Robb Ryerse's Blog, page 9

THIS Is Evangelism?

It was a Word of Life Super Bowl. November of 1992. Philadelphia PA.

I was a freshman in college. And I was there with a few guys from my Bible college because I needed evangelism credit for our evangelism class. Yeah, you read that right. We had a 1-credit evangelism class that required us to do 15 hours of “real life” witnessing during the course of the semester. For many of us, the Word of Life Super Bowl was an ideal way to rack up some hours.

The idea behind a Word of Life Super Bowl is to bring a big group of teenagers to a sporting event, have a speaker share the gospel with them, and then send them out all night to go roller-skating and bowling. Youth groups from all over a region will bring their teens, including as many non-churched teens as possible.

The old way of evangelism is often a bait-and-switch. Promise them a sporting event and an all-nighter full of bowling and pizza, and they’ll hardly even mind when you pin them down for an hour of gospel preaching.

We took one of our Bible college vans to Philadelphia to see the Sixers play the Heat. Our job was to help facilitate the night. We’d serve as counselors during the service after the game. And then we’d hand out pizza or donuts to the teens and their youth sponsors at the various bowling alleys and roller-skating rinks. High impact evangelism. What could go wrong.

The game went to triple overtime. Triple. Overtime.

The 76ers beat the Heat by a point. Exciting for the fans. Bad news for the Word of Life sponsors and the speaker.

If I remember correctly, the gospel preacher that night was a Christian bodybuilder. Because the game went so long, he had to cram a 35-40 minute presentation into about 5 minutes. I’m sure his normal presentation would have been great. He would lift some weights, flex some muscles, and then tell the teens about how Jesus had changed his life. But he didn’t have time for all that. He had to get up, get done, and get out before they turned the lights out in the arena.

He took to mid-court, microphone in hand. He did his best. And then gave an invitation. Billy Graham-style. Teens, come forward to give your life to Jesus. We’ve got volunteers (Bible college freshman like me) ready to talk to you.

Normally, there would be time for volunteers to talk with the students who responded to the invitation. However, because of the time crunch, we were told that we didn’t have time for that. The kids had to be whisked off to the waiting bowling alleys and skating rinks. The pizza was getting cold. As scores of kids came forward, we were instructed by the people in charge of the event, “Just have them sign the card and tell them they’re saved.”

Sign the card and tell them they’re saved?

I got my hours of evangelism credit that night, but I’m still left thinking, THIS is evangelism?

 

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Do you have an evangelism horror story you’d like to share? We’d love to hear it! Email me at robb (at) vintagefellowship (dot) com.

 

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Dreaming of a New Kind of Evangelism

This is Evangelism Week on my blog. Each day, sometimes more than once per day, I’m going to be posting thoughts and ideas related to how to be a Christian in a multi faith world. Like just about every other thing I believe, my thoughts about evangelism have evolved pretty significantly in recent years. I don’t purport to have all the answers. And I don’t promise to provide them this week. Instead, I’m going to let you in on the conversations I’ve been having about evangelism – with other people and in my own head.

And, I’d love for you to be a part of the conversation. I’m going to be responding to questions on Saturday. If you’d like to ask something you want me to cover, use the comments section or email me at robb (at) vintagefellowship (dot) org. Also, if you’d like to guest post, sharing one of your evangelism war stories, shoot me an email.  

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People have all kinds of reactions to the word “evangelism.”

For many, it’s guilt. They have been brow-beaten for not doing enough. They have been told that the eternal destiny of others is dependent on the effectiveness of their outreach. They fear that one day they will stand with, in the words of a sermon once preached at the Bible college I attended, “bloody hands at the pearly gates.”

Fear tends to be an overriding emotion that people feel when it comes to evangelism. Fear of what people will think of you for starting some kind of awkward conversation. Fear of losing a friendship. Fear of looking stupid. Fear of not knowing an answer.

The old kind of evangelism is all about …

Soul winning
Pressure & Threats
Gimmicks & Fads
Competition
Agenda Friendships

But I’m beginning to think that the old kind of evangelism, the outreach built on guilt and fear, is not just woefully outdated but also significantly damaging – for both the evangelizer and the evagelizee. I don’t think we need a kinder, gentler evangelism, I think we need to chuck the whole enterprise and start over.

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Jesus said that we can judge the truthfulness of a prophet by his or her fruit. If a particular teaching is producing things like love, joy, peace, long suffering, etc, it is good. But if it is creating hatred, hostility, division, and despair, then something is wrong.

