Holy Week sounds deeply spiritual, doesn’t it? It sounds like a week characterised by tranquility, reflection, depth, ascetism and piety. For many religious Christians throughout the world, perhaps; but it wasn’t so for Jesus.

The Passion of Jesus was really the culmination of a season of crisis. It wasn’t merely a trivial crisis that he went through. It was a life crisis that put him and his friends to the test. Two of the main things that were tested throughout this crisis were friendship and loyalty.

Crisis truly has a way of testing us and bringing to light the deepest motivations of our hearts. The deepest forms of selfishness emerge in the face of a crisis. The strongest anger lashes out in the face of a crisis. The most lethal vengeance is executed in the face of a crisis. Crisis mercilessly leaves us with no way to hide the secrets of our hearts. If on a normal day we are able to camouflage ourselves with props which exhibit deep devotion towards God, loyalty towards friends, and selflessness towards humanity, the true state of our hearts comes to light when crisis hits.

And so it was with those people who called themselves friends of Jesus.

When crisis befell them, very quickly, betrayal and abandonment took over. They started scattering themselves away from him and denying that they ever knew him. Understandably, they needed to survive in a world where reputation and security mattered. And perhaps, if this Messiah wasn’t strong enough to come up against the diabolical powers ruling the land, if he was going to suffer a disgraceful fate, then they would be justified for moving on with life and acknowledging that they had placed their bets on the wrong horse.

So, yes… after the deeply moving episode of the washing of feet, the vows to remain faithful to him even unto death, and the partaking of his body and his blood, they conveniently failed him and themselves when a crisis hit soon after. So much for all the claims to friendship and undivided loyalty.

Holy Week is a week of crisis. It challenges us to confront ourselves with the deepest motivations of our hearts. If all throughout the year, we’ve been professing religious claims of loyalty, piety, service and sacrifice, Holy Week confronts us with what we are actually capable of doing to God, to one another, and to ourselves when a crisis hits.

May we not be too quick to submerge ourselves into the resurrection joy of Easter. Before any of us actually thinks we’re already Christian enough in God’s eyes, let the reality of the Holy Week confront us and linger a little longer - so that we may see the true state of our hearts.

And if there, we see and acknowledge the capacity for bitterness, for abandonment, for betrayal, and for self-motivation that lies within us, this may just be a definitive moment of conversion for some of us.

To friendship...

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Jesus betrayed his disciples.

We often spend much of our time reflecting on how his disciples betrayed and abandoned him, and how someone like Peter made lofty promises which he failed to keep. But the truth is, just as they had betrayed Jesus, perhaps they too felt that Jesus had betrayed them.

If we really think about it, perhaps he really did. He betrayed them by failing to have met the expectations they had of him. They were simple people who had trusted him with their lives. They had entrusted their futures into his hands. And for all that they had given up just to be his companions in the final part of his earthly journey, they had a right to have expected better things from him.

But he failed to deliver. He had to get crucified, suffer humiliation unto death, and consequently abandoned those who had been faithful to him.

Don't be too quick to judge the disciples. Imagine how painfully lost they must have felt throughout that brief season following Jesus' death and burial. Try to internalise how abandoned and cheated - how foolish - they must have felt.

Part of the paschal mystery is that for as long as we are called to live in community and have expectations on relationships we build in community, we are bound to fail and betray one another. So yes, just as his disciples had betrayed him, Jesus had betrayed them too.

This thought must be disturbing for some of us who have a perfect image of Jesus. I know. It disturbs me too. But it also challenges me to think through again how I have spent much of my life trying to avoid betrayals. Maybe it's just a necessary part of the paschal mystery that needs to be realised in community.

Perhaps the paschal mystery is such that only in betrayal and abandonment can we find the resurrected Christ awaiting in the light of the dawn.

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I have a friend. She gets on my nerves at times, like any other human person does. But there are some qualities in her which are rarely found in other people I’ve known.

People are inherently selfish. They prioritise their lives according to their own interests, their own wellbeing and those of their families. They can be very nice and kind for as long as being nice and kind does not impinge upon their own interests. My friend is not like that. She shows kindness to others because it’s right, even if it puts herself at stake.

People will not fashion their lifestyles according to values they claim to believe are good and right. The lifestyles they reflect are often in total contradiction to their conviction claims. My friend is not like that. Her life reflects the very values she preaches, regardless of what others may think of her.

People will say nice things to you about yourself because they know it makes you feel nice about them. But just as they’re pretentiously nice to you, they’re nice to just about everyone they meet. Because not having enemies works to their advantage. My friend is not like that. Offend her sensibilities and she’ll show it to you. Because she’s real.

I guess what makes this friend quite likable is not that she's pleasant. She's quite likable because she doesn't try to manage people's impressions of her. She just is.

It’s nice to have a real friend in a plastic world.

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Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to Him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us?

No! If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great. No! Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation...

And so, today, with great strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return.

Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ – and you will find true life. Amen.

Homily of His Holiness Benedict XVI
St. Peter's Square
Sunday, 24 April 2005

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I admire you deeply for your courage.

Whilst many others are finding the partners they've desired for themselves, you've pledged yourself to one with whom you must exist for a cause greater than yourself.

I deeply admire you because you've been warned, and you've ignored the danger and decided that there's no other path you might want to choose.

Strangely, I see all these other possibilities before you, and yet you remain blind to them all, fixating your eyes only on this one path.

Henceforth, we'll be plotting freedom and liberty in establishments of oppression. We'll be orchestrating explosions of reconciliation in boundaries of enmity. We'll be planting insurgents of hope in borders of despair.

Others call it insanity. We call it the dance of life.

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It’s easier to be nice than to love people.

It’s easier to do kind favours that cause people to like us than to love enough to refuse helping someone fulfil his perceived need. Likeability works to our advantage.

It’s easier to remain silent without pointing out someone else’s faults than to love enough to speak with honesty and directness into a person’s life. Diplomacy works to our advantage.

It’s easier to just accept others and remain blind to areas of their lives that need improvement than to love enough to take responsibility for their personal growth. Superficiality works to our advantage.

