Kansas City Prophets and Global Warming

Posted on November 7, 2015 by Mark

During my years living in Olathe and Kansas City, I had a bird’s eye view of the prophetic movement in Kansas City. I got to see the good, the bad, and the merely confusing. As one deeply concerned about our stewardship of God’s creation, I have also followed, as much an English teacher can, the science surrounding global warming. My approach to the first has helped me with the second.

It may seem absurd to connect prophets of global warming and the prophets of revival, but there are similarities. Both predict some future events and both call for policy and lifestyle changes in response to those predictions. We could add that both have their doubters and critics and both have acted in ways that fuel that criticism.

First, let me say I believe that God is restoring the ministry of the prophet to churches today. I have seen this ministry greatly bless people and I have seen the church strengthened by it. However, I have also seen people wounded and disillusioned when prophets have fallen into sin or when it seemed that the prophetic was exploited to build a ministry.

I have now lived 20 years in splendid isolation in Myrtle Point, Oregon, so I have had both the time and distance to evaluate my experience with the prophetic in Kansas City. As I have sorted this all out, I have learned to value and nourish everything imparted to me at Kansas City that should be a permanent part of every Christian’s walk with God.

The prophecies of an end time revival that will restore the Bride of Christ to power and purity still call me to be a faithful intercessor for the church. The vision of visitations of God that transform cities and nations still brings me to my knees for Myrtle Point. Even more important, the truth that God desires us to co-labor with Him to accomplish his purposes has awakened my heart to listen to God and discern his working in the earth. Because of my time in Kansas City, my walk with God is less about me and my plans and more about God and His work.

I have, however, let go of all timetables for revival and God’s working. I remember in the 80’s when prophets were proclaiming the move of God coming in the 90’s. And indeed there were times of refreshing, but nothing like the nation-changing, stadium-filling outpourings that had been prophesied. And yes, I think those given spiritual oversight of the prophets and the prophets themselves should be held accountable for every prophecy. There was and is work to do here as every detail of every prophecy is evaluated. That, however, is not work I can do from my position. What I can do is value and live out those permanently valuable truths imparted to me by the prophetic ministry.

I have a similar approach to global warming. I know that some of the scientists in England tried to manipulate the data. I know that some of the predictions haven’t come true and there is controversy about some of science. We have mixed phenomena: the Arctic ice-cap is melting, the one in Antarctica growing. And some of the scientists have displayed real arrogance in their proclamations.

Yet no matter how much fracking we do; oil and natural gas remain non-renewal fuels. When they are gone, they are gone. That reality should impact our policies and our lifestyles. There is absolutely nothing Christian about consuming a finite fuel supply as quickly as possible. There is nothing conservative about making major changes to our atmosphere and thinking that somehow human genius will help us escape the consequences.

At the risk of stating the obvious, conservatives should conserve. Christian conservatives should be humble and cautious about making changes in the complex ecosystem God has created. The arrogant assumption that human genius will deliver us from consequences of every assault on our environment is neither Christian nor conservative.

I do not know if all the predictions of global warming will come true or fall into the dustbin of bad science like the predictions of global cooling popular in the 70’s, but I do know it makes sense to pursue alternative sources of energy. It also makes sense for us to reduce pollution and greenhouse gases. We should always live a simple lifestyles driven less by mindless consumption of fossil fuels.

If I never see a mighty move of God that revives the church and sweeps many into the kingdom of God, I will never regret the time spent praying for one. I believe those hours are precious in God’s sight and that such intercession is simple obedience to Scripture. If no climatic catastrophe attached to global warming ever occurs, I think we will never regret polluting less, consuming less, and conserving more.

There are those called to sort out the prophecies and the science. All of that is important. No matter the timetable, Christ is coming back for a bride that is spotless and without wrinkle, so the church needs help from heaven. And no matter the timetable, pollution has consequences, and finite resources will be exhausted.

Specific predictions may be inaccurate. But we are foolish if we fail to recognize the larger inescapable truths. God calls us to be faithful stewards of the planet and faithful intercessors for the Church.

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For Crying Out Loud

Posted on September 27, 2015 by Mark

Just as weddings aren’t about what grooms want, funerals, I suppose, aren’t about what the dead want. Okay, that could be a bad comparison.

I get that my funeral isn’t really for me. Nonetheless, here’s what I don’t want: a celebration of my life. I’m dead; I don’t want people celebrating anything. I want them mourning. Tears. Sadness. Lots of black clothes. I may pay some old Irish ladies to come keen at my grave. Let my enemies celebrate.

