New Insights on Grace and Discipleship, and on Grace and Community

Amazing Grace—it is a song and a concept I have known since childhood and which I experienced in a more profound way in my mid-20’s. Yet, I now recognize that God’s grace is vastly richer and deeper than I knew then. My understanding of grace is the most significant change in my theological thinking in the last ten years.

Salvation by grace not works, was perhaps the most significant belief in the Christianity I grew up in. Our experience of salvation rested on that truth and our evangelism focused on it. We conceived of grace as a gift with no strings attached. Therefore, we avoided any talk of human action related to the gift of salvation. In my youth I perceived that it was clarity on the truth that salvation was by grace and not by works that distinguished us from other streams of Christianity. From my bounded-group perspective, those who did not state this clearly enough were not truly Christians. And, people who thought they were going to heaven because they were good were definitely not Christians.

It is not that I now think salvation is by works not grace. I have not reversed my thinking. What I thought about grace was not fundamentally wrong. Rather, it is that I have come to see that the combination of individualism and a modern western concept of grace produced a narrow and watered down understanding of grace. When Paul wrote of God’s grace, he had in mind something deeper, richer, more communal, and more integrated with discipleship.

 Paul’s Concept of God’s Grace Compared to Others in the First Century

In 2016 I taught a course on Galatians at the Mennonite seminary in Bogota Colombia. When I was not teaching, preparing for class, or exploring Bogota with students, I read a book that had weighed down my suitcase: Paul and The Gift by John M. G. Barclay (2015). I had brought it along thinking I might garner an a few insights or quotes for the course. But what I read was so transformational I could not simply take Barclay’s insights and just sprinkle them as seasoning into my already prepared class. The paradigm change it provoked required more fundamental adjustments to my teaching of Galatians. So, I read, pondered and waited until my next Galatians course and my work on a commentary in English to integrate this new understanding of grace into my interpretation of Galatians.

Barclay explores in detail common understandings of grace, or gift,  in Paul’s time—both in Gentile and Jewish writings (gift and grace are the same word in Greek). The various perspectives had two things in common. First, gifts were given only to worthy recipients. In a society absorbed in status seeking and honor accrual, one gave gifts discriminately as a way of establishing or strengthening relationships and gaining honor. For instance, an invitation to a dinner was a gift,  grace; the attendees did not pay for the meal. But the host would only invite people who would improve their reputation. Low status people at the table would reflect poorly on the host, but having a high-status person accept their invitation would add to the host’s status. A worthy person could reciprocate and return the favor through a meal invitation or some other gift that would further add to the host’s honor. This points to the second thing that all understandings of grace had in common—a response was always expected. In Paul’s time, and still in many cultures today, the expectation is that if you receive a gift, you will give a gift in response. Reciprocity is necessary for continuing the relationship.

What was radical about the gift from God, the grace, that Paul proclaimed? How did it differ from other common understandings of grace at that time, including, for instance, the other missionaries he confronts in his letter to the Galatians? Barclay maintains that the distinction is in the first point above, worthiness, not the second, reciprocity. For people at that time, the shockingly different thing about the grace Paul proclaimed is that God does not limit the gracious gift to fitting recipients. God gives without regard to people’s social, gender, religious, or ethnic worth.

(For a fuller explanation of Barclay’s argument see pages 58-64 of my book, Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, his shorter book, Paul and the Power of Grace 2020, or the original, Paul and the Gift  2015.)

 Compared to my Previous Concept of Grace, What is New about the New Understanding?

The view of grace I grew up with and held until I read Barclay’s book was correct to emphasize that we are incapable of making ourselves worthy of salvation through human effort. But we got off track by seeking to accentuate and preserve the radicalness of God’s grace by stressing the lack of reciprocity—no response is expected. We created a firewall between talk of grace and any talk of human actions. In contrast, Paul, accepted reciprocity. Like others of that time, he assumed that of course there were expectations of a response. Paul would applaud our emphasis that nothing we can do makes us worthy of God’s gift of salvation; but our avoidance of any linking of grace and human actions would puzzle Paul.  

