How a Protestant Monk Confesses

Posted by Jim Thornber on December 2, 2008
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, St. Benedict. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments

For four years I was an Assemblies of God minister and a monk with the Brothers and Sisters of Charity. This blog is an excerpt from my yet-to-be-released book about my experiences, taken from the chapter on Confession. Previously posted in Dec., 2008.


It wasn’t really a bad weed eater, as weed eaters go. Built by a well-known and trusted company, this weed eater had served the community well over the years, faithfully trimming grass and enabling us to maintain the beautiful land nestled in the magnificent Ozark Mountains known as the Little Portion Hermitage. However, on this particular morning the weed eater must have gotten up on the wrong side of the garage, for it absolutely refused to start.

Try as I might, I could not get the weed eater to start. Does it have gas? Check. Is the spark plug okay? Check. Well, that’s as far as my small engine talents can take me. So, let’s pull on the rope some more. Once more. One more time. Pull again. Pull. Pull pull pull pull pull pull pull pull. About the time I started to feel the blister come up on my finger from jerking on the rope, I’d had enough. I laid hands upon it (in the name of Jesus, of course) and removed the offending member from my presence.

I didn’t really believe that a long flight out the garage door would help the obstinate weed eater start. But for that brief, wonderful moment, the sight of the obnoxious, obviously UNSAVED weed eater flying helplessly (if unrepentantly) across the driveway and into the shrubs by the common center made me feel better. Walking out into the bright sun to retrieve the varmint, I bought it back into the garage and tried it once again. I was right. It still didn’t start.

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Scriptures That Bother Me — Matthew 14:14

Posted by Jim Thornber on November 28, 2008
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Service, Spiritual Gifts. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

Not Bothered About Being Bothered

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. Matthew 14:14

Here’s the scene. Jesus has just heard that Herod, in a warped sense of duty, has presented the recently severed head of John the Baptist as a birthday present to his stepdaughter, who is also his niece, because his new wife, his brother’s ex, didn’t like John. Yes, it’s complicated. Anyway, upon hearing the news, Jesus took a boat to what He hoped would be a solitary place. However, His hoped-for solitary place was now full of people and, having compassion on them, He healed their sick. Furthermore, if you keep reading, He also performed the miracle we call “Feeding the Five Thousand.”

Okay, here’s that part that bothers me: Jesus wasn’t bothered about being bothered.

Maybe it’s just me, but I know if I had recently found out that a drunken, immoral, quasi-religious dictator had beheaded my cousin, I would want to go away and find a quiet, solitary place to pray and cry and shout out my pain to God. And once getting there, the last thing I’d want to do is minister to a bunch of people who are more interested in themselves than in my pain.

But Jesus doesn’t do that. Instead, He has compassion on them.

This reminds of the numerous times I’ve seen people working on their car by the side of the road. And instead of helping them, I’ve rationalized (a compound of two words, rational and lies…) how I probably don’t know how to fix their problem, or I need to get to work or an appointment or church and I don’t have time to stop and give them a hand. Hmmm, do I see in myself shades of the religious hypocrites in the Parable of the Good Samaritan?

(NOTE: I had to stop writing at this point and go to work. On my way, I saw a man working on his car at the side of the road. I immediately thought about this article, considered that I needed to get to work, and drove by. I failed my first test of the day at being bothered. . . . . . . . AUGGGHHHHHH!!!).

However, I also find myself getting impatient with people who interrupt my current agenda, be it writing, helping somebody at my job, or meeting the needs of a customer. I truly desire to live such that no one will see my impatience, anger, or easily bothered attitude. This is why Jesus challenges me so much. Of course, Scripture is rather silent on the ways Jesus might have shown impatience with people. And even though He says things like, “O you of little faith” (Matthew 8:26; 14:31), I don’t think He was showing exasperation as much as He was desirous of His disciples being able to grasp His main message.

And me? Have I grasped the main message of Jesus? Not completely, and you can tell this by the way I live, or don’t live, His most basic teachings. But that’s really not my point. My point is that the ease with which Jesus moved from pain to compassion reminds me of how far I’ve yet to go to obtain Christlikeness in all my ways. The good news is I’m a lot better at it than I used to be, as any of my long-lasting friends can testify.