Yes, this is heresy. We Americans don’t only believe in the pursuit of happiness—we believe we must catch it and squeeze until it falls like a dead puppy from our hands. We will not allow grief and loss to intrude even when people are so rude as to die. So when they do die, we invite everyone to a celebration of their life. I know people at these celebrations actually do mourn, so why must we call it a celebration?

I hereby invite, upon my death, people to gather and mourn their loss—however slight it may be. I say this because a well-meaning pastor might say, “Mark would not want us mourning his passing, but would want us to remember all the good times of his full life.” Nope. I want you to cry.

Now this could seem selfish and insensitive, but it isn’t. I’ll be dead, for crying out loud. Your grief will do nothing for me. And the thought of your tears brings me no ego-driven satisfaction—only my own tears.

My insistence on mourning could even seem unspiritual since Scripture says we who have faith do not grieve as those without hope. Yes, as Christians we grieve a temporary loss of the person—we have a hope of eternity and glory when all weeping is over and every tear is dried.

As believers, we grieve differently—but we still grieve. Every tear will be dried—but we must first have tears.

So yes, my funeral is not for me, but neither is my request for mourning. I deeply desire your comfort and blessing. I simply believe Jesus spoke truly when he said, “Blessed are those that mourn for they will be comforted.”

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Stone Crosses

Posted on September 16, 2015 by Mark

A small thing caught my attention while reading Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Several times these tales mention knights parting ways when they came to a stone cross. After doing a little research, I discovered that stone crosses were erected all across the British Isles during the medieval period. 250px-Muiredach_s_CrossSome are called “high crosses” and are thought to mark preaching points or markets. Many are beautiful Celtic crosses with a circle or nimbus.

What caught my imagination, however, were the Dartmoor crosses. They aren’t tall or ornate. According to legend, an abbot had them placed throughout the moor to keep monks from getting lost as they walked to the next monastery. Scattered throughout the moorlands are bogs—some of which are dangerous because of the green sphagnum moss that covers the surface. These moors were the setting for Sir Conan Doyle’sThe Hounds of the Baskervilles and are the subject of many tales of ghosts and hauntings.

In these moorlands, stone crosses marked important crossroads and a safe path around the mire. My path has seemed much like a moor. By calling, I am (it seems) neither fully a pastor nor fully a professor. I write stuff that is neither literary criticism nor Bible teaching. I teach Shakespeare and Sunday school. For me this meandering path has been uncharted territory–neither this nor that.

I don’t think I have any ornate high crosses in my life.220px-Crazywell_cross_1  But I hope my decisions to follow Christ have marked the crossroads. I pray that every time I have chosen the cross instead of the world I have raised a cross, a plain cross marking the way.

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My Father’s Coat

Posted on September 12, 2015 by Mark

One day a young man came to the court of King Arthur and begged to be made a knight. Although a fine looking man, he wore a tattered coat. He introduces himself as Brewnor of the Noyre, but Sir Kay mocks him and says, “The name he really deserves is La Cote Male Tayle, that is the evil-shapen coat.”

Brewnor says he wears the coat of his father who while asleep in the woods was hacked to death by an enemy. He has pledged to wear his father’s coat until he avenges his murder. Although the venomous tongue of Kay assigned the name La Cote Male Tayle, Brewnor adopts the name when knighted by Arthur.

In Malory’s account, Brewnor becomes a famed knight and eventually avenges his father’s death but owns the name for the rest of his life. Malory never tells us whether he stops wearing the ill-fitting coat of his father. The story doesn’t indicate whether Brewnor was wise or foolish to take his identity from his father’s coat and tragic death.

The story makes the simple point that men, in one way or another, often wear the coat given by their father. Most of us know men who have worn a coat woven from their fathers’ rejection—men who live their lives seeking to prove themselves to their fathers. Some wear the anger their fathers wore.

But the case of Brewnor presents a different kind of inheritance. Brewnor’s love for his father locked him into an identity rooted in vengeance. Although few men need to avenge their father’s murder, many men are haunted by the unfairness or hardship their fathers faced. Simply knowing that your father never achieved his dream or finished his quest can gnaw at your gut. It is easy to slip on a coat of bitterness or vow to never tolerate the kind of injustice your father endured. Many men, for instance, have been driven by a vow to escape the poverty of their parents.

