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- Herausgeber: IVP Formatio
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
Accept pastor Joshua Choonmin Kang's invitation to walk slowly, paying attention to God's work in you and around you, to walk intentionally, using spiritual disciplines to develop Christlike character, and to walk purposefully, experiencing deeper grace and vision. In this book you'll encounter fifty-two brief readings, ideal for weekly sabbath reflection or daily devotional use. They point to the path of peace in the midst of life's turmoil, to hope in the midst of brokenness, where you'll become "like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither" (Ps 1:3). It's the path to becoming deep-rooted in Christ.
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Seitenzahl: 165
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Formatio books from InterVarsity Press follow the rich tradition of the church in the journey of spiritual formation. These books are not merely about being informed, but about being transformed by Christ and conformed to his image. Formatio stands in InterVarsity Press’s evangelical publishing tradition by integrating God’s Word with spiritual practice and by prompting readers to move from inward change to outward witness. InterVarsity Press uses the chambered nautilus for Formatio, a symbol of spiritual formation because of its continual spiral journey outward as it moves from its center. We believe that each of us is made with a deep desire to be in God’s presence. Formatio books help us to fulfill our deepest desires and to become our true selves in light of God’s grace.
To my praying mother
Contents
Foreword
I encountered Joshua Choonmin Kang the person before I encountered Joshua Choonmin Kang the writer. In fact, our first meeting was not dependent on words at all. I had heard about Pastor Kang and the high regard in which he was held in both Korea and the Korean diaspora. It was almost a reverence at his spiritual depth and quiet authority.
On a Sunday night I was to speak to the congregation he is pastor of, but I went unannounced, alone and without a translator, to the daybreak service beginning at 5:20. My hope was to go beyond the Korean words in order to hear where the words came from.
Please understand, I was not looking to see if the words came from the heart as well as the head, a good thing to be sure. But I was seeking a deeper, more profound source—I was looking to see if this was a person who nurtured the heart before God. Believe me, I was not disappointed. Indeed, I was moved beyond my ability to express.
The church, Oriental Mission Church, is crammed into “Koreatown,” one of the neighborhoods in the middle of Los Angeles. More than a thousand folk pack into each of the three Sunday services, stretching the facilities beyond their limit.
That Sunday morning I saw three things, things that in all my travels I almost never find in one person. I saw a man who had soaked himself in prayer and drenched himself in Scripture, and I saw a man who had a genuine pastoral care for his people. By “genuine pastoral care” I mean a pastor who stood before God on behalf of his people, who stood with them in their suffering and who stood committed to their soul growth. These are the things I saw that morning.
Since then my experience of Pastor Kang has been confirmed, even doubled and tripled. What a joy to know a person of such deep character formation, of such quiet authority, of such intense holiness! Whenever I am with him—praying and sharing in the hush of his study, walking and talking with him along the bustling streets of Koreatown or eating and laughing with him at Korean restaurants without number—I feel a compassionate strength and gentle authority flowing from him. Ministering the Word of life, he and I together, in Korean settings throughout the United States (and in Korea itself) is a privilege and an honor.
And now I meet Joshua Choonmin Kang through his writings. Deep-Rooted in Christ, the first of his two dozen books to appear in English translation, is a treasure. It reminds me of the gentle spiritual direction of the classic spiritual writers. On the Protestant side, the writings of Andrew Murray, A. W. Tozer and Oswald Chambers. On the Catholic side, François Fénelon and Thomas à Kempis and the letters of Francis of Assisi to Sister Clare. That is to say, Pastor Kang’s book is spiritual wisdom literature of the highest order.
Deep-Rooted in Christ speaks to the heart. It urges, gently but ever so persistently, that our hearts should always be turning, turning into the light of Christ, turning toward the Lover of our souls, turning into the Way and the Truth and the Life—“till by turning, turning we come round right.” At the same time this book warms the heart, constantly drawing and encouraging, never pushing and condemning.
Deep-Rooted in Christ is, in one sense, a Korean’s version of my Celebration of Discipline. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that Celebration is an English version of Deep-Rooted in Christ, for the Korean original antedates my own writings. Whichever, the themes of both books echo each another. It is moving to witness the common stress on spiritual disciplines that are well recognized worldwide, disciplines of solitude and simplicity and service and meditation and study and prayer and worship and so many more—as the means of God’s grace for the transformation of the human personality.
