patchwork romantic

Dawn

2011-12-07T14:23:00.000-08:00

"But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.

[2] The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
on them has light shone.
[3] You have multiplied the nation;
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
[4] For the yoke of his burden,
and the staff for his shoulder,
the rod of his oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
[5] For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
and every garment rolled in blood
will be burned as fuel for the fire.
[6] For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
[7] Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this."

(Isaiah 9:1-7 ESV)

Advent is a season of tension – of waiting and anticipation. A season defined by darkness, but by that sort of darkness that lives in a state of tangible expectation of the light that is about to break forth.

This time of year in New England, we know a lot about darkness. These days, I wake up, get dressed, walk the dog and drive to work in the dark. It’s dark again before I get in the truck to come back home again. As challenging as this routine can be – facing the alarm, getting out of bed and preparing for the day in total darkness – there’s a certain blessing in it. Namely, that I get to be awake to witness that moment each day when the darkness of night gives way to the dawning of a new day.

On my way to work each morning for the past few weeks, as I head over the General Sullivan Bridge and look east, I can actually watch the turning of the tide. The horizon just quietly begins to glow, and the darkness that had been there just moments before is replaced, in what seems like an instant, with the glorious colors of the breaking dawn. By the time I park my truck at the job site, the darkness of the previous night is all but a memory: it’s a new day.

This is what the prophet Isaiah describes here in chapter 9: this passage that Jesus, in the Gospel of Matthew, is recorded as quoting at the very outset of his earthly ministry. It’s a story of hope and expectation. Of the promise that, no matter how dark and broken and lost things may appear in our world today, the dawn is indeed coming. Isaiah speaks of the waiting of Israel for the birth of their Messiah. In Advent, we remember and join Israel as we wait in expectation for our saviors’ great and glorious return… That true and final dawning of Heavens’ new day.

In the season of Advent, we remember that we are a people who are to be defined by Hope, and the knowledge that, no matter the present darkness, the tide has already turned. The new day of Jesus is already accomplished, and just over the horizon. And very soon, the struggle and heartache and tension will be but distant memories as we find ourselves caught up in the eternal embrace of Jesus, our savior and our God.

"Dogmatics" Reflection: Part 3 - Speaking of the Church

2011-04-27T12:54:00.000-07:00

“We ought not to be concerned on account of this impossibility, for on its own account we are relieved of all responsibility. What ought to concern us is that again and again we so obstinately tend to look to ourselves instead of to Jesus Christ. In Him everything has happened for and to the Church, that it might be true that its proclamation is the Word of God, And it can only be a question of our not resisting the Holy Spirit who says just this to us, and who will uphold us in all circumstances through all the actual human accomplishment or failure which is visible in the Church. It is only when we hold fast to this truth that we can survey this sphere and exist in it with neither frivolity nor despair, and therefore critically, in readiness both to decide and to act. That there is a Word of God for the Church… and again that beneath the Word there is a genuine human authority and freedom in the Church: that is something that must first and foremost be apprehended, accepted and reckoned with. This… is not to be understood abstractly… but concretely: as the Church for which Jesus Christ has provided we are now able to struggle manfully against the great human impossibility."

– K. Barth, “Church Dogmatics” I.2, p. 749

It is here, as the conversation of “Dogmatics” turns the Word of God as it comes to be made manifest in the life, work, and proclamation of the Church, that Barth and I – I believe – come to understand one another in a new way. We’ve talked about the nature of revelation: we’ve spoken of God’s work in history and of Jesus - we’ve spoken of prophets and apostles and of scripture. But as a pastor and preacher it is here, as we begin to discuss the manner of God’s speaking in and through the Church, that the force and scope of Barth’s logical consistency throughout our conversation comes more clearly into focus. It is here that his Christ-centeredness shines through in the concreteness of application. It is here that Barth’s great Christocentric vision is offered as the rightful foundation of – and therefore, as a great gift to – the Church in the midst of its present-ness and locality in our own day and age.

Yes, for all the mind-bending complexity of Barth’s dogmatic logic and rhetoric, it is here, as we discuss the Church, that Karl and I begin, perhaps, to see eye – to – eye. Because, for all the undeniable humanness and brokenness and imperfection in the Church inasmuch as it exists as an all too human enterprise – a brokenness with which, unfortunately, Barth would be all too familiar as a first hand witness of the acquiescence of the German church to the whims of the Nazi state – Barth refuses to allow this perspective to be that which defines the truth of the Church and its essential nature. His Christocentrism simply will not allow him to do so. The strength, clarity and consistency of his theology will suffer no absolutizing of any reality or perspective apart from that self-revelation of God to mankind which culminates in the person/event of Jesus Christ. It is in Jesus that we find the God who is free for us, and through Jesus that we are given the gift of our own freedom for God. It is in God’s own communication of Himself in Jesus that humanity is given the means – the vocabulary and voice - by which we are able to engage in the impossible calling of the Church to the work of the proclamation of this God in and to our world at all. Because the revelation of God is and can only remain His SELF revelation, the Church which is called into existence in and through Jesus Christ for the purpose of God’s continuing witness and revelation in the world can never be defined at all by the varying degrees to which our human efforts fall nearer to or farther from the fulfillment of this calling according to our own resources or on our own terms. For all the inescapability its humanity – its incarnational essence - the Church exists in, through, and for Christ, and its reality is therefore rooted in Christ in such a way that we can only speak of the Church constructively after apprehending its genuine nature as defined, not by our humanness – but by the will, vision, purposes and accomplishments of Christ on her behalf. Simply put, Barth presses us to understand that we come to know the Church as she truly is not by gazing at our own humanity, or upon the flawed humanness of its present form, but by setting our eyes upon Jesus himself, the God by whom and for whom the Church exists at all.

Barth has no reluctance to speak about the humanity of the Church, and in doing so to speak of our responsibility in the midst of Gods call upon us as those within it. He is, however, eminently concerned that, before we turn our conversation to the human expression of the Church and to our role and responsibility within it, that we have first done the work of establishing the proper foundation for all of our speaking. Barth’s pen spills thousands upon thousands of words in the service of ensuring that we have landed upon the right set of presuppositions for our conversation. Namely, that when God is rightly spoken of by human beings, this is no less than a present miracle of the Holy Spirit breaking through the impossibility of human apprehension of the eternal God to enable God to speak His Word through the vehicle of human proclamation which constitutes the call - the very “raison d’etre” - of the Church. And furthermore, that every purpose and work of the Church centers on the event, the person and the completed work of Jesus Christ on behalf of the Church, such that, understood rightly, every work of the Church is really only to do after Christ, imperfectly and incompletely, that which He has already done in the world perfectly and completely. As such, our responsibility as the Church consists not in producing some new great work on God’s behalf, or accomplishing on our own that which Christ has heretofore left undone. It is, rather, to press ever more deeply into the realization of all that has already been accomplished for us; to apprehend the greatness of Christ’s salvation of us and to grasp ever more fully the breathtaking reality of God’s purposes for us as the Church: to look beyond and through the humanity of the Church to set our eyes upon who we truly are in Christ in such a way that our humanity is itself transformed more and more into His likeness and our lives brought into truer alignment with His great and glorious will. For Barth, this is the essence of human freedom: namely, the freedom of Humanity for God in and through Jesus Christ.

In the end, perhaps there is nothing newer, truer or deeper being spoken here than what the Apostle Paul himself said to the Philippian church in Phil. 3 in his own rebuttal of human self-confidence and achievement:

“If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more:5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless.
7 But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. 8 What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in[a] Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. 10 I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.
12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

This passage of scripture has always spoken to me in a profound way, and this is perhaps why I resonate with Barth here, as He holds to his Christ-centered understanding of reality to the point that every other perspective, claim and achievement is relativized by comparison. For me, this passage perhaps illuminates how Barth understands what it means to be the Church: a community of people, “pressing on (together) to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus has taken hold of (us)”.

In a world of suffocating consumerism, entitlement, and self-centeredness, there is something of the Gospel here that would be unto us life itself, if we could only come to take hold of it.

Reflections on Barth's 'Church Dogmatics' - Part 2

2011-03-29T17:58:00.000-07:00

“That the lame walk, that the blind see, that the dead are raised, that sinful and erring men as such speak the Word of God: that is the miracle of which we speak when we say that the Bible is the Word of God. To the comprehension of this statement there belongs, therefore, the recognition that its truth consists in the removing of an offence which is always and everywhere present, and that this takes place by the power of the Word of God. This offence, like the offence of the cross of Christ, is based on the fact that the Word of God became flesh and therefore to this very day has built and called and gathered and illumined and sanctified His Church amongst flesh. This offence is therefore grounded like the overcoming of it in the mercy of God. For that reason it must not be denied and for that reason, too, it must not be evaded. For that reason every time we turn the Word of God into an infallible Word of God we resist that which we ought never to resist, i.e., the truth of the miracle that here fallible men speak the Word of God in fallible human words – and we therefore resist the sovereignty of grace, in which God Himself became man in Christ, to glorify Himself in His humanity.”
– K. Barth, “Church Dogmatics” I.2, p. 529

It is here, at the point of Barth’s understanding of the revelation of God as we find it in scripture that we come, I believe, to the heart of the inescapable complexity within his overall theological paradigm. It is also here, consequently, that Barth makes himself anathema to those within conservative evangelicalism who – in some ways rightly, and in some ways perhaps over-defensively – suspect that Barth’s programme constitutes an undermining of and wholesale revolt against the inerrancy, infallibility, and hence the authority, of scripture as it has been traditionally understood. What is profoundly interesting about this rhetorical conversation is that in it, Barth would not at all understand his position as constituting a “lower” view of scripture at all; rather, quite the opposite. Barth would argue that an understanding of scripture as the Word of God which comprehends that work of revelation as occurring through, and in spite of, the thorough humanness and natural error of the authors of scripture, actually more fully appreciates the miraculous nature of God’s self-revelation through such means and therefore proves itself to be an indeed ‘higher’ view of this work of revelation than an understanding of scripture that requires that it’s human authors be miraculously (or ‘magically’) prevented the possibility of error, and hence in some way actually removed from their own humanness, in the act of writing.