I have sometimes worn my father’s coat. Growing up, I watched my father faithfully pastor one small church after another without seeing much growth. At some churches, he endured heart-breaking criticism. Some attacks left his self-worth in tatters. That such faithfulness and goodness should be rewarded with such misery still seems unjust.

I have worked hard at not wearing an ill-fitting coat (La Cote Male Tayle) woven from my father’s disappointments and unrealized quest. Although most of my own experiences with the Church have been positive, I can easily wear resentment at the treatment my father received. Honestly, my deepest issues have been with God himself. If God dealt disappointment and discouragement to my father (whose goodness and faithfulness exceeded my own), why should I expect more from God? It is hard not to wear his coat when I kneel to pray. How do I avenge my father when I think (yes, wrongly) his enemy was God?

The trouble with our fathers’ coats is that like the armor Saul offered David, they don’t fit us. Vows to achieve what our fathers didn’t or be what they weren’t can keep us from our own quest and our own identity. I cannot wear a coat woven from the pain and disappointments of my father. It keeps me from having my own identity before God. For me, this means entrusting my father and all my unanswered questions into the hands of God—trusting in God’s character rather than my insight.

I believe we can honor our fathers and be grateful for all they have taught us while still moving forward to discover our own identity before God. We need to wear our own coats. Coats given to us by a heavenly father who knows us perfectly and will empower us for our own quest.

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Sir Gareth and Invincible Joy

Posted on September 7, 2015 by Mark

Just reading Malory’s tale of Sir Gareth is enough to make your blood boil. On the Feast of Pentecost, Gareth asks King Arthur for three gifts but refuses to give his name or lineage. He is given the nick-name Beaumains because of his beautiful hands. His first request that he be fed for the next twelve months is granted, but probably not in the way he hoped.

In Camelot, the place where he should have encountered the greatest courtesy and kindness, he finds nothing but abuse. Arthur entrusts Gareth to the care of Sir Kay who declares he is “nothing but a great loafer and born of a serving wench.” Kay puts him to work in the kitchen and promises to “feed him until he is as fat as a pig.” Sir Kay throws in twelve months of constant abuse and contempt. Gareth’s beautiful hands are put to work in the kitchen long before they are allowed to hold a sword.

Things don’t improve when Gareth is given his second and third gifts: being made a knight by Lancelot and being allowed to go on a quest. The lady whose sister Gareth pledges to rescue is insulted to have a former kitchen boy serving her as a knight. Despite his gentleness and victories over every other knight, she continues to heap contempt on him, calling him a “misshapen wretch” and a “stinking kitchen knave.” Responding gently to all her abuse was a greater challenge than all the brutal warfare he encountered.

After many hard battles, victories, and wounds, Gareth convinces his lady that he is of noble birth. She repents of her cruel words. His answer is instructive: “The anger your insults inspired in me I turned against my opponents, and so overcame them more readily.” Gareth had every reason to be embittered and angry after escaping the abuse of Sir Kay only to get more abuse from the lady he had pledged to serve. He ran on anger.

The words of Gareth reveal some basic truths about anger and men (maybe women too). It is often hard for men to let go of anger because it seems to make us stronger. Anger is a seductive source of strength. Cruel or indifferent fathers, unfair coaches, or mocking peers can give a man a lifetime supply of angry energy. Men often spend the rest of their lives proving themselves to people who discounted and discouraged them.

But the tale of Gareth goes on and suggests a better way. When his lady asks for his forgiveness, Gareth says, “My lady, you are forgiven; and if formerly anger made me strong, may joy now make me invincible.” Gareth recognizes both anger and joy as possible sources of strength, but sees joy as stronger.

That joy is stronger should be the discovery of every Christian man. Because of the grace and love shown in Jesus and our adoption as children of God, all our anger should be turned to joy. The great tragedy in the church is that so many men fail to convert to this new energy source. It easy to learn all the right God talk while still burning the fossil fuel of old grudges and resentment. Anger works as a source of strength, but at a terrible cost to the soul and body of the person it fuels. Anger burns dirty and produces collateral damage to those we love. Joy burns cleaner.

The church should be helping every man to make the switch to joy. With the help of the Holy Spirit, every man should assess whether he is fueled by joy or anger. Are we driven to prove ourselves worthy? Or are we driven by the joy that Jesus is worthy and has freely loved us?

If anger once made us strong—the joy of the Lord now makes us invincible.