Niceness, diplomacy, friendliness, and helpfulness can be the most deceitful ways of being selfish. Loving is never that easy, because truly and deeply loving others can sometimes be the most hideously offensive thing to do.

The two often look alike, but one seeks the wellbeing of the self whilst the other seeks the wellbeing of the neighbour. Are you loving or just being nice?

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Marriage is a reflection of the divine friendship of God. It is ordained that the joining of the lives of man and wife reflect the self-giving nature of the Holy Trinity.

There is nothing romantic about marriage. It's a glimpse of the eternal love in which God exists and an expression of how he desires to bring us into the same state of existence.

With that, the Editor is glad to officially announce that the wedding of Sherman (the Editor himself) and Emmy will take place on 3 November this year.

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Tonight, I've just been reminded of how you've amazingly chosen to love me despite knowing the many things you'll have to surrender for the cause of the Kingdom.

Even when you know I'm unable to be the perfect presence which fulfills your personal dreams and ambitions, you readily offer yourself to this cause... without even being sure it won't break you. Sometimes I fear for you, because it has broken me more than once.

And yet, this is the path you've chosen for yourself, embracing all the perils it promises to bring. If you didn't truly love God, you wouldn't really have kept treading this path... it wouldn't have been worth your while.

Surely, you're the one.

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“I’ve known you for so many years, and yet you seem to have become closer to this other newer friend more than me.”

What makes the depth of a friendship? Is the depth of a relationship to be measured by the number of years you have known each other? Or is it to be measured by the stuff you’ve done together throughout your season of knowing each other.

Neither, I think.

The depth of a relationship isn’t even to be measured by how committed you both are to the same values in life or to the same religion.

It is to measured according to how deeply committed you are to each other. When you’re committed enough to choose to trust each other, committed enough to reveal your vulnerabilities to each other, committed enough to experience what it’s like to be hurt by someone you’ve deliberately chosen to trust, you know you have a deep friendship.

Because in the final analysis, it’s not about our similarities. It’s about our appreciation of each other’s personhood.

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One of the realities I've noticed in the past years of living in a community which is intent on living out the life of the Kingdom is that people who don't consider themselves part of the community tend to form all sorts of perceptions about us. These perceptions range from those which look at us with great admiration as if we're exalted heroes of the faith to those which perceive us to be the disdainful freaks we admittedly sometimes make ourselves to look like.

Either way, there'll inevitably be a time when living within intimate Trinitarian communities (like the early church did) begins to invoke a social cost. Those who previously exalted you get disappointed at just how human you can be after all, and those who previously looked at you with disdain simply persist in this rhythm of perception.

What should one do? Go around explaining to everyone what it means to live the Kingdom life, what it means to stand on the side of the marginalised (or even what the term "marginalised" actually means), and what it has cost us who have chosen to embrace this life? And then they'll just be convinced and let us work out our convictions in peace? And if we're lucky, we'll get their blessings too? One can only wish it were that simple.

Some realities about the Kingdom life can only be understood when they're lived out. They can't be adequately explained when people demand an explanation or justification for what we're doing or who we're trying to be. Conviction grows when we've tasted these realities and we know them to be true even if we have no adequate words to use in attempting to describe them.

So we keep living out the dream anyway - because we know of no higher way.

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We are created in the imago Dei (“image of God”). For centuries, it has been a point of debate concerning what the imago Dei really means. One speculation after another emerged from the time of the Patristics (who distinguished between the “image” and the “likeness” and posited that the image was retained at the fall but the likeness was lost) right up to the time of the Protestant Reformers (who held that both the “image” and the “likeness” are synonymous and that this image had been distorted at the fall).

Understanding this from a Trinitarian perspective – which is essentially the foundation of our Christian faith anyway – one would realise that the “image” concerns God’s Trinitarian nature. If God has existed in all eternity as Father, Son and Holy Spirit – COMMUNITY – then the impartation of his “image” must mean the communication of his Trinitarian communal nature. We are made in the image of God such that we possess the capacity and the desire to live in community.

The Fall, which is traditionally understood as a “rebellion” against God, might be more accurately seen as the severance of humanity’s life in community with God and with one another, as well as with all creation. Consequently, sin may be appropriately seen as an inability to live in community; perhaps even an aversion towards life in community. Perhaps it is true then that sin always takes place in a social setting. After all, the failure to love God and one’s neighbour involves an “otherly” dimension.

The human race has forgotten that it was created for life in community. The remnant of the distorted image which John Calvin talks about is observable in our inclination towards having a “social life” or sorts. So in that sense, we are still the “social animals” Aristotle spoke about. But the brokenness of the image is distinctly vivid in the way we draw boundaries between ourselves and other people for the sake of our own emotional, physical, and mental survival. It is also made apparent in the way we feel a sense of intrusion when others invade our private space.

We have forgotten that we were created by community for community. And we have forgotten how to live in community. The norm for communal living has shifted from intimate Trinitarian communities to one of superficial non-threatening relationships. Even for Christians.

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Whom do you eat with? The table is a symbol of fellowship. It is where people sit and talk with one another, telling one another stories about their lives and how they’ve come thus far in their journey.

Whom a person chooses to hang out with at the table significantly speaks of his self-understanding in terms of his social identity and status. If you’re a middle-class professional, it’s almost inevitable that you’d be seen eating with others like yourself. This is the social system under which we exist – you’re planted in a social order wherein you find others like yourself. You work with them, do church with them, and go to places they frequent. So you eat with them.

At one level, we may say that the gospel necessitates us to sit with others like ourselves because we have to “reach out” to them, since we can speak their language. We often call this “marketplace ministry”, and I don’t desire to dispute the legitimacy of such efforts.

But at another level, the gospel of the Kingdom calls for something more radical. We’re called to be found at the table with people whom others never care to sit with, to eat from plates that others couldn’t bear to share from. We’re called to go and eat with those who have less than us; not just by sharing our middle-class food with them, but by also partaking in their lives by sharing in their lower class food.

