Archive for February, 2009
10 Lessons I Learned from My Grueling Mardi Gras Mission Trip
When was the last time you were in a situation where you were petrified with fear?
Where you were literally humiliated to the point you couldn’t even raise your head?
Where you stammered through simple sentences and went blank from simple questions?
Well, that pretty much sums up my five day missions trip to Mardi Gras.
I’m about 48 hours out from the trip, which is enough time for this slow thinker to congeal his thoughts and share them with you.
One thing I should point out: This mission trip challenged lots of my beliefs and made the intangible very tangible.
For example, I always encouraged others to move out of their comfort zone. It wasn’t until I went to Mardi Gras, however, to share Christ on the streets that I actually took a deep slug from this well. Trust me, it overpowered me.
Another thing you need to know: I could not have done this without your prayers and support. You guys were in my head the whole time–your encouragement and what I’d share with you when I got back.
You helped me reach the finish line. And for that I am greatly indebted to you. Now, let me share with you the things I learned.
1. Take yourself out of your element. Okay. To me going to New Orleans during Mardi Gras to learn how to street preach, witness one-on-one, hand out tracks and perform like a clown was down-right bizarre. This introvert in a million years would never dream of preaching on his own street…let alone one in New Orleans. But standing on the curb on Royal street reading Romans 8 while people walked by and laughed or heckled is an experience few people ever know. I hated every minute of it. But I did it. And I own that experience forever.
2. Accept failure. Now, this is how cocky I can be: I walked into this mission trip thinking I was going to totally rock at street preaching and one-on-one evangelism. Why not? I practically memorized Ray Comfort’s classic sermon. I wrote posts flaunting tips on witnessing. The truth is, I flopped. In fact, I was mortified as I stuttered and shook on the curb and so petrified by the thought of engaging strangers–often morbidly drunk and wooly mouthed– in conversation that I essentially refused to do it. The only reason I engaged one person over 5 days was because a good friend threw me at her.
“But just about everyone who does these things for the first time are this bad. You’ll get better with practice and time,” I hear you saying. Let me explain why this is not true in this case.
3. Know yourself. I walked away from each failure with my head hung low. But don’t feel sorry for me. This is what I realized: God didn’t design me to be a street preacher or evangelist. So, I’m not going to kid myself and say with enough practice I can one day be a champion curb stomper. I wasn’t built for that. I already knew this. And it became more apparent as the weekend bore along. The takeaway? Knowing this will keep me from chasing unprofitable rabbit trails.
4 . Humble yourself. The opposite of failure is success. And I saw plenty of that over these five days. I saw plenty of veterans preach on the street with a seamless, smooth style. I also saw first-timers effortlessly weasel their way into deep theological conversations with complete strangers. There was no shortage of talent in this pool, that’s for sure. And I have no doubt in my mind–if ranked–I’d fall in the bottom one percent. But I’m okay with that. I’ve sincerely been broken of my pride over this. But I know where I need to concentrate: On my strengths.
5. Honor those whom are different from you. Crammed into a chartered bus–and then a children’s nursery for a bedroom–with so many men of different ages and backgrounds makes for interesting encounters. I have to confess: I caught myself too many times snubbing my nose at men who were different from me. Men who didn’t read their Bibles enough. Men who ate too much. Who snored. Who smoked. Who talked to loud. Or never stopped talking. Who looked odd. Or dressed odd. Men who drove trucks or repaired telephone lines.
Prejudice is disgusting. And can honestly deform your character and rob you of beautiful friends and remarkable experiences. This couldn’t have been more true on this trip. I met great, peculiar people and enjoyed some of the best conversations of my life.
6. Journal like a mad man. I would be a fool if I walked away from this weekend without learning the things I learned above. The one thing that helped me to process all the events was to keep a journal. And to write in it often. I also tried to record my days on Twitter. Scrolling through my diary and tweets was an interesting exercise in reliving the past five days. And in both of these mediums I tried to record more than just what I was doing. I tried to document my feelings and reactions. This discipline helped me to take my experience to another level. Let me show you what I mean.