 Key Questions

Paul’s first century audience would have assumed that God’s gift, like any gift, included an expectation of reciprocity. How might the Western, and relatively new, view that pure grace means no strings attached undermine or weaken the connection between salvation and discipleship?

Paul’s first century audience would have seen, and been shocked by, the new communal configurations that flowed from God’s grace including all regardless of social status. How might the combination of individualism and a focus on grace without reciprocity undermine or weaken the connection between salvation and community?

These questions arose from my first reading of Barclay. The potential impact of this different view of grace excited me. Although, I think I have done well at communicating Barclay’s argument in class and in my book, I have not made much movement beyond that. Now I am asking: How do we move from a conversation about the concept itself, to utilizing the concept in teaching, preaching, evangelism, discipleship?

 Answering these Three Questions Through the Lens of 2 Corinthians 8:1-15

An essay by Barclay himself stimulated further thought on the first two questions, and helped me begin to answer the third question. I am eager to share some of his insights and my reflections with you. His essay, “Manna and the Circulation of Grace” studies 2 Corinthians 8:1-15.[1]

 And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. 2 In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. 3 For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, 4 they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. 5 And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us. 6 So we urged Titus, just as he had earlier made a beginning, to bring also to completion this act of grace on your part. 7 But since you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in the love we have kindled in you—see that you also excel in this grace of giving.

8 I am not commanding you, but I want to test the sincerity of your love by comparing it with the earnestness of others. 9 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich. . .

13 Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. 14 At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need. The goal is equality, 15 as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little” (NIV).

 As part of his exhortation to the Corinthian Christians to contribute toward the needs of Christians in Jerusalem, Paul writes about the Macedonian churches’ giving. At one level the text displays the societal norm that when you receive a gift you give something in return. The Macedonians received from God and they reciprocated. More significant are the ways that what Paul writes differs from first century societal practices.

 How Paul’s Description of Grace and Giving Differs from Norms of that Time

 -          The way of reciprocating for the grace/gift received from God is not giving something to God but paying it forward to others.

-          This is modeled and enabled by Jesus Christ (vs. 9). His model undermines and redefines honor and perspectives on how to gaining status. Jesus gave to others instead of grasping for status and honor.

-          Part of the richness received through Jesus Christ is this practice of giving to others. In an ironic way, an aspect of the grace received from God is the gift of giving to others rather than focusing on accumulating societal points through gifts from others. (Note how Paul begins his description of the Macedonians’ giving by labeling it as grace given them by God [vs. 1].

-          A fundamental factor relaxing the drive to grasp for status is that in contrast to societal practices, God does not measure the worth of the recipient before giving. As Barclay observes, “Since the surplus thus passed on does not arise out of any competitive grasping for advantage (but merely out of God’s equal generosity to all) it is possible that it can circulate in ways that produce neither competition nor status inequality” (422) (as in vs. 13-15).

-          There is reciprocity (having received, give) yet what is described in the above observations replaces a calculus of debt and obligation with a system of mutual sharing of surplus. Note that Paul does not use any language of direct reciprocity between the recipient and the giver, or between the client and the patron. He does not say, “since you received blessings from Jerusalem you should give them something.”

-          “Rather than one side being permanently the patron, and the other the ever-grateful client, each is patron to the other, or—perhaps better—each is equally the client of a surplus-providing patron (God), who gives, however, not in order to receive back but in order that grace be given on” (423).

“This principle of reciprocity, then, has the capacity to complicate power relations, and to work against the emergence of one-side systems of gift, patronage, or authority. . . This is not simply a normal honor hierarchy inverted; it is not that the honorable should be demeaned and the insignificant exalted, but something far more complex, and perhaps far more creative, in which community members continually invent ways to honor each other” (424-25) (see Phil. 2:3-4; Rom 12:10). Take a moment and imagine what it would be like to belong to a group where each member is not focused on being on top but rather in looking for ways to give to others and honor others. Imagine the gifts all will receive if all are focused on giving!

