Celtic Evangelism: Gospel Contextualized

This is a paper I wrote for the class I'm taking in Celtic Spirituality. I really like the material a lot so far, and so I just wanted to share a bit of it with you all.

A distinct flavor of Christianity emerged amongst the Celtic peoples in the British Isles as early as the third century (Newell, 1997, p. 8). In large part due to the geographical distance and isolation from Rome, as well as the tribal structure of their social system, the faith of these people managed to flourish apart from the Roman Imperial church. Their freedom from the empire’s way of doing church allowed them to develop practices in very imaginative ways, perhaps most remarkably in the field of evangelism.

The way the Celts did missions is perhaps best exemplified by the methods and person of St. Patrick as he began the evangelization of Ireland. Patrick was an aristocratic Briton and was reared in a heavily Romanized settlement in what is today northeast England (Hunter, 2000, p. 13). As a young man he was kidnapped and sold as a slave to a wealthy druid in Ireland. It was those years as a slave that enabled him to understand the ways of the Irish Celts many years later as the newly appointed missionary bishop to Ireland. From this position Patrick and his companions brought the Gospel message to Ireland using methods similar to those that would later be used by the Irish at an even grander scale to send missionary movements throughout the British Isles and Europe.

One aspect of Patrick’s approach to evangelism is the way in which he and his band of evangelists physically entered and encountered a Celtic tribe. Rather than entering with the expectation of conquering, Patrick approached the Celts humbly, asking permission to establish a community alongside that of the Celtic tribe in question. They would then live among the tribe and take up their language and many of their ways and customs, becoming a part of the community in order that they might be in a better position to love and serve them and communicate the Gospel.

The ways in which Patrick and his companions communicated the Gospel is perhaps the most important lesson of the Celtic Christian missionary movement: they did not seek to civilize the Irish so that they might become more like Romans, nor did they demand that the Irish do church the same way that the imperial church did, rather they knew the Irish people and their culture well enough to imagine the ways in which they might do church, and sought to convert them, not from Celts to Roman Christians, but from Celts to Celtic Christians. This idea might seem simple, but is actually quite profound.

They catered to the Irish peoples’ imaginative spirits and presented the Gospel in ways that probably seemed more natural to them and their vibrant oral tradition. He used the Celts’ love for paradox and rhetorical triads to dazzle them with the doctrine of the Trinity (Hunter, 2000, p. 20), and for their love of nature he showed them the Christian God of Creation. Thus the Gospel was communicated, not as a set of distant abstract truths that must be believed a certain way, but rather it was shown to the Celts in such a way that it likely felt custom tailored to them. Patrick, and later the Irish Celts themselves, seemed to hold that the Gospel is universally true and significant for everyone, but the way it will be understood is very likely to be particular and individual to a person or culture.

The Gospel, for the Celtic evangelists, is for all the nations collectively, but also uniquely for each individual nation or people group. This approach to missions is crucial for modern times as we seek to spread what might be perceived by some as a white western gospel to those who may be neither. The non westerner, who we may see as a barbarian (though we certainly wouldn’t say such a thing out loud), will very likely understand the Gospel in a very different way than we do in the American church. We are to be missionaries, not for the sake of propagating American church and culture, but for the sake of assisting in the realization of an indigenous church and culture. As Christ humbled himself by taking on flesh in order to dwell among us that we might know the Good News, so did Patrick similarly set aside his Roman roots for the sake of the communication of that same news, and we also should follow in their footsteps, forsaking our traditions, interpretations and practices for the sake of the Gospel.

Analogously, the church should interact uniquely with the westerners with whom we come into contact as well. Our task here seems to be largely that of convincing people that this Gospel is relevant to them in particular, even in our postmodern, post-Christian culture. So often it seems the church has come off as simple moral watchdogs that feel it is their responsibility to stop everyone from sinning, but if we claim that Christ is more than merely a really good moral teacher, we should be the same. Once again, like Christ and the Celtic evangelists who followed in his footsteps, we should seek solidarity living among the non-believers, not setting ourselves apart as clean in comparison the “heathen’s” uncleanliness, but rather we should, like the early Irish Christians, pitch our tents so to speak amongst the non Christians and live in solidarity with them.

We as disciples of Christ are called to take the Gospel to the nations – and next door as well – in a manner that does not destroy and smother, but rather in a way that redeems. Christ came into first century Jewish culture with the intent not to destroy but instead to fulfill that culture. The ancient Celts give hope for the church that this is a model of mission that is achievable, and also encouragement to seek to move missionally in that direction. The church in the modern period has much to learn from this group of creative, imaginative ancient believers.

Bibliography

Hunter, George G. III. The Celtic Way of Evangelism: How Christianity can Reach the West … Again. Abington Press, Nashville: 2000.

Newell, J. Philip. Listening for the Heartbeat of God: A Celtic Spirituality. Paulist Press, New York: 1997.

Sellner, Edward C. “Celtic Christian Spirituality: Intimations of the Future” from Spiritual Life Fall 1999 [pp 135-145].

What is the Gospel?