7. Subdue your inner critic. I’m a natural born critic. So subduing the critic in me doesn’t come easy. Out of balance critics can damage people and isolate themselves. And I started to get that way. That’s why I constantly had to remind myself that I signed up to experience this mission trip. Not critique it. I paid to be there. And I needed to keep my comments to myself. Yet, at the end of the trip, the organizers required us to take evaluations. I shared my thoughts in a tempered spirit. But I didn’t stop there.
8. Search for a deeper meaning. Raw critics do nothing but complain. They merely make a list of problems and neglect the solutions. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to take it to another step. Of course, this took some time. And a few careful, thought-provoking conversations. After this I walked away enriched seeing the entire experience in a different light.
9. Confess you are a whiner. This mission trip to Mardi Gras confirmed what I already suspected: I am a world-class whiner. May not be a deep meaning to you, but I knew this is why God steered me to this mission trip. Thrust way out of my element, I kept hitting the “Not Fair” button embedded in the baby doll I carried around because, for this introvert, living in cramped rooms with no privacy and marched around doing things he doesn’t like squeezed my character. And I didn’t like what came out.
10. Don’t take your self seriously. Ever. Finally, one of the activities we were required to do during this mission trip was clowning. Basically, all you have to do is put on a clown suit with other men and walk through the Zulu festival or parade inviting children to watch you do a skit. The skit explained what it meant to be a genuine Christian. You acted silly. Stupid. And dorky. But kids loved you. Begged for you. What a wonderful way to humble this arrogant, cocky introvert.
Let me close with 1 Peter 5:10,11:
And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.
Your Turn
What about you: Ever been in a situation where survival mode kicked in? Where you were utterly helpless and scared? Ever preached on the streets of a city? Learn any valuable lessons I haven’t mentioned? Leave your throughts in the comments. Please.
Follow Me on Twitter While I’m Faraway
Rolling crackers and wearing short red shorts was always something I enjoyed enormously.
Sigh. Nostalgia sucks.
Anyway. I’m walking out the door to climb unto a bus and drive through the night until we reach some small city near New Orleans.
I might sleep, cramped on a cold pleather seat. Or read. I like reading. I like sleeping. So either scenario works for me.
One thing I won’t be doing is blogging. Tonight. Tomorrow. Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Or Tuesday.
My lap top is staying home.
Besides, I do believe the next five days are loaded front and back with activities designed to manufacture fatigue.
In other words, long days like the good children in China’s factories know so well.
Resist the temptation to weep: My blog post on the Reformers, the Trinity, will have to wait.
Until then, you can do this: Follow my adventures on Twitter.
I do have my phone. And I do have a million minutes. And I’m going to use every bit of them. Photos included. Direct message me via Twitter to say hello. I’d love it.
Also, drop me a comment. Show me that I’m loved. [Writer egos are so fragile, I know.]
And, please, pray. Those people are crazy.
3 Critical Characteristics of the Trinity You Must Know
**Part of the Thoroughly Painless Guide to the Doctrine of God’s Trinity series.**
What do you think: Does the doctrine of the Trinity even matter to your every day life?
I mean, is it just some theological abstraction men in university auditoriums bicker about?
Or does it have a concrete, practical application to your personal and private world?
In a nuthsell, does an understanding of the Trinity even matter?
I’m here to tell you that it does. Especially if you want to live a vivid, meaningful life. Let me explain.
Tim’s Excellent Question
I owe Tim Wilson a huge thanks for raising his hand yesterday during my headlong rush through the history of the doctrine of the Trinity and asking me to slow down and explain how knowledge of the Trinity even made a difference in his everyday life.
So, let me take a pause and explore the historical, personal and relational characteristics of the Trinity and how it, indeed, can make a difference to you.
Historical: Your Flesh and Bones God
As I pointed out yesterday, Augustine was the scholar who originated the idea of the economy of salvation. Yet, Karl Rahner was the scholar who actually articulated it in those words.