 Implications for Us Today

 Barclay’s interpretation of this passage aids in shifting from a concept of grace focused on the individual to one that includes a communal element. It also highlights that the radicalness of God’s grace is in its being given regardless of a person’s status or worth rather than in its disconnection from any human action. Previously the image I had of grace was more like a golden ticket given to an undeserving individual, or a guilty person given a pardon. These images do capture an element of God’s grace, but they leave out so much. They mislead through leading us to focus on an isolated individual—no one else is in the image. And, they mislead through lacking any sense of response. When the images are combined with modern western definitions of grace, any connection with human action is seen as a contaminant. It is no longer grace.

Barclay’s work has led me to think of an alternative image we might use in evangelism or explaining grace. We could invite people to imagine a person observing a group eating together. It is a potluck and the participants brought great food. The conversation is rich; people treat each other with kindness; their listening and their speaking overflows with love and respect. The person longs to have a seat at the table but they know they are not worthy. They do not belong. We might ask the listeners to list possible reasons the person might not feel worthy. We could then bridge to talking about God’s grace and affirm that the person truly is not worthy to join those sitting together at God’s family table. None of us can gain a seat through their own merit. Yet through what Jesus Christ has done we are all offered a seat at the table. It is grace, a gift! We might then ask them. “How might you respond to God for giving you an undeserved seat at the table?” We could acknowledge that there are a variety of appropriate responses and then state that what God most desires is that the beautiful table fellowship continue. They can help that happen by giving to others what they will receive at the table—great food and loving kindness.

 I invite you to reflect on ways a person’s concept of the Christian life would differ if this table image, rather than the golden ticket or get-out-jail-free card images, introduced them to the idea of salvation through grace. What are ways it connects salvation to community and discipleship that the other images do not?

Two caveats: First, this image, like any image, does not explain all. Other images and explanations are needed—for instance, how does Jesus provide the seat at the table and how does the Holy Spirit enable and empower the lovingkindness at the table. Yet, to simply say “all metaphors limp,” does not free us to use any image. There are consequences to using the golden ticket metaphor versus the table fellowship metaphor. Second, in case I have not made this clear: to embrace Barclay’s argument that Paul’s understanding of grace included a sense of human action as response does not mean I have shifted my definition of religion that contrasts human religiosity rooted in human action with biblical revelation/faith rooted in God’s action (see Centered-Set Church, 86-87 or Religious No More, 38-39). Even with this new understanding of grace, I still affirm that the initiative is God’s. We do not earn our salvation. We do not gain a gift from God through actions. It is not works first. This new deeper understanding of grace does, however, tear down the fire wall separating any discussion of human action related to salvation and opens up riches for both individual and community life as part of the flow of love that God’s initiative invites.

 My desire, for me and you, is that this understanding of grace moves from conceptual explanation to what Paul did in 2 Corinthians 8—integration with issues of discipleship and daily life. I pray the image I offer is one small step. Please share with me other steps we can take.

 Having received God’s radical grace let us share it in radical and profound ways with others.

[1] John M. G. Barclay, “Manna and the Circulation of Grace: A Study of 2 Corinthians 8:1-15,” in The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays, eds. J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe, and A. Katherine Grieb, 2008, pp. 409-426. A significant part of the essay, which I do not write about here, explores Paul’s purpose in quoting Exodus 16:18.

The Cross Upends the Status-Grasping Ways of Society

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world (Gal 6:14 NIV).

 Should we really boast about the cross? I grew up in a culture that looks negatively on boasting. Therefore, I have not paid much attention to Paul’s use of the word here. I didn’t think he actually went around boasting. I assumed he just uses the word here to connect and contrast with the previous two verses and the boasting of others. But then I read a dissertation on honor-shame and Galatians by pastor and New Testament scholar David Harvey.