In addition, Pastor Kang’s counsels are so sane, so practical. Listen to this simple counsel for those who carry on a lonely vigil in the Sahara of the heart—“A waiting moment will never be a wasted moment.” Or consider these wise words of direction to those seeking to lead in the Christian community—“Christian leadership rises from bended knees, tearful eyes and broken hearts.”
I began the year 1996 with an extended meditation on John 11, the story of the resurrection of Lazarus. In May of that year I traveled to Korea, still meditating daily on John 11. Many and varied were my experiences in that country; intensive times on prayer mountains and special meetings along the demilitarized zone and myriad morning prayer meetings. Toward the end of my trip a small congregation gave me a parting gift of twenty-four longstemmed roses.
The next morning, back in Colorado, I sat down to read and to ponder once again John 11, the story of the resurrection of Lazarus. The roses of yesterday lay on the coffee table, already beginning to wilt. Then the debar Yahweh, the word of the Lord, came to me indicating that the church is like those roses—some still blooming but others wilting because their stems had been severed from their roots.
At the immense sadness of this reality I began to weep, for I knew it to be so. But then I heard a word of hope, a word of resurrection: “I will raise my church, but first the root system must be reestablished.” It was only then that I understood.
All that I had been learning among these good people of Korea about a life of prayer is the root system. What we desperately need today is not prayer experiences that we can turn on or off at will like a faucet, but prayer as a constant-flowing life. Then God made it unmistakably clear to me that he has freely chosen to use the peoples of Korea to teach the worldwide Christian family about how to develop the root system of prayer. I speak here of both Korea of the south and Korea of the north. (Though the north has yet to experience God’s visitation, it will, in God’s time and in God’s way.)
The urgent need for us in the West is humility of heart to listen and to learn. And if we are willing to listen and to learn, our Korean brothers and sisters will teach us about a life of prayer that is abundant indeed. Deep-Rooted in Christ is just such a teaching. May we listen and learn!
Richard Foster
Preface
I live in two worlds, the East and the West. I communicate in two languages, the one Eastern, the other Western. I also have two streams of spirituality flowing within me, Asian and American. I was born and raised in Korea and have lived in the United States for the last twenty-five years.
As a Korean-American I think in two ways. Sometimes I see a thing as a whole, and sometimes I see only a detail. When I see a tree, yes, I see the whole tree, but sometimes I think only about its roots. When I greet the snow in winter, I see the seed of spring enveloped in it. When I embrace pain, I see, or try to see, the seed of joy that is wrapped inside the pain. When I’m confronted with the problems of life, I tend to look within for the seeds of a solution.
On the one hand, I’m Asian, and my spirituality comes from the East. When I eat fruit, I think about its seed. When I look at the fruit seed, I see a harvest of fruit. When I think of an oak, I see an acorn. When I look at an acorn, I see a forest of oaks. When a pinecone falls, the universe tumbles. When a leaf quivers, the universe trembles. When dew drops, the planets plummet.
On the other hand, I’m American, and my spirituality comes from the West. I’ve learned the faith and culture of the American people. I’ve been privileged to meet well-disciplined spiritual leaders and learned much from them about deep spirituality. At the same time, I’ve learned many creative and practical principles of ministry from the fastest-growing churches.
Yes, I love the abstract, and yet I love the concrete. I’ve learned not only the know-why (principles) but also the know-how (methodologies). I’ve acquired the spirituality that fulfills my inner life and the leadership that expands my church life.
While living in two worlds that are often at odds with each other, I’ve learned how to bring harmony out of conflict. Inevitably, the meeting point, the balancing point, the unifying point is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the language in which the East and the West converse. He is the Lord of all things. He is the Creator of the heavens and earth with his Word. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
His love, mercy, kindness, peace, reconciliation and forgiveness are the parts of speech in the common language. In him anyone can love and everyone can communicate.
Yes, Jesus is the language. He is the Word, and yet his language has no words; there is no need for words. If this can indeed be said, then it’s the language of silence. Silence is the password that gains entrance to the holy place wherein we worship God in our inner world. And who greets us at the gate? It is Jesus himself.
Deep things are good. Deep taste, deep thought, deep writings, deep words, deep looks, deep love. Often depth is hidden from our sight. However, we feel it, we know it, we reveal it to the rest of the world by the sort of life we lead. As Richard Foster says in his book Celebration of Discipline, “The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but deep people.”
Needless to say, we don’t start our spiritual lives as deep people. First we have to choose this course of action, and then to grow in the virtue we have to work hard. That doesn’t mean we need to be serious all the time. Deep brightness, deep cleanliness, deep refreshment and a bright but deep smile—these are all good things, the sort of things that illumine the spiritual life.