The difficult part about this is probably not so much the doing it itself – the difficulty is found in making it a preference. To sit and dine with the marginalised just because it’s a Christian duty just doesn’t quite match the ethos of the Kingdom. The call of the Kingdom is for us to love the marginalised so much that we find our own middle-class social consciousness distasteful, and eventually find our authentic existence by sharing the table with the marginalised. And to prefer being there.

Posted by SK at 12:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

“Don’t let them get too close to you, otherwise they’ll step all over you. Always maintain a safe distance.”

Have you heard this well-meaning advice before? I’ve heard it in many contexts and given by many different types of leaders – organisational bosses, school teachers, church leaders, seminary lecturers, etc. It doesn’t shock, but it does make one wonder.

Especially in the context of the Christian faith. When Christian leaders maintain that a distance must be kept just so those under them will not take advantage of them, one needs to reflectively examine such an understanding.

For one thing, these leaders get it right that leading is a very dangerous responsibility to undertake. It is dangerous because it exposes one to the propensity of other people exploiting the leader if he is kind, gentle, and compassionate. But is the deliberate act of maintaining a safe distance the right response to this reality?

A very strong dimension of leading is found in who we are, because who we are is inevitably expressed through what we model in our lives. When a leader is cold and spatially hostile in his relationships with others, it speaks of an underlying refusal to engage in relationships which may threaten one’s sense of comfort and safety. When a leader engages with other lives with no holds barred, it speaks of the length he’s willing to go through to get connected with other lives around him.

Hurt though he may be by some people who will take advantage of kind and compassionate leaders, his struggle to rise above his injuries is the very dimension of his journey as a leader which will inspire others to be leaders of kindness, compassion and grace like himself. Judged though he may be when his flaws are noticed all too easily, his struggle to better himself challenges others to follow after his perseverance and long-suffering. Christian leaders who can’t model this virtue are perhaps better off leading in the cold hostile world where only efficiency, productivity and targets matter. They will always be seen as bosses to their subordinates, but never as superiors.

A leader can maintain a distance from those he leads. But a Christian leader, in humility and in following the way of his Master, cannot lead others without the vulnerabilities that accompany the appointment to model the life of Christ.

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You're doing something to me that no philosophy, no theory, no field of thought in all its splendour of abstraction has been able to do to me... you're making me feel. All throughout this life and faith journey, all these years, I've been fixated on how God must think and how we must think like him. Now you're driving me to experience how God must feel. You're driving me to a measure of vulnerability deeper than I could ever imagine I would experience.

I tread this path with deep fear and caution - not because of you - but because of what I might discover as you bring out the hidden sides of me. I can only hope and pray that these hidden sides reveal themselves to be as beautiful as the visible sides you have come to love.

I often wonder if perhaps God has given you to me not because I'm to be your pillar of strength, but rather, because you're chosen to be the bringer of strength into my life. But it's all rather illusive, you see, because you approach me with so much vulnerability and weakness. You seem so delicate that I fear I'll break you. But the miracle is that in seeking strength from me, I find myself being strengthened just enough to cover you.

With you, I feel both strong and weak at the same time. Perhaps this is reflective of just how our faith journey should be - approaching God and finding strength in weakness. Could it be that you and I are a symbiotic reflection of divine friendship?

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Posted by SK at 12:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Do you often meet people who seem to be interested in nothing more than small talk? They seem genuinely interested to be in touch with you, but the relationship often revolves around small talk. And even when you try to steer the conversation into something “deeper” by trying to talk about matters that matter, your efforts are flippantly ignored or pushed aside, and the small talk continues.

I sometimes meet people who seem addicted to small talk. I have nothing against small talk, especially when it’s just a matter of chilling and “wasting time” with one another, just by way of bringing the ministry of presence to one another. But I’m talking about people who seem to have a different idea of a “safe relationship”. On the one hand, they so desire to hang out with you and to be in connection with you; but on the other hand, there is something in them that they desire to protect by going only as deep as small talk. And whenever you try to fuel the conversation with something deeper, a subtle but unmistakable refusal to follow suit is immediately observable.

They dictate the direction of your conversations. They specify what should be spoken about and what shouldn’t. To them, you’re just an “object” of conversation, like a live talking machine that exists to entertain them by way of conversation whenever they need to be amused about nothing. To them, you're immaterial. Their whole lives are like a coffee table, and their conversations a way of escape from the deep realities that haunt them most.

It seems that some such people desire contact in friendship, but are jealously protective of areas of their lives that they don’t desire to open up for examination by others. But strangely, it’s precisely such people who’re often critical of other people when they do their small talk with you. They’ll comment critically about almost anyone, including you. They’re open to talk about anything, including things about themselves that they find amusing. Just don’t say something serious about them, because it threatens their sense of safety in the conversation.

Whilst having no particular aversion towards the idea of small talk itself, I do take particular offence towards conversations that rest almost solely on small talk alone. It is a waste of eternity when it’s done with no present eternal motivations.

Having said that, I do enjoy small talk with friends who can talk about both the small and the deep issues in their life journey. But I don't enjoy it with people who insist that our conversations rest only on small talk and who seem to hold "small talk" as a requisite for our friendship. They're going nowhere slowly, and they want your company.

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I've just returned from a weekend on another mountain, and a exactly week (from now) before I hit the road again to head down south. The last time I ascended this mountain, I was 10 a year-old boy. This weekend, I went up and stayed in exactly the same inn that I lodged in 20 years ago. Such trips provoke intense memories from the past, and hence, propel me into extremely deep nostalgic reflections.

But beyond mental and emotional recollections, there was a sustained reflection on the life of ministry. Ever since I emerged with a more comprehensively thought through understanding of ministry, I've consistently maintained that ministry is not an activity. Instead, it is a natural expression resulting from a missional friendship that takes place within a community of believers.

Ministry isn't something we do as good Christians. As good Christians, we become friends. Yes, that's simply it, no matter how unbelievably simplistic it may sound. But then, the spiritually intimate exchanges that take place within such spiritually guided friendships are bound to result in an overflow. That which naturally overflows from such relationships without having to be humanly engineered is what I call "ministry".

