Heading North

My great grandpa got kicked out of Norway for preaching without a license. He had his choice of going to jail, or going to the Dakota prairies.

Big choice, huh?

Three generations later I  was born on the Canadian/Dakota border. The vast expanse dubbed "the Great American Wasteland" by those who thought there was nothing worth seeing between Ohio and the Pacific Ocean.

I'm heading up to the northern prairie today, crossing the border and going to Alberta, Canada,  to speak to 100-120 pastors about reforming the church one night at a time, one home at a time. Dr. Rollie Martinson is the other keynoter. Rollie used to bounce me on his knee when he was a college student and I was a toddler. He's the guy who told me "don't go get a doctorate. Go on the road and get your education first."

After that I started what became Faith Inkubators.

Anyway, out of the blue this morning I opened my email to find a perfect piece to use in my talks, send by pastor friend Paul Owen from Michigan. I print it in it's entirety, since it's all about living and dying and rising as a church in the north country, and about another Norwegian Lutheran pastor who got families into small group ministry long before it was the fad that it is today.

A Peace of Piety
By Dr. Cam Harder, Lutheran Theological Seminary, Saskatoon

Recovering the “P” word To paraphrase an old Pete Seeger song: “Where have all the people gone? Long time passing . . .” That’s the song of our churches, the sound of silent pews. Most Christian congregations in Canada are emptying, as sociologist Reginald Bibby notes. He thinks it’s due to a loss of mission and identity. "Simply put,” he says in Unknown Gods, “the organization continues to operate, but few people know why." Like the energizer bunny, the Church in Canada keeps "going and going and going." It’s just not sure where—or why. I suppose we’re feeling a bit lost. For 1500 years our church was THE CHURCH of Christendom. It was established by kings and emperors. Its language and standards governed public debate about morality. We knew our purpose: missionaries were to convert the heathen who lived out on the edges of “civilization; clergy were to keep the institution running and recruit missionaries; laity were to give money and prayers to the “real” ministers and be law-abiding citizens. Oddly enough, the Reformation didn’t change much. Certainly it spawned more religious groups. But many became wed to kings and countries as much as ever. In Germany, Scandinavia, even in Upper and Lower Canada the church was the voice of civil morality. Clergy owned the ministry and had the politicians’ ear. We had power. But not any more. The Canadian public and its leaders have mostly turned away from the church. Clergy don’t have much status. Churches are not the moral voice of our nation. And Canada is not a “Christian” country in any recognizable sense. Many congregations I know respond by dropping into survival mode. Staying alive becomes their reason for being. Others live under a pall of quiet grief: “we’re not big and strong any more.” But I think there is room to celebrate. After all wasn’t this how the Christian church began? Small, weak, no big buildings, no endowments? Yet that early church, small and scorned by the Empire, was a hotbed of Spirit life. They knew the truth of Paul’s claim in 1 Cor 1: “God has chosen the weak.” They had little strength to rely on—so they trusted in God. And that’s where Life begins! There is a piece of Lutheran history that I think might help us to rediscover that Spirit-livened, apostolic church again. It’s Lutheran Pietism. I know—its name is not much loved in our church. In recent decades it’s been denounced by liberals, distorted by conservatives. But it was the deepest source of spiritual renewal in my young adult life. The form of Pietism that shaped me came out of Norway. It began with the conversion of a farmer turned blacksmith and broom-maker named Hans Nielsen Hauge. After a profound encounter with Christ, he began to see that Norway’s peasants were starving economically and spiritually. Their land was being gobbled up by the church and the state. Its people had no access to the Bible. Its pastors had become privileged partners of the state rather than servants of Christ. So Hauge began travelling throughout Norway, gathering lay people to read the Bible in (legally forbidden) small groups. Together they learned how to pray. He preached the gospel and called them to repentance and faith. Most alarming to authorities, Hauge put his faith into economic action. Hauge writes in his autobiography: “It was my heartfelt desire to benefit others and provide people with jobs without regard to personal glory or self interest." A brilliant entrepreneur, Hauge established two successful co-ops--a book-bindery and a sawmill. They were run by unemployed peasants. In these co-ops he integrated regular Bible study and worship with work and communal living. Profits were held in common and a trust fund was established to care for those who couldn’t work. Hauge quickly roused the ire of government and clergy. He was imprisoned for his illegal gatherings and his health was permanently broken by the hardship he endured. In fact he died without seeing many of his dreams realized. But Hauge ignited a fire in the Norwegian people. He began a movement that renewed the spiritual and political face of Norway and restored a measure of dignity and freedom to its poorest folks. Haugean Pietism saw some changes when it crossed the Atlantic. It became somewhat less social and more individualistic. In some places in Canada its lively, devotional approach to scripture was overlaid with the Biblicism of more influential denominations. At times legalism distorted its face. Nonetheless Pietism’s truest impulses took root in our Canadian Lutheran Church. I know because they took root, however imperfectly, in me. These are gifts it gave me. They are gifts I believe our church needs to re-energize its life and mission: 1) a desire to introduce people to the risen Christ—not to doctrines, however orthodox or radical they may be, not to worship practices ancient or contemporary, not to positions on moral issues however important, but first and foremost to Christ; 2) the courage to share our faith experiences verbally and live like they matter, not self-righteously but with the bold humility of forgiven sinners; 3) a commitment to really put the Bible in the hands of our laity—to give them tools to dive deep into the stories, trusting that the Spirit will use them to reshape their lives; 4) training in the disciplines of personal devotion and small group prayer; 5) willingness to give ministry back to all the baptized and return our clergy to the place given them in Ephesians 4—that of “equipping the saints for the work of ministry;” 6) enough love to move out of our churches and engage the economic and social struggles of our communities with grace. I suppose you see, as you read this, that many of these things only the Spirit can give—desire, courage, commitment, determination, love. Pietism isn’t a program or church structure. It’s the Spirit moving us to love Jesus, love others, and to feed that love with Bible study, prayer, and hard work on others’ behalf. So there aren’t any motions to be passed about it at church conventions. But there are prayers to be prayed that the Spirit will come. There is reconciliation to be sought within the church. There is a Bible to be read. And there is a world to be touched—a world that really needs the embodied love of Christ.

Rev. Dr. Cam Harder has been Associate Professor of Systematic Theology and
Director of Contextual Education at the Lutheran Theological Seminary in
Saskatoon, SK since 1997.

You can email Cam at crharder@sasktel.net.

Comments

[StoneMarissa30]

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