• A visit from a pastor is still a huge deal . . .  at least to a North Korean Christian that is.  They highly value the position of a pastor (sometimes too much maybe) that it was no small matter that I was coming to their home.  One single man literally waited all day for my 7pm appointment to visit his home.  Apparently, he called our office several times throughout the day to make sure I was still coming!  The point isn’t that I’m any great shakes, but rather that my visitation enabled these Christians to host me as if they were hosting Christ!  The most important part of any Christian visitation may not necessarily be what you have to offer, but what they are offering to you by opening up their home.

• Sometimes a visit may mean nothing more than care, concern and fellowship . . . and if so then it’s still a big deal!  Many of the NK defectors deal with loneliness, because they live in South Korean culture where they are not really valued as contributing members of society.  One NK man asked me if I knew what it felt like to go to church week after week and not have one person talk to you.  Each night that I visited I had a South Korean translator accompany me, and for many of the North Koreans it was a first to have had either a pastor, a South Korean or an American visit their home and show interest in their lives.  By visiting, we were reminding them of Christ’s continued presence in their lives.  At the very least a Christian visit is a reminder that the greatest riches that a person can have is the promise that God will never leave them nor forsake them.

• John the Baptist’s ministry was not about himself, it was all about pointing to Christ.  When we visit, this is our main job as well.  I was reminded about this with one particular visit.  I had a South Korean translator who had been praying to God about meeting and forming a friendship with a North Korean.  Unbeknownst to me, this North Korean that we met had been praying for a South Korean friend.  I was simply the vehicle that God used to bring these two together and beyond that I’m not sure I was all that important to the visit!  My job was to point to Christ and God took care of the rest.  Coincidentally, this story also shows the truth that Christian visitation is important for any Christian to participate in, not just the pastor.

• Finally, visiting isn’t an end in and of itself, but rather it’s another opportunity to fulfill the Great Commission and make disciples.  One particular NK woman who loved praying for sick people was told by someone in the church to stop praying!  When I asked her to pray for my wife, she not only started to beam, but prayed with such a wonderful passion for the Lord that I don’t often see.  If I had simply prayed and not asked her to take the lead in prayer she might have continued to be haunted by these words and stunted in her growth in Christ.

Being a ‘radical,’ ‘missional’ Christian is slowly becoming the ‘new legalism.’ We need more ordinary God and people lovers (Mt 22:36-40).

The irony in the debate is that in reality these two sides–the “ordinary Christians” and the “radical missionals”–are just that: two sides of the same coin; two phases of the same element; two peas from the same podcast. Back of both sides lays our fascination with and unshakeable faith in the peculiarly modern, decidedly Western, and grievously unbiblical notion of individual “calling.”

Do a word study of the word “calling” in the New Testament and watch what emerges: The only “calling” the New Testament knows about is the calling to receive the salvation of God–or, in other words, the calling to follow Christ. 2 Peter 1:10 (NIV) is representative (though to check out the other eleven instances of “calling” in the New Testament, click here):

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, make every effort to confirm your calling and election. For if you do these things, you will never stumble.

In New Testament parlance, “calling” is always used in the way Jesus uses it when, for example, he says in Matthew 22:14 (ESV), ”For many are called, but few are chosen.” This ain’t, in other words, no vision quest:

A vision quest is a rite of passage, similar to an initiation, in some Native American cultures. It is a turning point in life taken before puberty to find oneself and the intended spiritual and life direction. When an older child is ready, he or she will go on a personal, spiritual quest alone in the wilderness, often in conjunction with a period of fasting. This usually lasts for a number of days while the child is tuned into the spirit world. Usually, a Guardian animal will come in a vision or dream, and the child’s life direction will appear at some point. The child returns to the tribe, and once the child has grown, will pursue that direction in life.