When we begin to understand ministry as an involuntary result of a missional friendship, we soon realise that no one can say "We're starting a ministry" because deliberate attempts to attain a desired result is not a kingdomic definition of ministry. Any such sort of institutionalised rendition of ministry, if it can even be considered legitimately reflective of God's heart, often slips into an actionary-based series of rigidly legalistic, politically guided, constitutionally regulated, pragmatically motivated activities.

If you have had me speaking, sharing, teaching, or preaching in your faith community before, then you'll know that I consider at least somebody there a good friend of mine. Because it has been a long time since I accepted speaking engagements based on a public "reputation" that is sometimes ascribed to me without people truly knowing me as a person. Therefore, I generally turn down requests for "ministerial engagements" presented by people who know me only by reputation... I'd rather not talk about "ministry" first and be known as a friend. Friendship is, for me, the prerequisite for any ministerial expression.

Gone are those days when I was impressed at opportunities to preach at crowds of people who were merely nameless faces to me. I've switched from the ministry of authoritative dogma to one of the ministry of friendship and presence. Or at least, I've tried to and will continue to do so.

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The gift of relationships is also a discipline of balance.

If we clench our fists too tightly to sustain a relationship, we inevitably kill it. We suffocate the life and vitality out of the relationship. We find people having to distance themselves from us just so they can survive mentally and emotionally. Eventually, the inclination to control and manipulate creeps in unbeknownst to us. The impulse to hold relationships in this manner speaks of an insecurity and an intense emptiness within ourselves. To cling on to such a relationship is unhealthy because "the other" is no longer an "other." "The other" now exists primarily to fulfill our deepest longings. Even in our giving, we seek to receive.

If we hold the relationship too loosely, it invariably slips into an exercise of convenience. We tend to offer of ourselves when we do not ourselves require that which we have. In essence, we end up offering nothing except amusement to another person who also uses us for the very same purpose. A wise Lebonese prophet once remarked, " For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness."

We clench our fists too tightly, we kill it. We hold it too loosely, we discard it. Relationships are there as mirrors for our self-examination. They make us keep check of our deepest motivations and our secret longings. Healthy relationships reflect a centred soul.

Posted by SK at 11:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Me:
Bro, I want to pick up with you a bit more on our brief conversation at tea break this morning. About the "touch and go" approach.

Brother:
Sure...

Me:
Just a short one for your reflection. Look at the life of Jesus and his disciples. There were moments when he and his disciples went out to touch the crowd. But as they engaged, they also disengaged very often so that they could spend time in solitude together as a core community. Jesus refused to compromise the importance of spending time together as a core community. Lingering with one another. Why do you suppose so?

Brother:
Because there's no point spending time with everyone and having no deep friendship with anyone. Wide but not deep.

Me:
Yup. And a real change of life takes place only when relationships are deep, not wide. There is a time and space for wide relationships, but it is the core relationships that give meaning to the wider relationships. So our primary focus must be on core relationships.

Brother:
Understood.

Me:
Your ministry out there with the "crowd" is meaningful only if you have a life that is centred in core relationships. Then wherever you go, it's our spirit that you carry along with u. Otherwise, it's just you. And as an individual, you have nothing very much to bring to the world, do you? Then you'd just be out there as a busy "doer". That's the way with everyone of us. So if u find yourself very busy all the time and have no time to be with people who miss you, it's a sure sign of something gone wrong.

Brother:
Do me a favour. If you see me forgetting this, can you give me a gentle reminder?

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The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
A Safe Place

Dear Irene,

Hey hey... here I am! Thanks for giving me the time to get over the trauma of a 30th birthday before getting back to our correspondence, hehe. Wow, it's been a crazy two weeks for me, I tell you. Amidst the fun of camps, friendships, kingdom-talk, and mountaintop epiphanies, I've been terribly dazed at the pace at which I've been moving in the past two weeks. *exhales*

And it hasn't ended yet! I'll be off to Singapore this Wednesday, and then back in Seremban on either Thursday night or Friday noon. And after that, I'll be in KL on Saturday having a conversation with my friends at the Emergent Malaysia Open Meeting. So I figured that if I don't reply your letter NOW, I may not have the opportunity to do so in the coming week either, and you may not wanna talk to me again... ever.

You know what, I'm glad even if you're still not yet able to emotionally grasp the reality of God as Friend and Father, that you have Bob and me as a starting point. This would mean that there is in fact a model of unconditionally accepting relationships in your life, even if this model exists in imperfection. I believe the kind of relationship you're experiencing with Bob and me is what I've often called a "relationship of grace."

Now, you know the thing I have about clichés, so this term "relationship of grace" isn't a cliché term at all. It's a term that speaks about how Christian friendships should be visible embodiments of the grace of God. The grace of God is such that it precedes repentance. For centuries now, the Christian community has been speaking about how God's forgiveness and grace are contingent upon our repentance. I challenge this paradigm. Because in the life of Jesus our Friend, we see how he offers grace and friendship unconditionally without tying his intentions to any hidden agenda to provoke repentance. And it is often this unconditional offer of grace itself that invokes a grateful heart towards repentance in the first place. Such is the paradox of grace!

So you see, the greatest injustice that you can do to your friendship with God is to focus your attention on sin and judgement when God himself remains fixated on a desire to restore his friendship with you. When you condemn yourself and judge yourself by the measure of your worthiness, you dishonour his unconditional acceptance of you. I guess what I'm saying is that God truly desires for you to reach out to him in response to his offer of friendship.

Many (if not all) of us are products of a broken past. Likewise, it is very probable the your inability to experience God as Friend and Father may be a result of a similar type of relationship that has conditioned your understanding of father figures. And if so, it is necessary to move beyond the link that you have subconsciously created between these unpleasant father figures and your understanding of God.

I think you need to do some "re-linking." Look around you and see if there are other relationships of grace in your life (like that of yours with Bob and with me). And begin to consciously link these safe relationships positively with your conception of the friendship of God. Each time you experience grace from these relationships, consciously tell yourself, "Ah, this is supposed to be what my friendship with God looks like." In so doing, you are nurturing yourself by reconditioning your emotions towards a more positive experience of God as your Friend and Father. You reckon this can work for you?