As I see it, I don’t think our current approach to evangelism is producing much good fruit. Much of this approach gives lip service to love, but I am wondering if it is really loving to have relationships with an agenda. I am wondering if it is really loving to pronounce condemnation.

I don’t think evangelism is producing much joy either. The people doing evangelism don’t seem happy about it. Many see it as a duty and drudgery. Many have been guilted and shamed into participating in a program that is neither natural nor intuitive. And the evangelized aren’t real happy about it either. When was the last time you felt joy over Jehovah Witnesses or Mormon missionaries knocking on your door?

Our current approach to evangelism isn’t very peaceful. It forces us to judge people’s hearts, to categorize them into groups. It promotes the all-to-pervasive us versus them mentality. When we do evangelism as we have been taught, we are pushed into confrontational conversations. Not much peace there.

We could go on …

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I am beginning to catch a vision of a new kind of evangelism. Evangelism that is not about awkward conversations and memorized speeches. Evangelism that is not about making our churches bigger and our egos in the process. Evangelism that doesn’t culminate in the recitation of a canned prayer.

Instead, I’m dreaming of evangelism that is actually good news, good news for all people. I am dreaming of an approach to reaching out to others that develops friendships, invites us to listen as much as we talk, encourages partnerships rather than conversions, and cares more about growing God’s kingdom than our church attendance.

I am dreaming of an evangelism that makes us welcoming of others who need to find shelter and hope in the story we share but also makes us just as loving toward those whose story isn’t changing. I am dreaming of an evangelism that doesn’t require us to force our culture down someone else’s throats nor does it require them to abandon theirs.

I am dreaming of an evangelism that is just as diverse, surprising, creative, and engaging as God.

Is anyone dreaming with me?

 

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Episode 3: The One in Which Robb Sings

Vanessa and Robb talk TV, labels, prayer. They also have a conversation with Wendy Grisham of Jericho Books. And, Robb sings a little.

 

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Blog Announcement: Next Week Is Evangelism Week!

There has been a confluence of events and ideas in my life lately that are reshaping me. A conversation with Vanessa. An experimental collective at Vintage. A book. I’ve learned to pay attention when the same theme or idea comes up in my life again and again. That normally is a sign that God is doing something transformative. This kind of confluence is usually a big deal.

It seems that lately I have had opportunity to rethink the idea of evangelism.

The fundamentalism in which I grew up sent a lot of mixed messages about evangelism. On the one hand, it was a necessary duty of all Christians, maybe even the most important duty because of the eternal stakes involved. And yet, it was the hardest thing to get people involved in. Our fundamentalist leaders didn’t take this as an opportunity to rethink evangelism. Instead, they piled on the guilt. Guilt is an unsustainable motivator. We didn’t evangelize in response to it. And that just produced more guilt. It was a vicious cycle.

At the same time, our conception of evangelism sent us mixed messages about how to think and feel about people who were not Christians. On the one hand, God loved them, sent his Son to die for them. And on the other hand, God was willing to torture them in eternal conscious torment. In response, we loved them … but frequently with an agenda, in hopes of converting them. “Unbelievers” were our projects. However, some “unbelievers” were so hardened to the gospel, such impossible projects, that we could treat them as God would: we could exile them.

There is so much in this approach to evangelism that is needs to be fundamorphosized. And I think I’ve been undergoing a fundamorphosis in this area. And I want to share it with you.

So, next week is Evangelism Week here on my blog. I am going to be writing a series of blog posts that chart the current trajectory of my thinking about evangelism. I don’t promise to offer all the answers – or many answers for that matter. Instead, I am going to share with you the questions I’ve been asking. I’m going to let you listen in to some of the conversations I’ve been having, with other people and in my own head. And I’m going to share with you some of the resources that are shaping me.

And I’d like you to be involved. There are a couple of things you can do to participate in Evangelism Week.

On Saturday, I’d like to post responses to your questions. What do you wonder about when it comes to being a Christian in a multifaith, pluralistic world? What questions plague you about how the church has gone about its mission in the world? I’d like to help you work through those questions. Comment below or email me your questions about evangelism at robb (at) vintagefellowship (dot) org, and I will make them a part of my post on Saturday.