With this book I’d like to invite you into the deeper life that is rooted in Jesus. Pursuing depth takes little enough effort, but it will eventually lead us to a very genuine and very deep inner world.
It is my prayer that as you read this book you will become a person who pursues character before success, integrity before popularity, maturity before growth and service to others before accomplishment in your own life.
Let us go before the Lord Jesus who is the root of humankind. Let us be one in Jesus with his language. Let us accept his lovely invitation. Let us go deeper into the spiritual inner world together.
Part OneBeginning
1Begin with Emptiness
Most of us long for transformation but are afraid to change. Yet spiritual formation begins when we empty our lives. Our spiritual formation begins not with fullness but with emptiness. That’s the way we follow Jesus, who “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (Philippians 2:7).
Even Jesus had to make space for God’s action in his life. He had a privileged status, but he relinquished it; he let it go. It’s the same with us. We have to empty ourselves. Only then can we begin to be filled up with the blessings of God.
What do we mean by emptying ourselves? How can we connect with this need to give ourselves away?
Let’s look first at the figure of Abraham. Abraham began by departing, by leaving home in response to God’s command. His departure wasn’t just a matter of location. He had to abandon whatever he knew best: his safe haven, his comfort zone.
This is what God is asking us to do as well. He wants us to let go of our old country and enter into the new life he has in mind for us. But abandoning our comfort zones can be terrifying. When we let go of the world we know, we’re going to experience pain, suffering and fear.
Many of us who are Korean know what it is like to leave a homeland. We know our own stories and those of others, describing what it is to leave the place we knew best. What a land journey we’ve made! But our spiritual journey isn’t only geographic. It’s much more than traveling in time and space.
Departing isn’t only a matter of location. It’s not just leaving one place to go to another. The letting go takes place in the spiritual realm. That is where the deeper journey is made. This deeper journey is a life-passage of abandonment: letting go of our old ways to find the new; emptying ourselves as preparation for receiving the grace God will pour into us.
Abraham can encourage us when we see how he trusted in God.
He was ordered to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice. Isaac was the promise of God. He was God’s promise fulfilled. And so he became Abraham’s love, his passion. But it seems that his love for his son took over his heart, taking precedence over his love for God. So God’s command to sacrifice the boy was really a call for Abraham to refocus his heart on God.
Abraham had to empty his heart. He had filled his heart with something other than God. And when he did so, he made room, room for God’s abundant blessing. He became a friend of God through surrender.
Abraham is the first biblical story about relinquishment, but certainly not the last. He tasted what God the Father would experience when he allowed his Son to die on the cross. The Father’s heart was filled with the Son he loved, but he emptied his heart for our sakes to gain the salvation of humankind.
In this same way many great leaders became God’s servants. They emptied themselves, abandoned themselves, filled their hearts with nothing but God. And when they departed for the next world, we found the great imprints they left in this world.
Recall the story of Moses. He relinquished his right to be the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, and what happened? He became a prophet of God.
Remember the apostles who followed Jesus. “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people” (Matthew 4:19). And what did they do? They abandoned their boats and their fathers’ ways. And what did they gain? The kingdom of heaven.
We too must open our hands and let go. For the sake of eternal blessings, we must give up earthly things.
The great missionary Jim Elliot said it well. People who exchange what they can’t keep to gain what they can’t lose are no fools.
Are our hands clasped too tightly around what we already have? Will we never receive the great things God wants to give us?
To catch the blessings God tosses our way every day, we simply have to open our hands, stretch out our arms.
2Let Yourself Be Filled
Eastern meditation emphasizes abandonment. Such meditation has total relinquishment as its aim. To the Asian mystics the highest stage of enlightenment is complete self-emptying.
For Christians, however, emptying isn’t the end of the story; it’s just the beginning. Jesus emptied himself so he could be filled to overflowing. As John said in his Gospel, “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
The grace and truth the Father poured into Jesus flowed into other lives as well. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Colossians, “In him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Colossians 1:19).
What can we learn from this? Notice how Jesus shared his gifts with others. His life was a channel of grace from the Father, a life poured out in service and love. What he received from his Father he gave away. And his disciples did the same. They let the blessings of Jesus flow through their lives to nourish the whole community. And the result was wonderful to behold. More and more became disciples. Communities of Christians grew in size and number. In our own day discipleship grows in the same way.
True ministry begins not with giving but with receiving. We need to be filled up before we have anything to give to others. John told us that “God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him” (Colossians 1:19NIV). We should be pleased to be channels for God’s truth and grace.
