage we’re in until we’re living it. Proud grandparents abound, but before I was one, I couldn’t really understand.

It’s not just that grandparents become crazy people at the moment of their grandkids’ birth. God uses those little people to change our lives and teach us a precious truth we thought we knew already: real love doesn’t have to be earned.

Oh, yes, I see talent just oozing out of those girls’ pores, but I loved them before I saw it. I think they’ll achieve much and go far, but all they have to do for me to love them completely is just to “be.” I want them to know the joy of learning, growing, maturing, and being “productive,” but nothing they could ever produce, be it grades or honors or fortunes or Nobel prizes could ever cause me to love them more. Perfect love “casts out fear.” Perfectionism and performance-based “love” is riddled with it. What those girls do I want them to do joyfully out of love for God, knowing they are already people of great value completely secure in their Father’s love.

My job is to be sure a grandfather’s love helps them know that. Normally, I’m not high on committees or meetings, but Brylan and Brenley and I need to get our heads together on some tree swing plans.





Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Who Do You Really Trust?

I’m not sure how far we should trust polls, but I wonder what the answer would be if anybody polled the American public on this question: With regard to the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, who do you trust least—British Petroleum, the government, or the press? Rank them in order.”

I’m not in any way enamored with BP, but I’m pretty sure my own answer would be that I trust BP at least as much as I do the latter two entities. My hardest choice between those three would be the race for 2nd and 3rd Place between grandstanding politicians and an incredibly self-righteous press.

This is old news now (over a week old) but the New York Times was reporting the government announcement that three-quarters of the spewed-out oil has “already evaporated, dispersed, been captured or otherwise eliminated—and that much of the rest is so diluted that it does not seem to pose much additional risk of harm.”

Nobody is saying that the spill hasn’t been a mess whose environmental, economic, and personal harm hasn’t already been horrendous. But, if this latest governmental assessment is true, it sounds like pretty good news—such good news that I’m surprised the media, which doesn’t like good news, would even report it. Surely they’ll “balance” it with a lot more questions and dire predictions from all sorts of “experts.” The oil may have stopped spewing but we can be sure that the experts will continue to spout for years to come. And we’ll all still want lots of oil, so I doubt any of us can afford much hypocritical hand-wringing.

And how does BP come out of this? Since I’m not one of their officers, employees, or stockholders, I’m afraid I’ll not lose too much sleep over it. But it will be interesting to see.

And I still wonder about the truth behind the mess. Was BP woefully and even criminally negligent, negligence that cost precious lives and lit the fuse for a major disaster? Or was this truly a tragic “accident”? (Those with a stake in the “blame game” can never afford to use that word.) Did BP violate some governmental regulations before the spill? I’m certain they did. Because of greed and recklessness? Or because government regulations in any such endeavor metastasize at such a rate that no one could possibly keep them all? (I don’t know, but look at the IRS code, take your taxes to three different preparers, and wait to receive three different “answers.” Or call the IRS for an answer, talk to three different bureaucrats, and I’ll betcha you’ll get three different answers more often than not.)

So where does the truth lie in all of this? I really don’t know. But I wonder.

The deeper question is this: Who do you really trust? Come to think of it, that’s the deepest and most important question of life: who do you really trust?

Only one answer is good enough. And only one God is big enough.






Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Ten Rules for a Good Clean Fight

Mark it down: all couples sometimes fight.

If it makes you feel better to hedge, make that “All couples sometimes have serious and somewhat warm discussions.” That is nothing but normal, and may even be healthy—vastly healthier than the immature, toxic, and completely unfair “I’m clamming up,” passive aggressive, silent approach no one should get away with.

I got this outline years ago from friend and colleague Lyndon Latham. I’m not sure where he got it, but there’s a boatload of wisdom here. Here are Ten Rules for a Good Clean Fight:

1) Before we begin, we must both agree that the time is right (Jeremiah 6:14; Psalm 141:3). Early in the morning or late at night are probably bad times. And why mess up a good meal?

2) We will remember that our only aim is deeper understanding (James 1:19-20). Remember that you love one another. Take turns speaking but mostly, Listen! Your mate may just need to blow off some steam. (And if you know you’re wrong, just admit it. But if you’re always right, you’re likely the “wrongest” of all.)

3) We will check our weapons often to be sure they are not deadly (Matthew 5:21-22a; James 3:6). Phasers should be set to “stun” and not “kill.” You know your mate, weaknesses included, better than anyone else. You can hurt your mate more than anyone else if you so choose. Don’t!