So here is my challenge. The next time someone interrupts my agenda, needs my presence, requires my compassion, or (take a deep breath) is broken down by the side of the road, I hope to show the same love and compassion for the person in need as Jesus has shown to me.

Transparent Holiness

Posted by Jim Thornber on November 24, 2008
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Pride, Religion, Spiritual Gifts, Transparency. 3 Comments

This is another excerpt from my (hopefully soon-to-be-published) book Taking Off My Comfortable Clothes.

Blaise Pascal said, “We must learn our limits. We are all something, but none of us are everything.” Or, as that wise 20th century philosopher Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) said in the movie Magnum Force, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

A key component in being transparent with who you are involves acknowledging what you are not. Admitting your strengths as well as your weaknesses will allow you to be true to yourself, live the life God created you to live, and enable you to say no to those things that are not your calling.

I acknowledge that I am not an apostle, prophet, evangelist, pastor, worship leader, business entrepreneur, engineer, chef or bank president; I’m a teacher of Scripture. I also know I thrive teaching the 18-30 year old group, so I can easily say no to any request to teach children. At the same time, there are people in the church who love childrens work but would be scared spitless if asked to teach the Tabernacle of Moses to a group of twenty-somethings for twelve weeks, an assignment I would relish with only one regret — we couldn’t stretch it to twenty-four.

Furthermore, I understand that God has given me a certain amount of musical ability, and I’ve played piano on numerous worship teams. However, I also know there are many men and women who are better musicians than I am. Although I enjoy playing piano, I know teaching Scripture, not leading worship, is my primary avenue for ministry. The problem for many of us, especially church leaders, begins when we forget Pascal said, “None of us are everything.”

Even while I lived at the Little Portion, my heart’s desire was to teach the Word. Hospitality and service were not my primary virtues, and I had to be taught to be nice to people and look to another person’s needs before my own. Fortunately, my wife tells me I’m gaining in this area. But she has a servant’s heart and rates higher in the area of “pastor” on a spiritual gifts test than I do. For instance, if she receives a gift from someone, she’ll write a thank-you note and send it before “Thank-you” even enters my mind. And then I begin to think, So now what? Is the other person supposed to write a thank-you note back to my wife acknowledging the thank-you note she sent thanking her for the gift? When does it all end? And aren’t thank-you notes, like Mother’s Day cards, just another media invention used to make someone lots of money? When I bring this up to Barbara, she gives me THAT look again.

Everybody has a part to play in God’s Church, but nobody, especially the pastor, is required to play every part. I encourage you to acknowledge your gifts, admit your limitations, and focus on your strengths. When I acknowledged my gift was to teach the word, not pastor a church, I gave up on the idea of trying to be a pastor in the traditional sense of the word. And what a relief it was when I learned to say “no” to those areas that were not my gifts. “But,” some have argued to my face, “You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.” This is true, but God did not strengthen me to be a children’s pastor, throw a ninety-five mile an hour fastball, invent a cure for cancer or write a symphony like Mozart. He DID strengthen me to have faith (Rom. 12:3), love and take care of my family (1 Tim. 3:4-5; 5:8) , consider others better than myself (Phil. 2:3-4), and teach the Word (Rom. 12:7). Holiness is not being an expert at everything you put your mind to; it is being truthful and transparent with who you are while not trying to be something you are not. Furthermore, I’m discovering that transparency and holiness is a gift of getting older, because pride and the need to prove myself successful isn’t the precious commodity it once was.

The Joy And Pain Of Community Living

Posted by Jim Thornber on November 16, 2008
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion. Tagged: , , . 1 Comment

The following is an excerpt from my book Taking Off My Comfortable Clothes. The chapter is called Living together alone (Community)

Living with twenty or so people on three hundred acres of land in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas can actually feel more crowded than living in Southern California.

While California may seem crowded with its 37 million people, like many populous areas it can also be a lonely place to live. A multitude of neighbors does not mean there are plenty of intimate relationships taking place. I may wave at my neighbors when I seen them, but that does not necessarily mean I know them much beyond their first name.