 He points out that, like today, in Paul’s time boasting was public self-aggrandizement. But, unlike today it was socially acceptable. Boasting was to make a claim for honor. Think of it like a group of children coming to adults and proudly saying, “Look what we did!” They are seeking affirmation. Similarly, in Paul’s time boasts were submitted to the court of public opinion. If they were accepted, the boasting individual or group gained honor. In the Roman world boasting also was a tool for shaping the behavior of others. Returning to the example of children, suppose you were a child playing with a separate group but you observed the positive response the other children received. You would then know that what they did is something that would gain praise. The positive response to the boasting of one group guided others to know what was honorable behavior (Harvey, 93-97).

 So, perhaps Paul really meant what he wrote. He did boast in the cross. He did so in order to make a statement about his honor status that invited others to embrace the same definition of honor. Although best for us not to boast in the 21rst English sense of the word, let’s not just run past this word. How might we join Paul in accomplishing the same things as his 1rst century boasting did?

 To put the word “boast” in its first century context, however, immediately brings up the incongruity of linking it with a cross. In the Roman world if one had any association with a crucified one the common action would be to hide or deny the connection, not boast about it. Many today, understandably, emphasize the physical torment of crucifixion, but in the first century it was the shame of crucifixion that was most feared. The fact that crosses, including Jesus’, were placed near very public roads underscores the shaming intent. It was a public spectacle designed to degrade.

 Why then does Paul make this oxymoronic statement about boasting in the cross? If we think of the cross just in terms of forgiveness of sins and individual salvation, it might be hard to explain. But in Galatians the cross is that and more; it is also the means “of a value-neutralizing social revolution” (Harvey, 227) (1:4; 2;16; 3:13; 3:27-28). At the cross Jesus did the exact opposite of what Paul has accused the agitators of doing in the previous two verses (6:12-13). Rather than grasping for honor for himself, he repeatedly risked his reputation in order to express loving acceptance to the shamed and excluded—to the point of death on a shameful cross. His death exposed the honor systems of the day as distorted from the ways of God. The cross and resurrection not only exposed these systems but turned them on their head and provided freedom from them (Gal 1:4; Col 2:15). Through the resurrection God validated the way of Jesus as the truly honorable way. With this broader meaning of the cross in mind we can understand “the phrase ‘boast in the cross’ as an attempt to define Christ’s shameful crucifixion as a paradigm for honourable behaviour for the Galatian Christians” (Harvey, 181). Within the new honor system formed by the cross of Christ, Paul’s statement is not paradoxical. Shame is relative to a group’s definition of honor. The paradox is not within Paul’s boasting in the cross, it is that the bounded other missionaries he critiques in the previous verses are still seeking status in categories of differentiation dissolved by Christ’s death.

 When we allow “boasting” to have the sense of staking an honor claim and including an element of instruction about what is honorable, we can see that in the few words of this verse Paul is communicating key elements of this letter to the Galatians. Through Christ he, and the Galatians too, can be free from the bounded-group-status-grasping way of the world and embrace a radically different concept of honor. And it truly is radical. Paul is boasting, staking his identity, in the cross, something that undermines status differences. I invite you to pause for a moment and reflect on what that implies about a centered approach. It points to it not just being a retooling of bounded or fuzzy, it is a radically different third way. There is still honor, still a group sense of identity, of belonging, but it is of a totally different character—the bounded group’s honor system turned upside down.

 It is upside down because at its foundation a centered group is about God acting, not human actions. It is not about Paul, his ethnic group, his religious tradition. It is about God’s gracious action and trusting in that saving action (2:16) enough to live according to this way instead of the world’s status systems.

 The cross of Jesus opens up a radically different alternative to these status games. We do not have to put others down or live up to twisted standards of success and status in order to have a sense of value and identity. Through the cross, Jesus exposed and tore down one system and replaced it with another. Let us live according to the honorable ways defined by the cross.