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Mine Sweeping The Church

Posted on September 1, 2015 by Mark

“In Laos when the temperature goes below about 70 degrees, people start pulling on their coats and hats and lighting fires, which ignites the season of death.” As temperatures have dipped in Myrtle Point, I began thinking about this line from an article in the August National Geographic. In Laos low temperatures bring death because during the Vietnam War the United States, in an effort to destroy supply lines, dropped two million tons of bombs on Laos. Fires built to stay warm ignite these unexploded bombs, maiming and killing people every year.

I cannot imagine how terrible it would be to live in a country that is essentially a minefield. The only thing that might come close psychologically is living with someone who has a violent temper. The fear of the explosion can be as terrible as the explosions themselves.

Although uncontrolled anger afflicts both men and women, I think it is a greater problem for men. We are more likely to respond to wounds with anger than with grief. I think it is hard to overstate the number of families and churches that have been torn apart by the explosive anger of men. Too often our churches and families have become minefields.

Churches and pastors need to set about intentionally unearthing the unexploded ordnance in the hearts of men. This means disrupting business as usual by calling outbursts of anger (wrath) what the Bible calls it—sin. No excuses or explanations. Wrath truly is one of the seven deadly sins. It kills spiritually and occasionally, physically.

In Laos it is often the children who are maimed and killed. In their play and explorations, they are more likely to set off a bomb. The same is true for children living with those with explosive anger. Children are often the victim of anger because they have not yet learned where all the dangers are hidden. Men need to humble themselves and stop thinking building fences around their minefields is the solution. Churches who espouse family values need to move beyond rhetoric by creating mine-sweeping teams to make churches and families safe for children.

What does this work look like? First, brothers in Christ need to covenant together to hold each other accountable for outbursts of anger. Unlike mines and bombs, explosions of anger don’t destroy the source of the danger.

The second step is to trace the anger back to its source. There are five common sources of explosive anger: unforgiveness, deep wounds, disappointment, rejection, and fear. Men are notoriously unself-aware, so finding the source of anger can take some digging and detective work—something done best in relationship. Some men may have forgiven those who hurt them, but have not specifically asked for God to heal the wound.

Any man who never experienced the love and acceptance of their father has a source of anger that keeps on giving. Even though God’s love and acceptance is proclaimed from the pulpit, this source of anger often resists God’s grace until it is made incarnate in the brothers in Christ who commit to love us unconditionally.

Often overlooked are ways that disappointment in life (job, career, and parenting) can embitter men and fuel anger. Even Christian men struggle to be thankful for what life is rather than bitter about what it isn’t.

It surprising how much anger is rooted in fear. Men respond to fear with anger because fear makes them ashamed. Men need safe places to confront fear and know they are not alone.

The third step is to apply God’s grace and transformative power to each hidden source of anger. This is much more than a trip to the altar or prayer line. It is accountability to one another within a loving community empowered by the Holy Spirit. It is men committed to each other in the nitty-gritty for the long haul. This is much more than “how ya doin?” on Sunday morning.

This is only a brief sketch of what the work looks like, but perhaps enough to suggest it can be done. Removing explosive anger from our churches and families is hard and dangerous work, but saves lives and releases men into freedom and fruitfulness. In Laos the big bombs created deep craters in the rice paddies. The resilient and resourceful Laotians turned the craters into fish ponds. Men should fish, not explode.

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Anonymous Knights

Posted on July 31, 2015 by Mark

It is often not until late into each Arthurian romance that Chretien de Troyes reveals the name of the main character. I first thought this was only a silly literary convention to build suspense in the readers as they try to guess the knight’s identity. But even in the 12th century, many of these tales were well-known enough that all the characters were familiar to readers. As a literary device, withholding the names of characters does little to build suspense.

So what’s up? As I slogged through the tales, I noticed that withholding identities isn’t just something Chretien de Troyes does. His knights are always slow to proclaim their names. Again and again, they lower their lances and charge at each other without any idea who the other knight is. Sometimes it turns out to be another knight of the round table.

One of the more extreme examples is in the tale of Cliges. Although his father, Alexander, had been knighted by King Arthur, and his mother was the niece of Arthur, Cliges hides his identity when he leaves Greece to prove himself. He goes with his father’s blessing:

Dear son, Cliges, you will never know the extent of your prowess and ability if you don’t first put yourself to the test with the men of Britain and France at King Arthur’s court. Conduct yourself and behave in such a way that your identity is not known until you’ve measured yourself against the flower of that court.