I'm inclined to think that our receptivity towards signals that we receive from our environment is selective. As such, I think it may benefit you to be more consciously selective of what you choose from your sense-experience that you allow to actively condition your understanding of God. He loves you. Unconditionally.

Here I go again, spending lots of my life on the road. Until then...ciaoz!

To friendship!
Sherman

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The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
God As Friend

Dear Irene,

See lah, you've now interrupted me just as I'm about to embark on my new series of blog entries. So much for good timing. Anyway, it's a good thing you're replying now, as I'm going to hit the road again soon! And no, I'm not enjoying myself with all this travelling. Be my guest; quick go to seminary for your MDiv and take my place so I can retire. Hahah.

Was I redefining what it means to be a Christian? Yes and no.

"Yes" (I'm redefining what it means to be a Christian) because I think somewhere along the way, we've overly emphasised "holiness" in the Christian life and understood it as sinning as little as possible so that we don't offend God. We keep thinking that God's eyes are on sin, and the eyes of the celestial policeman are prowling in search of sin so he can pounce on the offender. We forget that sin offends God only because it severs friendship with him. The point is, God's eyes are on friendship, not on sin! Sin is the thing that gets in the way of our friendship with him, that's why it grieves him.

"No" (I'm not redefining what it means to be a Christian) because the Christians in early church called themselves "friends of God" besides "followers of the Way", "Christians", and a host of other names. Also, if you've heard about the Quaker movement that existed sometime throughout the history of the church, you'd know that they called themselves The Religious Society of Friends. I'm therefore not saying something entirely new and unrooted in our historical faith.

So in a way, I am redefining what it means to be Christian; but in another way, I am simply recovering what I think has been lost in our Evangelical preoccupation with sin and repentance. I sincerely think God sees these dimensions of the Christian life in a very different way from what we tend to imagine of have been taught all throughout our formative years as Christians.

But it is true indeed that friendship with God is more than merely about whether God will grant us the desires of our hearts. There are times when he does and there are times when he doesn't. Nothwithstanding, God is our Friend. Actually, more than that, he is The Friend. On this account, we know that he will always make decisions that are in the best of our interest. But of course, this is also subject to how we define "our interests". Because this Friend of ours has concerns that are far larger than we do, and he has a view that's far wider than we can see. What seems good and just to us now may not be so in accordance with his larger concerns and wider view.

In this regard, I think it's useful for me to highlight that dimension of our faith in him that's relational and not merely propositional. If our faith was simply propositional, then we would try to figure out the most logically viable way to explain why God can be trusted as The Friend. But the very fact of the relationality of his friendship with us necessitates us to be willing to trust him just because we have a relationship with him. Just like when Jesus said to his disciplies "If you love me, you will do what I say"... what kind of logic is there in this? None. At all. Just because you love a person doesn't logically lead to your having to do what he says. But this isn't a propositional demand; it's a relational demand... on this account, the demand makes sense. Hence, the same "rule" applies: trust God, The Friend, not because you can reason out why he'd always work in the best of your interest, but because you love him. Your relationship with him permits for you to know intuitively that you can trust him wholly.

"Trust in my Father, trust also in me."

It makes sense to trust that he has your best interest at heart only when you trust that you have a friendship with him. Beyond that, no human logic or profound philosophy can justify our attempts to trust; because no philosophical justification is ever good enough to justify abandoning yourself into the hands of an unseen Friend. Can we trust?

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
No Friendship Without Vulnerability

Dear Irene,

I know as I reply this letter of yours, that you're at some mountain somewhere in Borneo or something like that. While you're there, don't forget Sherman on the Mount! I love mountains; they always bring me into a strange state of reflective nostalgia about life. There's a tranquility about mountains that calms the soul and brings a sense of depth into our fragile lives; well, at least for me. Having said that, don't forget to come back.

Such a timely moment to discuss the issue of vulnerability. In the past week or so, I've had a renewed lesson and challenge in relational vulnerability. I had a problem with someone whom I perceived to be a friend (admittedly, I didn't know this person very well, to begin with). The point is, at the initial stage of our friendship, I chose to disclose myself in vulnerability by revealing certain things about my life, my story, my struggles, etc. Next thing I knew, this person had started listening to gossips about me and had started using against me information that I had disclosed about myself. How's that for an opening story in a discussion on vulnerability?

This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened to me. But despite this, I still maintain that vulnerability is necessary in friendship. This may sound rather dogmatic, but I believe that the only way to walk into a trinitarian friendship is to walk into it with no holds barred - total vulnerability. I'm not speaking as one who's already achieved it, but rather, as one who's still learning what it means for myself. But just as Jesus embraced Judas Iscariot in vulnerable friendship - allowing the one who'd eventually betray him to live with him and to handle the finances of the community - we too are called to embrace that kind of vulnerability towards all the potential Judases in our lives. Yeah, scary.

Essentially, this is what a God-ordained friendship is about. It's about not seeking to preserve or protect ourselves. It's about walking into a potentially hurtful relationship that may cause us to be at the losing end. It's about a willingness to be the foolish one; the loser. How painful it must've been for our Lord. And yet, the more I come to think of it, the more I can't help but ask myself how many times I've - intentionally or otherwise - been a Judas to others who have walked in vulnerability towards me.

Each hurtful situation I find myself in should only serve as a reminder for me that I've done this to my friends and to the Friend of all friends countless times. It should also serve as a challenge to be, increasingly, reflective of the Friend of whom I'm a friend.

Vulnerability is a principle that's difficult to embrace because we perceive ourselves as living in a dog-eat-dog world wherein people are waiting to devour one another. And if we don't preserve ourselves, who will, right? But perhaps it may be a little easier if we start learning to perceive this world as consisting of people who're merely living their lives in the best way they know how, trying to survive emotionally. And perhaps walking in vulnerability is our way of identifying with the human dilemma, the human struggle. It's the way of a friend.

Having said that, it's difficult. But let's keep trying and not stop dreaming, even if it means we'll be betrayed and brought to places where we'll receive emotional lashings, one after another. May God give us the grace to keep dreaming.

Ei, when are you coming back?!