 • What are different ways status is measured, gained, and lost in the society you live in today? What are the implications for you of taking seriously Paul’s proclamation that these distinctions have been dissolved by the cross? (both in the sense of release from shame for not measuring up, and in the sense of turning away from judging others according to these standards).

 • What does Jesus’ honor code look like today? What types of behaviors/attitudes are worthy of “boasting” about within the upside-down honor code?

 The above is an adaptation of portions from pages 233-37, 244-45, Mark D. Baker, Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, Kindred Productions, 2023.

 David S. Harvey, “Face in Galatians: ‘Boasting in the Cross’ as Reconfigured Honour in Paul’s Letter,” Ph. D. Thesis, University of Manchester, 2016.

Who Your Friends are Matters

Ursula lives in New York City. The apartment they own is worth $4 million. They have a weekend house in the Hamptons valued at over $1.5 million. Their children go to an exclusive private school. She is not currently earning a salary, but her husband is paid more than $2 million a year as a high-level executive at a tech firm. She states that she grew up middle class and still considers herself middle class. When asked if she ever felt guilt for having so much more than others, she said, “No.”

Karen and Keith also live in New York City. They own a house worth over $1.2 million. Their household income is over $300,000. They do not own a second house, and their children go to public school. Although significantly less affluent than Ursula, they viewed themselves as privileged. Karen said, “We’re both horrified by how much money we make.” Keith, talking about their house said, “My feeling is it’s a bottomless pit, renovation and home improvement. And I think that six Chinese people are camping out in some one-bedroom hovel in Beijing right now. So, like, the notion that you ‘need’ something is all BS” (29).

How is it that the family with significantly more wealth does not see themselves as “privileged” and view their lifestyle as extreme as Karen and Keith do? Rachel Sherman, a sociologist, interviewed 50 people from 42 New York City households—all earning more than $250,000 a year. She repeatedly heard perspectives similar to both views above. In the first chapter of her book, Uneasy Street: The Anxieties of Affluence, Sherman argues that what leads people to express one perspective or the other is not the amount of money they have, but whether they look upward or downward. Ursula, and others who said similar things, look up and compared themselves to those who earned much more, who had even more lavish lifestyles. Maya, an attorney turned stay-at-home mother, whose lawyer husband had an income of over $2 million, described her family as just fine, but not “really wealthy.” She said, “there are all the bankers that are heads and heels, you know, way above us” (33). Helen, with a similar household income said, “I feel like we’re somewhere in the middle, in the sense that there are so many people with so much money. They have private planes. They have drivers. . .” (33). So, even though the median income in New York City is $52,000, these people in the top one or two percent look up and feel in the middle.

Penny, a legal consultant, and her husband, make a more than the households listed above, yet they talk much differently about their wealth. Like Karen and Keith, Penny looks down. “You know, there’s always someone in New York, especially New York City, Manhattan—who has more than you do. And there’s always a lot of people who have less. … I would say we’re on the higher end of having more.” If one only compares oneself with those above it understandably leads to a different self-perception than those who look down as well. The deeper question, the aspect of the chapter that caught my attention, is this: what leads some to look up and others to look down? The answer is simple and has profound implications for followers of Jesus.

In essence, those who compare themselves upwards do so because they only socialize with people of similar or more economic means. They did not have relationships with people below them. “Those who faced downward tended to talk about friends, acquaintances, and colleagues in a wide range of economic circumstances” (49). Whether through family, workplace, organizations, or public schools, these people had cross-class relationships.

It is not just the contrast between calling themselves middle class or affluent. The actions, attitudes, beliefs, and perspectives of the two groups differ in various ways. As Sherman quotes and describes the people it becomes clear that who you relate with will influence you. Who you hang out with, who you eat with, who you play with, who you serve with, who you interact with matters. This is true for all of us, not just the wealthy in Sherman’s book. And, it is true of both groups in her book--not just those who befriend people different than themselves. Our actions and attitudes will be influenced by who we relate to.