However, living in a small monastic community means I cannot just wave at my brothers and sisters as I go about my assigned duties; I also eat, pray, work, travel, study, minister and worship with the same twenty people every day. Furthermore, just when I thought I could hide something from my fellow community members, I recall that the chapel service on Friday morning will include a time for confession. Great. Not only did someone see me chuck the uncooperative weed-eater twenty feet out the garage door, now I get to recount the scene and ask forgiveness before the entire community (more on that in a later chapter).

Living in a community is a bit like being part of a large family; you may get to run to your bedroom (or cell or hermitage) for a little time of peace and quiet, but eventually you must come out and, for better or worse, face the rest of the family. But this is a two way street-they must eventually come out and face you.

When you live alone in your hermitage-or house, apartment, loft or even Malibu summer home-it is easy to tell yourself that you are nice person with an abundance of redeeming qualities. You can sit alone, recall all your fine attributes and conclude that you are a good and righteous person, easy to get along with and full of patience, love and joy in the Holy Spirit. But the moment you step out your door and encounter another person, you soon discover whether your own press releases regarding your advanced spiritual maturity are real or imagined. For me, they were mostly imagined.

Monks At The Movies

One time a majority of the community was on a ministry trip to Des Moines (which means, appropriately, “Of The Monks”). We were staying in the home of one of the domestic members, spreading ourselves out all over the home just to find places to sleep. For some reason, the brothers mostly found themselves sleeping in the open places like the living room-this is where Brother Tim and I found ourselves-while the sisters had a more private quarters in the basement. I preferred the living room.

One of the carnal joys of a ministry trip was the opportunity to watch television. Although the Little Portion had a television, we didn’t get any channels and could only watch videos. But when we went to somebody’s home, we got to see what was REALLY going on in the world. We might even watch up to an hour or two of television a day!

One evening, four of us were up stairs watching television. A movie came on that only Sister B. had seen. Sister M. C. wanted to know what it was about, and Sister Betsy gave away the entire plot, including the ending. I HATE it when people do that. Filmmakers (usually) produce a movie intending it to be watched as a whole, telling a story that is deliberately trying to lead you somewhere. I believe the journey is part of the joy of watching a movie. With this attitude in mind, I quite naturally, in my most patient, humble and gently monastic way, went ballistic, telling Sister Betsy just what I thought of her. Sister Betsy’s reaction, quite naturally, was to leave the room in tears.

This was not my finest moment.

However, apologies are offered quickly in a community where people are intentional about making Jesus the Lord of every part of their lives-even over their movie watching habits and preferences.  Forgiveness comes quickly also, because we know we are on the same team, with the same vision, goals and desires. We know that we cannot function as a part of Christ’s body if bitterness, anger and unforgiveness continue to haunt our relationships.

Like anybody else, we were quick to show our selfish sides, but we were also quick to apologize and let forgiveness reign. We knew if there were any tension between members of the ministry team, everyone else on the team would notice it, even if we tried to hide it. Therefore, we were quick to confront the issues that bothered us, honest about our apologies, and practiced letting an offending word or action quickly receive our forgiveness. It is a wonderful thing to walk in the lightness and freedom of a community of believers where love, acceptance and forgiveness reign free and true. Unfortunately, I’ve never found this level of intense love and forgiveness in any local church or parachurch organization I’ve been associated with. That is not to say it doesn’t exist, but that I haven’t seen it. I feel privileged to have been a part of a community like this, for it showed me how the body of Christ could be when Christ is truly at the head.

Scriptures That Bother Me — 2 Kings 5

Posted by Jim Thornber on October 29, 2008
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Pride, Religion, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

“Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand.” — Mark Twain

The Healing of Namaan

When I read this passage, two things stand out and cause me pause. First, why is an entire chapter in the Old Testament given over to this one character and his leprosy? And two, why am I so familiar with just how Naaman must have felt when he was told to wash in the Jordan River?

Regarding the first question – I haven’t a clue as to why an entire chapter is given over to this story. I’m just sharing my agony over this passage with you, the reader. I don’t claim to have all the answers. Maybe God just thought it was important. If you know, send me an e-mail.

But I am truly bothered by Naaman’s response to Elijah’s directives to go wash in the Jordan. Here is a highly regarded warrior whom the king of Aram knew to be a great man, “because through him the LORD had given victory to Aram” (vs. 1). Aram, by the way, is also known as Syria, whose capital is Damascus. But I digress.