This idea that each of us has a special destiny or purpose beyond that which we take on at baptism, one we are to vision-quest for through prayer and individual discernment, is both syncretic and gnostic (not to mention heretical). It is nowhere commanded in the Scripture, nowhere commended in the Creeds, nowhere condoned by the faithful church throughout the ages. Instead, it is found at the confluence of three troubling tributaries:

1. Our disdain for practical, methodical, comprehensive discipleship training coupled with our sense that God is glorified by our complete lack of preparation. In the secular world, if one decides to be a doctor, one recognizes that an arduous road of training lay ahead. In the church, if one senses a “call” to North Korea, one immediately sends an email to me (I received two in the past week alone) announcing that one is ready for the plane trip to Pyongyang. Even the Apostle Paul spent years of preparation–maybe more than a decade–in  Arabia and Tarsus before being sent out on the mission trail.
2. Our unquestioning conviction that God will speak to us individually, not to the church, about where we will serve, what we will do, and when we will do it. This is completely at odds with the witness of the New Testament, which shows that God speaks through the church to set aside even apostles themselves. See, for example, Paul and Barnabas’ call in Acts 13:2. Or Matthias’ replacing Judas in the Twelve in Acts 1:23-26. The New Testament church is no mere confirmer or blesser of individually apprehended vision. It acts as if it has the right (and the duty) to dispatch its members according to its corporate discernment.
3. The disregard we have for the honor and glory of the one, basic, foundational summons to follow Christ. Through stadium events and emotional altar calls and polished evangelistic presentations we rush the largely unsuspecting into the Kingdom of God. Contrary to Jesus’ admonitions in the New Testament, these poor souls enter the Christian life not only without understanding it but also without having counted the cost. “Discipleship” then becomes a gnostic practice of vision questing and spiritual gift surveying rather than the obvious next step of what they signed up for, namely, learning how to take up their crosses daily to follow Jesus.

So the question is not whether we are “called” to ordinary lives of faithfulness in the suburbs or to radical missional abandonment halfway around the world. The decision is not ours to make or discern. Saved by grace through faith, we are restored to the original vocation of humanity, namely, co-regency with Christ over the world he created.

As with any co-regency, there’s an awful lot to learn. That’s why we begin with and in our own families, according to 1 Timothy 3:1-5. Then as the church, by the leading of the Holy Spirit, discerns that we have been faithful in a little, we are raised up to serve the family of God known as the local church. From there, it is the collective, Holy Spirit-empowered discernment of the wider body of Christ that propels us (often against our will, inclination, comfort, and physical safety) to leadership over regions and/or missionary service to other lands.

And this is precisely what is embedded in the Great Commission, where it is noteworthy that Jesus does not say “Go unto all nations, obeying everything I have commanded you” but rather “Go unto all nations…teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” Teaching others requires that you’ve done it well yourself, first in your own household, then in the local body, then on behalf of the wider body, whether you wanted to or not. It is that wider body that discerns by the Holy Spirit when you are ready to go and where you are needed. You don’t, you know, get to choose, and you probably won’t want to go (especially when and where they want to send you). The idea of someone leaping up in church and saying, “Guess what? I’m going to India!” would strike the early church as exactly the indication that such a person has no business going to India and probably is having problems in their own individual and family walk with Christ.

Some of the best (and, sadly, least imitated) stories in the early church involve Christians being called by the church to the next higher level of leadership but running away in an attempt to avoid the call. Gregory of Nazianzus is but one of many such “reluctant saints”:

Gregory was an introverted and very sensitive soul, and his rote reaction to crisis was, somewhat humorously, to run.  He ran away when his father forcibly ordained him to the priesthood.  He ran away when his friend Basil forcibly ordained him to the episcopate.  He ran away when his father’s church tried to make him his father’s successor as bishop after the latter’s death.  He ran away when the political tides turned against him at the Council of Constantinople in 381.   Gregory loved to run.  And better yet, Gregory loved to complain about it.

It is time for us to recognize the false dichotomy between “radical/missional” and “ordinary Christian,” time for us to repent of the conceit of individual calling. Let us restore to the church its Holy Spirit-bestowed honor and responsibility to discern the proper deployment of the resources God has entrusted to it to steward. And let us restore to ourselves the humility of recognizing that Christ speaks through his whole body about what to do with us, not just to us individually.

There ought to be more pastors and missionaries running away from their calling than there are untrained, undiscipled Christians rushing toward it.

For all of the latest podcasts on Visiting and Remembering and on past Works of Mercy visit our Seoul USA Podcast Page!

It would be anti-climactic to say that I was feeling “down,” but without the close interaction of my church family and friends it was pretty difficult.  But then the flurry of visitors came.

It seemed that visitors from all over creation  wanted to stop by our house and see me for various reasons.  I wasn’t real comfortable with any of these visits, but I didn’t refuse anyone who wanted to stop by our home.  Some came to offer their pity and to share in my sorrow.  Some came to offer their advice and perspective on the whole situation.  And still others (like Job’s friends) came to tell me, in painfully precise detail, just how I was wrong in what I did.

