by Paul Bartel

Yet, as I reflect upon the disgusting tactics this church uses for its “ministry,” I realize that what lies behind their tactics is a desire—albeit misguided—to take the Bible seriously. However, somewhere along the way the Bible no longer was useful for their own faith and faithfulness but became a rock thrown in hate at those who believe or live differently.

Anabaptists have always taken the Bible seriously. It would be difficult to deny that, especially with a history of martyrdom due to the seriousness with which those in our tradition have taken God’s Word. And now, over 500 years later, Mennonite Brethren continue to take the Bible seriously. We believe that the words found in Scripture are foremost in shaping our communities of faith. We interpret them in community, and we believe in the importance of following the commands of the Bible, particularly those of Jesus.

Our Confession of Faith says this about the Bible: “We believe that the entire Bible was inspired by God through the Holy Spirit. The same Spirit guides the community of faith in the interpretation of Scripture. The person, teaching and life of Jesus Christ bring continuity and clarity to both the Old and New Testaments. The Old Testament bears witness to Christ, and Christ is the One whom the New Testament proclaims. We accept the Bible as the infallible Word of God and the authoritative guide for faith and practice” (Article 2).

Yet in subtle ways we sometimes find ourselves acting eerily similar to Topeka’s famous picketing church. We must be careful that our high view of the Bible does not turn into a weapon to be used against those who see things differently than us. We don’t picket; we’re way too passive-aggressive for that.

“The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it,” is the line a seminary professor would use in reference to the simple way many evangelicals tend to look at the Bible. The trouble with this statement is that it is almost always stated in reference to others rather than ourselves. When it comes to someone else we tend to see things in black and white, but in our own lives, we see things in shades of gray.

2 Timothy 3:16-17 says: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

We tend to focus on “God-breathed” as confirmation for man-made categories such as “inerrancy” or “infallibility.” Yet the purpose of this passage is found in the “so that.” The true purpose of Scripture is to equip men and women to be faithful, for us to be faithful.

The only way to take the Bible seriously is for it to be truly authoritative: When it changes who we are as people of God, we validate its authority, and when we act as people of God, we do so because we are authorized to do so by the Scriptures. We no longer argue over the nature of Scripture, and we submit to its authority.

Perhaps the reason that the Bible has so little authority in the world today has nothing to do with science, reason, certitude, literalism or liberalism. Perhaps it has everything to do with the lack of authority that we Christians have given the Bible over our own lives. Maybe if we would allow the authority of Scripture to reign over us, the Bible would be given authority once again.

This month, may we allow the words of Scripture to have full authority over our lives, changing who we are and how we live. May we use God’s Word not as a weapon against others but to change our communities so that we may partner with God in impacting others.

They say that technological innovations help us to better stay in touch. They say that these are tools to make communication better, to make us better connected. They say these things make us more efficient people.

E-mail. Cell phones. Text messaging. IM. Facebook. Classmates.com. Twitter (who really knows what a “tweet” is). Each of these innovations is designed to help us be connected with more people in ways we never have before. The slogan for LinkedIn, a social networking site designed for professionals, is “relationships matter.”

Yet for many of us, these technologies become the great paradox. Through them we become reacquainted with long lost friends or stay better connected with friends and family around the world. All the while, we become more distant in relationships with friends and family at home. Though we are more efficient in communication, in work and in accomplishing tasks thanks to these technologies, they somehow manage to suck all the time out of our day, leaving us with the 5 p.m. question: “What did I really accomplish today?”

For my own life, this great paradox begs the question: Do these technologies serve to help me, or do I serve them?

(I just had to take a break—a friend just uploaded her wedding pictures.)

French historian and theologian Jacques Ellul recognizes our age’s reliance on technology. “Modern technology has become a total phenomenon for civilization, the defining force of a new social order in which efficiency is no longer an option but a necessity imposed on all human activity,” he says. We live in an age where we feel enslaved to technology, whether we like it or not.

So what do we do about this?

In the creation narrative in Genesis, it is revealed to us that two of God’s primary values are work and rest. For six days God worked, and on the Sabbath God rested. God calls us to do the same. We work, and we rest. Both are necessary for wholeness.

