How to worship

Assimilation and identity

The late missiologist Paul Hiebert, together with Young Hertig, has an interesting though dated (1993) article on Asian immigrants in urban cities, with particular reference to North America. They examine the issue of identity and assimilation, suggesting that the core question is: to which culture does the immigrant really belong? Each generation after immigration approaches and answers this in a different way.

1. First generation - clear sense of identity. That is, their identity is very much tied to their "home" culture. They might develop survival skills to cope in the new culture, but their values, beliefs, things & events they find significant etc., are those of "home". If women come from patriarchal cultures, they are unlikely to be exposed much to the new culture, from staying at home etc., and so are often isolated.

2. 2nd generation - deep identity crisis. They encounter schizophrenia, for at home and within the family, they absorb certain values and beliefs, but in school and public are enculturated into the new culture. So you have a clash, with this generation often having to make decisions about how much to take on board parental values, resulting either in withdrawal, rebellion, or more likely, compartmentalization. The best case scenario is if one is able to integrate the best of both worlds. Add in other factors such as the different paces at which siblings within a family might assimilate and it gets even more complicated. One critical factor in the assimilation of second generation young people is the attitude of their parents. Other factors like social mobility etc. all count for something too.

3. 3rd and 4th generation - assimilation and appreciation. Here the identity crisis is not so acute, because they have figured out their place in society more, whether by carving out a niche for themselves or completely assimilating. But when we get to 4th/5th generation, we find that some begin to seek their roots once more, especially if their racial features are more distinct. Here we may find the problem of "hidden immigrants" - eg. looking Chinese on the outside but born and bred in America, and so actually being completely different culturally.

Also, at a deeper level, language becomes an issue. Hiebert and Hertig quote Cheryl, a Korean teenager in LA: "I try to speak Korean when I talk with my mother, but the most important emotional stuff I say in English because I cannot express it in Korean. So my mother does not have any idea what I am trying to say. It is really frustrating. I don't understand why she does not try to learn English. She has lived here almost twenty years." I think a few of us Malaysians will share similar experiences.

So why am I blogging about all this? There's the personal side, of course: I have often wrestled with questions such as this partly due to my upbringing, my family and educational background, the friends that I have, and of course, as someone involved in ministry with international students in a Western country. And because I just wanted to see if I could stimulate some thoughts from my readers, and the article above provides some important intercultural, and indeed, intergenerational insights which are relevant for the Malaysian context, although obviously we are very different in many ways. I think, for example, of the differences between English and Chinese-educated Chinese and the questions of trying to "preserve" a culture versus the "interaction" of cultures. Or the often frustrating family dynamics that those of us who are younger struggle to decipher - why are parents always so obtuse? (Apologies for the examples being obviously Chinese, that's my makeup). Or the wider politics of race and racial discourse - would you describe yourself as Malaysian or Malay/Indian/Chinese/Bumiputra/Iban/Kadazan/Martian first? I actually assert my "Malaysianness" more, I think, but I know others will differ from me.

Some might take exception to using an article on the "immigrant experience" to draw parallels to the Malaysian situation, since "immigrant" itself is a contested term in Malaysia. A big number of us will resent being labelled as pendatang, as if we were 2nd class citizens. That, of course, is to miss the point. It's simply a historical fact that many of us will have ancestors who at some point immigrated to what we now call Malaysia. I know we live in a plural society, so I wonder if we're not so much assimilating into a clearly marked majority/mainstream culture as forging a distinctively "Malaysian" culture, although again what that is is up for debate. How do you compare Sino-Kadazans in Sabah with the Nyonyas in Malacca? But maybe again the lack of flattening is a good thing. It means we're more aware that we all have particular categories and assumptions that affect how we view the world.

Plus, these are questions, I am convinced, we need to reflect on as Malaysian Christians, especially as it impacts on things like pastoral practice, evangelism and so on. It also challenges us to consider afresh what it means to consider ourselves to be Christians first and foremost, to be sojourners in this age. As Tim Kellers notes:

"Identity is a complex set of layers, for we are many things. Our occupation, ethnic identity, etc., are part of who we are. But we assign different values to these components and thus Christian maturing is a process in which the most fundamental layer of our identity becomes our self-understanding as a new creature in Christ along with all our privileges in him."

OK, I've rambled with no clear direction for long enough. Comments welcome. For more on the migrant experience, I can think of no better teacher than the short stories of Jhumpa Lahiri. For an intro to cross-cultural issues, try Sarah Lanier's From Foreign to Familiar or some of Duane Elmer's books.



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Litany of complaints

I was at a dinner tonight, and as is fairly common at such occasions, conversation soon turned towards the injustice located in the structures of Malaysian society. There was the litany of complaints directed at our education system, corrupt bureaucracy and so on.