During a week of jousting at King Arthur’s court, Cliges uses three different horses and sets of armor to keep his identity hidden. As an anonymous knight, Cliges defeats all the Knights of the Roundtable.

Our culture may have lost this important truth about how personal identity is established. Young people are often urged to be themselves before they have a self to be. We are a society that rightly celebrates individuality and uniqueness of each person. But sometimes uniqueness and personal identity costs no more than the latest fashion or coolest tattoo. In the advertising industry that holds so much sway over us, this is called branding and creating name recognition.

But as Christians we are called to be anonymous knights and to see this life as the place we joust to test our mettle. As Paul says in Colossians, “our life is hidden with Christ in God.” He goes on to assure us that “when Christ, who is our life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him with glory.” On the day when all battles end, we will shed our armor as sons and daughters of the King.

One of the great paradoxes of Christian discipleship is that only when we lose ourselves in service to Christ do we find our true identity. Jesus promises that he will give those who overcome “a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it” (Revelation 2:17). Instead of telling young people to be themselves, we should urge them to tilt their lance in honor of the King who holds the secret of their identity.

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Janitors of the Kingdom

Posted on July 25, 2015 by Mark

It should not surprise us that there is something mystical about school janitors. Although dressed in humble work clothes, or even overalls, janitors are godlike in their knowledge of their buildings’ mysteries. This is fitting since the root word for “janitor” is Janus, the Roman God of new beginnings, doorways, and hallways. As important as the teachers, principals, and students are to a school, it’s the humble janitor that unlocks the doors.

Janitors serve in hiddenness. While students and teachers enjoy summer vacation, they strip and wax floors that in the fall shine brightly and smell like bananas. Early in the morning and late at night, they perform their mysterious rites in the temples of learning. During the day they appear and disappear with the jingle of their keys.

Although that ring of keys gives them tremendous authority, it is an authority exercised completely for the sake of others. Janitors open doors and clean rooms for others, not themselves. For all this, they receive little attention or honor. At night they carefully lock up the buildings to protect them from vandals. They faithfully prepare and preserve that which others daily enjoy.

Lest you think I am making too much of janitors, let me point out that the Apostle Peter has often been pictured as the janitor of heaven. In paintings and stained glass windows he shown as carrying a ring of keys. This tradition arose because of Matthew 16:18—19:

And I say unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I shall give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. KJV

Although these words of Jesus to Peter are subject to various interpretations and much debate, I would like to suggest that this is a call for God’s people, the church, to serve as janitors of the kingdom.

Jesus was vicious in his criticism of the Pharisees for all they did to keep people out of the God’s kingdom. The Pharisees traded in their janitor overalls for beautiful robes and stood at the doors asking for money:

But woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you shut off the kingdom of heaven from men; for you do not enter in yourselves, nor do you allow those who are entering to go in. Matthew 23:13 NASB

Peter, and all followers of Jesus, are called to swing the doors open to sinners who are lost, broken, and rejected.

Like Peter, who denied Jesus three times, God’s janitors know that doors are opened to all who come trusting in the grace and forgiveness of God. We work hard at making the kingdom a safe and clean place for others to grow in the knowledge of God. Although we may have the keys, it isn’t about us.

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Disney’s Inside Out and Altar Calls

Posted on July 19, 2015 by Mark

Recently Teckla and I watched the movie Inside Out. Being an analytical and philosophical scholar, I would have liked more sword fights and explosions, but I must admit the movie made me think. I liked how Joy and Sadness teamed up at the end. Earlier Joy had ruled the roost. She had even drawn a circle and instructed Sadness to stay inside.

Despite all Joy can do, Sadness has this unstoppable compulsion to express herself within the character Riley. Both Joy and Sadness end up outside the control center for Riley. The result is that everything shuts down and falls apart. I don’t think the word is used in the movie, but it looked like despair—a great emptiness.

Only as Joy and Sadness work together, each expressing themselves, are they able to restore Riley to emotional health and balance. When I tried thinking of real life situations where joy and sadness worked hand-in-hand, I thought of altar calls.

I suppose the term may date me or indicate the evangelical subculture in which I was raised. But I grew up in a denomination where at the end of a gospel message, people were invited to come to the front of the church and pray for salvation. In the older Wesleyan churches, the altar was called the mourners’ bench.

It was common to hear people weeping, sometimes loudly, at the altar. It was just as common to hear people shouting, “Glory to God” or “Hallelujah.” As people repented and committed their life to Christ, joy and sadness were interwoven. Celebration over salvation dried the tears of repentance.