The digest version of our Confession of Faith (Article 16) says it well: “We believe God’s act of creation provides the model for work and rest. In work, we use our abilities to glorify God and serve others. In rest, we express thanks for God’s provision and trust in God’s sustaining grace.”

In work and in rest, we trust in God. In our lives, we seem to trust much more in technology for both work and rest. But technology is a mirage in our disjointed, interruption-filled lives. Technology neither provides us with what we need to fulfill God’s call to work nor will it adequately bring us rest. Instead, technology serves as a subtle idol so often keeping us from the very reason for our work and our rest—God.

(Break time—new e-mail from the Chocolate of the Month Club!)

Based on God’s set work-rest pattern, it seems only logical that the primary way to save our selves from slavery to technology is Sabbath. Rest. When we truly take one day each week for rest, we also take a break from technology. What if one day per week we didn’t check our e-mail, turned off our cell phones and signed off of Facebook? And no tweets either. What if we took this time for the relationships around us, with our family, our neighbors, our friends and extended family close to home? What if we took this time to focus on the one relationship that matters most to make us better at work and relationships—our relationship with God?

Jacques Ellul also says this: “Prayer holds together the shattered fragments of the creation. It makes history possible.”

May we, this month, allow Sabbath rest to pull together the shattered fragments of our own lives. May we truly rest in God, which will create in us the ability to be better servants of what God has created us to be.

Even more disturbing is that this question comes from a consumer mind-set. We have become consumers, showing up on Sundays to fill up on the smorgasbord of religious goods and services and going home only to forget that church can’t possibly be over, since we are the church. Deep down we really know that the church isn’t an event or a building or an institution. But for some reason we have such a hard time living or talking as though the church is actually a people, a community.

Acts 2:42-47 is a passage that communicates a clear understanding of the church as a people who are devoted to Jesus and do life together, often in similar ways to how we “do church” today. The most surprising part of this passage is that this community is a highly inclusive one with a singular and specific focus. The verses that frame this passage (vv. 41, 47) speak of the evangelistic efforts of the church. The sole reason for the different functions of the church is showing and telling people about Jesus.

The Great Commandment and the Great Commission give us plenty of reason to believe that calling the world to repentance and to relationship with Jesus is the primary function of the church. Our Confession of Faith (Article 7) communicates this clearly: “Christ commands the church to make disciples of all nations by calling people to repent, and by baptizing and teaching them to obey Jesus. Jesus teaches that disciples are to love God and neighbor by telling the good news and by doing acts of love and compassion.”

Still, when we look at our churches it doesn’t look as though this is our mission. Why is this? It could be the medium.

Marshall McLuhan, a famous communication and popular culture theorist during the first half of the 20th century, coined the phrase “the medium is the message” that says the medium used in communication creates a symbiotic relationship that determines how the message is received. So when it comes to the church, the way we “do church” communicates as much about what we believe about the church as does what we say.

If McLuhan is correct, then we have to ask ourselves what we are implicitly communicating to those inside and outside our churches. For example, what does it communicate when we bicker about building projects or worry about worship style? Could it be that the medium—the Sunday morning worship service and all its trappings—has caused us to become consumers, ultimately changing the message that we think we are communicating?

Through many of our worship services and programs, we are subtly communicating that it’s really all about what happens inside the walls. “How was church today?” is a result of the decades-old medium communicating that each Christian is a consumer who comes to church to get something.

The church is not a building or a program or even a worship service. The church is a community centered upon the person and work of Jesus. This community exists to love, serve and equip each other, so that they might go out into the world, continuing to take God’s kingdom to a world in need. Ultimately, the church exists for a singular purpose—to show Jesus to the world and tell the world about Jesus.

So what do we do to change our message? The key is to stop talking about numbers, to step outside the doors of the church building. Our friends at Trailhead Church in Denver, Colo., recognize this and have changed the medium. Every second Sunday they forego a traditional worship gathering and choose to be the church by loving and serving the community.

If the medium is the message, I believe that Trailhead is communicating the mission of the church and message of Jesus crystal clear. This month may we look at our own churches, checking to see if we are creating consumers or servants. May we check our medium and make sure that our message is crystal clear.

