I love the church. And the older I get, the more I value it. That affection is longstanding because I loved the church even as a child.

I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska, where my family had founded what became a large congregation. I was as at home in that church as I was in the house where I lived. The people there were like family. I was shaped by their stories and views of God.

My devotion to the church is deep and irrevocable. My soul rejoices when the whole family of God comes together to glorify our Lord—to “put God on display,” as J.I. Packer stated in this year’s commencement address. But there is another side to my view of the church. I am concerned, even frustrated, by some of what we do to each other in the name of church life—such as separating people by age, even during worship. Quoting Packer again, this happens because we are “pygmies and invalids” when it comes to seeing God’s greatness and holiness. We fall short of God’s desire and are unaware how truly broken we are as we exchange our biblical identity for cultural relevancy.

Some evangelical churches segregate church life and systematize ministries in ways that now seem normative, virtually eliminating the need for careful biblical critique. Does Scripture say anything about how God’s people should gather? If so, is it relevant for today? I wonder if in our desire to be “developmentally appropriate;” we evangelicals miss some of our Father’s intent for us, His church. Because I teach courses concerning church ministries, I’m able to focus on these issues.

Two years ago the department in which I teach changed its name from Christian Education and Ministry to Christian Formation and Ministry. The more I reflect on this change, the more significant it becomes. The word educate comes with expectations familiar to most: classroom, teacher, students, content. The word formation is different—less familiar, fewer assumptions. It requires pro ass in shaping product. It’s more like “May Christ be formed in you” (Gal. 4:19) rather than “Let me teach you about God.” I’m challenged to alter courses in light of this change.

I must read Scripture with formation in mind—my own, first of all, and then that of others. The opening verses of 1 John excite me. As Eugene Peterson translates them,”… [We] heard it with our own ears, saw it with our own eyes, verified it with our own hands. The Word of Life appeared right before our eyes; we saw it happen! …We saw it, we heard it, and now we’re telling you so you can experience it along with us, this experience of communion with the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ.” Our faith has a sensory dimension—one that can be experienced.

This calls for encounters with the living God. Is that a formational task or an educational one or both? In what ways can the ministries of the local church enable encounters with God through the Holy Spirit? Where do North American churches look for ministry models? Are there principles in Scripture that we overlook or disregard that we should recover, so our faith may be passed on more effectively to the next generation? Because I too am a pygmy and invalid, I humbly acknowledge my need for our Lord’s grace and mercy as I explore ways in which formation happens.

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Scottie May has been an Assistant Professor in the Department of Christian Formation and Ministry since 1998. She has a doctorate in education from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. Her primary research focuses on how children come to faith. Other areas of interest are the effectiveness of ministry learning environments, ways children encounter God, intergenerational worship, and the church as “the family of God.” Scottie has three children and six grandchildren. She and her husband, Robert, live in West Chicago, Illinois. (The above statement was included at the time of publication — Wheaton Magazine, Summer 2001).

The Energizer Bunny advertising campaign proved to be a success partly for its novelty and also for its implication that if we use the correct battery, we would never run out of energy to operate small appliances.

But the actual never-ending feature of our daily lives is the reality that our resources are limited. We do not have enough time, money, energy, or talent to achieve all that we desire. Some of the most nettlesome ethical choices facing our world are the result of limited resources, such as the availability of oil, medical aid, and fertile land; or the supply of courage, wisdom, and trust.

Acknowledging the limitation of resources is not difficult for the believer, for we know that our world—and its provisions—is under the temporary rule of death. In death we face the ultimate threat to our plans and dreams. We struggle with limitations because death has stained every facet of creation.

With Paul we may cry, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7:24). Or with Moses we may pray, “Relent, O Lord! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants” (Ps. 90:13). In Christ alone we find the promise of life outside the rule of death. After that poignant question in Romans 7:24, Paul describes how Christ sets us “free from the law of sin and death” (8:2). Our new life is a reception of life indeed, the freedom to live with the resources not of this deathly world, but of God Himself.

Moses answers his own urgent plea by recognizing that God is the source of abundance: “Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days” (Ps. 90:14). God’s love does not operate on the principle of scarcity, and the rule of death does not limit the resources of His charity.

Only if we understand the abundance of God’s grace can we begin to understand Christ’s remarkable instruction that we forgive not just seven times, but seventy times seven. We ought to treat others not out of our limited resources, as if our capacity to forgive others can be depleted, but out of God’s abundance, through which we can forgive over and over and over again. Only a life lived within God’s abundance can accomplish Christ’s instructions: “And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you” (Mt. 5:40-42). This is the practice of abundant life, not the rule of death.