I worry that the Church today, in its desire to be upbeat and seeker-friendly, has drawn a circle around sadness. Our encounters with God and relationship with God always contain great joy and deep sorrow. After the catch of fish nearly sinks his boat, Peter is filled with joy, yet falls at the feet of Jesus and says, “Depart from me; for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8).

Today I fear we would have sent Peter to Self-Esteem Seminar. But it is still okay to be crushed by wickedness of our own hearts, and then exhilarated with the depths of God’s grace and goodness. We need both sadness and joy, and not just at the point of salvation. I mourn over the areas of weakness—the doubt, feeble compassion, sloth—in my life, and yet humbly rejoice in the grace of God that is at work in me for His glory. I look honestly and with great sadness at the failings of the Church and yet rejoice is every evidence of grace I see.

I would like to just skip the sorrow that comes from honest self-examination (see I Cor. 13:5), and rejoice in the grace of God. Some preaching even urges this, but simply confessing I am “an overcomer” doesn’t make me one. In the movie Riley’s dad tries to cheer her up by asking, “Where’s my happy girl?” Sometimes when sad, I have felt like others were asking, “Come on Mark, where’s my joyful Christian?”

At my best, I am silent when challenged like this. (But I still think of all kinds of vicious responses of which I must immediately repent.) As the movie points out, the most serious threat is not sadness; it is emptiness.

In God’s hands, my brokenness and sorrow are transformed into something beautiful and redemptive. It is in my emptiness that my soul has been most imperiled. I suspect this is true of many who have been raised in the church. When we skip the “weeping” that endures for the night, we often miss the joy that comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5). The result is that what joy we do manage rings hollow and we feel inauthentic.

I am thankful that the movie reminded me, “Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

 

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The Joy of the Court

Posted on July 15, 2015 by Mark

The Arthurian romances of Chretien de Troyes are perhaps the best examples of bad medieval literature. Nonetheless, the story of Erec and Enide ambushed my heart with its conclusion. Erec progresses through the story defeating giants and vanquishing one knight after another. His last adventure, one never completed by any knight, is called “the Joy of the Court”. Erec has no idea what the joy is, but he cannot refuse the adventure despite the pleading of his beautiful wife.

As Erec makes his way through an Edenic garden, he passes a row of sharpened stakes topped with the heads of the knights who had failed to gain “the Joy.” On the last stake is nothing but a huntsman’s horn. A knight in crimson armor steps forward as the guardian of the “Joy of the Court”. After he defeats this knight, Erec asks the knight to tell him exactly what the Joy of the Court is. The knight explains that he was imprisoned by a pledge to his lady that he would never leave this paradise until he was defeated. He says that when Erec blows the horn, he will be free.

I was disappointed. All this struggle to set someone else free from a stupid promise? But Erec dutifully blows the horn. Immediately the whole kingdom comes running, rejoicing, and singing. The ladies, we are told, compose a song called “The Lay of Joy”. The huge crowd surrounds Erec “striving to show their joy at the urging of their hearts.” They party for three days.

Hmmm. Up to the last adventure, everything had been about Erec winning renown, being honored, gaining riches. But his greatest adventure, “The Joy of the Court,” is all about everyone else being happy. After this adventure, Erec and Enide are made a king and queen by Arthur.

Why was I disappointed? By temperament I dislike parties and crowds, but I suspect something more sinister was at work in me. I realized that my idea of an ultimate Joy was individualistic. It seemed that the ultimate prize should be some great jewel or some magical power that Erec could possess. His greatest prize was bringing joy to everyone else.

Perhaps the point is that only when we fight to bring joy to others that we can be trusted to be kings and queens. It’s only after bringing joy to the whole court that Erec and Enide are fit to rule. The greatest adventure is the victory over our self-centeredness.

This tale, of course, expresses the simple Christian orthodoxy that everything ends in a party. In the end the believer will celebrate with others in a New Jerusalem, not hike alone in Eden. All the court of heaven will rejoice together in the party called the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

Until we live for the joy of the court, we will not be prepared to handle the authority of ruling in God’s kingdom. It is easy for even dedicated servants of God to think about the success of their ministry. Like good knights we may battle against evil, and yet still make the victory more about us than others.

In the end, not only are my adventures not all about me, they aren’t all about us either. It is really about King Jesus—for whose sake we tilt our lance.

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