The chapter led me to think about Galatians and table fellowship. In contrast to the society around them, Christians came together at one table–Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female. I have thought of this as something that, through the transformative work of Jesus, we are able to do. With the people in Sherman’s chapter in mind, I had the thought: perhaps there is more imperative in that table fellowship than I had thought. Not just that through Christ Christians can sit down and eat with people who do not commonly eat together in our society, but that we are called to do so. Not just because it presents a beautiful picture of the fruit of the radical work of Jesus, but because it matters who we eat with, who we relate with. It will change us. Like the people in Sherman’s book, it will impact our empathy, actions, and attitudes.

I discussed Sherman’s chapter with my friend and New Testament scholar, Ryan Schellenberg. I asked, “What do you think of that interpretation of Galatians?” He affirmed it, and suggested I think about Luke 14. Jesus says when you host a meal don’t invite those from your own status circles, “but when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (Luke 14:13). Then he tells the parable of a host who ends up doing just that. Certainly this is a pro-poor, pro-marginalized command—give them a seat at the table! But through the lens of Sherman’s interviews we can see that Jesus gave the command thinking of the rich as well. Who we eat with, who we relate with matters. It will change us.

I recently had lunch with Anthony—just a few weeks after his release from prison. Four years ago, on his 36th birthday, he sadly shared during a jail Bible study that he has been in and out of jail and prison so much that he only had two birthdays for which he was not incarcerated since he was 17. Shortly before that birthday, however, Anthony had repented, had profound experiences of God’s loving forgiveness, and the transformative work of the Spirit was evident in his life. Of all the men who have been in my jail Bible study over the last ten years, Anthony is one of a handful I have corresponded with when they went to prison. Why? A special connection? A sense of great potential he has? A depth of sincerity? I am not totally sure, but I knew I took initiative to eat with him that day because I wanted to do whatever I could in the limited time I have to support him in his efforts to leave old ways behind. A good thing to do. I assumed I would continue to get together with him from time to time in the future. Reading Sherman’s chapter, however, left me with a desire to deepen my relationship with Anthony, not just for his benefit, but mine. I will be changed by friendship with Anthony.

I could easily respond to Sherman’s chapter by patting myself on the back and listing all the relationships I already have with people unlike myself. I could also paint a very different picture by listing how much of my time I spend with people very similar to myself. In any case I do not think Jesus or Paul had a quota in mind—neither in the number of relationships nor in the amount of life transformation that flows from those relationships. Let us extend the table. It matters who we eat with, who we relate with. It will change our perspectives, attitudes, and actions in ways that will benefit us and others.

I invite you to join me in making a commitment to seek out a new relationship or deepen a current relationship with someone significantly different than yourself—from a different social or economic class, different ethnically, different politically, different theologically, different life experience, etc. Who might it be? It matters. It will change you.

Honduras, Galatians, 25 years

The Saturday afternoon sun beat down on the tin roof. I was teaching in a small church in a poor Tegucigalpa neighborhood. We were about halfway through the workshop on how to study the Bible when a woman raised her and asked, ‘My friend told me that since I cut my hair I am no longer saved. Is she right?’

Those are the first lines in my book, Religious No More: Building Communities of Grace and Freedom. That woman’s question 25 years ago led me to suggest to the group that we gather the following Saturday to begin a study of Galatians. While preparing for that study I read an essay on Galatians by Richard Hays that sparked questions, gave me new insights, and left me excited by the possible uses and implications of his interpretation of Galatians. I was nowhere near ready to write the book. I was not even clear enough on these new ideas to try to teach them that next Saturday. But it was the beginning, the birth of what would grow into the book. (To see what ideas in Hays’s essay shook me up and excited me you can read this reflection on the experience and/or listen to this podcast.)