I've been thinking about why I usually feel a little uncomfortable whenever the floodgates open. OK, so part of it is probably that by nature, I'm not a happy bunny when it comes to conflict. I like the still waters, not the grand rapids, thank you very much. Maybe I'm guilty of apathy. But I do believe that to pretend that all is well, to be tidak apa about the wrongs that the innocent suffer, the way that so many crooks seem to get away with their abuse of power, is wrong, plain and simple. It's also probably fair to say that in context, the 2008 political tsunami notwithstanding, such talk arises perhaps because there is a feeling that we need to be woken up from our general malaise. We can't maintain the status quo forever. So such conversations are full of heat and light.

And yet. Here are a few reasons why I feel unsettled whenever such talk occurs among Christians (btw, this isn't necessarily true of tonight's conversations; they simply sparked the thought):

1. These conversations sometimes have the whiff of self-righteousness around them. Look at how rubbish everything else is. It's as if the taint of sin has affected everything and everyone apart from the one pontificating away. We feel justified by the way we remain above the fray. The purity of our motives. Surely there must be a humbler way to express our anger and sadness at the way the current system is broken.

2. These conversations are often tinged with cynicism. Things will always be this way. It's better to send our children away. I'm like, whatever happened to God bringing all things in heaven and earth under Christ? Whatever happened to God putting the world to rights? Maybe again, by nature, I'm an idealist, a romantic, a head-in-the-clouds kind of guy, but it seems to me that Christians have the gospel - good news - the good news that shouts "Jesus is the crucified King!" and calls on us to turn from sin to the living God. And that should shape our responses to injustice.

3. These conversations lose sight of God. My immediate point above suggests that sometimes we act more like fatalists than theists. We forget God is on the throne. He does care about what goes on in his world, not just churchy things. He can effect change, and he loves to use his people to do it. And although contemporary Christianity sometimes shun the image of God as judge, it's actually good news, because it reveals our God is just; the bad guys aren't gonna get away with it. But our God is a merciful God as well. And this is great news, because to our horror, we discover that actually, we are more like those we condemn than we care to admit. We too are in need of mercy, and in view of God's mercy, we offer our bodies as living sacrifices, not the other way around.

O Lord, the next time we are tempted to recite from the Book of Common Complaints, help us to remember instead the Lord's Prayer. For there we find nourishment in remembering who our Father is, strength as we ask for his kingdom to come, and humility as we acknowledge our need for forgiveness. Then maybe we can go out into the world and shine like stars in the universe, as we hold out the word of life.

excerpts

[Warning: potentially explosive]

"...And so the light of candle three
Today, is meant to help us see,
That waiting is a holy work
Of faith in God. Nor does there lurk
Beneath the timing of his ways
Some secret malice that displays
Itself in holding back the flow
Of future grace. God does not go
From here to there by shortest routes;
He makes a place for faith and doubts.
Nor does he hasten on his way,
But comes when it is best, today,
Or maybe twenty years from now,
Or more."
- John Piper

The Law is for the proud and the Gospel is for the brokenhearted.
- Martin Luther

Lord cut, Lord carve, Lord wound, Lord do anything that may perfect Thy Father's image in us...
- Samuel Rutherford, from a letter written in 1638

Reaching the next generation

I was going to flag this up, but forgot. Better late than never. It's Kevin DeYoung's excellent series of posts on reaching the next generation. Worth reading in its entirety.

1. Grab them with passion.
2. Win them with love.
3. Hold them with holiness.
4. Challenge them with truth.
5. Amaze them with God.

As Kevin says in his introduction, the secret is that there is no secret. Love God, love people, as Jesus so succintly put it. Uncomplicated but uncompromising. To steal a line from Gregory the Great, such a strategy is shallow enough for a lamb to wade in but deep enough for an elephant to swim.

On making your preaching debut in your home church

So I've just read this a few minutes ago... (HT: JT)

Your first few sermons are always terrible, no matter who you are.

If you think your first few sermons are great, you’re probably self-deceived. If the folks in your home church think your first few sermons are great, it’s probably because they love you and they’re proud of you. If it’s a good, supportive church there’s as much objectivity there as a grandparent evaluating the “I Love You Grandma” artwork handed to them by the five year-old in their family...

So what?

The great thing about Christian ministry is that Jesus doesn’t start all over again with his church every generation. He gives older men in ministry who shape, disciple, and direct younger men in ministry. This includes (although it’s not limited to) critiquing your sermons...

...Your bad sermon says nothing about your future. If you’ve got folks in your life saying, “Hey, that was a really bad sermon,” that does indicate something about your future, so praise God for it. It’s probaby a sign that God has something for you to say, for the rest of your life.