The economy of salvation basically says this:
In the three persons of the Trinity, you have God who created people, Christ who redeemed people and the Holy Spirit who sanctifies people.
Let me say it another way: God created us, died for us and dwells in us. That, in three over-simplified stages, is the history of redemption.
Therefore, if God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit is a historical being, then that means he’s also a personal being. And if He’s a personal being, then He’s perilously close to getting into our business. Just watch.
Personal: Your Private God
So, if this Trinitarian being is a historical being, then we can say three things about Him:
1. He’s unlike other gods who have zero basis in human history.
2. If He was an actual historical figure (Christ–the God man–walked on the Earth), then we can know him.
3. And if we can know Him, then it’s possible to trust in Him and the things He says.
In fact, as Robert Jensen pointed out, and as our creeds try to do, defining God as the three persons creates theological precision in which we then are very clear about which God we are talking about. The doctrine of the Trinity separates the Christian God from the mob of gods competing in our culture.
And with this precision, we no longer have a fuzzy, speculative being we worship. We have a personal, very private, very clear understanding of God. And if we are seriously personal, private and have a clear understanding about this God, then we can have a relationship with Him.
A relationship that sometimes brings personal risk.
Relational: A Passionate Affair
How do you know if you have a good relationship? A good marriage? Believe it or not, but you have a good marriage when you have conflict. I call it passion.
Sound absurd? Well let me say this: Conflict in a marriage isn’t a sign of trouble. Conflict is a sign of contradictions. Differences, yes. But it’s also a sign of struggles two people are working through to create something more beautiful than if they left them alone.
On the other hand, a lack of conflict or contradiction in a marriage is a sign that someone is withdrawn, isolated and independent. The same is true in your relationship with God.
Here’s why. If you are independent and individualistic and carry on thinking God loves you just the way you are and that He’d never conflict or contradict you…you don’t have a relationship with a person…
You have a fawning, submissive, impossibly agreeable robot. [Think Steppford Wives here.]
When I say God is historical and personal, I’m also saying He’s relational. I’m saying He cares about us. And he cares enough to want to help us grow into better people. He wants to set us apart from the profane and make us holy. He’s passionate about redeeming His people.
And so the Holy Spirit fits into the Trinity and the history of redemption this way: God created us. Jesus redeemed us. The Holy Spirit changes us.
Over to You
So, without a clear understanding of the Trinity, I do not think you can live a vivid, meaningful life. . .because if we insist on a hollow, distant knowledge of the three persons of God. . .we end up with a diluted, weak association heavily weighted in our favor. Not a relationship.
What would you rather have: a meaningful relationship with a historical being who wants to give you a glorious life that rests in Him? Or would you rather live a paper-thin, solitary existence forever threatening to combust?
I’d love to hear what you think. [Tim, did I answer your question?]
Refining the Concept: Medieval Scholars on the Trinity
**Part of the Thoroughly Painless Guide to the Doctrine of God’s Trinity series.**
From the early 4th Century to the end of the 13th, the Fathers of the Middle Ages wrote some of the greatest documents on the doctrine of the Trinity.
Augustine: Planting the
Economy-of-Salvation Seed
In his book On the Trinity, philosopher and theologian Augustine said “Three are equal and co-eternal, and absolutely of one nature.”
He said this in the context that no one is saved by the Father without the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Thus, initiating the talk of the economy of salvation.
Anselm: Creation and Redemption
the Work of Trinity
Towards the end of the 11th Century, the Italian philosopher and theologian Anselm said:
First, all three together are one supreme essence (even though each, perfectly, is the supreme essence). Anselm of Canterbury: Major Works
Anselm was simply making the point that all the work of creation and redemption…although performed functionally by different beings of the Trinity…was the work of one single being.
In other words, Father, Son and Spirit exist in each other and with such equality that none is great than the others. As you’ll remember, this was to safeguard against emerging heresies.