Here’s the picture: Naaman is a great warrior, esteemed by all, adored by the masses and rich enough to own a slave girl imported from Israel. His only problem seemed to be a small case of leprosy, which is a bit more distressing that acute acne by not as bad terminal cancer.

So Naaman is a great warrior and respected by his peers. He’s a bit like me, if you will – a warrior with words and respected by the dozens of people who know I like to write.

Now comes the crisis (leprosy, or cancer or something tragic in my life like another rejection letter from an editor) and the solution (go bathe in a muddy stream, or bow to God or apologize to your family for being selfish or something equally mundane). “Wait!” I want to shout, “I’m a SOMEBODY. Elijah, you can’t be serious. Don’t just send out your maid and tell me to do something mundane. I’m special and I want special treatment!”

That’s it, right? I know I’m somebody special and I want the world to acknowledge it. But God isn’t interested in my feelings; He’s interested in my obedience (Have you noticed how Scripture is painfully lacking when it comes to God’s concern for our feelings?). And you know, perhaps if I were a tad quicker in my obedience, I’d be less popular during my times of disobedience. Do I really want an entire chapter in Scripture given over to one verse of compliments and twenty-six verses of me acting selfish and childish?

But I still can’t help but identify with Naaman. I still want my name to be called out by the prophet and given a spectacular assignment that will seal my name and fame among the amassed throng of admirers. Yeah, I know that sounds silly, but I also know that it strikes a chord with many of us. Don’t you know that the spectacular is a tool of the devil to get our focus off God? Remember, it was Satan who took Jesus to the highest point of the temple and said, “If you are the Son of God throw yourself down.” That would be a crowd-gatherer. But that wasn’t what Jesus was about. Instead, Jesus was so un-spectacular that at the end of His life there were only about a half-dozen folk who even made it to His execution.

So here is the lesson: Beware of trading the simple life of obedience for the tug and temptation of the spectacular at the expense of your soul. Jesus told the devil what he could do with his suggestions (see Matthew 4:7) to place pride before purpose, and perhaps you, and I, should learn to do the same. God may choose to do great things through me, but it will never be at my suggestion. God’s greatness will only be seen in my life when I am willing to bow my heart in humble submission to His directions. I must learn to decrease so that He may increase.

Entering the world of the blog

Posted by Jim Thornber on October 27, 2008
Posted in: Uncategorized. Tagged: , . 5 Comments

After much discussion and hand-wringing, I finally decided to enter the world of the blog. Two items helped me decide to do this. One, my agent was adamant about my blogging parts of my yet-to-be released book Taking Off My Comfortable Clothes. For those of you who know me, and those who don’t, the book is about my time as the world’s only Assemblies of God monk. After spending four years with the Brothers and Sisters of Charity, a Catholic-based ecumenical monastic community in Eureka Springs, AR (founded by singer/songwriter John Michael Talbot), I finally put some of the lessons I learned into book format. I’ll keep you informed on its (prayerfully) soon to be announced publishing date.

The second reason I’m blogging is because I will enjoy the outlet for my writing, the give and take of comments, and the new people I’ll meet. Besides posting parts of my book, I’ll also include essays I’m writing on Scriptures that bother me.

I took this idea from Mark Twain, who said,   “Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand.” I’m writing about the Scriptures that bother me because I understand them. There is no question in my mind what they are saying, and because they are so crystal clear they leave me no wiggle room to feign the reply, “Oh, is that what God meant…?” Yeah, ‘ol Sammy understood just like Jim understands. And when you know the truth, it demands a response, conveys a responsibility, and commands us to change.

Personally, I’m not too bothered by change. What really bothers me are those people and things that need to change but have become so entrenched in their own illusions that they have nothing left but to worship themselves. (Okay, now I am bothered because I think I just wrote the opening lines of my biography…)  If that bothers you too, then I welcome you, the reader, to journey with me into the uncomfortable and soul-stirring realm of the known truth of God’s double-edged sWord.

I invite you to feel free to add comments, send this link to friends, or just ignore me completely.  And to any of you who have stayed with me this far, thank you.