4) We will stick to the issue (Proverbs 10:19). No exhaustive lists of each other’s faults. And never in a fight use the words “always” or “never.” They are always unfair and untrue. Use “I feel” statements rather than “You” statements.

5) We will lower our voices one notch instead of raising them two (Proverbs 15:1). A shouter deserves to lose.

6) We will never discuss or reveal private matters in public (Proverbs 10:8). Duh!

7) We will never involve the children in the battle (Proverbs 10:12). NEVER fight in front of the kids or enlist their aid.

8) We will never resort to violence (Proverbs 29:11). Anger properly vented is not bad, but violence is absolutely off-limits.

9) We will discuss an armistice whenever either partner calls “halt” (Ephesians 4:26). Listen! When your mate signals, “Time out,” stop. Some discussions will take longer than one session. One couple’s signal is: “Let’s refer this to the committee.”

10) When we have come to terms, we will put the issue away until we both agree that it needs more discussion (Matthew 5:9). Some things you can agree on quickly. Some things you will never agree on. Don’t back your mate into a corner and force agreement where there is none. If you’re the more forceful spouse, this means you especially need to avoid the former temptation and take care of, rather than manipulate, your mate.

Let the Golden Rule (Matthew 7:12) and the Love Chapter (1 Corinthians 13) be your constant guides.


(For the full Ten Rule text, e-mail me at ckshel@aol.com.)





Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Real Holiness Is Deeper Than "Don't Touch! Don't Taste!"

“I’m in a twelve-step program for recovering ascetics,” I explained to my missionary nephew. I knew he’d “get” it.

More than a little conversant in theology and church history, Ian had joined his dad and uncles last spring at the old “home place” at Robert Lee, Texas. We had been dining quite well out by the fire pit when I felt led to confess.

In case the humor misses you, let me explain. To greatly oversimplify, may I just say that “asceticism” is a kind of over-reaction to “hedonism.” That helps, right? No. Okay.

“Hedonism” is an approach to life that says, “Get all the gusto! Deny yourself nothing!” (Solomon is the most famous of the jillions who’ve tried it. See Ecclesiastes 2.)

Asceticism, on the other hand, says that the way to be really holy is to strictly and religiously deny yourself all comfort and pleasure. If you’re a monk given to asceticism (and by no means all monks are or were), you might wear a hair shirt, sleep on the cold floor, fast for days on end, whip yourself, etc., to try to put to death all physical desires.

With medium rare steak juice trickling down my beard and in the midst of kinsmen all busily eating too much, I told Ian, “I’m in a twelve-step program for recovering ascetics.” Ascetics Anonymous.

Truth be told, I’ve never been even close to asceticism. But also true, in my early life I spent way too much time feeling guilty about enjoying God’s good gifts and that amazing blessing, life itself. I should have known my Father better.

I was teaching a Sunday School class on “Moderation” (now that’s funny!) when I remembered my quip to Ian.

Yes, Jesus says that his disciples must deny themselves and follow him. Denial of “things” may at times enter in to that, but the deeper denial is far harder. We must deny our very selves, our “right” to be our own, our claim to salvation, and our desire to take center stage with our own rule-keeping “holiness.”

The Apostle Paul issues a stiff warning in Colossians 2. He says that rules such as “Touch not! Taste not! Handle not!” have “an appearance of wisdom,” but in reality “their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body” lacks “any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” They’re just one more way of focusing on us and our sham of “goodness” rather than on God and the real thing.

The Scriptures make it clear that we may well choose on occasion to give up for a time some things or activities as a spiritual discipline, but we must not feel haughty or be loud about it or bind our way on others.

Most of the time, the best way to honor God is to enjoy his multitude of gifts at the right times, in the right amounts, and to overflow in thanksgiving as we live balanced lives eating, sleeping, working, playing—all to God’s glory. Moderation is a key to balance.

Funny though, we need to be moderate even about moderation lest we take ourselves too seriously and God not seriously enough. Folks who pat themselves on the back about how moderate they are end up tired and tiresome. Such contortion always produces a pain in the tail section.


Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

God's Grace Is Amazing, But It Is Not "Easy"

God’s grace is wonderful. But if we think grace is easy, we need to think some more.

One of Jesus’ most famous stories was told in response to a religious lawyer’s question: “Teacher, who is my neighbor?

The question was blatantly self-serving. Luke prefaces the lawyer’s question: “But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked . . .”

The greatest temptation we all face is to try to “justify” ourselves rather than accepting by faith the justification that comes only through grace. We understand the question’s tone all too well.

“And who is my neighbor?” (10:29).