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 1:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
Friendship Keeps No Record of Favours

Dear Irene,

Hey hey! T'was a great time at my church camp huh? The midnight hangouts and the waiting for almost an hour for your half boiled eggs to be be served and all. It's honestly been a long long while since I've attended a church camp simply as a participant. It's kinda refreshing to be given the space to be "like everyone else". Told you my church is a great church to be in. But so is yours... well, I must say this because your pastor reads my blog. *wink* Hahaha... knowing him, he'd be perfectly glad for you no matter which community you assimilated into. It's hard to meet someone as spiritually generous as him these days. Okay, if I say more nice stuff about him, he's going to start feeling like he owes me another lunch, so let's get back to the issue of our discussion.

I like this issue that you've recently brought up in your last letter. It's true that we often, as "civilised" Chinese people, practise the virtue of returning favours because we shouldn't remain in a state of "indebtedness" towards one another. There's almost something psychological about it (and perhaps sometimes almost to the point of being psychotic too, hahah).

The good thing about this practice is that it recognises the virtue of giving. But the very bad thing about this practice is that it ignores all together the virtue of receiving. Certainly, we're told in scripture that it's more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35) - oh look, Sherman has just quoted the bible! *naughty grin* But in a culture like ours wherein people value their self-worth and the presumptuous dignity of self-sufficiency, perhaps receiving should also be upheld as a virtue.

Giving, besides being a virtuous act of love, affirms one's functional worth and one's charitable sensibilities. But bringing one's self to receive from others is another challenge all together. It demands humility, for the one who receives is placed in the weaker position of need. He isn't exalted as a hero, because everyone's eyes are usually on the giver. It can therefore be utterly difficult for us to truly open our hearts to receive; because it threatens our sense of worth and adequacy.

I usually find myself having to reckon with this issue when I'm placed in a position or context of privilege (and I am usually placed in such positions). For example, within the context of the seminary wherein I teach, it's easy for me to see myself as the "giver" (and a very cheerful one at that). But I've had to examine much of my preconceived notions about giving and receiving. And I've realised that each "weaker person" within that community may not be able to offer me what I have to give them, but every one of them has something unique to offer.

And I've actually had to open my heart to learn to receive some very precious gifts from them, you know. It almost feels "wrong" at times because these gifts seem to be more taxing on the financial resources of these students than they would have taxed me. But they so treasure our friendship that they don't think too much about offering something of value. And then there are those other things that are of intangible value, for example, long shoulder massages when I'm looking tired and worn out!

And one final thing I don't want to miss pointing out is that by far, the most precious gift I've ever received from a friend is the sharing of his/her life story. You and I have been through this throughout our friendship, so you know what I mean. But when someone is willing to tell you his/her life story, the name of this gift being offered to you is "vulnerability". So some of the greatest gifts that I've received are simple life stories of simple friends who exist in a complex world. I've yet to come across one life story that hasn't impacted my own existence in any way.

Hence, in as much as we'd like to be givers, perhaps it's time for us to also cultivate the virtue of receiving in our friendships. Jesus received.

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 3:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
Making Time for Friendship

Dear Irene,

It's great to hear from you after that brief silence. It's good that you make it a point to hang out with your friends when there's an inclination to be fixated on some disconcerting life issues. That's what I do as well; not as a way of avoiding the issues, but as a way of allowing my mind and emotions to rest for a while before I attend to the "world within" again. We all have our days, I guess. But like I told you on the SMS the other day, I believe grace prevails.

Part of friendship is in allowing ourselves to receive comfort from our friends at times when we ourselves have nothing to give. This can be such a difficult thing to do sometimes; it makes us feel like "useless" friends. But perhaps that's precisely what we need to learn: that there's no need to be a "useful" friend in the first place. Friendship isn't about what we do; it's about who we are.

Friendship is indeed a mutual exchange. We very often enter into friendships thinking about what we can or desire to do for the other person. (Of course there are those who enter friendships simply for what they can get out of the friendship, but I'm not talking about such people.) This may be done out of the noblest of intentions, but it certainly defies God's divine design for friendship.

When we are able to see friendship as a mutual exchange between two (or more) people, we soon realise that it's not just us who're going to affect others with our life stories. Their life stories too are going to affect us. Our paradigms of life are going to be challenged and impacted by virtue of having such spiritual friends in our lives. That's the whole idea of friendship: needing as much as we are being needed, being changed as much as we are changing others, receiving in as much as we are giving, and being vulnerable towards our friends in the same way that vulnerability is required of them in their befriending us. It requires less humility for me to think of myself as God's sacramental presence to my friends, but more humility for me to understand my friends as being God's sacramental presence to me.

I find myself identifying with your sentiments about "small talk". It really used to be that I never had a thing for "small talk". It was to me an absolute waste of time and was for people who didn't have anything better to talk about - and I supposed I had much better and bigger things to talk about. I remember how I used to hijack conversations with others just to try to bring the subject of my conversations to a "higher level"... my my, the explosive ego.

But that has changed now (hopefully). I no longer try to steer conversations. I realise now that most people need time to linger at one level of conversation before they proceed to another level of emotional and intellectual exchange. And I also try to appreciate that some people never proceed beyond that; but that doesn't mean that they lack a capacity to enjoy friendship. Perhaps just not in the way I understand it to be. Or perhaps some people need to feel safe; and we need to respect such safety boundaries that they've constructed for their own security. It is after all, for many, a fearful world.

I think "depth" in friendship can be measured in different ways. And part of our being vulnerable rests on our allowing for people to demonstrate their idea of depth in friendship, and to allow them to reveal themselves as they are. When this attitude is embraced, we will find that each spiritual friendship is a unique adventure in itself. So you go ahead painting fingernails side-by-side (your new female bonding ritual), and I'll keep watching movies with my friends (my ancient male bonding ritual).

Hey, take care.

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
Sincerity in Friendship

Dear Irene,

*Sniff sniff* I've been having a bad bout of flu in the past couple of days... itching throat, stuffed nose, headaches, and a fever. Sniffing all the way. But the appetite remains intact.