To those of us coming to Barth from outside the theological streams of historical European, enlightenment, protestant liberalism, this line of thinking is so foreign that we are hard pressed not to simply dismiss it off hand as irredeemably and dangerously unorthodox. Indeed, I myself am not entirely sure what to do with it at this point. In the end, for those of us for whom the primacy of scripture is paramount, it may very well need to be dismissed as such. However, even if we are to dismiss this particular – and again I say, central – aspect of Barth’s thinking as erroneous, we must be ever careful not to do so simply off hand. The “greatness” of Barth as a theologian lies in the manner in which all thoughtful theology that follows him must do business with him; once encountered he cannot be circumvented, but must be conversed with. And, if in the end we determine that we disagree with Barth, we will be much better Christian thinkers for having had to wrestle with understanding precisely the point at which we have found it necessary to part ways with him.

It is clear to me that to understand Barth one must wrestle thoroughly with his doctrine of scripture, as disconcerting an experience as that may very well prove to be. And this is important for, if it is disconcerting, it is because Barth here seems to brush up against a profound and sublime understanding of God’s revelation; an understanding that takes the sovereignty, objectivity and miraculous grace of God’s self-revelation – and, specifically, the paradigmatic miraculous-ness of the incarnation of God - with utmost seriousness and genuine piety. It is not Barth’s intent to play fast and loose with the doctrine of scripture, but to deepen our appreciation of the miracle of revelation beyond mere parrot-talk of inerrancy and infallibility. And, as post-modernity comes of age around us, and with it the inherent skepticism of categorical assertions of this sort, those of us who hold to the primacy and authority of scripture must become fluent in these conversations of nuance and tension, or otherwise risk wholesale retreat from engagement with the seeking world around us.

At this moment, I am fairly certain that I cannot follow Barth here. I am further convinced, however, of the importance of learning how to understand and articulate why, exactly, that is.

Reflections on Barth's 'Church Dogmatics' - Part 1

2011-03-29T09:37:00.000-07:00

“The Word of God which is revealed in revelation declares that man is not actually free for God. This is already expressed by the fact that it is actually the Word or the Son of God who is revealed… God comes forward Himself to be man’s Saviour. This presupposes, and is already proclaimed as a truth of divine judgment, that man cannot be helped in any other way. It is not merely that man lacks something which he ought to be or to have or to be capable of in relation to God. He lacks everything… He is not only a sick man, but a dead one. It was because the world was lost that Christ was born. Therefore, from the very standpoint of Christ’s birth we have to say, in the very strictest sense, that the world was lost... Man is free in many respects, He possesses many of the possibilities common to all creatures… but he does not possess the possibility of communion with God.” – K. Barth, “Church Dogmatics” I.2, p. 257

Within this section of his Church Dogmatics, Barth expresses his conviction that the revelation of God – rather than being the mere subject of man’s interpretation and criticism – in reality both binds and defines humanity itself. It binds us in that the revelation of God comes to mankind in the incarnation – the Word made Flesh – and so, in assuming humanity itself, that Word of God becomes the unavoidable master of humanity. In that same move, the revelation of God also defines humanity by mankind’s role as a participant in the equation of that very revelation; the revelation OF God and FOR mankind. In the sovereignty of God and the inescapable authority of His revelation, we are seized by the divine Word of God. The paradox of this seizure lies in Barth’s understanding that it is in the binding of humanity to the Word of God by and through the Holy Spirit that we actually find that genuine freedom for which we have been created and to which we are called: the freedom of man for God.

This humiliation and negation of the ways in which we would seek to understand true human freedom apart from the work and word of God is a timely and compelling message. Left to our own devices, mankind is ever tempted to remain imprisoned by our own endlessly self-referential visions of freedom; supplanting our subjective, blurry, understanding of ultimate reality for the objective clarity of God’s illuminating self-revelation for us. We are all too pleased to subjugate Christ to be molded by the forces of own sense of self-knowledge and personal experience, rather than allowing our eyes to be opened – or lives surrendered - to the authority of Christ as judge and redeemer of all human knowledge and experience. Until we receive that revelation of the Holy Spirit which both captures and liberates us as people who are finally and ultimately free for God, we remain prisoners of our own miniscule possibilities. For Barth this is only overcome when, “… the self-enclosed uniqueness of man, who only has and knows his own freedom, is overarched and enclosed and finally relativised through the uniqueness of God and His freedom, the freedom in which He is resolved to have fellowship with this man and once and for all to be his Lord.” (p.260)

It is the incarnation of Christ, and the Holy Spirit that enables us grasp the significance of that incarnation, which causes the revelation of God to bear so inescapably upon Humanity: either drawing us into the light of God’s reconciliation in Christ or into the heat of God’s judgment through him, God has caused his self-revelation to come to bear upon the world. The ‘freedom’ of man apart from God is an illusion of the most subversive nature, imprisoning man in the emptiness of endless self-pursuit. Even when this self-freed man turns his eyes to consider God, it is as one entirely lacking the resources and power to do so: it is Babel - a ‘tower to Heaven’ so piteous that God must condescend to stoop down to even cast judgment upon it. Who will free us from this all-consuming idolatry of self?

For all the muddy waters that may consist of Barth’s writings when considered as an entire corpus of work, I find his understanding of the subjectivity of mankind in the face of the objectivity of God continually refreshing and compelling. In an age, much like that of Barth, where there is a tidal pressure in our western world to objectify personal human experience at the expense – or total ignorance – of God’s revelation of Himself to and for us in Christ, it remains a helpful and life-giving reminder. In the midst of our brokenness and futility, we cling to God’s Word-made-Flesh and to the words of the Apostle that: “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.” (2 Cor 5:18-19)

Engagement and Activism: Some Thoughts on "Faith Works" by Jim Wallis

2011-03-24T19:16:00.000-07:00

Overview:
In “Faith Works: How Faith-based Organizations are Changing Lives, Neighborhoods and America”, Jim Wallis presents an incarnational manifesto; a roadmap toward genuine, relevant engagement with the most pressing social issues in America today, written across the lives of many people of faith who have themselves – in one form or another – actively engaged with these issues over the course of the last several decades. With an aim to draw the reader up into his vision of a socially responsible faith, Wallis weaves his own musings together with the stories of those people with whom he has labored alongside over the course of his own journey of Faith and Justice, formulating, in the end, a “How To” manual of sorts for faithful social engagement. The volume is broken into five major ‘movements’ within the whole, each broken down into several chapters: “Engage Your World”, “Deepen Your Understanding”, “Learn Your Strategy”, “Guide Your Steps” and finally, “Think Movement”. Given the scope of this work as a whole, there is presently only space here to reflect but briefly upon two particular aspects of Wallis’ thought which happened to stand out to me.

Listening to Those Closest to the Problem:
Under the banner of “Deepen(ing) Your Understanding”, Wallis writes this in chapter 6:

“Whom do we listen to and whom do we trust? Trust is essential to listening. Why do we continue to believe the myth that poor people don’t know anything and can’t be trusted? Where do you really find more truth about a society – at the top or at the bottom? Are the best solutions conceived in the corridors of power or in the neighborhoods? Do the poor really have no assets or resources, as most people think? Listening to the poor opens up whole new possibilities, ideas, and directions in overcoming poverty… Many youth and community-serving programs have found… they couldn’t get off the ground until they began to truly trust and engage and involve the people they were trying to serve. Many good and decent programs didn’t become highly successful until the poor themselves were given a real hearing, and became involved in their leadership.” (Wallis, p.105-106)

Why do we believe the myth that poor people don’t know anything and can’t be trusted? We choose to believe this myth (whether explicitly or implicitly) because, most times it’s simply easier to be paternalistic than it is to actually develop meaningful partnership within the communities we wish to serve. It’s just easier; more orderly, less risky, less messy to plan and strategize and scheme from the relative safety of the places and conversations within which we ourselves are already familiar and comfortable. To invite those closest to the problem into the conversation is to risk the conversation being changed in ways for which we are not prepared. It is to risk have deeper issues exposed; issues that we may not feel prepared to deal with. It is to risk becoming exposed ourselves; our mixed motives and gaps in competence suddenly and uncomfortably laid bare.

Why do we choose to operate in this way? Because a program – if we’re honest - is pretty easy to run; to genuinely come alongside real people, on the other hand, poses a much greater challenge. When we stop to listen, we acknowledge that we are entering relationship with real people, not merely crafting a program to solve a logistical puzzle. This two-way street of relationship brings to light layers of complexity that simple logistics just don’t confront us with. Which is why, given our druthers, we often find ourselves more inclined to programs than to people. Unfortunately (or fortunately), sustainable and meaningful engagement with issues of injustice cannot be found in paternalistic, programmatic sterility of this sort. Rather, it requires that we commit ourselves to people, not merely programs, and to developing functional, relational partnerships within the communities we seek to serve. It requires that we listen, dialogue, and risk the vulnerability of being laid bare in our own sin and incompetence as we engage with the real complexities of human and systemic brokenness to seek God together for the way ahead.

There is nothing easy about this. But, it is the way of the incarnation, and it is the path to resurrection that comes by way of the Cross. It is the way of Jesus, and so we must follow him into this if we are to follow him at all.