Tiffany and I had a really cool email conversation about the question, "What is the Gospel?" Instead of simply sharing with you what we came to, I thought it might be more interesting to open up that question to the WitBrev community at large and see what came together. No one is expecting anyone else to have the answer to this question perfectly ironed out, but I would be interested in hearing all of your working definitions. So:

What is the Gospel?

A Swim Through, Rather than a Bridge Over, Troubled Waters

I have often heard the work of Christ described in terms of what my roommate Justin calls “The Bridge Illustration”. In this metaphor, man is separated from God by a large gorge that represents sin, and Jesus is the bridge that takes us over the chasm to be with God. I think that there is likely a place for this illustration, but it seems too simple and nice for every situation. It seems to imply that by accepting the free gift of Christ I get to cross the bridge and be with God, which sounds incredibly easy and painless, but I wonder if this sets up false expectations.

The bridge seems to take us over sin and death so that we don’t have to deal with them, but don’t we have to deal with them? What does this mean for us in times of doubt or intense hardship or pain? When I’m in the valley of the shadow of death, does that mean that I didn’t cross the bridge, or maybe I fell off, or maybe I crossed back over to the other side again?

It seems like what Job went through was a lot harder than simply crossing a bridge. I would say the same about David or Abraham or Peter or John the Baptist or Paul and pretty much everyone else in the Bible, most notably Jesus who calls us to take up our crosses and follow him, not to simply use his cross to walk across the chasm. The way that we save our life is by losing it. We are indeed more than conquerors, but that doesn’t mean that we get to skip out on the struggle involved in the conquering process.

There will be (and have been) dark nights of the soul and there will be tears and disease and in the end all of us will die, and all of that will not be as nice as a simple stroll-across-the-bridge-over-the-chasm-of- sin-and-death might seem to indicate. We follow a God who gives and takes away, and we are dangerously kidding ourselves if we expect to avoid struggles and difficulties and deep heartache.

In reading for class today I found a slightly remixed metaphor that I prefer because I think in many ways it is more true:

“Death, in the vivid language of the Bible, is the wages of sin. It is the outwards sign of the fact that neither I nor my achievements are of themselves fit for the kingdom of God. The fact of death … cuts across the attractive picture of an unbroken ascent from the origins of the world to the final consummation of history. A chasm cuts across the landscape between the place where I stand and the glorious vision of the holy city that I see on the horizon of my world. The path goes down into the chasm, and I do not see the bottom. The gospel is good news because in Jesus Christ God has dealt with sin and death, has opened a way that goes down into that chasm and leads out into the uplands beyond it, and has thereby released me from the dilemma in which I was trapped.” (p. 105, Newbigin, The Open Secret)

Jesus doesn’t give us a bridge, he gives us a path. It’s a dangerous path that will take us straight through death, and who knows what kinds of crazy turns and switchbacks it will include. All we know for sure when we embark on our journey on this path is that this journey is going to involve a lot of pain and hurt.

We have a path though, and we also know the glory that is to be found at the end of this path, and it is good, and worth traveling through Sheoul to meet.

On My Dear Friend, Who Happens to be a Dormant Volcano

Today I saw Mount Rainier.

It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal because it isn’t that far away and I know that on a clear day if I go to certain places around town I can usually see it, but despite the fact that it seems like it should have become routine to me by now, catching a glimpse of that mountain has yet to stop amazing me. I love it.

Sometimes I think of it like an old friend who is very special to me. After a few weeks of dreary weather I begin to miss it, until I wake up one day to see sunshine pouring in through my window and I get excited and think through my plan for the day, trying to figure out when in the day I’ll get a chance to have a glimpse of glory. A lot of times it is on my way to work. I’ll check my rear view mirror every 10 or 15 seconds to see if this is that one spot on the interstate where it peeks out from behind the trees to be visible for only a second. Then it comes out, and for just a moment I am completely enchanted.

When I used to live with Rene in Redmond, I would have to cross Lake Washington to get to Seattle, but there is a point about midspan where I know by experience that if I just look behind me and to the left I’ll get the most amazing view of the Mountain, and so, in spite of the danger of doing this at seventy or so miles an hour, the temptation is too much to resist. When Rene was driving I would find myself staring, trying to really take it all in.

The Mountain is surprising, too.

Last semester my school was way up north in an office park in Bothell, WA. I was very accustomed to going to that building to study or go to class, and went there often. It was routine for me, and I visited the building probably three or four times a week for several months, and it wasn’t until the end of the semester, and only once, that I discovered that Mount Rainier was visible from the parking lot. Also, just the other day I was stuck in traffic on the Five and I saw her in a place that I had driven many times, but had never noticed her before.

Today when I saw the Mountain, I realized that it has, in my mind, a lot in common with God. It is huge, it is majestic, and it is always just right there, although it is oftentimes hidden. As I said earlier, seeing Rainier is a lot like seeing an old friend to me, and always deeply moving and humbling. And although I know that on certain types of days I can go to certain locations and be almost sure to see him, he still surprises me sometimes.

I’m very thankful for the privilege to live for a season in a place with such surprising beauty.