There is one particular visit which really exemplified the Work of Mercy of visiting and remembering though.  A middle-aged couple with whom we were friends, asked to come and visit us.  We didn’t quite know what to expect, but we invited them to come over anyway.

As they arrived at our home, they came bearing gifts – they had brought dinner!  And as we sat down to share in a meal, they did ask how we were doing and gave simple words of encouragement to us.   Immediately after dinner though, the man pulled out his guitar and we shared in some hymns/songs, read Scripture together and prayed.

They never really gave their opinion on the situation or tried to give us their advice on how we should proceed.  They had simply come to share their bread and to share a church service together right in our home.

As much as we appreciated all of our visits, this particular visit, even in its simplicity pointed us to Christ the most.  And I can’t help but think that the man who visited us, who was once in prison himself, remembered Hebrews 13:3, which says,

Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.

This passage is undoubtedly referring to Christians who were suffering as a direct result of their faith, but we should be quick to visit and remember any brother or sister in Christ who is suffering for any reason.  If you want to learn a simple model of Christian visitation, I would suggest following the example of my two friends.  First, provide for the physical or emotional needs that are present.  Second (and most important), provide for the spiritual needs that are also present.

And if you don’t know how to provide for spiritual needs, read some Scripture, sing a hymn and pray together.  The great news is that you don’t have to be a super-Christian or have a seminary degree to do that.  This is a simple act of Christian visitation that God will use more than you can imagine.

Answer: Neither. Instead, God focuses on whether we are focused on ourselves or on him. He delights in those who are focused on him and has surprisingly constructive thoughts about those who take him seriously, even those who do ill. Check out Zephaniah 1:12-13, in which the Lord talks about the visit he will conduct on That Great Day:

At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps
and punish those who are complacent,
who are like wine left on its dregs,
who think, ‘The Lord will do nothing,
either good or bad.’
Their wealth will be plundered,
their houses demolished.
Though they build houses,
they will not live in them;
though they plant vineyards,
they will not drink the wine.”

The favored, flawed contrast in much of our preaching today is between relationship and religion. Yet this is a false dichotomy: both relationship and religion have the same eerie focus on our attitude/knowledge/perspective. The less favored contrast in our (and every other) generation, however, is the one consistently highlighted throughout the Bible: Who is the principle and primary force and actor in your life today? You or God? (Or, frequently, another god?)

If the answer is God, then a number of things follow on as a result–things like humility, prayer, fear, worship–and yes, good works. There is a word that describes the source of humility, prayer, fear, worship, and good works in your life. That word is faith.

You are not saved by your faith. Instead, faith is simply the description of a life lived centered on him. Faith the size of a mustard seed is ample–and this is not because faith is so powerful. It is because he is so powerful. After all, the Lord can endow even rocks with faith. Faith, in other words, is no great shakes. The great shakes is always him.

This is why Paul’s contrast in Ephesians 2:8 isn’t faith and works. It’s grace and works. Yes, grace is apprehended by faith, according to Paul (and everyone else in the New Testament). But the difference between grace and works will always be misunderstood if we look through the wrong end of the telescope. The wrong end of the telescope is us–i.e., our faith versus our works. This, as James points out, is a false dichotomy. The right end of the telescope is God. The question God is constantly asking, in places like Zephaniah 1:12-13, is which direction our telescope is facing. Telescopes facing the wrong way will not much enjoy the visitation of the Lord on his great day.

Always gracious, Jesus credits our faith with a vital role in the process. Always prone to wander, we mistake our faith as the object of assurance and adoration. We become obsessed with our faith the same way we previously were obsessed by our works and the same way we are obsessed with  everything about ourselves. Like the flea which rides on the elephant’s back as the elephant thunders across the bridge, we theolo-fleas shout, “Look how we shook that bridge!” Nope. Faith is the flea. It is the elephant that rocks the bridge.

In the end, there is often precious little difference between the lives of those who say “I will go to heaven when I die because I am basically a good person” and “I will go to heaven when I die because of my faith.” Both statements have in common a lifetime subscription to the card-carrying cult of me. We love us some us. But it is neither our actions or our faith that save us. It is Jesus who saves. Faith–small, shaky, unseen–is the God-granted apprehension of that, a miracle but nothing more.