Keeping it Human:
In reflecting upon his own journey, and the lessons learned along the way, Wallis continues with the following:

“In the struggle for social change, it is very important to take care of one another – our families, our kids and ourselves. The human dimension is so easy to lose and so crucial to maintain. It’s so important to stay grounded, not to get too grandiose or self-important, keep humble, and, above all, keep your sense of humor” (Wallis, p.268-269)

If paternalism and programmaticism are the traps we fall into when we forget the humanity of those whom we are seeking to serve, there is another breed of pitfall that comes about when we, along the way, forget our own. This is, in many ways, what makes ‘activism’ so unattractive to many of us: when the only people we know as ‘social activists’ seem to be young, hard-bitten leftists with an axe to grind, a lot of spare time and very few familial constraints or societal responsibilities outside those of ‘the cause’, it can become difficult to relate or to imagine how the rest of us might fit in to the picture except as the occasional, seemingly complacent, objects of activist’s vitriol. The effect is particularly numbing because, if history has taught us anything, it is that the journey of seeing God’s redemptive justice worked out within human society is a long, tiresome, frustrating one in which success can only ever be measured by degrees. This is no sprint, but a marathon in the truest, most Pauline sense, and one which often has more to do with what God is drawing out in us than with our tangible personal impact upon society. If we are to respond to the call of justice in any sustainable way, it must be as human beings and fellow sojourners, rather than as human bullhorns and self-made martyrs. To have any lasting impact, this call must reach more broadly than merely to those naturally inclined activists among us.

While I can certainly still be impressed by the radical commitment and sacrifice of single twenty-somethings to a cause, and can still admit the ways in which youth movements will continue to play a prophetic role in stirring society at large from our places of systemic sin and complacency, I find myself in a place where this is no longer the most compelling vision for me. The bigger challenge, and the more compelling vision, lies in the question of what it looks like to take a community of those people who are just a bit further down the road, people with jobs and spouses and children – people with roots and responsibilities – and to discover with them where the journey of radical, costly discipleship might take us. Ordinary people, with all the burdens and constraints of ordinary life, figuring out how to follow wholeheartedly after an extraordinary God; a God of redemption, salvation, justice and righteousness. A God with a heart for the downtrodden and oppressed who calls us to share that heart.

What might it look like for a plumber, an electrician, a teacher, a businessman or a waitress to become kingdom-minded ‘activists’? This is the question that stirs my heart today. And, for this question to have any traction or genuine effect, we must understand our activism as human activism; we must pursue justice as people on a journey, compelled by our surrender to the Spirit of God Himself into the challenge and frustration and labor pains of this work, but also into joy and life; fullest life. This is the heart of the Gospel; may we, as followers of Jesus, be captured and compelled by it.

Suicidal 'Relevance'

2010-11-18T18:09:00.000-08:00

“’Can Christianity make itself real to us, just as we are?’ It is exactly the same urgent need of all those who would lay claim to the name of Christian on any grounds… to justify Christianity in the present age; there is exactly the same presupposition, namely that the Archimedean point, the firm starting point which stands beyond all doubt has already been found (be it in reason, culture, or the idea of the people) and the moveable, questionable, uncertain element is the Christian message.; and there is exactly the same method, namely to go about the interpretation in such a way that the biblical message is passed through the sieve of humanity’s own knowledge – what will not go through is scorned and tossed away. The message is trimmed and cropped until it fits the frame which has been decided… This is just the way people have tamed for themselves a usable Christianity, and it is only a matter of time and honest thought before they lose interest in their creation and get rid of it… Second, however, there also follows the cry, doubtless in part uttered with great passion and subjective earnestness, for the relevance of the Christian message… This is surely not to be taken seriously… it was at best the terror-stricken shout of those who saw the gulf between Christianity and the world opening up beneath them, who, conscious of their complete conformity to the world, recognized that it was all up with Christianity for themselves, but were not strong enough to say a clear “yes” and an equally clear “no”, and cravenly pulled down Christianity with themselves in their fall into the world. The clearest indication of this is the fact that no one here found the courage to ask afresh after the FACT of the Christian message; they sought only it’s RELEVANCE, precisely in order to evade the fact. But where the question of relevance becomes the theme of theology, we can be certain that the cause has already been betrayed and sold out.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “The Interpretation of the New Testament”)

The conviction issued forth from this passage crackles with the same liveliness and force today as it ever did in it’s own time and context. It is so potent in its prophetic forcefulness that, upon a first reading, one is terribly tempted to immediately conscript Bonhoeffer’s words into service against one’s theological foes; that theological ‘other’ in whom we so easily see the signs of this sin of surgical, neutering contextualization of Gospel truth. For that first moment, we might even sigh in pleasure at the thought of the other, forced to squirm under the harsh and revealing light of Bonhoeffer’s indictment of them. For a moment, these words may feel like vindication.

But only for a moment.

Because if we are honest, as that initial moment passes, we begin to perceive that our own hearts and motives are becoming illuminated, too. We start to realize that the truth of these words cannot be merely conscripted for our own purposes without first doing their powerfully unflattering work upon us, pressing us toward a previously unknown depth of humility. It is inescapable, because what Bonhoeffer puts his finger on here is not merely some boutique theological error, but on the very pulse of human sin itself. Namely, that rebellion of the human heart against the call to surrender to the “Imago Dei” which we have been created to bear, in preference for the illusion of self-definition and human autonomy. Humanity’s sin is - and has always been - that we are not content with being in relationship with God; rather we, all of us, prefer to BE God unto ourselves. What the writer of Genesis tells us of the fall of Adam and Eve, Bonhoeffer here articulates with regards the world of scriptural interpretation in light of Christ and the Christian message; namely that, all too often, we are not content or inclined to allow the message of Christ to mould us. Rather, instead of being satisfied with our calling to be faithful interpreters, we set ourselves up as authors and editors; molding and contextualizing the Gospel of Christ until it seamlessly fits the broken world in which we are already comfortable. We have created a god in our own image

In the “liberal” church today, this tendency toward ‘relevance’ - rather than surrender to the ‘fact’ of Christ - is playing itself out most publically and poignantly in the conversation around human sexuality, the heart of which centers on the question of whether we will interpret our drives and physical/emotional passions in light of scripture, or interpret scripture in light of an understanding of humanity’s various sexual appetites as the immoveable or ‘a priori’ reality. A rather striking example of this – albeit outside the more predictable lines of liberal mainline denominations – was presented in the news just this past week, as Bishop Jim Swilley of Atlanta megachuch, “Church in the Now” was noted to have come before his congregation with an admission regarding his own sexuality. His statement was striking: "There are two things in my life that are an absolute," said Swilley, "… One was the call of God on my life... and the other thing ... was my sexual orientation." “Absolute”. When prioritized to the point of the a priori, the absolute, the ‘Archimedean starting point’, as Bonhoeffer puts it, human sexuality (or anything else, for that matter) becomes that point around which all other truth claims, including our interpretation of the revelation of scripture, must bend around in order to be given a hearing. This is a danger and a blindness.

My own experience and observations in this arena confirm Bonhoeffer’s convictions regarding what happens when we place our own appetites and self-perceptions in the place of the foundational, the immoveable, such that all other claims to truth must either be conformed to them or disregarded entirely. Namely that, over time, the “Christianity” which is forced to exist within these preconditions steadily declines further and further into a self-referential and suicidal abstraction. Either Christ, his message and his Lordship is the central, the foundational, the immoveable reality, and that to which everything else in us must conform, or else all our grand posturing and grasping at a Christianity of some kind constitutes merely a parody of that which we had been initially seeking. In time, we soon abandon our creation altogether.

In the Evangelical church, with our proudly held high esteem for scripture, the pitfalls are often of a different sort, but no less profound. The troubling reality is that, for most of us, our places of most deeply held rebellion against wholehearted surrender to the Gospel of Christ are also almost always those to which we are most blind. In the American evangelical Church, especially, comfortable lifestyles and relative affluence have become the basic prerequisite assumptions underlying our interpretation and application of scripture. There are many places where Christ, in speaking about money, and in speaking about what it means to follow him, comes across so radically in contrast with the lifestyles which we have simply come to assume that our interpretation quickly and easily becomes a defensive deflection more than a genuine openness to conviction and transformation. Similar ‘a priori’ type assumptions have taken root in things like Patriotism and militarism within the Church; where Jesus has things to say that would challenge us to think more deeply or critically in these areas of our lives - both personally and corporately – our tendency is to avoid and deflect. Contextualization to the point of philosophical abstraction is a powerful strategy for this purpose; where Jesus says things that are simply too hard for us to hear, we find ways to satisfy ourselves that, though this may be what Jesus SAID, it is not really what he MEANT - at least not with regards to us, personally. This stems from the same self-centered ‘absolutizing’ that plagues more liberal denominations; as evangelicals, we just tend to be more subtle in our de-structuring of scriptural mandates. Bonhoeffer presents this word for us, too.

In general, the pursuit of ‘relevance’ by the Church, within the shifting cultural paradigms of our own day, is a complex and perilous aim. On the one hand there is, I believe, a genuine goodness of heart and theological seriousness that drives the Church to seek cultural forms and modes of expression in order to present the Gospel – the message of Christ - to people in a language which they are able to most easily understand. For the same reason that the international work of translating the written Bible into thousands upon thousands of native dialects for the sake of reaching the unreached is such a noble one, I believe that the incarnational nature of the Gospel itself demands proper cultural contextualization. The Gospel is creation-wide, not wed to any one culture or historical manner of thinking, and as such requires a thoughtful, faithful application and communication in a wide variety of environments. At it’s best, this strikes me as the pure heart of any quest for ‘relevance’; not that we are trying to craft a new gospel, made in our image and so relevant to our own experience, but that, in the knowledge that the Gospel of Christ IS infinitely relevant - regardless of time, culture or context - we seek to faithfully express that inherent, eternal relevance to our own time and culture in forms and through methods that they are able to understand.

Herein lies the challenge, and the danger, however. For while the desire to communicate the inherent relevance of Christ may stem from scriptural faithfulness and Godly concern, this quest is all too easily turned inward, becoming self-justifying and self-defining. It is a short road from seeking to reveal the inherent relevance of the Gospel to trimming the Gospel down in order that it becomes safer, popular and more convenient for us to communicate. There is but a short distance between seeking to communicate the true Gospel in our own particular language, and molding the Gospel itself until it fits more comfortably within that language and culture. The only thing that divides faithfulness and deadly error in these places is our willingness to surrender everything - all of ourselves and every aspect of our culture – to the one, true, rightful a priori and unmovable reality: the revealed Word. We must surrender Christ to nothing; surrendering all to Christ. In Him, and in the scriptures that reveal Him, we find the only authoritative window upon human reality as it was intended and the end to which humanity will ultimately be restored. Christ is both our foundation and our horizon, beginning and end, our promise and our hope. It is only in holding Christ as our center that we will be saved from the fatal errors of our own rebellion and the deadly self-centeredness of our own hearts. It is this that Bonhoeffer reminds us of with such eloquence in this passage; a reminder in the light of which we ought to dwell with certain humility and seriousness in order that we might be more fully conformed to that great and glorious image in and for which we have been created.

