So for those of you doubtful that “modern slavery” really is an issue for the new international agenda, think of Srey Pov—and multiply her by millions. If what such girls experience isn’t slavery, that word has no meaning. It’s time for a 21st-century abolitionist movement in the U.S. and around the world.

I agree. I don’t know how to solve that problem, but I like the work that Gary Haugen is doing at International Justice Mission. If you’re looking for an unconventional Christmas present, or a charity to support before the year-end, consider them.

(Via Alex Tabarrok at Marginal Revolution, who sadly concurs with that “millions” factor in Kristof’s article.)

As usual, he nails it. The lowest spots in my ministry have mirrored his. “I know my temptations come out of situations where I am dissatisfied, not content. I am worried about something or not feeling the sufficiency I know is there. If I have a strong temptation, it will be out of my dissatisfaction.” And it didn’t take me very long to discover that my church is full of people just like me. Ministry in a church is not without its rewards, but I can’t depend on my successes there, or my relationships in the church, rewarding though they may be, to make me satisified.

So what’s the solution? Find something more satisfying: a deeper and more rewarding relationship with the Savior:

I encourage pastors to have substantial times every week when they do nothing but enjoy God. That may mean walking by a stream, looking at a flower, listening to music, or watching your children or grandchildren play without your constantly trying to control them. Experience the fullness of God, think about the good things God has done for you, and realize he has done well by you. If there is a problem doing that, then work through the problem, because we cannot really serve him if we do not genuinely love him.

No matter what you do, your first 200 sermons are going to be terrible.

It’s attributed to Tim Keller. If he’s right, then my preaching will be getting better, because I’ve surely passed that number. In fact, I’m coming up fast on 250 sermons.

That yellow portion is the sermon. The microphone was off, or something. I don’t know if it was something I did wrong, or something in the soundbooth. (Occam’s Razor says it was me.) But the past couple of weeks, it’s been one thing after another. Sorry!

With Titus we are also sending one of the Lord’s followers who is well known in every church for spreading the good news. (CEV)

Some thoughts that passed through my mind reading this:

Who is this preacher? Apollos? Apollos was apparently an excellent preacher, but the Corinthians knew him by name. Timothy? Luke? Someone else?

Why isn’t he named? Fame is fleeting: this preacher was famous in his time — remember, this is Paul describing him this way. But today we don’t know who he was. Which is fine, because the only fame that really matters is that God approved of his preaching.

We still need preaching. We could have become a Christian 30 or 50 or 75 years ago and still need to hear the gospel preached. Not because we haven’t heard it, but because we need to hear it again. C.S. Lewis says, “We need to be reminded more than instructed.” Paul (Paul!!) had nurtured this congregation for 18 months, and was still corresponding with them to help them grapple with tough doctrinal matters. There aren’t many churches that have heard the gospel as well as this one. But they still needed to hear the gospel, so Paul sent them a famous preacher.

We can hear preaching just as excellent. I’m assuming it was excellent preaching, because Paul endorses it, so it was done in the power of the Holy Spirit. Who is still at work today.

If, like most people, you attend a church that doesn’t have a famous preacher, don’t worry about it. Fame isn’t important. Instead, ask yourself if the Holy Spirit is speaking through them.

Several of you have asked me that question. As you know, I’ve worn a minister’s robe in worship since arriving at Desert Hills. But I quit this summer. Now fall has come, and soon winter will be here, and I haven’t resumed wearing the robes. Why not?

I guess I’m not really sure. There are arguments for and against ministers wearing robes. On the one hand, it’s certainly convenient for the minister. It keeps his or her clothing from being a distraction. I can go right ahead and spill my coffee on my tie, or wear the same clothes two Sundays in a row, and nobody will know.

The robe also symbolizes my education. I got a fancy frame for my diploma, but you have to go to my study to see it. The robe is like a diploma you can wear. I doubt if that’s why Calvin began the practice. He supposedly began wearing his academic gown because his church was cold and drafty–or so the story goes. I suspect it was really for the same reason a chef (still) wears a tall white hat: in the middle ages, everyone wore unique clothes to indicate which guild they belonged to.

I’m not entirely persuaded by either of those reasons. It’s true that some people still wear uniforms — chefs, police and postal workers, and of course people in the armed forces. Doctors wear lab coats and carry stethoscopes. But nurses, on the other hand, don’t wear uniforms any more. I mean, they wear uniforms, but they aren’t uniforms: they’re all different. Where they used to be white and austere, now nurses’ clothes are laid-back and colorful. The idea seems to be that sick people are tense enough; the nurse doesn’t need to add to it. I think the same is true for when you see your pastor.

As for education, things have changed since Calvin’s time. Few back then could even read, and they couldn’t afford a Bible anyway. Today, at least in this country, everyone can afford a Bible, and if someone can’t read, there are always audiobooks.

But beyond that, the robe isn’t effective as a symbol of education, because even professors don’t wear robes any more–except on graduation day. I’d hazard to guess that more people associate the robes with how Bible characters dress than with scholars.

That’s dangerous. It’s one thing to say someone went to school. It’s another thing to put them on a pedestal and say they’ve got some special religious “juice.” The person on the pedestal is supposed to be Jesus. You can have someone ship you water from the Jordan River, but we discourage people from being baptized in it, because water is supposed to be ordinary water. The bread we eat in the Lord’s Supper is just regular bread. The whole point is that God uses ordinary stuff to do extraordinary things. The same is true about ministers.

Ultimately, the question of robes is a judgment call, like your preference in Bible translations–there is an element of personal preference. But there’s also a deeper question: does it help or hinder in carrying out the mission of the church? In that sense, having robes is more like the decisions our Session makes when it schedules the church’s worship services, or how frequently we celebrate communion.

What do you think? Should ministers wear robes? Why, or why not? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject. Give me a call — let’s talk!

I wasn’t able to carpool today to Presbytery due to a scheduling conflict that made it also my day as chaplain at the local hospital. But the upside was that, when I did drive to Presbytery, I got to listen to 1.5 hrs of Catalyst (actual Origins labs) material. Here’s a pithy quote:

All we need to help somebody find God is already inside them.–Erwin McManus

(Beside Erwin McManus, I also heard an excellent discussion of entrepreneurial leadership from his associate Rick Yamamoto, and another discussion by Dan Kimball about having a missional posture in your life (and therefore in your church).

On the way home, I took a break from Catalyst stuff and listened to a sermon by Jim Burgen of Flatirons Church. (Podcasts are how this pastor hears sermons. I don’t know what I did before I got my iPod, but I must have been one miserable pastor.)