Let’s make a law about this so I can be very sure I’ve done what is required and no more. After all, love is costly business, and I’d hate to waste a lot of time loving someone with no claim on my love. Let’s clear this up so I can check this off the “to do” list, present the completed list to God, and expect to be paid a wage for services rendered.

We’re all expert in religious accounting. It’s easier to count than to worship. Trusting ourselves rather than trusting God is humanity’s default mode. And it’s easy to find a religious group that is more of a “religious” accounting firm focusing on our effort to keep the law rather than being the worshiping Body of Christ focusing on blood-bought salvation we in no way earn.

Ah, but that “all-about-me” question hangs in the air: “Who is my neighbor?”

Remember the story? A foolish traveler, a Jew, is waylaid by robbers, beaten senseless, and crumpled by the side of the road. In turn two religious men, a priest and a Levite, see him and walk on by, willfully blind to his need. But a Samaritan, a man whose race and religion all Jews, including this lawyer, would despise, stops, helps the man, and even pays for his lodging and care.

Then Jesus asks his own question: Who was a neighbor to the man in need? And the lawyer stammers, “The one who had mercy on him.” “Go,” Jesus says, “and do likewise,” indicating that the lawyer will never run out of neighbors and never be able to check this item off his religious “to do” list.
 Salvation by law, by rule-keeping, which is no salvation at all, says, “How little can I do and be saved?” Salvation by grace through faith says, “How may I joyfully honor the God who has already saved me?”

So here are a few religiously legal questions for us, though you could add a thousand more: How often must I go to church? How much of my money do I have to give? How much can I play with sin in action or attitude? When can I say I’ve completed all the “right” rituals, worshiped enough and just “right”? When can I look down on others of God’s children who are not as “right”? How many miles away from my own front door does my responsibility to show God’s love extend?

If you think these are law questions and not grace questions, not the kinds of questions God wants us to waste time asking, I think you’re right. A legal approach to religion is not only cold, shallow, and barren, it is far too easy.

Grace? Now that’s another thing entirely!






Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

A Good Laugh at Ourselves Is a Good Sign

We humans are so full of ourselves. We incessantly strut and preen, spout and sputter, spew and spray forth all manner of self-important nonsense, and the Father hearing his kids so solemnly hold forth must laugh.

One day the curtain will be pulled back, and we’ll see clearly for the first time. I suspect our reaction to our own pomposity will be something akin to perusing our old high school pictures. We thought we were so cool, but good grief!

Much we consider so normal and ordinary that we hardly think about it at all is proof, on the rare occasions when we actually do stop to think, of how puffed up we are.

We talk, for example, about “owning” land. And I suppose for keeping land-grabbing barbarians at bay, supporting the good order of commerce, gorging the government on taxes, and contributing to supposedly civilized bean-counting on any number of levels, that’s necessary. (Hey, I’m all for free enterprise!)

But, when you think about it, a human arrogantly boasting about all the land he owns is ultimately as comic as a bloated flea pompously expostulating on owning its dog. Had Heaven not raised us to the higher view of reality, even the six-foot holes we buy for the eventual disposal of our carcasses might more truly be said to own us. And, in Heaven’s ironically humorous economy, that’s every bit as true whether we presently own Microsoft or beg for a bed at the homeless shelter. This “owning” business is fraught with both frustration and humor.

Someone might say that I “own” my dog. I know better. It’s far more accurate to say that she owns me. I come when she calls. I open the door at Her Highness’ bidding. I bathe her (unless I procrastinate long enough that my wife breaks down and bathes the little beast herself). I feed her, pay for her grooming, pet her, talk baby talk to her (I red-facedly admit), take her to the vet, welcome her out of her pet carrier in the morning, and obediently go through the routine she has prescribed for her care in the evening. I own her. Yeah, right.

Most of the stuff I own owns me. And most of it gives me far less pleasure than the aforementioned furball.

What makes me wealthy and what makes life worth living are things I could never truly own, never truly control (and that’s the real issue). My family, my friends, the sunrises and sunsets God keeps on giving.
I bustle about, rush around, stress out, focus on folderol. I spend so much time looking through the wrong end of the telescope. No wonder my view is so distorted.

And in what may be Heaven’s best blessing and biggest joke on humans—whether we’re captains of industry, Fortune 500 CEO’s, garbage collectors, folks who flip fortunes or folks who flip burgers—eventually we all have to lie down and sleep. We all have to trust the One who truly owns this world to keep the globe spinning, our heart beating, and time marching on.

Our eyelids droop, we nod off, and Heaven smiles, or laughs. It’s a good sign if, thinking about that, we do, too.




Copyright 2010 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.