History, Faith, Skepticism and the Deeper Conversation

2010-06-18T06:51:00.000-07:00

"Dr. Hugenberger clearly points out that faith is not simply “believing something that you know isn’t true.” In fact, he says, you can use your brain, do research, and even listen to your critics. Many critics of the Bible state that evangelicals just “blindly trust” the Bible as God’s Word without being able to prove that the events the Bible occurred (eg. The Flood, Plagues in Egypt, or the Red Sea parting) or without being able to prove the fact that God even exists. How ought we respond to these critics? "

However one might choose to respond to a criticism of this sort, it serves us to name the reality that, in general, anyone who bothers to raise this particular critique often has very little appreciation for how we come to "know" anything at all; especially when it comes to matters of ancient history. To quote a bit of commentary from the NIV Archeological Study Bible; "If every narrative from the ancient world had to be specifically confirmed by archaeology, we would have no ancient history at all.” In truth, even some of the most historically 'tenuous' aspects of scripture have more documented and archeological support than some basic, extra-biblical historical facts which no one would ever think to question. The reason for skepticism on the one hand and 'blind' acceptance on the other? Why the seemingly endless campaign to discredit the record of scripture, while the majority of historical assertions are simply accepted at face value by most people? The reason, if we're honest, is that this debate is not really a matter of historical legitimacy at all. It is actually a conversation about basic, underlying convictions; convictions which precede and color our approach to the evidence of history. The reason this conversation is so loaded lies in the understanding, on both sides, that the story which scripture tells, if true, demands a response from us. The details of extra-biblical ancient history, on the other hand, are by-and-large merely informative, and do not impinge upon our sense of personal sovereignty in the manner which scripture does.

And so, while it might be tempting to merely parry historical evidences with a critic, I feel that the conversation would ultimately be better served by seeking to address the question underneath the questions. Namely, we must ask; why such a strong need for a skeptical outlook in these particular cases, and not in other areas of the historical record? What is the underlying conviction that motivates this skepticism? In the end, I believe you will find with most critics of this sort a basic aversion to the thought of a God like the God of scripture, interacting in and through history from outside the "closed course" of human affairs. To go yet deeper, I believe that this aversion is rooted in the often unconscious acceptance that were a God like this to exist, interacting with humanity in the manner which scripture asserts, this would not merely be interesting; it would be demanding. In the end, it is the essential rebellion at the heart of humankind that motivates much 'academic' skepticism: we have no desire to be called to change / worship / surrender, we know that to acknowledge a God of this sort would demand these responses from us, so we seek to rationally disallow any possibility of a God of this sort as an act of self defense couched, whenever possible, in academic concern.

Having gotten to the root of the issue, then one may be free to engage the evidence at hand more openly. For instance, if one does not automatically preclude out of hand the possibility of a God like the God of scripture, what is actually more likely; that Israel was freed from slavery in Egypt by a miraculous, "supernatural" work on their behalf, or that the Egyptian empire simply let a million slaves walk away from their labor, without making any mention of this supreme act of extremely costly charity on the part of Pharaoh? What requires more rational gymnastics to explain? The same goes for most every aspect of this debate; from creation to the resurrection - all of which, by the way, seem to be garnering more and more physical/historical evidence as the years go by; if we surrender the underlying conviction that that reality of a God of this sort is simply IMPOSSIBLE (which, consequently, is impossible to prove), we actually find that the foundation of most every criticism of this sort is critically compromised.

Theologians and Grammarians

2010-06-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

"In chapter 3 of his book, An Introduction to Old Testament Study, John H. Hayes discusses the consequences of the Classical Renaissance on the field of biblical studies. He notes three elements in Renaissance thought that had a particularly significant effect. One of these was that, “Renaissance humanists stressed the use of grammatical analysis as the means for understanding ancient texts” (pg. 101). Hayes states that, according to Erasmus (1467-1536), “the trivial concerns of the grammarian are of more importance in understanding the biblical texts than the inquiries of theologians” (pg. 102).   What ought we think of this? How far can philology, grammar, and textual criticism go in interpretation? Should biblical studies take precedent to theology or should theology take precedent and inform our exegesis?"

To state my conviction simply at the outset: Solid scriptural exegesis trumps anyone's theological assertions. However, scripture study for the purpose of shaping theology is a discipline best undertaken in dialogue with the whole depth and breadth of the Church; in light of the clear convictions of the Christian community throughout history, in conversation with the Christian community in our own day, and with a keen awareness of the work of the Holy Spirit in making proper understanding possible.

As tools for proper understanding of scripture, language studies, grammar, text criticism and the like can be very powerful. That is, if we truly take scripture to constitute the self-revelation of God himself for the benefit of becoming known to humanity as he truly is, and this scripture was originally transcribed in a language and cultural context other than our own, then we ought to be very concerned that the scripture is then transmitted and communicated to us in a manner that accurately conveys what the original authors intended it to convey. This is the task of the biblical grammarian, historian and the like; to help wrestle, out of textual and contextual elements both large and minute, a more complete and accurate picture of the biblical author's work and intent. This is work which is foundational, essential, and primary to the interpretive and synthesizing work of the theologian; apart from the authority of genuine scriptural scholarship and biblical underpinning, theology is merely a work of rogue philosophy, rootless and ultimately limited in real benefit. In this sense, I would strongly assert that biblical studies take the foremost place, and inform our theology.

That said, tools are only as useful and effective as the person's hands in which they are wielded. Textual/contextual study is not an end in and of itself; while they can, and ought to, inform our interpretation and application of scripture, they cannot accomplish that work on their own. A fork can be useful for getting food to one's mouth, but the fork itself does not constitute food, nor does it lift itself from the plate; its effectiveness depends both upon who is eating, and what is being eaten. Every one of us is impaired, to one degree or another; both by sin, and by the natural limitations of our own wisdom. This realization ought to breed a strong sense of humility within us as we engage with scripture and the work of theology. For this reason, we are called to the mutually challenging/sharpening/clarifying work of engaging scripture in dialogue with community, both historic and present. The theology we inherit from the Church historic is of great value; the sum total of many lives worth of prayer, conversation and study by the community of the saints in Christ. We impoverish ourselves to neglect their insights, and it is in conversation with their theology that our own study of scripture will be enhanced and enriched, standing upon their shoulders and benefiting from their work.

All of this, finally, comes to naught lest we fail to recognize that it is only through the work of the Holy Spirit in our own hearts and minds that we are able to rightly discern the nature and voice of God; either in scripture, or in the voice of the saints.

Scripture, Israel, Grace, and New Creation

2010-06-17T07:56:00.000-07:00

Scripture - the written Word of God - is the great, true story of God’s revealing and redemptive purposes through all time, culminating in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; the incarnate Word and God’s ultimate self-revelation and self-giving on the behalf of humanity. The Old Testament is best understood, as a whole, within the context of this great over-arching story: the story of God’s perfect intentions for humanity, our rebellion, and the great redemptive movement of God throughout history on our behalf to restore humanity unto himself.

Through the Old Testament, we see the first movements of this grand narrative laid out: God’s goodness and purposes in creation, humanity’s fall from those purposes, and the initiation of God’s redemption and restoration of the world through a particular people: Israel. Beginning with the Abrahamic covenant, the central message of the Old Testament is laid out: God is seeking a people for Himself; people who He might draw back into the life, blessing and relationship with himself for which they were created. God is seeking a people who would be the true image of Himself which they were created to be; a kingdom of priests, representatives, Holy “idols”; a people as wide and as rich and diverse as the world itself, called back to himself by, because of, and through His great love.

God begins with the descendents of one faithful man; choosing them, blessing them, setting them apart from all the world for his purposes; to be a picture of - and vehicle for – his blessing of that world. Through the struggles, trials and failures of this people we find two things: God’s holy covenant faithfulness and love, and humanity’s inability to return these to God. In the OT, among a great many other things, we come face to face with humanity’s desperate, inescapable need for – not merely perfect and sufficient instruction, but - a perfect and sufficient savior. In this way, the stage is set perfectly through the record which we find in the Old Testament for our longing for the rescue and redemption which we find in the New Testament.

Again, the unity of scripture, as I see it, is that it is together, the old and new covenants, the one, overarching story of God’s gracious and redemptive purposes across human history and experience. It is a single story, and it is the story of grace. Where the old and new covenants diverge , however, is in the manner in which mankind is able to experience that grace. Throughout the Old Testament, God’s covenant-building with the people of Israel was exercised through an outworking of his purposes and his grace that was largely external to people: God was walking in faithfulness with, and calling unto faithfulness, a people who were essentially – internally and eternally – broken.

Though they might periodically respond in love and obedience to the God who had called them out as a people and blessed them, and though there were certain people in their history who were more inclined to faithfulness than most, the reality remained that covenant faithfulness, obedience and righteousness were ultimately fruits that were foreign to the tree of the hearts of humanity; even Israel. Despite the overwhelming and miraculous workings of YAHWEH around them and on their behalf, we find that Israel was amazingly prone to infidelity, forgetfulness and rebellion. From the outside looking in, it is easy, in fact, for us to be incredulous at how easily God’s covenant people fell away from him, again and again. The reality comes more clearly into focus, however, when we realize that Israel, despite being graciously called into special relationship with God, and called to be his representatives in the world, still consisted of a people whose hearts were, essentially, defined by rebellion and sin. Because sin and death had not yet been ultimately dealt with by God, God could walk alongside a people, instructing, exhorting and blessing them, but God could not, without causing their immediate destruction, dwell within them.