For those of you who may be a bit braver, I’d like to invite you to guest post during Evangelism Week. Are you a graduate of my Bible college and have a story to recount about getting your evangelism credits on a trip to NYC? Were you traumatized at a church that forced you into “soul winning,” and it would do you some good to get the story off your chest? Have you undergone your own fundamorphosis in the area of evangelism? We’d all love to hear your story. This can be your forum to be a part of the conversation. Email me your ideas or story at robb (at) vintagefellowship (dot) org.

Whether you send in a question, write a guest post, or just read and think along, get ready. Evangelism Week starts on Monday. I think we’re going to have some fun.

 

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In Praise of Preaching

In the 2000 years of church history, the statement I am about to make is remarkably benign. Precious few have challenged it or thought to believe otherwise. However, in recent years, much in the life of the church has changed. In large part, I am supportive of many of these changes. I love entrepreneurial, creative approaches to ministry. I am not a chronological snob, wistful to return to some fairy-tale golden age of ecclesiology. And yet … because of the changes that have taken place in the church, what I am about to say sounds decisively old fashioned.

I still believe in preaching.

Many of my friends – good, dear friends that I love deeply – have moved toward an approach to Christian faith that has been called post-congregational. In myriad ways, this is a healthy movement, as many are rediscovering a distinctively non-corporate approach to being a faith community. Church is not buildings. Church is not programs. Church is not contained by what happens on Sunday mornings. Church is people, following Jesus on a journey of learning to love God and others.

And yet … the rediscovery of a non-corporate, non-political ecclesiology does not negate the value of congregational life. Though it can be fraught with dangers, there remain important, generative, healthy things that happen in the lives of people who hang together as a congregation. There can be tremendous benefit to the act of gathering, gathering for prayer, singing, conversation, and yes, even preaching.

In some orbits of Christianity, the sermon has fallen out of favor. It has been seen as a tool of oppression, keeping the spiritual privileged in power. It has been used to prop-up patriarchy and sexism. It has been used to quell dissent and inflict spiritual abuse. It has been used to amplify the voices of a few while silencing the voices of many others. This is undeniable.

And yet (I’m beginning to repeat that phrase) … the sermon remains a powerful redemptive and restorative tool when used with wisdom and grace. More than just teaching, as if churches are modeled after university lecture halls, the sermon can do much to sustain a community of faith.

The sermon preserves the institutional memory of our narrative history. The sermon is a time of story-telling when we rehearse the narratives that shape how we exist in the world. In fact, my official title at Vintage Fellowship is “Narrator,” because it is my primary role as a pastor within the community to tell our story which is ultimately God’s story.

The sermon also promotes what Eugene Peterson has called “a long obedience in the same direction.” I once had a conversation with someone who was moving in a post-congregational direction. One of her critiques of preaching was that it doesn’t make any difference. “No one is changing,” she complained, “We’re all just sitting there week after week, listening to you talk.” Her criticisms were deeply rooted in a number of real issues that needed to be addressed (in her own heart and in the life of her church), but nonetheless, I think her basic presupposition was faulty. Certainly, if she were to merely look at people on a week to week basis, she might think that the sermon was making no difference.

But over the long haul, the sermon was shaping the way people thought, believed, felt, and lived. There is an old education adage, that much of what we learn is caught not taught. Over a long period of time, when people expose themselves to and interact with the story of the gospel presented in sermons, they begin to catch it. Patience is a virtue, especially when it comes to spiritual growth.

I know that there are pastors who use preaching for their own self-aggrandizement. I know that for some it is the opportunity to display their cleverness and get the ego-stroking feedback of listeners. I know that during many sermons much more is made of the pastor than of Jesus.

And yet … when crafted with wisdom and creativity, when delivered with grace and compassion, when careful to invite conversation rather than stifle it, when faithful to the redemptive story of the gospel told in the Scriptures, then the sermon has a chance of being what the church has always hoped it would be – a transformative moment for the community of faith.

Some of you will say that I am demonstrating contemporary irrelevance for writing in praise of preaching. And I will say, “And yet …”

 

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Emergence Christianity: the history and future of the church

Here is a copy of my column from Saturday’s Northwest Arkansas Times.

–

A month ago, more than four hundred people from around the country convened at St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral in Memphis to think about the future of the church. My wife Vanessa and I were among them. We were at Emergence Christianity, a National Gathering, also known as EC13.

[image error]The impetus for EC13 was the release of a new book by Phyllis Tickle, called Emergence Christianity. Tickle doesn’t have the name recognition of people like Rick Warren or Franklin Graham. Regardless, she is one of the most influential and important people in the church today.

