Friday, January 26, 2007

Saul's Legacy

I Samuel 8-9 has some fascinating aspects that might be thought to relate to modern, American-style, evangelical Christianity, or at least the version of it that is most familiar to me. I'm seeing it up close lately at my home church, where the new CEO/preacher has taken full advantage (to say the least) of the authority conferred on him.

1. Saul arose as a result of popular demand for a king despite repeated, prophetic warnings about the tragic consequences that would surely ensue.

2. There was a Samuel on the scene, a prophet who routinely heard the voice of God directing his steps. He was on the scene before Saul and at least had the ear of the people, if not the assent.

3. Saul was a commanding, physical presence with drop-dead appearance. The author of I Samuel doesn't give us much to go on concerning his personality, so I'm not sure if he was a charming guy or not. But he was certainly noticeable for his looks and his stature.

4. God, at times, will allow us to do our own thing knowing consequences will occur and people will get hurt. God intends to use the consequences of our disobedience to bring us back to Him. This is the redemptive curse at work. (Thanks to DM for this insight.) Can you think of more interesting aspects of the setting here?

qb

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

The Prophetic Call

From Brueggemann, _The Prophetic Imagination_:

"The task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture around us."

__________

A brief reflection on Brueggemann, FWIW (stipulating that Brueggemann is right, for argument's sake). Let's see where it leads.

In the midst of institutional church leadership drunk with the promises of self-consolidating, self-validating, self-perpetuating power, how does a prophet arise? Where does he gain his legitimacy, his voice?

Brueggemann's infinitives are telling: the prophet is to nurture, to nourish and to evoke. The prophet does not impose himself. His legitimacy is not a matter of [carnal] power but of [spiritual] substance. He accepts that few will listen, and it saddens him, but it dims neither his hope in Christ, his faith in God nor his love for God's people. With both rod and staff, he shepherds those who will listen toward "a new consciousness and a new perception" that stand over against the tacit norms and the spoken imperatives of a fatally enculturated church. His prophecy is content to begin with a whispered riddle among those whose ears are tuned.

But Brueggemann's picture begs the question: whence arises the prophet's claim to divine favor? Among the shrill competition for an audience by a horde of would-be prophets armed with proof-texts, reams of demographic survey data and intimidating stacks of case studies, what form does the hand of God's favor take? How does the modern Amos know when it is time to thunder forth, and how does Ezekiel know when simply to mime his message in some cryptic, enigmatic way?

There are so many more questions to raise, but this bite is big enough for now.

qb