This – a change of spirit – is precisely what we see alluded to in the new covenant promises of the Old Testament, and brought more clearly into focus in light of Christ. Ezekial 36:26 says, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. 27 And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.” Notice here, how obedience is ultimately contingent upon the movement of a transplanted spirit within people; this has been the missing element for Israel throughout their history, and God now promises that his purpose is to give to humanity a new spirit – a spirit able to live in right relationship with God. We see this again in Jeremiah 31; "This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after that time," declares the LORD. "I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the LORD,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest," declares the LORD. "For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more." In the context of the Old Testament, God could write his law upon tablets of stone; a very real work of grace, but one external to the hearts of his people. In the New Testament, we find that because of what has been accomplished by Christ through his sacrificial death and victorious resurrection, God is able to do an internal work of grace within us; sending His own Spirit to dwell within us, essentially transforming us from a people of rebellion to a people of righteousness. The New Covenant is new, because it is marked by God’s moving within humanity, here and now, to do a work of new creation within our very hearts.

Ultimately, Paul describes this far better than I in Romans 8; “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2. because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. 3For what the law was powerless to do in that it was weakened by the sinful nature, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful man to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in sinful man, 4in order that the righteous requirements of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the sinful nature but according to the Spirit.

5Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; 7the sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so. 8Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God.

9You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ. 10But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of righteousness. 11And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.”

Thanks be to God.

Brief Reflections, part 3: Man's Chief End

2010-03-08T08:41:00.000-08:00

"What is the chief end of man? - To glorify God and enjoy Him forever." - WSC; 1

"Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, 10the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne, and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:

11"You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being."...

... Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. 2I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."" - Rev. 4:9-11; 21:1-4

What a different lens on reality this is… To genuinely appreciate that the purpose of our existence is the glory of someone else, and that we are built to find joy in that, would certainly change how we live. When God walks down the street in the Heavenly Jerusalem, you simply don't notice anyone else; least of all yourself. Living in light of eternity, we ought to practice; begin living out what it means to find joy in someone else’s glory, now. This directly affects how we live with one another, not as competitors, but as self-giving advocates. There is a reason that loving God and loving others goes hand in hand... selfishness simply has no foothold in eternity.

Brief Reflections, part 2: Worship

2010-03-08T08:37:00.000-08:00

"But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel." - Heb. 12:22-24

God’s presence is truly and actually in our midst; particularly in worship. So often I approach God as if His presence must be imagined into place or conjured up somehow… But it isn’t God that needs to change; it is the tuning of my own awareness, the sharpening of my own senses, that I might genuinely perceive the presence of the God who is actually here. I long for that awareness, that I might worship and serve more fully and truly.

Brief Reflections, part 1: Christ in Me

2010-03-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." - The Apostle Paul; Gal. 2:20

How would living according to the reality of ‘Christ in me’ change my day to day? How I see myself? How I see other people? Might I look upon my own existence with more hope, more joy, more life, and with more ability to love, were I to be more consciously aware of the life of Christ living in me? Would such an awareness not prove transformative? Would it not draw me into greater Christ-likeness?

Lewis and Clark

2010-02-06T07:34:00.000-08:00

Band's in the room
the trumpets tune
violins hold their place.

The silence breathes
expectantly
with frozen feet - no musical sheets.

Come with me
though we do not know the way
to navigate this maze.
I'll follow the song
that's flowing in our veins
written by God's graces, love.

I'll be Lewis
you play Clark
it's a vast frontier, love, opening up.

We'll find our way
our songs intonate
with this symphony of open space

Come with me
though we do not know the way
to navigate this maze.
I'll follow the song
that's flowing in our veins
written by God's graces, love.

Band's in the room
the trumpets tune
violins hold their place.

A Reflection on the Gospel

2009-12-08T10:54:00.000-08:00

In the eleventh chapter of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, there’s this fascinating story most commonly known as the story of the Tower of Babel. As the author tells it, humanity has rebelled against their creator and subsequently fallen into brokenness and disarray on every level of their existence, and we find them pressing further and further into their own hopelessness and futility with each passing day. As the story goes, rather than recognize their futility, these people decide to take heaven – achieve fame and salvation – by the work of their own hands. "Come, (they said) let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth."

It seems to me that, at a certain level at least, these people understand that salvation is what they need; they understand that things are not as they should be. But for these people, the solution to their problem lies in their own hands – in bricks and blueprints: building a tower to reach heaven.

As I read this story, I am struck by how little ‘religion’ has actually evolved since then. We can talk about preferences in the types of bricks and we can argue about the blueprints for the tower, but every religion, at its heart, boils down to a compilation of instruction about what to do in order to attain salvation (or otherwise find the solution to the ways things are messed up): bricks and blueprints. In Islam, for example, salvation is found in living according to the five pillars. In Buddhism and Hinduism, our hope lies in discovering the path to enlightenment. But in Christianity? Salvation is found in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

When we take the time to actually look, I think that this is precisely why a Christian worldview is genuinely radical: when you look closely at Christianity, you don’t actually find a religion at all… you find a story. We don’t find a compilation of instruction about what to do in order to be saved. Instead, we find a proclamation about something that has already been done. Christianity is, at its heart, not saving instruction; it is a saving EVENT. It is about coming face to face with a moment in history: a moment in history which, as discussed in my previous reflection, centers on the cross.

In attempting to describe all that happened between Good Friday (the cross) and Easter (the resurrection), it’s all too easy to fall into philosophical abstracts: an endless maze of figurative and convoluted language. In the end, there’s just more going on there then we really have the ability to understand. Suffice it to say, though, that on the cross, Jesus took on everything and every way that we had messed up and, in the resurrection, made a way through it: doing for us what we could never do for ourselves and providing that solution that everyone, in their heart of hearts, is really looking for.

We are terminally ill; Jesus is the cure. We are rebels facing the consequences of a failed and misguided revolution; Jesus has secured our pardon. We are hopelessly in debt; Jesus paid it off for us… these are just some of the images scripture uses to try and describe the cross and all that follows.

To use the language of an earlier reflection, we, as well as the world we live in, are hopelessly out of tune, unable to participate in the symphony for which we have been created. Jesus is both an embodiment of perfect intonation and the craftsman able to fix the instruments of our own souls. He is the auto-tune that enables us in our feeble attempts to play along in the present moment, and that hand that, if we let him, will skillfully and gradually adjust the tension of the strings of our hearts so that, eventually, we will find ourselves able to make that music we were created to make. Able, finally, to take part in the endless, creative symphony of heaven itself.

The reason the Bible calls this ‘Good News’, and not just ‘good instruction’, is that this tuning and repairing work is something that must be done to us and for us. Apart from the hand of the craftsman, all the good instruction in the world will ultimately only serve to frustrate and alienate; we instruments cannot tune ourselves. The good news is that this HAS been done for us. The death and resurrection of Jesus is that event, that moment in history, where the craftsman entered the scene, placed humanity on his workbench, and did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

Before we are able to move forward with Jesus, it is this reality, this story, with which we must come to grips. It isn’t until we lay down our religious bricks and blueprints, until we stop attempting to fix ourselves with our own resources or abilities, stop trying to behave ourselves into heaven, and come to grips with the good news that Jesus has already done the work on our behalf that we will be free from the crushing weight of our own brokenness and the burden of religious moralism, finally able and free to make a genuine difference in our world.

In the end, to step from brokenness into the life that we’ve been created for is simply to come face to face with Jesus – the healer, tuner/fixer, and ultimate source of life – and say, “Yeah… I want that.” As to what follows? That’s a journey; one that I am even now still in the midst of, and expect to be for a long, long time…

The Cross of Christ

2009-12-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the most central - and challenging - facet of a Christian understanding of the world, is to come to grips with the role which the death (and subsequent resurrection) of Jesus Christ plays in dealing with the dissonance of sin and evil that both surrounds and infiltrates us as human beings. To do business with Jesus is, ultimately, to do business with his execution, and to wrestle with the reality that Jesus claims to have endured that suffering willingly, and for our benefit. From the outside looking in, this is the real puzzle of the Christian faith; it all seems a bit over-dramatic and unnecessarily grotesque. If all we’re looking for is a good example, or some helpful teaching, all this talk of blood and suffering and sacrifice just muddies and complicates things for us. At the end of the day, however, this is the very heart of both who Jesus is and what he sought to accomplish in the world. To deal with Jesus is, ultimately, to deal with the cross; there’s just no avoiding it.

To understand the significance of the death of Jesus, we must first understand something about the nature of death itself, and how it affects us. On a basic level, death is the void – the abscess, the black hole – at the center of our existence. Through the ages people have tended to personify death, to relate to it as a force or a presence. In reality, though, death isn’t a presence; it is an absence. It is, really, nothing at all; death is not a thing in itself, it is merely the hole where something else ought to be. Simply put, death is the absence of life.

Much as the sun is the ultimate source of energy which makes biological life on our planet possible, scripture tells us that God is the source of life itself; the true center of all reality and that which holds it all together. Our story, as human beings, is that of a rejection of God as the center and source, attempting to play god rather than be with God; essentially locking ourselves in a dark room and attempting to be our own sun. Walking away from our creator and source, we rejected God as the center of our reality. The trouble was – and is – that we have nothing in our own hands with which we are able to fill that void. Where there was once a life-giving sun, there is now only a black hole – an emptiness, a chaos – a void, consuming and draining life rather than giving it. We walked away from the source of life and, in that moment, as a people we discovered death.

The destructive power of nothingness is an awesome and terrible thing to behold. And, though we’d rather not think about it most days, it is the fear of that great void that is the engine of much of our day-to-day existence. Like astronauts, separated from the vacuum of space by a paper-thin sheet of Mylar, our carefully crafted lives tirelessly strive to give us the illusion of security, in the face of an awesome emptiness and futility that we can’t really bear to think about seriously, lest we just go nuts. Whether it’s nations warring violently over natural resources or the more subtle interpersonal warfare of jockeying for recognition, influence and financial status, we people kill each other – literally and figuratively – in our efforts to just hang on for a little bit longer to that life that we feel so inevitably slipping away. For all our posturing and grand esteem for ourselves, we are frail and afraid. The world around us behaves and feels as if it is spinning apart as a result of our cumulative insecurity and the attempts to combat that insecurity with our own resources. This is the reality and the power of death.