I guess when you ask how we can distance ourselves from the "doing" and move towards "caring" in our relationships, you are asking how we can regulate the dynamics of our communities in a totally different way. Well, the ideal is of course to change everyone's mind about how things should be done, and get them to do it differently! But since when has that ever been possible?

I've by now more or less resigned myself to the reality that when human persons gather, they are bound to form rigid institutions to preserve the spirit of what was once a vibrant movement or renewal. And given time, it is that rigid institution itself that becomes the greatest stumbling block to the healthy perpetuation of that renewal. It seems to be that way with every single movement or renewal that has ever emerged in the history of the Church. So I have given up on the idea of seeking a new movement or a new renewal; it's a cycle that will just repeat itself.

So I guess it's no longer about getting the masses to change their mindsets. I look at my own little life and my own given little space and ask what I can do to contribute to the wellbeing of my friends, and how I can open my life up for them to contribute to my wellbeing (we should never be so presumptuous as to assume that others have nothing to contribute to our lives, right?) Using my own present experience as an example, let me share with you what I do now to try moving away from the doing mode towards the relational mode.

Here's the thing: I don't think I'm made to be a policy-maker. I'm a poor policy-maker because I'm too idealistic. So I'm probably never going to "rise" to a position of being able to change structures or abolish structures. I simply work within the boundaries of policies that are already set for me, and I work within existing institutionalised structures. That, to me, is a given. Because we abolish rigid structures only to discover that other rigid structures soon replace existing ones! How ironic but true.

As a seminary teacher, I have to abide by certain rules: 1) I have to lecture in class, which isn't my most preferred way of imparting a paradigm of life and faith; 2) I have to set and mark assignments, which isn't my most preferred way of gauging the effectiveness of my students' learning process; and 3) I have to study for a higher degree, which isn't my most preferred way of gauging the wisdom of a theological teacher. But I abide by these set policies and procedures.

But beyond all this, I seek to relate with my students in friendship. And I don't mean a superficial friendship. I seek to introduce them to an understanding of God's relational nature and how we should seek to embody that relational nature. And the only way I can impart this is to embody it myself; the medium is the message (Marshall McLuhan). So I seek to be a deep friend, and invite them to be my friends as well.

Just yesterday, a student (who isn't sitting in my class) asked me why he frequently sees me hanging out with my students in shorts and slippers. He said it's a sight seldom or never seen in the seminary. And so I explained my slipper theology to him. Theology is the language of friendship. Theology is a language that is spoken when friends come together to talk about God. If we're not trying to embody the relational nature of God, we have no business talking about God. So I believe that it is in the sharing of life together that real theology takes place. If I am to impart real theology, I must put on my shorts and slippers and open my life to the cultivation of friendships with my students.

Without friendship, I have no theology to speak about. All I have is an ivory-tower conjecture of what God must be like. There will be no collective experience of God's presence in community, or how God works to shape my life through relational agents that I call friends. The Christian faith has always been a communal faith.

But I also realise that opening up my life in this manner and allowing myself to be seen in shorts and slippers places me in a position of vulnerability. I am liable to be misunderstood, and sometimes threatened to be trampled upon or even betrayed. But this only helps me to understand the vulnerable position in which Jesus chose to place himself. Being the seminary lecturer who is seen in shorts and slippers with his students also makes me an odd person, because I am not behaving consistently with the stature that has been accorded to me. It makes people wonder who I am. And admittedly, it sometimes make me wonder who I am too. Or who I'm trying to be.

But it all makes sense in the instance that I hear a student tell me this: "You have not only trained my mind. You have also trained my heart." And I, in turn, am able to tell these students, "Friend, you too have trained my heart". And I realise that I no longer seek to change institutions or established policies. I seek to change myself. That's my ridiculous slipper theology. How about yours?

To friendship!
Sherman

P/S. While the rest of the Christian world seems so fixated on a DaVinci Code busting mania, we're talking about friendship and slipper theology. We must be so out of frequency. And oh, the Gospel of Judas! Are we missing something here?! Hello?!

Posted by SK at 1:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (1)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
Being a Friend of God First

Dear Irene,

Hi there! I'm back! Sorry, was out of town for a few days (as if you didn't already know).

Your previous letter was very interesting, especially your description on being a "good Evangelical". I'm sure quite a number of our friends must've identified well with your description there. I suppose we'll just have to stop trying to be good Evangelicals and start trying to be good friends of God! After all, half the time people don't even really know what it means to be Evangelical anymore. So many fragments of the Christian world are claiming a right to that label.

They figured that if they could get a "recalcitrant" like you to read your bible and pray every day, regularly attend the Sunday Services, cellgroup meetings, prayer meetings, and to tithe to the church, they'd be able to move on and manufacture some more new good Evangelical Christians. But as soon as they were confronted with resistance, you became a reject. (Now I'm beginning to wonder if I'm talking about you or about myself...)

Here's the thing: when we see the kind of "church" Jesus had with his friends, he obviously modelled a community in which life was to be shared together. The first church was instituted when God came to share life together with his friends. This is a legacy that was meant to be preserved from one generation of Christians to another. Instead, what we have often preserved is a mere institution that we call "church".

Hence, sharing life together - living with God and with one another - is the very first requisite in the life of the Christian community. Without the presence of a deep friendship that takes place by virtue of God's friendship with us, there is no ministry to talk about. Then, as we journey in friendship with one another, our friendships will inevitably birth something. It is at this point that some "ministries" of the church will begin to emerge from our friendships. And yet, we walk in friendship not because of these ministries; we walk in friendship because of God's friendship. The birth of ministries in the church is merely an inevitable result of our friendships.

I am sometimes rather amazed at how people plant new churches and immediately start a host of ministries as a way of "reaching out to the lost". I wonder if this doesn't show that we're perhaps equally lost in the way we perceive "church". Church is all about gathering a community of friends who are committed to Jesus the Friend, and who are committed to one another. We live with and for God and one another. We break bread, read scripture, pray, and sing together because of our friendship with God and with one another. Anything else that results from this life together is utterly secondary. Our sole preoccupation should be in our friendship with God and with one another, and to inspire others to also come and be friends of God.