:D Absolutely right. Well, no one told me it was bad this morning. Although I'm very glad no one said outright: "That was a good talk." That's one of the worse things to hear, because you're never quite sure what the definition of "good" is. Are you just being polite? Did you like the sound of my voice? (Doubtful). I remember the first evangelistic talk I gave and a non-Christian came up afterwards to thank me for a "good" talk. I winced internally, because to me it was clear the challenge of Jesus' claims had completely passed him by. It's more gratifying when someone says, as happened this morning: "That's the word we all needed to hear." And even more specific adjectives, like "clear", are preferable, I think.

I suppose the one disappointing, though not entirely surprising, thing for me is that my parents, who heard me speak for the first time today, just didn't really quite know what to make of it; both the point of the talk, and the fact that it was their son who was giving it. They discussed some of the other items which were shared this morning, but they pointedly avoided any discussion of mine. One rule I sometimes use in writing talks is: would my mum get the main point? And maybe I failed.

The other thing that's really difficult, of course, is for the preacher to consciously point away from oneself. The lines from Kate Wilkinson's hymn is one I will constantly need to repeat to myself: "And may they forget the channel / Seeing only him".

Speaking this Sunday

I'm going to be speaking for the first time at the main service this Sunday for my home church. Probably close to 15 minutes (I got allocated 10 but I just know I'm going to overshoot, although I'll try my best to keep it short)! I'll also be briefly interviewed beforehand. I'll be speaking from Ephesians 4:7-16, and my brief is to encourage people to think through "ministry".

I am going to be soooo nervous - do pray for me! A prophet is never welcome in his home country blah blah blah...just kidding...

Disdain disdain

disdain. to look upon or treat with contempt; despise; scorn

In the book Workers for the Harvest Field, David Jackman recounts an interview with a ministry candidate. This person had been going on and on about how much he loved to teach the Bible when Jackman's colleague interrupted him: "Yes, but do you the people you'll teach it to?"

I've often thought about this question - do I love people, especially those whom I encounter as someone in "ministry"? If in my eyes, people simply become projects to moan and fret over, then I might as well quit. Any ministry of the Word that I do, excepting God's grace to work through jars of clay, might as well be a yodelling performance for all they care. That's what John Wesley apparently told one of his proteges: "Your temper is uneven; you lack love for your neighbours. You grow angry too easily; your tongue is too sharp - thus, the people will not hear you".

I have struggled with this. I think of the person I've been reading the Bible one-to-one with this year. I think there are times when, after going through the same thing for the umpteenth time, I have thought to myself: 'Why don't you just get it (and become a 'better Christian'?...and show what a brilliant discipler I am...and on it goes)". I think of a recent cell group Bible study I was in - if you think it's you I'm talking about, it isn't :) - and how frustrating it was. It was so easy to heap scorn onto them, to flash my inductive Bible study credentials, spit out a tonnage of verbiage and leave the room with gold dust on the floor and stars in their eyes. But these are Christians, people who are trying to follow Jesus in their imperfect ways, people who carry baggage around with them, in other words, people like me. I think too of how easy it is to disdain those who seem to have so reductionistic, so shallow an understanding of the gospel. Can't they see it's about the kingdom of God? Why aren't they at the forefront of political activism? Or why are they always taking verses out of context? Or why are they always protesting against Harry and his Da Vinci Materials?

But when I look at the Bible, I see something different. God in the Old Testament is portrayed as a warrior, and the Exodus can be seen as a great victory of a great king. Yet in Psalm 78 God is described as leading his people like sheep through the desert. In Hosea, I see God despairing of his hard-hearted people, but telling them, how can I give you up? I look at Jesus, looking over the crowd, and having great compassion on them because they were lost. I look at the way he treats the rich young man, with that beautiful line: "Jesus looked at him and loved him" (Mark 10:21). He is the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. To be sure, we see Jesus getting exasperated with his disciples and even more antsy with the Pharisees. And I don't think I'm saying that there is no place for criticism or even a bit of a kick up the you know where. That evangelicalism is in need of a shot in the arm is not in question. It's just not the point of this post.

I'm part of a messy community. A community that's slow to learn. That includes myself. I long to see it become more conformed to how God wants it to be, but sometimes it seems as if we're heading the opposite direction! But God says his Word does not return to him empty (Isaiah 55:10); it is effective. And so I am committed to a ministry of the Word, however it might look like, from formal teaching to informal encouraging, allowing the gospel to be applied specifically to our lives. That means there are battles to be fought, because such a commitment is not going to be unopposed, not least by the devil. But when I become self-righteous, when I start looking at disdain at others, that's when I've forgotten the gospel of Jesus myself. When I become impatient, I've forgotten how patient God has been with me in calling me to himself.

I don't want that to happen. Oh Lord, how we need to know your grace again!

Wordsmiths: Dream Song 14

Dream Song 14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) "Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources." I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

John Berryman