Even death itself would not so affect us were we not painfully aware of how tragic the whole situation is. There is something at the soul of humanity that just cries out that we are not meant to be temporary and futile beings. There is just something about humanity, however much we may attempt to deny it, that echoes with eternity. This is the beauty in the midst of the brokenness; the beauty that the world most deeply longs to be restored.

It is in this context that we can begin to understand the mystery and the significance of the death of Jesus. Death – this void in existence created as a result of our desire for self-sovereignty – is a real problem. It has real consequences. If we are to ever get past it, then, it follows that we need a real solution. God, in his inexplicable desire to see humankind restored to rightful, life-giving relationship with himself, offers the only solution possible: death must be defeated. The void must be filled. The emptiness must be overcome. As we lack the resources to do so, God furthermore proceeds to accomplish this himself, on our behalf.

Death – and all the present consequences of chaos and brokenness that it yields all around us – could not be ignored. It couldn’t be passed over, explained away, or walked around. It had to be entered… and overcome. In Jesus, God did what would otherwise be impossible for God to do; namely, die. Stepped directly into our own black hole and was, if only for a moment, overwhelmed by it. As it turns out, however, the fullness of life that is inherent in Jesus was too much: having consumed life itself, the emptiness was no longer empty, the void found itself filled. What we could have never accomplished on our own, Jesus accomplished on our behalf.

Jesus died the death we were already dying in order that we might have the life we could never live on our own. As such, the cross of Christ stands as the turning point of human history, and the moment which all people must ultimately do business with, determining for ourselves how we will respond.

A Reflection on Sin and Evil

2009-12-08T10:51:00.000-08:00

Our world is a beautiful, broken place, and we are beautiful, broken people.

A fascinating thing is at work in our generation. On the one hand, the humanistic idealism of the modern age – that conviction that with just enough technology, social progress, and western-style democratic politics, the problems of the world will eventually be taken care of – is being questioned in a new way. Maybe it’s just because globalization and the instant, world-wide spread of information that we have at our fingertips has opened our eyes too wide; maybe we’ve just seen too much, and been exposed to too much complexity to really believe that we here in the United States have the answer to the world’s ills. Genocide, disease, imperialism, corporate greed… Maybe it’s just that we’re overwhelmed. (Some would say that modern optimism ought to have been overwhelmed and killed off by the European horrors of WWI and WWII, respectively, but it has proven remarkably persistent…) Whatever the reason, though, our generation is willing to recognize that all is not right with the world, and we’re beginning to realize that ‘progress’ isn’t going to solve our problems. We recognize that our world is broken.

So, on the one hand, we recognize a paradox in our world; so much beauty, goodness and potential, marred by so much brokenness and conflict. On the other hand, while we are eager to point our fingers at global and systemic brokenness and injustice, we have seemingly lost our ability to talk about genuine personal responsibility. We pay our token regard to it, of course, usually through the positive lens of ‘doing our part’ to be ‘part of the solution’. The modern phenomenon of ‘armchair activism’, or ‘raising awareness’, comes as a result of this; we sign petitions, start and join Facebook ‘causes’, hold candlelight vigils… things which satisfy a certain feeling of responsibility within us in a comfortable and minimally inconvenient way. Not that there is anything wrong with such things, in and of themselves, except that rather than being genuine attempts at serious solutions to the worlds ills, these are often simply exercises by which we justify and strengthen our previously held assumption that we, personally, are not part of the problem. We tend to engage just enough to let our consciences off the hook, and then live our lives however we want to.

So, to use slightly different language, the fascinating thing about our generation is that we recognize that ‘evil’ exists in the world, but we are very uncomfortable trying to name the source of that evil. ‘Judgment’ feels like the only real sin in our society; we feel that everyone ought to be free to live as they see fit without criticism. We believe that evil exists ‘out there’ somewhere; in some violent system or faceless corporate greed. We believe that there are a handful of hypothetically ‘evil people’ in the world – mostly child rapists, murderers and oil tycoons – we just don’t personally know any. But we are embracing a very real paradox when we judge the state of our world, and certain faceless people in it, by a certain standard, a ‘true north’ of some kind, in order to be able recognize that things are not as they should be, while simultaneously taking offence at the idea that there might be a ‘true north’ by which our own lives and choices might ever be interpreted.

You see, our generation recognizes that we live in a beautiful, but broken, world. What we often fail to recognize is that we are beautiful, but broken, people. ‘Evil’ is not something that exists ‘out there’ in a hypothetical system or person… it exists in me. It isn’t just ‘the world’ that’s broken; it’s we, people, who are broken. Beautiful? Yes. Full of potential and goodness? Yes. But it is a marred beauty, a distorted goodness, and an unfulfilled potential.

Let’s put it in terms of music. To say that there is a ‘true north’ in the world is like understanding that there is a true musical scale; there is a true pitch, a true frequency of resonance by which all our playing is evaluated. We can be in tune, or out of tune, depending on the relation of our voice or instrument to that one true scale. From experience, you know that listening to one person play or sing out of tune is bad enough. But a whole band or orchestra with every player both out of tune with themselves and the players around them? That’s just painful to think about. The dissonance of the whole is essentially a function of the dissonance of the parts, even though the collective dissonance of the whole seems to take on a character all its own. This, in many ways, is a picture of our world.

Every one of us is out of tune to one degree or another, and real humility and maturity in thinking about our world comes when I realize that about myself. It comes when I realize that my brokenness, my dissonance; my pride and greed and selfishness and apathy are part of the overall cacophony. We’re all out of tune, and when we’re all playing at once, it’s a pretty awful performance. This is really what we’re talking about when we talk about ‘evil’; big picture ‘Evil’ and personal evil. They are intimately related, and we can’t genuinely engage the big ‘E’ until we’re willing to face the small ‘e’. We need to get our own instruments tuned.

A Personal God Story...

2009-12-08T10:50:00.000-08:00

At some point along the way we all have visions of what our lives are going to look like, don’t we? Maybe they’re not quite adventurous enough to be considered our ‘dreams’, per se, but those snapshot expectations of where we will find ourselves a few years down the road; the future moments for which we plan, prepare and educate ourselves, consisting of a palette of job opportunities, geographical preferences and romantic interests. We all have hopes, however firm or vague they may be. We all have some picture of the horizon that we are aiming for in the present. At twenty-eight years old, I am not where I thought I’d be. This place where I find myself is much more complex than the crude drawings of my twenty year-old imagination. It’s a harder place, though more beautiful. It’s more complicated, but more rewarding. It isn’t exactly the future I had once hoped for, but I wouldn’t change it now. I suppose, though, all this is to be expected when you invite someone like God to take the wheel of your life. I still remember that moment.

It’s always hard to look at a period of your own life in retrospect and admit that, despite your own best efforts at the time, your were basically a miserable person. There’s a degree of self-knowledge and disclosure in that sort of statement that most of us would much rather just avoid, myself included. But as I think about my sophomore and junior years of college, I can’t help but concede the truth: I was miserable. It would even make for a better story if I could tell you that my misery was of the sort imposed by outside circumstances, but it wasn’t. Mine was a self-imposed, self-inflicted variety of misery and, as such, I was blind to it for a long time. I was functional enough; near the top of my class and a leader in my church and Christian fellowship. I was friendly enough; those people that I chose to open myself to became a large enough circle of friends to satisfy my reasonable social needs. But in the midst of all the activity and life going on around me, my heart was drying up. I was the center of my own universe, and the gravity was beginning to take its toll. It took a long time before I began to recognize that what trapped me in misery was the death-grip with which I was holding on to my dreams.

I had a vision of the future and, as vague as it may have been, I clung to it. There were the thoughts of a career path that would have been comfortable and personally satisfying. There was a girl who I wanted to marry. But the doors to that career never seemed to open fully, the girl couldn’t seem to convince herself to feel the same, and the tighter I clung, the more these things seemed to move out of reach. With all the will I could muster, I longed for my vision of the future to come to pass. My frustrations turned that will inward, and I began to shrink. And God? As far as I was concerned, I was glad to have God along for the ride, but as long as he failed to help me achieve my goals, I wasn’t sure what good it did me. As it turns out, God is a pretty crappy co-pilot.

Then, one day, through some eventual combination of compiled frustration, exhaustion and disappointment, I remember coming to the end of myself. It wasn’t an extraordinary day, and the disappointments therein were not in any way new, but my self-orbiting universe just imploded. I finally looked down at the white-knuckled fists that were clinging to my hopes and dreams, my visions of the future, and I realized that I was squeezing the life out of everything that I loved, and everything I was clinging to. It was February in Rhode Island, and in an abandoned lifeguard stand overlooking Narragansett Bay, I came face to face with my own misery. And in that moment, I heard the voice of God. It wasn’t audible, per se, so much as a moment of inescapable conviction, but the word was clear; “Open your hands.” So I did.

It was there in that moment that I understood for perhaps the first time that God could never be a mere companion on my journey; He was the orchestrator, the pilot and the guide. It could never be a matter of taking the plans of my self-centered universe to him for his token blessing; it was about His plans, His will, His centrality. I understood for the first time that I could not accept and cling to the gifts God had poured out on me, only to ignore His calling and His purposes in my life. Those gifts, and my hopes, had become my god, and they simply couldn’t carry the weight. So I opened my hands. I released my hold on my future. I held out all that I was, all that I had, and all that I would be, on open hands before God and said, “Take it. Take me. Do with me as you please. Send me wherever you will, because I can’t drive this thing, my life, anymore. It’s yours.”

Suffice it to say that I am not where I once thought I would be. But it’s better. It’s fuller. It’s more truly alive. Because, through my frustration one February day those years ago, Jesus saved me from myself, and for that I am forever grateful.