Aquinas: Equality Essential in the Trinity
In like manner, the Scholastic scholar Thomas Aquinas said that although the persons are multiplied in the Godhead, the essence was not multiplied.
Writing in his Summa Theologica:
We speak of one essence of the three persons and three persons of the one essence, provided these.
In other words, no inequality in the persons. If inequality existed, then they would have a different essence, which is unorthodox.
There’s a real distinction between the divine relations or roles he says, but we’ll get more into that tomorrow when I explain the role Reformers played in sculpting the doctrine of the Trinity.
Conclusion
Birth of the economy of salvation model. Equality of the persons. Inequality of the roles. The medieval fathers are simply refining what early councils and creeds and early fathers started to shape.
So, tell me, is your vision and appreciation of the Trinity getting any better?
Countdown to Mardi Gras
Midnight Thursday I’m leaving for a trip to New Orleans.
Yes, I’m going to insert myself among the costumed musicians, animals, bikers, drag queens and Indians that make up Mardi Gras.
The only difference between me and everyone else, though, is my mission.
Against a backdrop of colorful Creole and Caribbean architecture…amid sounds and smells not found elsewhere in the United States…I’m going with the Gospel…and hopefully letting loose on the crowd.
Turned Loose on Mardi Gras
At Mardi Gras I’ll pass out the obligatory tracts. Ask party-goers about the meaning of life. Act like a literal clown. Even stand on a box and preach on the street.
I’ll say this: None of this seems the least bit appealing to me. I’m scared. But in the same way I was scared scaling 400 foot walls in the Grand Tetons…
It’s the thundering thrill of new adventure.
The Point Behind This Post on Mardi Gras
Part of the training I went through to prepare for this trip involved working my salvation story into a sound bite. The essentials are: Name, date, place and why.
For example, my sound bite might look like this:
Demian Farnworth. November 1996. Granite City, IL. Tired of being depressed and suicidal.
If you’ve been around this blog for awhile, you know that’s not my true salvation story. So I can’t use that.
During one training session, my turn arrived to share my sound bite. I didn’t know what to say. I sincerely struggled. I knew I couldn’t articulate in 10 seconds my testimony. It was too complex. I spouted it out anyway.
I got in trouble for going on for two minutes.
Can Excitable, Shouting People Hear Me?
Part of the problem is that I don’t think my salvation story is as precise as that. I don’t have an exact day.
I do have a day in my history when my marriage hit rock bottom. But it was only after several months that I began to grow into a realization of my true salvation.
So, my new sound bite might look like this:
Demian Farnworth. November 30, 2007. Fairview Heights, IL. The guilt of emotional infidelity broke me and I began to wake up to who Christ was.
Still, I don’t think I’m there. At least not till this morning.
A Tiny Salvation Parable: The Depth of Our Debt
On my way to work I overheard Tim Keller tell a David Martin Lloyd-Jones‘ story. It went like this:
Imagine you took a vacation, and while you were gone, a bill arrived at your house. Your neighbor, when you returned, informs you he paid the bill.
How do you respond? Naturally, it depends on how big the bill was.
If he simply paid the postage you’d probably thank him and not think about it again. But if he says it was the amount to bankrupt you seven times over, you’d collapse at his feet and weep.
That, my friend, is an authentic response to the realization of the depth of our debt. And I do believe I now have my sound bite:
Demian Farnworth. November 30, 2007. Fairview Heights, IL. I saw how utterly wicked and broken I was and how precious and merciful Christ was.
What do you think? Convincing to a happy, beer-clustered Elvis impersonator standing on the slick, cobbled corner of Bourbon Street?
Naturally, this is a work in progress. One I can refine over time. But I’m truly interested in your thoughts.
What’s Your Salvation Story in a Sound Bite?
When you get a chance, drop the when, where and the why in the comments section of your salvation story.
This includes those of you who read this blog but don’t respond. I want to hear from you, too! In fact, I want to hear from all of you!
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