Eight years later, in response to a worldwide economic crisis, many Americans are suggesting quite the opposite. On a Today Show segment, a couple that is under foreclosure and struggling financially is asked what they should have done differently. Their response is simple—we should have saved money.

What do we do in a struggling economy: spend or save? That’s the question. Or is it?

As Christians, our relationship to money and the economy is different from the world’s. Jesus reminds us that money and wealth can be the thing that most distracts us from God and the kingdom values that Jesus promotes. How can we forget Matthew 19:23-24 where Jesus compares a rich man entering God’s kingdom to a camel going through a needle’s eye?

Our Confession of Faith (Article 15) puts it bluntly: “To confess Jesus as Lord transforms values. Jesus warns that we cannot serve both God and wealth. Preoccupation with money and possessions, self-indulgent living and eagerness to accumulate wealth for personal advantage are not in keeping with the teaching of Scripture.”

So what is the value difference between God’s kingdom and the world’s?

It seems that Jesus’ radical statements about wealth have more to do with our focus, our motivation, than they do with our account balance. While what we do with our money is important, our economic stewardship begins first in our hearts and minds.

I love the word our Confession uses: preoccupation. Preoccupation with wealth can occur no matter where our money lies. Preoccupation with money is a sin committed in many realms. It occurs when we’re saving for the boat or the bigger house. It occurs when we’re paralyzed by fear instilled in us by the media, and we bury our money as a response. It occurs when we give generously to the church, only to respond by seeking to manipulate the subsequent budget or the spending habits of the church.

Sometimes we are quick to call out the extravagant and selfish spender as sinful, while we ourselves have equally allowed money to take over Jesus’ previous reign as Lord of our lives.

In our denomination, I often wonder if preoccupation with money has become the largest economic sin we commit. Many of us Mennonites pride ourselves in saving money and being thrifty spenders and simple livers. Meanwhile, our focus seems to remain on money. Just like accumulation can allow money to take over as lord, so can the obsession with saving.

Just like the purchase of things can be a way of hoarding, so can obsessive saving. In a recession, the sin within the church often shifts from unbridled spending to self-absorbed saving. The net result in God’s economy is the same. This selfishness weakens our desire to give to the poor, to practice mutual aid and to give generously and sacrificially to the church and other ministries. Because we are part of God’s economy, we do not fall into the sin of selfishness where both spending and saving can potentially lead us.

Recently I was talking with a friend who owns a small business. He said that during a time of prayer, he asked God what to do about the recession. He heard God saying, “Don’t participate.” Don’t participate? Now we can take that to mean many different things, but I think my friend is exactly right. As followers of Christ, we do not participate in the economy in the same way as others.

If we are people who are not preoccupied with money, we are not driven by the same fear that drives others. Instead, we live with Jesus as Lord, and he says not to worry about what you will eat or drink or wear (Matt. 6:25). As people who put our trust in God rather than money, our emotions no longer ride on the Wall Street rollercoaster. As people who look at everything we have as God’s, we are no longer living within the world’s economy, but God’s.

This month, may we choose not to participate in the recession. May we give more generously than ever before, without fear. May we not fall into sinful and selfish traps on either end of the spending/saving spectrum. And may we experience shalom because we have made Jesus Lord rather than money.

Ironically, our lives are more transparent in an ever-connected world. Social networking sites invite us to display our religious beliefs. Our online diaries—oops, I mean blogs—reveal our beliefs to the world and our every move can be captured by someone’s camera phone and eventually posted online for all to see. It’s no surprise that many of us have stumbled on a friend’s MySpace who would be embarrassed if he knew we’d seen it.

As Mennonite Brethren, we don’t believe that our faith is “personal and private” and has nothing to do with anything else. Instead, faith is a public expression, and my life is an open book to those in my community. We encourage each other to do right and challenge each other when we see sin.

The MB Confession of Faith says: “The church is a covenant community in which members are mutually accountable in matters of faith and life. They love, care and pray for each other, share in each other’s joys and burdens, admonish and correct one another.”

If our congregations are covenant communities, how do we hold each other accountable without falling to the extreme of religion (rule-keeping) or privatization (turning a blind eye)?

Menno Simons’ understanding was simple: “Therefore take heed. If you see your brother sin, then do not pass him by as one that does not value his soul; but if his fall be curable, from that moment endeavor to raise him up by gentle admonition and brotherly instruction, before you eat, drink, sleep or do anything else, as one who ardently desires his salvation.”