A Subjective Atonement.

2009-04-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

“We are justified by the blood of Christ and reconciled to God, in that through the singular grace displayed to us by the assumption of our nature, by his instruction of us by word and example, and by his perseverance even to death, he has by love bound us more closely to himself, so that, thanks to the ardor of so great a divine blessing, the true love which is now ours should draw back from no suffering for his sake.” – Peter Abelard (1079-1142)

A contemporary of Anslem, Peter Abelard has proven to be deeply influential on many thinkers who, to this day, ascribe to a subjective - or symbolic - view of the atoning work of Christ; a paradigm which suggests that nothing essentially ontological or objective was remedied through the death of Christ (such as the achievement of the forgiveness of sins, defeat of death, reversal of the universal consequences of the Fall, etc.). Rather, this view would hold, it is the personal influence that this sacrificial act has upon us, as we observe it, that is of singular importance. In Abelard’s view, it is thought that as we gaze upon such an act of profound self-sacrifice, as the culmination of the perfectly lived life of Christ, that the divine love should consequently be caused to well up within us such as to propel us into lives of genuine righteousness and similar self-giving love. This is our salvation; not that we are somehow freed from some ontological or universal debt, but that Christ’s example is so stirring as to awaken us from the blindness and slumber that has heretofore entrapped us in patterns of sin and death, and to inspire and guide us into the life that we have been created to live.

While wrestling with the understanding of what was accomplished through the atoning work of Christ in his death and resurrection certainly constitutes a mystery that presses us against the limits of language itself, I believe that the paradigm suggested by Abelard, and those who would follow him in this regard, is fundamentally flawed. It sounds nice enough, and manages not to disturb us too greatly with thoughts of what sort of universal void there might be that would need to be appeased by the sacrifice of the Son of God himself for our sake. In the end, however, this is only – to quote C.S. Lewis – ‘soft soap’ thinking. The underlying problem of a subjective view of the atonement is that it requires the death of Christ to be of inherent value, apart from any consideration of a deeper ontological reality. These thinkers still want to look upon the crucifixion and stand in awe of the fact that one such as Jesus would love us so deeply as to die for our sake. This sort of thinking, however, attempts to inhabit the high-rise penthouse suite while disbelieving that any lower stories exist, or are even necessary. Simply put, if the death and resurrection of Christ did not actually accomplish anything objective, or beyond itself, in what real sense did Christ die ‘for us’?

Surely there is great heroism, and much to be valued, in the death of a man who throws himself in front of a moving train in order to push another out of the way and save them. In what esteem, however, ought we hold a man who steps in front of that same train, not because there is actually someone to save, but simply as an ‘example’ for the rest of us? In what sense ought we be inspired to be like him? If the sacrifice of Christ did not actually, in and of itself and apart from our subjective perception of it, accomplish our salvation, then to think of that death as having been ‘for our sake’ is to beg the question; we are simply casting a pointless and grotesque tragedy in a retrospectively positive light. As such, the subjective paradigm of salvation by ‘inspiration’ essentially undermines itself.

The Historical Jesus

2009-03-29T19:22:00.000-07:00

“…it is surely evident that the early Christians had an interest in the historical story [of Jesus] for it’s own sake…” – Bishop John A.T. Robinson

In glancing over the progression of scholarship regarding the role of the historical Jesus in relationship to broader Christology, it is interesting to me that it has consistently been at the hands of those who would claim to be most concerned with gaining an accurate picture of the Jesus of history that, in their inability to recognize and detach themselves from their own philosophical aims, the context, audience, evidence and aim of the Gospel has suffered the most violence. How is it that, again and again, those who seek to take up the ‘Quest’ for the historical Jesus have lead us instead into the arms of a timeless Christ, a disembodied moral exemplar, a universal human principle; the furthest thing possible from that concrete, frustratingly particular and purposed reality that is the person of Jesus of Nazareth, the 1st century Jewish Rabbi and self-proclaimed messiah? Indeed, while this incongruous universalizing of Jesus seems surprising when considered in it’s own right, its origin becomes clear when we recognize that the aim of this quest has never been to genuinely clarify the reality of this inescapably important historical figure, but rather to seek to find a way out of a scriptural understanding of Christ that is simply too uncomfortable to bear. Too influential to dismiss, yet too dangerous in his own right, our ‘quest’ begins with a simple presupposition: he must not have really been/done/said those things. Rooted in distrust of the best available sources, these scholars have repeatedly opted for the authority of their own conjecture and imagination; creating sensible ‘christs’ in their own image, a neutered and confused figure, deeply tragic, but somehow still universally inspiring.

It is further fascinating to me that it is these same scholars who continually miss the radical significance of the historical story, even as they claim deep concern for it. Attempting to fit the gospel into their pre-existing religious paradigms of polemic and instruction, they miss the revolutionary uniqueness of the moment. They fail to appreciate that the reason the evangelists of the early church recorded the life and teachings of Jesus in the form of narrative, in the shape of a historical moment, is that it is precisely the fact that it IS a story, and a true one, that makes it unique, profound, and the foundation of hope itself

Every religious text on earth can basically be boiled down to a series of instructions: live this way, and achieve your proper end. They are essentially compilations of instruction, sprinkled with stories to illustrate that instruction. The Gospel, on the other hand is ESSENTIALLY a story; it is not an instruction manual to tell us what to do, rather it is the good news – the joyful report – about what God has already done on our behalf. While there is a good deal of excellent instruction to be found in scripture, that instruction is MEANINGLESS if the STORY isn’t true. This is why the apostle Paul could so adamantly assert, “…if Christ is not raised, our preaching is useless, and so is your faith.” (1 Cor. 15:14) It is precisely the fact that these things actually and historically happened that is the cornerstone of faith. As such, it is both amazing and tragic that such a ‘quest’ for the Jesus of history would lead to such a spiritualized, universalized, mythologized and disembodied figure. It is as if we have decided that the news readily before us in scripture is just too good to be true, and therefore simply cannot be.

No Line. Get On Your Boots.Now.

2009-01-19T08:09:00.000-08:00

Get On Your Boots, the first single from U2's new album No Line On The Horizon, will be released as a digital download on February 15th with a physical format to follow on February 16 through Mercury/Universal (UK).

Produced by Brian Eno, Danny Lanois and Steve Lillywhite, sessions for No Line On The Horizon began in Fez, Morocco, and continued at the band's Dublin studio, New York's Platinum Sound Recording Studios, and London's Olympic Studios.

Released on March 2nd (March 3rd in the US), the album will come in a standard format with 24 page booklet and in digipak format. The digipak includes an extended booklet and the album's companion film "Linear" by Anton Corbijn. A limited edition 64 page magazine will also be available, featuring the band in conversation with artist Catherine Owens, and new Anton Corbijn photographs. No Line On The Horizon will be released on 180gm vinyl. (More on the formats below)

The album cover artwork is an image of the sea meeting the sky by Japanese artist and photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto.

Here's the full tracklisting:

1. No Line On The Horizon
2. Magnificent
3. Moment of Surrender
4. Unknown Caller
5. I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight
6. Get On Your Boots
7. Stand Up Comedy
8. Fez - Being Born
9. White As Snow
10. Breathe
11. Cedars Of Lebanon

awesome.

God's Desire, My Apathy.

2008-12-08T07:53:00.000-08:00

“For this [is] good and acceptable in sight of the Savior, our God, who all people he is desiring be saved and into knowledge of the truth to come.” 1 Tim 2:3-4

:: Upon a cursory reading of the second chapter of 1 Timothy, the first six verses are easily passed over far too quickly; either as simply an extended exhortation to prayer en route to many further exhortations regarding all manner of doctrine and practice, or as a straightforward build-up on the way to more difficult and/or controversial passages. To do so, however, is to bypass the heart of all that Paul proceeds to say afterwards; the foundation and wellspring of his passion for these matters at hand. Most simply put, upon deeper examination of these few verses, I find the Gospel itself, hidden in plain view; with no less than the heart of God presented as the reason and resource for all that the Church is called to be and do. God desires the salvation and restoration of all people, because in Jesus Christ he has ransomed all people; as such he calls forth his Church, in witness, teaching, ministry and prayer, to purpose itself unto the benefit of all people. God’s heart is ever and presently bent in love towards the whole world; in the outworking of the transformation of redemption upon our own hearts, the same ought be true of us.

Too often, whether through fear, discouragement or simple apathy, I find that it is easy to pursue the eternal benefit and healing of those around me in a half-hearted manner, if at all. Too easily I resign myself to the foregone conclusion that not everyone will respond positively to the gospel; I set my expectations low, as not to be disappointed. I do not risk myself – my pride, my time, my reputation – for those around me. I call it “reality”; at the heart of my inaction, however, the truth is that I simply cannot surrender myself and my self interest enough to care – or at least, not to care enough. I build this inactive response upon my ‘knowledge’ and my own experience, and while I might honestly say that this subconscious pessimism is simply realistic, it is ‘realism’ of this sort that brings death to our compassion. It is this subtle line of thought that leads people, and churches, to insularity; gradually setting our sights and hearts only upon those who we naturally find in our midst on the basis of easy affinity, with little thought or capacity to care about those we don’t.

Paul’s words here regarding the nature of God’s longing draw a stark contrast on this point. This God, who due to his infinite knowledge and boundless foresight has infinitely greater justification for pessimism and resignation than I, is yet defined, in God’s very character, by hope. Some will reject, many will refuse his love, yet knowing this more clearly than I will ever have the capacity to know, this God even now continues to desire for the salvation, the healing and redemption of every person. Is this simply divine naïveté, or is something deeper at work here? Is God eternally unrealistic? No, God is more realistic than we can ever hope to comprehend. In fact, it is this reality, this “knowledge of the truth” that God most longs for every person to take hold of. To be saved, in this light, is to repent of our unreality – to turn from the lies in which we live that tell us that we are alone, hopeless, un-vouched for and unloved. To “be saved” is simply to come into knowledge of the truth that we HAVE been saved; ransomed, paid for, and set free. To remain in darkness is simply to refuse to open our eyes. To remain in slavery is simply to refuse to accept that we have been ransomed out from it.