Several months after studying Galatians with that church I had the opportunity to study Galatians with Richard Hays at Duke University. The following summer I again led a study of Galatians in the same church; now using the ideas and approach I had learned from Richard Hays. A few weeks ago I was in that same Tegucigalpa neighborhood, once again teaching in that church. We revisited Galatians during a Saturday afternoon workshop. I taught them something I had not yet encountered when I studied Galatians with them in the 1990’s--Paul Hiebert’s concept of bounded, fuzzy, and centered churches.

Just as I shared new ideas with them, I wanted to hear from them. I wondered what they had observed and learned as they have sought to live out what we discovered together in Galatians years ago. Many from that original group have moved away, but a number remain. Sunday evening Mario and Alba invited those from the church who had participated in the initial Galatians studies to gather in their home for a time of sharing. A few of them had been in the workshop described in first sentences of the book, all of them had participated in the second time we went through Galatians as well as in a year-long Sunday School class on basic theology I taught after we moved back to Honduras in 1996.

Now, June 2017, and then, 25 years ago after the first Galatians study--five people are in both pictures

On Saturday I taught, on Sunday I listened. They shared a number of beautiful stories and great insights. In this short blog I will focus on just one person’s comments. Evelyn Cantor, a teenager when we did the second Galatians study and the theology Sunday school classes,  responded to my open-ended question by reflecting on children’s ministry.

In teaching children, people generally focus on themes, not on Jesus; they talk more of God than of Jesus. In our society and in our churches when people do talk about Jesus the focus is on his birth and death, not his life. I try to focus on Jesus as a role model for us and revelation of God. I ask who Jesus is and let that shape the way children think about who God is. People talk a lot about sin, but it is in the sense of standards and rules, and it is cloaked with a sense of accusation and threat. It is important to talk about sin because sin does bring harmful consequences in our lives. I seek to help children and youth reflect on sin, but without fear. Sin is real, but we can use other language. For instance, I ask, “Are you oriented toward Jesus or oriented toward destruction?”

There is much I could say about Evelyn’s comments, and perhaps that is the first observation—the contrast between her brevity and my longer statements. In just a minute or two she made a number of excellent critiques and profound theological statements. In contrast, even now it is hard for me to resist expounding on each line. The depth of her theological thinking impresses me, and her ability to state things with clarity in such concise ways. I will resist adding theological commentary; I invite you to read her lines again—slowly. Allow the Spirit to guide you in reflection on them.

I will, however, reflect a bit on teaching—and I am using that term in the broadest sense. I never taught Evelyn in a formal setting with assignments and grades. No, it was Sunday school classes, workshops, sermons, and conversations. Many of you who read this are teachers in this broader sense.

Her words encouraged me greatly. Teaching can make a difference; it can be a multiplying activity. I do not mean to claim credit for all she said and is doing. But my teaching contributed. Teachers, be encouraged!

Some of her lines clearly echoed things I had taught her church community—as I just said, that is encouraging, fulfilling. But what excited me more was that she said things that I had not said. Sure, they are related to ideas we had studied together, but the phrasing and application are hers—I will borrow from her! The line that particularly stands out to me is: “Are you oriented toward Jesus or oriented toward destruction?” It is exciting, as a teacher, to see how something you taught “stuck,” even more exciting when God’s weaves together something you taught, with the person’s experience, other teaching, her own insights and comes up with something new—teacher becomes learner.

How is this group doing as they seek to live out what we learned from Paul’s letter many years ago? Perhaps the best answer is not a comment made by someone who has been there for 25 years, but a comment by a newcomer. Maria, after having experienced bounded group religiosity in other churches, recently came to this church. On Saturday, during a small group discussion, Maria said, “Now I have been changing, not because of rules and threats, but because I am loved.”

May we, like Evelyn, think carefully about ways our talk about God and life can be even more Jesus-centered; and through that may others, like Maria, become more oriented toward Jesus and less oriented toward destruction—because of love, not fear.