For Menno, church discipline was a simple concept: We are as concerned about the spiritual well-being of others as we are of our own. We love those in our community enough to help them be the best they can be.

Only when a congregation decides to enter into a mutually responsible and accountable covenant community can church discipline function healthily. Recently I had a conversation with a friend who had some major struggles during the past year. She needed someone to talk with and to confess her struggles. She looked to her church but couldn’t find a single person in the congregation with whom she felt safe enough to share. So she went looking elsewhere, outside her so-called covenant community to find someone safe.

Would her story be different if she felt like her community consisted of mutual accountability and had people who truly loved, cared for and prayed for her? It challenges me to ask whether I care enough for the people on my pew and across the sanctuary to encourage or confront them.

Covenant community means providing safe places for sharing one’s hurts and confessing sins. It requires a willingness to confront one another when we are unwilling to deal with sin. It means responding with love and appreciation when we ourselves are confronted with our own sin.

What, then, do we do? We begin by battling the temptation to privatize our own lives and faith. We confess our sins, our doubts and our hurts to one another. We put down the façade that we’re always doing good, and we get real with each other. We open our lives—our views of God, our doubts, our hurts, our homes, our secret sins and even our checkbooks—to one another. If we view congregations as covenant community, we can no longer hide behind our “personal” faith.

Even more, we can ask people how they are doing and truly listen. We can make eye contact and only say “uh huh” when we mean it rather than fake listening. We can write people cards, notes, e-mails or use other forms of communication. Healthy communication always promotes community and always creates safety.

As singer/songwriter Sara Groves reminds us, this is both difficult and messy. Yet it is what helps us work out our salvation:

“Here in the stillness

where thoughts are born

here in our frailty we're tattered and torn

here in confession

here in our mess

here in the place where we're mostly undressed—mostly

only the truth and truthfulness can save us now.”

“Well,” I said, “we’re looking for a new church.”

“What’s your name?” he queried.

“Paul.”

“And your last name,” he quickly responded.

“Bartel,” I said begrudgingly.

He replied, “Ah, Bartel, I knew there was a reason you were here!”

While this was not an ordinary encounter for me in Mennonite Brethren churches, it is a true story. These types of stories bring mind numerous questions to my mind. Where I grew up, there were lots of Mennonites around, of all different camps.

Each Mennonite group, I’ve noticed, has one thing in common: We are all defined by our communities, particularly in relation to our culture. One church is defined by the clothing of its members. Another by what they do, or don’t, drive. Mennonite Brethren tend to be defined by our last names, like Regier, Reimer, Klassen, Kliewer, Karber, and so on.

Lately, however, many of these cultural trappings have faded away, and in the Mennonite Brethren church that I’m attending, the names have changed—a lot. While to me this seems to be a good thing, some tend to disagree. But I’m finding that our church finds itself in the middle of an identity crisis. If we no longer identify ourselves by last names, then what identifies us?

Sometimes when I tell people I’m Mennonite Brethren, they ask, “What do Mennonite Brethren believe?” Typically I respond the way any good evangelical would: “Well, we believe in Jesus and the Bible and salvation.” I try not to respond like others I’ve heard: “We’re just like the Baptists.” Or worse yet, “We’re M-B, ‘more Baptist.’” Nothing against the Baptists—it’s just simply not true. This question actually haunts me. What do Mennonite Brethren really believe?

I’ve done a lot of reading to discover what Mennonite Brethren believe traditionally, our Anabaptist beliefs. As I read, I find many theological beliefs within our denomination that I hear little about within the church. Church discipline has all but disappeared in many churches, along with its emphasis on covenant community.

Fearing that we might be “too liberal, we now shy away from social issues, once at the forefront of Mennonite Brethren thinking and practice. I have heard many Mennonite Brethren say they have never heard a sermon about pacifism. I can recall a few times that I have heard allusions about some of these things, but the words seem crypted, like the speaker really did not want to offend anyone with his or her beliefs.

Equally disturbing to me is that many written beliefs seem terribly impractical at face value. However, after careful observation I realize that they are impractical because we do not understand or know them. I can’t help but ask myself, “Why are these things written down as our beliefs if we rarely talk about them and act on them even less?”