Because of God’s abundance, Christians are to be known for their giving, their caring, and their hospitality. Oxford theologian Oliver O’Donovan notes the provocative nature of Christian generosity: “An extravagant, unmeasured goodness, corresponding to God’s own providential care, defies the logic of public expectation” (The Desire of the Nations 109). We ought to defy the logic of this world, and lives rooted in God’s giving are capable of just that.

Through my research on communication practices, I now believe that our ways of talking and listening can be rooted in life or in death. Are we cynical, measuring the talk of others according to the waste of limited resources, or are we charitable, looking with grace upon the efforts of others? Do we persuade others by appealing to their fears of loss or their hopes of gaining scarce rewards? Or do we urge others to lives of trust, charity, and generosity?

We still must struggle in a world ruled by death. Perhaps, the greatest benefit of God’s abundance is the never-depleted supply of wisdom He gives us to see our difficult decisions from the vantage point of abundant life, We are free to rest in a limitless God.

Dr. Kenneth R. Chase, Associate Professor of Communications, came to Wheaton in 1994 after teaching full-time at Wabash College, and in other various capacities at Biola University, Illinois Wesleyan, and University of Illinois. His research in ethics, public address, and popular culture will be invaluable as he assumes additional responsibilities in the fall as director of Wheaton’s Center for Applied Christian Ethics. He and his wife, Linda, live in Wheaton with their three children. (The above statement was included at the time of publication — Wheaton Magazine, Spring 1998)

The delicacy and sweetness of fragrance is enticing. Fragrant scents, whether floating in the breezes of meadows or crushed into oil or other compounds, add, through their signature aromas, variety and fascination to our lives. A summer walk through flowers in high meadows, a stroll through a pine forest in early winter, or a visit to a greenhouse of orchids shortly before Easter can spark our imaginations and stir waves of nostalgia. In contrast to those pleasant fragrances, however, there are also unpleasant odors whose characteristic aura we find distinctly offensive.

Substances that emit fragrance played an important role in the Old Testament sacrificial rites. The sacrifice was the central feature of worship for God’s people as they approached His holy presence. As we read Old Testament scriptures, we see the call for daily sacrificial offerings in order to atone for sin (Lev. 1:4). The sacrificial animal was slaughtered, and its blood atoned for sin.The aroma of the sacrifices that were consumed on the altar was a sweet smell, pleasing to the Lord (Lev. 1:9,13,17 NIV).

These paradoxical images of destruction and acceptability in God’s sight appear in the most compelling prophetic passage that points to the atoning work of the Great Sacrifice, Jesus Christ. “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:4-6). “For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isa. 53:12).

These Old Testament institutions and the prophetic voice all found their complete fulfillment in the atoning work of Christ. He was both sacrifice and high priest (Hebrews 9). Further, His resurrection means that the finality of death has been removed from us and we can anticipate living forever with Him. It is the culmination of the glory of Christian hope, and as adoptees, we have been promised inheritance, which is beyond our greatest imagination—we will share in the glory of Christ forever—a sweet fragrance indeed.

I am intrigued by the Apostle Paul’s use of this imagery in 2 Corinthians 2:14- 16: “Thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life.”

God has prepared us to be vessels through which the fragrance of Christ, notably the knowledge of Him, is spread. Just as fragrance diffuses from its source with differing degrees of intensity, so also we, each as a unique creation of God, are called to spread that precious fragrance in our own ways. The Lord Jesus shapes our beliefs, behavior, and character. Our confidence rests in Christ and the message of His transforming work, and, as a sweet savor, these are pervasive.

Paul points to the saved in Christ and then to those who are perishing. The fragrance that we bring in the gospel message is life-giving to the former but to the latter is a deadly smell. It is our challenge to make certain that we do not allow the subtle temptations of the world to pollute the savor but instead remain dedicated to serving with justice, mercy, and humility.

The following statement was included at the time of publication (Wheaton Magazine, Winter 2001)

Dr. Dorothy F. Chappell, Dean of Natural and Social Sciences, is deeply committed to Christian higher education and served on the faculty of Wheaton College for 17 years. Following a five-and-a-half-year term as academic dean at Gordon College and serving on Wheaton’s Board of Trustees, she is now in her second year of full-time administrative duties at Wheaton. She has received awards for research and teaching and has interests in the biochemistry and ultrastructure of green algae; ethics; and Christian faculty scholarship.

The December, 1961, Wheaton Alumni magazine features on its cover a photo of President and Mrs. Edman sitting cozily before a blazing holiday hearth, probably at their home, Westgate.

(Or perhaps it is a cold fireplace with a lantern placed within, since there does not seem to be an actual fire.)

The caption reads, “We asked ‘Prexy’ and ‘Friend Wife’ to carry to you our greetings for Christmas and the New Year ‘For Christ and His kingdom.'”