For many years, Tickle worked as the religion editor for Publisher’s Weekly. Her job was to know what was happening in American Christianity and report on it to the publishing world. No one has been more uniquely qualified to spot the trends and predict the future of the church than Tickle. Now retired from Publisher’s Weekly, Tickle writes and lectures. She travels the country talking to church and religious leaders, sharing her insights and listening to theirs.

Tickle is a force of nature. Four times during EC13 she took the stage and spoke for more than an hour, without notes or hesitation. With encyclopedic recall, she rattled off names and dates from both church history and the present. Her dry wit and obvious passion kept us on the edges of our seats.

Tickle is seventy-nine years old.

Tickle has made the observation that every five hundred years or so, the church has a major upheaval that changes just about everything. During these times, the church has, what Tickle calls, a rummage sale. People of Christian faith have to decide what is worth keeping and what should be discarded.

The church was born after the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, on the Day of Pentecost. About five hundred years later, the church had a major ecumenical council, formalizing its commitment to the deity of Jesus in the Chalcedonian Creed. Five hundred years after that, the Great Schism happened. The eastern and western churches split, creating the Roman church and Orthodox church. Another five hundred years later came the Great Reformation, when Martin Luther and John Calvin birthed Protestantism.

Now that we are five hundred years past the Reformation, Tickle has observed that once again the church is in the midst of a major upheaval. She calls it the Great Emergence. This latest upheaval has given birth to a movement that Tickle calls Emergence Christianity.

It’s important to note that these upheavals in the church are also connected to significant cultural and technological advancements. For instance, the Reformation couldn’t have happened without the invention of the printing press. And Emergence Christianity wouldn’t be possible without the Internet.

In this latest rummage sale, Emergence Christianity is helping the church to get rid of patriarchy and colonialism. It is questioning whether political influence is the most effective way to bring cultural transformation. It is reinforcing creative, artistic, and even post-congregational expressions of faith. Rather than seeking to grow mega-churches, Emergence Christianity is on the forefront of a missional quest for social justice. And it is popping up in both established denominations and in new entrepreneurial church and ministry start-ups.

This is not to suggest that Emergence Christianity is not without its challenges. Without a clear structure or dominating leader, this movement will need to figure out how to be sustainable. It also needs to be willing to tackle the big questions of authority and pluralism.

Nonetheless, Emergence Christianity is changing the church.

Many people in the church find change frightening. They want to preserve what they have always known. They want to hold onto their cherished traditions. They can’t imagine how things could be different. And, if things are going to be different, they can’t conceive of how they would be better.

I’m not frightened by Emergence Christianity. I’m exhilarated by it. The challenges facing the church are great, but I believe that we are up for them. I think cultural and technological advancements of our generation give us an unique opportunity for fresh expressions of our faith. We are living history.

 

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Djesus Uncrossed & the Myth of Redemptive Violence

I’m not a huge SNL fan. I wish I was. I have wanted to be. But most of the time, I just don’t find SNL to be funny. I hate how the actors are almost always – very obviously – staring at cue cards to get their lines right. I hate how they create stupid talk show sketches as a way to showcase impressions. But most of all, I hate how SNL just isn’t funny.

That being said, I want to talk about something SNL did this weekend, regardless of whether it was funny or not.

On Saturday, SNL aired a spoof of Quentin Tarantino’s movie Django Unchained. They used the concept of Django to create a trailer for a fictitious movie that retold of the story of post-resurrection Jesus. Here’s the video of Djesus Uncrossed:

{Warning: this video contains graphic cartoon violence that made my wife gasp when she watched it.}

 

Not surprisingly, many people have found this spoof to be either offensive or blasphemous or both. It’s the predictable cast of characters:

- The American Family Association called the sketch a “violent and gory mocking of Jesus.”

- The Concerned Women for America said it was degrading and taunting of Christianity.

- William Donahue’s Catholic League said it was a hit below the belt.

And, again not surprisingly, a bunch of my Facebook friends have followed suit, decrying how terrible and inappropriate this SNL spoof was. I am sure that boycotts will be organized and raring within days.

 

I have a completely different take on Djesus Uncrossed.

Personally, I don’t find this sketch to be offensive and blasphemous. In fact, rather than seeing it as inappropriate and derogatory, I think the church in America needs to see this SNL sketch as prophetic. Let me state that again:

Djesus Uncrossed is not offensive; it is prophetic.

