Colin Saxton | Restoring a prophetic ministry among Quakers

   Restoring a prophetic ministry among Quakers

Out of My Mind…

March 3, 2011

Colin Saxton is  the NWYM superintendent

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          Over the last several issues of the Connection I have reflected on some core, historic testimonies of the Friends movement. Though I love history, I am less interested in replaying the events of our past. Instead, we need to focus on our future and examine how God is calling us to be the Friends of Jesus in the twenty-first century.

          We do this, I think, not by trying to replicate the past but rather by learning to live faithfully in our time—in the same life and power that animated our foremothers and fathers.

One way Friends have often been described by people inside and outside our community is with the word prophetic. We are, or at least ought to be, a prophetic people.

          Sometimes this prophetic ministry shows up in the way we do worship. Howard Brinton was a Quaker writer who distinguished between worship focused on sacraments, worship that is sermon-centered, and Friends worship—which at least in intent gives room for prophetic ministry. This happens as spoken ministry arises out of silent waiting before the Lord and in response to the Holy Spirit’s prompting and direction. When this occurs, Brinton suggests, the person is used as an “instrument through which God speaks to the congregation.”

           While I would argue that sermons or sacraments may also be directed by the Holy Spirit, there can be something vital and life-changing for both the speaker and hearer when one receives a powerful and immediate message from God to share with others. I’ve known people who were converted to Christ because they were prompted to speak in a meeting for worship. Uncertain God was real, the word of God was spoken into and through them with such certainty that they devoted their lives to Jesus.

I’ve seen others changed and worlds turned upside down because of words spoken during our “open worship.” In some ways, my decision to make my permanent home among Friends came after hearing a 12-year-old girl give a powerful message out of the silence. This happened about the fourth time I ever visited a Friends church. I sat in that holy moment thinking about how few churches would ever allow such a thing to happen and said to myself, “I want to be a part of a community like this!”

           More often, Friends are associated with prophetic ministry because of the courage and faith we have shown in speaking up for justice, peace, and truth. Whether the prophetic message has been aimed toward the church or to the cultures we inhabit, Friends often are willing to call others to account and implore them to live up to a higher standard.

           Believing that God is at work restoring all of creation, Friends (in our better moments) have trusted in God’s power to work in every situation, in the hope that repentance, salvation, and transformation might occur. In our more courageous and prophetic moments, Friends have not only dared to bring God’s message to individuals, but also to institutions, churches, governments, and any human system or establishment that does not yet reflect God’s will.

           I have often heard people say (and said myself) it is time for Friends to reclaim our prophetic ministry. Maybe, of all the aspects of our work in the world, this is one area of weakness over the past 50 years of our movement.

           Many people (Friends and non-Friends) do have a prophetic ministry. They make us uncomfortable. They cut through the fluff to get straight to the heart of a matter. Often they carry a concern so deeply branded in their souls that it dominates their words and actions. The prophets in our midst are quick to remind the rest of us of what breaks the heart of God—injustice, deceit, hypocrisy, hatred, violence, evil, and idolatry.

           I also think we live in a confusing time for prophetic ministry. Nowadays, technology gives almost everyone the opportunity to speak up and criticize others through various media outlets. Unfortunately much of what is said springs from fear, hatred, and selfishness—not from the heart of God. Rather than being instruments through which God’s truth is spoken into the world, what is often communicated (by both Christians and others) is the shrill sound of our own frustrated and cynical thoughts.

           A few months ago, a couple of people told me they were prophets and that this was one reason few people listened to or liked them. As I listened to them talk, however, about all that was wrong with the church (in one case) and society (in another), I could not help thinking, You are not a prophet…you are just an angry guy…. While their sometimes withering judgment of others hinted at the truth, what it lacked was any sense of corresponding godly compassion. There was a complete absence of broken-hearted lament over the ones needing redemption. No deep sorrow over the missed opportunity to live in tune with God. Instead, what these two people communicated was contempt and rejection couched in the language of divine judgment.

             But judgment, in the biblical sense, is always the shadow side of God’s mercy. When the white-hot light of God’s overwhelming love comes upon us, all our inequities and sins are revealed. We are exposed—not by God’s desire to condemn us, but through God’s intent to redeem and restore us. This is the ministry of the prophets of old. This was the ministry of Jesus, who, though he spoke and lived in ways that disturbed the comfortable, always acted out of God’s ultimate love for the world and sovereign desire to set all things right.

            In restoring a prophetic ministry among Quakers, especially in these often hate-filled times, I am more and more convinced we need to start by rekindling our love for the world.

            A few years ago, I heard a preacher say, “You can’t have an authentic prophetic ministry among a people you do not love.”

            In a world where so many line up to condemn political parties, bash the church or denominations, and leap to criticize the efforts and ideas of others, how might love alter and distinguish our prophetic message? What might it mean to the ears of our hearers if our concern was first rooted in love for them? In a broken-hearted longing for their redemption and transformation? In a courageous trust in God’s ability to change people? Were these to be true of us, I imagine we would, indeed, be and become the instruments through which God speaks to the world.