It must be clear now that I'm not propagating a community characterised by inactivity. What I'm propagating is a non activity-based church. Every Christian community must be a community of friendship. That's the starting point that cannot be compromised. Communities that have somehow missed out on this crucial starting point have to be willing to hold back on their active momentum and create space for the cultivation of friendships. And yet, there's still a danger that they may do it simply for the sake of creating more "powerful" ministries! Unless and until we can see that spiritual friendship exists for its own sake, like God's friendship with us, church will continue being just church... like the way it has always been.

Our friend Doulos has recently quoted something on his blog from Henri Nouwen. I think it's worth reading:

More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practise this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets.

It is difficult not to have plans, not to organise people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn't be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 3:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter: Becoming Friendship-Focused

Dear Irene,

Thanks for responding to this invitation for an open correspondence! Whilst it may seem rather awkward for us to be corresponding in the open instead of discussing such issues over lunch, I thought it might be beneficial for us to invite our friends to eavesdrop on our conversation. This is so for several reasons. Firstly, you truly have the guts to ask some very real and honest questions that I know many people are asking. Secondly, you have a keen capacity to constructively engage these issues in a way that people understand. Thirdly, you are a friend.

Perhaps for the benefit of our friends, it may be in order for us to clarify that our intention in this correspondence isn't so much to keep on dwelling on what is wrong with "church" today. We hope - in this conversation - to work towards some solutions pertaining to how we may practically recover the dimension of friendship in the Christian faith and journey. However, in attempting to emerge with such possibilities, we do have to identify what is wrong with church today. But not in a derogatory spirit.

Also, it is important for us to understand that the endeavour to find solutions isn't a short-term exercise. Quick-fix solutions, as we know, are never the way to go (it rhymes!) Hence, let's see this as a journey towards an incremental discovery of solutions rather than a prescriptive exercise in itself, if you know what I mean.

I suppose one of the things that has disturbed me in recent years is the way church programmes are perceived. They seem to be instituted in order to sustain the church organisation itself. Instead of the programmes serving people, people are now made to serve the programmes. Just today, a friend of mine was sick and called up his pastor to inform him that he might not be able to attend to his ministry responsibilities this weekend. You know what the pastor said? He asked my friend if he could perhaps try to get well in time to return to church to fulfill his responsibilities!

I would like to suggest a renewed paradigm of ministry for the church. We are first and foremost a company of friends who are brought together by virtue of our being friends of God. We are called to come together to learn to walk in love and friendship in this community. To share life together with one another. Instead of externalising our communal life into rigidly structured programmes, we are actually supposed to be the programme for one another.

Now, as we share life together and allow ourselves to be the programme for one another (by allowing our friendships to transform each individual in the community), something will inevitably grow out of the community: a sense of purpose. When this sense of purpose is expressed in concrete action as a part of who we are as a community of friends, this is called ministry. See the difference between this and the conventional paradigm of ministry as something that is imposed upon the people and simply revolves around rostered duties?

But it is important that we engage in friendships not for the purpose of ministry. We engage in friendships because it is reflective of who God is. The eventual expression that grows from sharing life together is merely an inevitable.

Of course, I have not quite provided a concrete answer to your concern as yet. But perhaps you might like to think through these preliminary thoughts and respond first before we proceed with this discussion.

To friendship!
Sherman

Posted by SK at 3:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (1)

The implications of the recovery of friendship in the Christian life are inexhaustible. The previous posts that point out these implications constitute only a minute sampling of these implications. I invite you to reflect further on what this understanding of friendship might mean for you in your own faith journey.

It is of great significance that this series finds its culminating post on a Good Friday, for Good Friday was when the friendship of God found its most perfect expression: through the death of God.

God died. Not just for his friends, but also for his enemies. So that he could make them his friends.

Love and friendship are things we hardly take seriously in our communities anymore. The church has too many important things to attend to... finance, growth, structural maintenance, staff employment issues, evangelistic rallies, and more. Surely minutely insignificant issues such as love and friendship can find no place in the scheme of such things.

But it was love and friendship that drove Jesus to the cross. In observing a Good Friday, we are sustaining a conviction that love and friendship take positions of primacy in the life of our faith communities.

Then we have to live like we believe it.

Posted by SK at 12:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

5. Scripture and Christian Friendship
It is difficult to find the friendship of God revealed in scripture when it is read in the way we have been taught all these years. It is not a problem with scripture itself, but rather, a problem with the lenses that have been given to us in our reading of scripture.

With a renewed understanding of friendship as God's being, search the scriptures again, and you will find that it is the underlying theme of the entire scripture. Friendship and love are what propel God in all his undertakings.

The very act of creation itself was an abundant expression of the friendship shared among the Eternal Trinity, not an effort of a lonely God to appease his narcissistic complex. The very act of discipling the nation of Israel was God's endeavour to walk in friendship with Israel, not the infliction of sorrow upon a strangely stubborn nation by some masochistic God.

The greatest lesson to be found in scripture is that friendship cannot be taught. It must be embodied. For this reason, God himself came to us as a human person, so that he could extend friendship. In receiving his invitation to friendship, we learn what it means to walk with a God who is a friend.

Scripture is a record of friendship between God and creation. It also records how creation fell away from that friendship, and how God so desires to restore that friendship with his creation. It speaks of how God had to sacrifice so much in order to make this restoration of friendship happen. This is how much friendship means to God, in that while we were still enemies, he gave his life to make us his friends.

Scripture shows us that friendship means more to God than we understand. This is why Jesus talked so much about love. The most important thing to him in life was love. Because love is the language of friendship. He who loves knows God, and he who does not love does not know God.

Scripture is a book about friendship and love. Perhaps this message of friendship and love needs to be preached differently from the way it is being preached today.

Posted by SK at 2:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

4. Church and Christian Friendship
"Church" is a community of friends that is formed by virtue of its people being committed to following Jesus together. We follow Jesus, the Friend. And by virtue of our following him, we are a community of friends.

Being a community of friends, we seek to form a lifestyle that best reflects the depth and the significance of our friendship with God and with one another. Within this community, our worship, prayer, study, and everything else reflect our life tog