Why does our written theology seem largely impractical? Many will quickly remind me that it’s theology, head knowledge, and theology is everything but practical. That might be true for us, at least with our written theology, but I think theology is everything but impractical. I recently heard a man say that all theology is practical and all practice is theological.

If this is true, then we need to do two things: search our hearts and actions to see what our theology really is, and look at the theology that our churches confess, hence the name “Confession of Faith,” to see if we are actually practicing it. So long as theology remains head knowledge and nothing more, it is worthless. Paul says it best: “We know that we all possess knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Cor. 8:1). Knowledge without action is less than impractical: it is useless.

As I read the Mennonite Brethren Confession of Faith, I am convinced that this can be practical. I am also certain that if I can learn what this means for me practically, my faith only then becomes faithfulness. I understand that some of our beliefs are different from the churches down the street and may even be different than many of our evangelical brothers and sisters.

I believe that together we can find ways to fill our everyday lives with action and attitudes that are both evangelical and Anabaptist. Together, I believe that we can find ways to live practically every day what is recorded in those books written by our ancestors. Will you join me in the journey towards learning what it is to be practically Anabaptist?

The speaker challenged students to live lives of repentance rather than comfortably relying on a prayer spoken several years back. While the speaker’s point was to challenge their understanding of salvation, some students took this to mean that their salvation was not secure. This is not a new challenge for Anabaptists.

Our Anabaptist fathers had a succinct, one word definition of Christianity: discipleship. In fact, the early Anabaptists held such a high view of discipleship they were accused regularly of “works-righteousness” or salvation by works. However the early Anabaptists viewed it differently. Followers of Jesus are saved by grace, and that grace empowers them into a life of Christian discipleship—following Jesus. If a person chooses not to enter into a life of discipleship, that person has rejected the grace Jesus offers.

As contemporary Mennonite Brethren, we find ourselves in a unique and difficult situation. As evangelicals, our focus turns to the free gift of salvation offered by Jesus Christ, no strings attached. But our Anabaptist side says discipleship is not simply a “follow-up” to salvation. Rather the choice to enter discipleship is the beginning of our salvation.

So what do we do here? I believe we have to hold these two ideas in tension, never allowing ourselves to fall to one extreme or the other. Our denominational confession (Article 5) reminds us that we are saved from something and saved to something. We are saved from sin, and we are saved to wholeness and freedom.

The moment I begin to think that I’m more of a Christian than another because of my actions, I’ve forgotten the point of discipleship—humility and love. And the moment I begin to think that I’ve “made it” because I said a prayer when I was seven (or 70), I’ve forgotten the meaning of Christianity—following Christ.

I recently heard a sermon in which the preacher reminded us that witness is not a verb, but a noun. We don’t witness; we are witnesses. When we think of the whole of our lives as a witness, we begin to rethink how we live and act. We no longer are to “be Christian” at home and church, and “be secular” at work and play. If I am a disciple, my whole life serves as a witness.

As long as my faith remains internal and does not lead me into action, it is useless. “As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead” (James 2:26). If we view Christianity as discipleship, it becomes impossible to separate our walk from our talk.

As Mennonite Brethren, our first step has traditionally been to look at the teachings of Jesus to see what discipleship looks like. Because of the countless examples in the Gospels of a life of discipleship, this can be overwhelming. But if we take seriously the teachings of Jesus as the foundation for Christianity, defined as discipleship, then who Jesus was and what Jesus did will surely call us to do likewise.

I have a friend who has taken this call to discipleship to heart. Although he has a full-time job and a family and lives in the “suburbs,” he spends one morning each week volunteering at a local homeless shelter and soup kitchen. This is the one time in the week he looks forward to the most. Could it be because he has found fulfillment through following Jesus’ call to discipleship?

Early Anabaptist Michael Sattler penned his understanding of discipleship as a poem:

To Mennonite Brethren, discipleship means much more than a personal relationship with Jesus. It requires that we take Jesus’ words and actions to heart and seek to live in response to them. This month, may we take Jesus’ call to discipleship seriously and find new ways to live out our faith as disciples of Jesus.