(I use word “prophetic” here not to mean that it predicts the future. Rather, I use it in the sense that it holds up a mirror to our misguided priorities and calls us to repentance and transformation.)

The sketch portrays the post-resurrection Jesus and his disciples seeking revenge. They go after the Romans who crucified him. They go after Pontius Pilate. They go after Judas Iscariot. Anyone who gets in their way is mowed down – with typical Tarantino violence.

As a side note, maybe this is the Jesus that Mark Driscoll imagined when he said, “In Revelation (the last book of the New Testament), Jesus is a prize-fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed. That is the guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.”

 

I wish that we could just dismiss this as an absurd spoof. I wish we could say that the humor of Djesus Uncrossed is derived from the utter ridiculousness of Jesus and his followers resorting to violence as a means of accomplishing something. But if church history tells us anything – and church present confirms anything – it’s that it is not absurd or ridiculous to assume that Jesus’ followers (though not Jesus himself) would use coercive means to achieve their desired ends.

In this way, Djesus Uncrossed is a prophetic mirror that we ought to hold up to ourselves. For too long, we have abandoned the way of Jesus and instead fallen prey to the myth of redemptive violence. The myth of redemptive violence is the story we tell ourselves that the way to oppose injustice and oppression is by force. This myth teaches us that we have to fight power with power. We have to exert strength, often military or political strength, to accomplish our purposes in the world.

Comic book heroes and Liam Neeson movies are built on the myth of redemptive violence. And so is much of what the church has been telling itself lately.

A few months ago, we finished an election season in which we were told that we needed to vote our values so that we could achieve victory at the ballot box. The goal was the conquer of our political opponents. To justify our actions, we have told ourselves that we are in the midst of a culture war. In war, you have enemies that must be defeated, marginalized, assimilated.

The violence we employ is not always physical violence. Often it is social and psychological. We shun people who don’t measure up to our standards. We shame people into silence and conformity. We marginalize people with dissenting perspectives. We ignore people whose sins we don’t want to tolerate. We dehumanize and demonize people who see the world differently.

And, we have so tied together the cross and the flag that we think that someone advancing their own political agenda within our own political system is doing the equivalent of persecuting us. But rather than die the martyr’s death, we’re fighting to preserve our rights, especially the most violent one of them all, the right to bear arms. Given how outspoken many Christians have been about opposing gun control, why would we be shocked or offended when we see Jesus wielding an uzi?

We give lip service to things like love and grace, but when push comes to shove, we’re willing to shove back.

We preach American exceptionalism. We preach victory in the culture war through political conquests. We preach opposition to people with whom we disagree. We preach the eternal damnation of abortion doctors and homosexuals and liberals and Muslims. We preach, as the SNL spoof says, “anything but forgiveness.” We preach the myth of redemptive violence.

 

But the way of Jesus is so very different. The way of Jesus is not revenge. It is not striking back. It is not an eye for an eye. It is not political influence. It is not preservation of our rights. The way of Jesus is humility and defeat. The way of Jesus is subversive love and vulnerable grace.

The way of Jesus would make Djesus Uncrossed hilariously ridiculous. But we haven’t followed the way of Jesus, and maybe that is why Djesus Uncrossed makes us so uncomfortable.

 

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Exodus and Calendars and Lent and Books

Exodus

Each weekday morning, our family gathers on Vanessa’s and my bed to read the Bible and pray together. Since we are studying Exodus at Vintage this year, we decided to read it as a family in the mornings. On Tuesday, Calvin read Exodus 12 for us. And verse 2 captured my imagination. In it God is talking to Moses and Aaron. God says,

This month is to be for you the first month, the first month of your year.

 

Calendars

There are many calendars in our world. By “calendars” I don’t mean the paper or electronic devices on which we record our appointments. I mean ways of dividing our days, the seasons by which order our lives.

Last year, we heard an inordinate amount about the Mayan calendar. I recently heard an Orthodox friend talking about how his church uses the Julian rather than Gregorian calendar. Different cultures, different peoples, different religions have different ways of dividing the days, the months, and the years.

And people live by a calendar.

Some people live by the sports calendar, ordering their lives by the particular athletic season. Others live by the TV guide, determining how they spend their time and energy based on what shows are on when. Some families are driven by the school calendar. In my work, we talk about “busy seasons” and “slow seasons” that impact our production and bottom line.

In Exodus 12.2, God seems to be suggesting to Moses and Aaron that they could have a new way to mark the time. They had a calendar and schedule that they lived by when they were in Egypt. Now, that they were leaving, their calendar needed to change. They were to mark their days and years differently. Something new was starting. It was a new day, a new year, a whole new calendar.

It is possible to change the calendar that marks your days.

 

Lent

I used to live by the calendar of my culture. It had important and memorable seasons – back to school, football season, the Christmas season, the blahs of February, March Madness, summer.

But in recent years, my calendar has begun to change.

The change started with the observance of Advent. Like so many others, I got to Christmas Day feeling exhausted, depressed, and discouraged. The holiday was more about the gifts than anything else. But when our community began mark the weeks leading up to Christmas as an opportunity to prepare for the arrival of Jesus, my mindset about Christmas began to change. We now have an advent calendar in our home that helps us anticipate the coming of Jesus on a daily in the lead-up to the holiday. In so doing, we’ve begun to notice that our priorities and perspectives have changed.

This past year at Vintage, we spent some time marking what the church has called “Ordinary Time.” We recognized that we don’t need celebrations and ceremony to find God. In fact, since most of our days are remarkably ordinary, we had better be able to connect with the divine in the midst of “ordinary time.” It was a wonderful season for us, and I can’t wait for it this year.

But all of this leads me to the season that began yesterday. Now is the season of Lent. Like Advent prepares us for Christmas, Lent prepares us for Easter. It is a season to enter into the story, to walk with Jesus and know his sacrifice and sorrow.

It’s a season to experiment with living differently. In fact, Lent is a wonderful season that reminds us that our lives don’t have to be the way they have been. We don’t have to be stuck in a rut. We can change and be different. We can go 40 days without chocolate or beer or Facebook. We can add a new habit or discipline to our lives. For me, Lent is an immensely hopeful season.

 

Books

Lent feels like it snuck up on me this year. I checked the calendar and, sure enough, it started 9 days earlier this year than last. Some years, I’ve spent a lot of time getting myself prepared for Lent, thinking about my lenten fast, and gearing up for the season. I don’t feel like I even had the chance to do that this year. It just kind of felt like I woke up one day and realized it was Ash Wednesday. But I’m awake to the fact now. This is the calendar I live by, this is the season I am in, these are the days I’m living.

In past years, I have done some pretty big lenten fasts. I have given up beer and hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock. Things like that. This year, I didn’t feel like I had the bandwidth for a major deletion from my life so I decided to go the opposite route and add something to my routine. I’ve never taken this tack before during Lent. So, I’m kind of looking forward to it.

As odd as it may sound, I have decided to read every day during Lent this year. I love to read. I read a lot. But reading is also something that can easily be shoved aside by other things. For the next 40 days, it’s not going to be shoved aside. For at least 30 minutes a day (and hopefully more), I am going to sit down with a (hopefully good) book.

It is Lent. It’s an important time in my calendar. And I’m glad it’s here.

 

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Episode 2: Zuckerberg’s Revenge

Vanessa and Robb tackle Facebook Christianity, talk about Catholics, Lutherans, and Baptists, and interview Darrell Dow of the blogs Stuff Fundies Like and My Obama Year.

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A Parable

There was once a village which sat next to a river. The river, in many ways, was the life source of that village. They fished in it for food. They harnessed its currents for power. They bathed in it, drank from it, swam in it. It was the focal point of village life. And that is why it was so disturbing when one day, a body came floating down the river. The person was beaten and bruised but still alive.

One of the villagers, a good and compassionate man named Steven, rallied the others to care for the man they had found in the river. They were happy to help. The next day, to their horror, another body floated by the village. Again, Steven insisted that they must help. And so they did. The following day, it happened again. There was another body in the river. And then another and another. The villagers, led by Steven, continued to rescue the bodies and care for them, even as their resources, energy, and money was all spent on caring for the people found in the river.

When they felt overwhelmed and discouraged, Steven would rally them and encourage them to persevere in their acts of compassion.

One day another villager, a young man named Andrew came to Steven and said, “Steven, you have been so compassionate, helping those we have found in the river and encouraging us to not give up when we have been overwhelmed by how many bodies we have to care for. But I can no longer help care for the bodies.”

Steven was stunned and disheartened by this announcement.

But Andrew continued, “I must go and find out what or who is throwing the bodies into the river. I must find out how and why they are beating these people and casting them away. And I must stop them.”

 

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