As such, God himself is perpetually moved in compassion and desire for all people; in heartbreak for their self-deception and in hope for their redemption in the truth. And, in those of us who have been brought to life and freedom, the heart of God compels us into compassion, action and witness, for the sake of all people, in resonance with the hope and desire of God himself; in prayer, teaching, and action.

Phillipians 3

2008-11-22T09:17:00.001-08:00

pastor chris.

2008-11-21T08:52:00.000-08:00

When we are young, we constantly strive to be perceived and regarded as somewhat older than we are. We relish any opportunity to be included in the conversations or activities of an older caste; hanging out with the 'big kids', being able to sit at the 'grown-up' table at family gatherings, etc. Growing up itself is, in many ways, a process of testing the limits of when we might genuinely come to be included, in the perception of our peers and community, in that cumulative tier of maturity that is, at present, just beyond us.

Until such a time as this is the case, we pretend; enacting adventures, both dangerous and docile, smoking a stolen cigarette, or driving the parents car around an empty lot. We pretend until our fantasy of greater maturity is actually attained, at which point we set the sights of our hopeful pretense yet another rung higher. At some point, this process of pretense and attainment begins to climax; the distance between reality and what was initially only fantasy becoming less and less.

When I was six years old, perhaps I would pretend that I was a grown man with a job and a family, mimicking my father in the form of something that might be decades away. When I was in high school, perhaps the thought of college life captured my imagination; this only four years removed from my present. In our twenties, maybe it is a job we aspire to, or a promotion; ultimately things only months out of our reach, depending on circumstance... At some point, we are finally forced to realize that we have arrived at 'maturity'; that place of regard and responsibility that we have been striving and pretending at our whole lives, whether or not it actually looks like we had thought or hoped. Eventually, after coming to grips with this climax, many people find themselves, suddenly and strangely, wishing that they were younger.

But alas, the march of time knows no reverse. Our pretense only works in one direction.

It seems that I have arrived at a place that was only once a distant dream; career, promotion, responsibility... a wife, a house, and soon a child. I look around now, and I realize that all these people around me believe that this is who I really am; mature, responsible... an adult. And, I can't help but wonder when they'll find me out... when they'll realize that this is just a game. I wonder when they'll realize that I am really just a child who has been pretending to be grown... Because I don't have this thing figured out yet. I don't really know what I am doing. I'm just making all this up as I go along.

Life these days feels as if I am riding the crest of a wave; who I am and where I will be tomorrow doesn't actually exist until the moment I arrive... as if the ground itself that I am walking on does not exist until the moment my foot falls to meet it. I worry about the day when my imagination will fail me, when I will fail to imagine the next step into existence, causing me to stumble, and this house of cards to collapse. Because this is uncharted territory, filled with the unknown, threatening to bring me to the end of what my competency can muster.

But then I wonder if maybe... maybe this is what it means to walk by faith. Maybe this is the essence of what it means to allow God to lead us into the heart of a calling and a life that is greater than ourselves; greater than we can even imagine. Maybe it is here, as we are forced to reckon with the inability of our own competency to lead us into the realization of tomorrow, that we discover what faith really is. Maybe to be grown is not to come to the place where we believe that we've got this life figured out, but rather to realize that we never will; to surrender to trust that God will guide us into tomorrow, creating it before us even as we go.

The dew of creation is yet fresh upon this day. I did not know what it would hold before I got here, and tomorrow is hidden by the mists of pre-existence. But I will walk forward in the trust in my creator and sustainer; the giver of breath to my lungs and words to my heart. I do not have wisdom enough for even today, but his wisdom and love is sufficient to bring about all my days that have yet to be. So I cast myself upon Him, His hands and heart and purposes, in trust and faith, and in the divine joy that is found in surrender to the one who is truly sufficient for me.

Next Tat?

2008-10-18T12:32:00.001-07:00

:: I've been doing some thinking/work on my next potential tattoo... I've already got a good idea for a shoulder piece. This (above) would be a bicep arm band. It's based on an abbreviated personal 'rule of life'; Creation, Labor, Sabbath, and Word. This design attempts to visually evoke a balance and rhythm of life that I constantly need to be reminded of; four echoes of the rhythms of Grace that God has created me to live within.

Fatherhood.

2008-09-20T06:41:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, I turned 27 years old. Two months ago, I also found out that I am going to be a father. Holy fear has taken on a new definition for me. When we first found out, the two days that followed felt like one long, drawn out heart attack. Since then, I have settled into a cathartic blend of fear and excitement, flavored by the quiet disbelief that in less than 6 months my life, as I now know it, will have changed forever. My relationship with my wife will have changed forever. From here on out, we will no longer be simply a couple, but parents. A family. Unbelievable.

I can already tell that this journey will teach me more about the character and nature of God than I have ever known. As I contemplate this new life, even now taking shape in amazing ways, through all the fear and doubts and practical complications, one feeling wells up to consume all others... Love. It is such a bizarre realization to know that there is a being, a person, who is as of yet non-existent in tangible form, but who nonetheless will uncontrollably draw forth from you the deepest manifestations of care, concern, and self-sacrifice. This person hasn't even set foot in the world yet, but I already know that I love them in such a way that I cannot help but give everything for them.

As powerless as a man hurtled downstream by a rushing river current, I know that this end is unavoidable. Their very act of being compels my very essence to love them at a level deeper than I have ever felt. It's not even really a choice; it is the very character, the ontological essence, of our ever-developing relationship itself. I Already worry for this child; about their health and happiness and about the choices they will make in life. I worry about providing for them; giving them all that I can to enable them unto fullest life. I concern myself even with their relationship with God, their creator. What holy fear it is to bring a free-willed being into the world!

And I wonder, in all of this, if this is not the manner in which God relates to us. Setting out in the act of creation, out of the overflow of love within Godself, did God know that, as the Father, he could not help but love that which he was about to bring into existence? Did he know that, compelled by the rushing river of his own nature and essence, he would unavoidably be driven to give all of Himself in love for these people? Did he know, at the foundation of creation, that he was going to die in order that we might have life?

I believe he did. God knew, because God knows what love is. God IS love. In a manner deeper than we will ever know, God understands the way in which love compels; that to embrace love is to give oneself, even unto death. I imagine that it wasn't even really a choice; at least not in the manner that we understand choice... It is who God IS; a lover, and the Father, and hence, the Savior. Breathtaking.

Reflection #3: Freedom, Evil and Suffering

2008-07-19T18:37:00.000-07:00

I will defer somewhat in my discussion of freedom to that which I have just previously mentioned regarding the Fall. Namely, that true freedom is not, as we most often and readily believe, the freedom of contrary choice, but rather the freedom to be and do all that God has created his people to be and do. This is the freedom of God himself, in whose image we have been crafted; not the freedom of capriciousness or mere lack of restraint, but the freedom of God to be fully and completely God; as he is, according to His own divine nature. In the Garden, we were created in the image of Christ himself with the freedom to be fully, completely and profoundly human. Created in the image of, and for relationship with, God, with all the infinite potential of creation and the depths of our own essence laid out before us, ‘God created… and it was good.’ As such, we understand that evil was, and is, in no way necessary. Evil is essentially a void, an absence, an emptiness, and nothing that God created good required the ‘existence’ of evil in order to be, genuinely, good. It is through this lens that we much approach the reality of evil and suffering.

First, we must come to understand that evil, most plainly, is simply that which ought not be. God created all that ‘ought’ to be in accordance with his divine love and purposes. Evil is not a created reality within God’s good intention, but the twisting and degradation of that good. As such, evil has no justification. It has no good end. God cries out along with those who suffer under evil that things simply ought not to be this way. In fact, that is evil’s very definition.

Along with this, we may further come to understand that evil cannot be explained; it essentially makes no sense. To attempt to provide an explanation for evil is to lend it a rationality which it does not possess. To explain evil is to rationalize it, and to rationalize it is to justify it. And evil, as we have just discussed, is essentially and necessarily without justification. It simply shouldn’t be.

Thirdly, in the sovereignty and power of God, when we hand to him ‘that which ought not be’, he is yet able to overcome that evil and put things to rights. God does not justify or ‘turn evil into’ good. God’s response to evil is not justification or explanation, but ACTION; to UNDO that evil. This is, essentially, why evil has no future, because God, in overcoming evil, is able to make it do ‘forced labor’; to undo itself. Sin and evil are essentially that which ought not be and, in the end, they WILL NOT be.

Concurrently, we come to understand that evil is in no way necessary. In rejection of a dualistic paradigm, Christian teaching affirms that evil has no necessary place, even for the operation of free will. As expounded upon in depth earlier, the essence of genuine freedom is not contrary choice, but rather the freedom to be fully and truly that which we have been created to be. Embracing a wrong perception of freedom leads us, in fact to bondage and death.

Fifthly, Evil is essentially parasitic. God alone is the source of existence, and God wills that evil not exist. Therefore, evil has no power to exist but to leach off of, and twist the good. The enemy has been deemed the ‘Father of lies’ for good reason. For a lie has no power; no substance, no reality apart from its impersonation of truth. A lie, perceived as a lie, has no power whatsoever. Once it is revealed for what it is, all of its influence is lost. If a lie cannot be treated with the reality of a truth, it has no power, no effect, and no future. As such, the choice between good and evil is not the choice between two realities, but the choice between a reality and a non-reality. As we choose to participate in evil, we lend it a reality and an existence that it otherwise does not have. In our lives, we make the lie ‘real’ by living as if it were true; as if it WERE, when it is essentially NOT. In contrast, true freedom always leads to freedom. The choice of evil is not freedom, but the choice to throw away our freedom. This is the genuinely heartbreaking tragedy of the Garden; we have sold our eternal inheritance and all the richness of God for NOTHINGNESS.

Lastly, God has not promised that we will not suffer, but that he will make all of our sufferings to be like that of Christ; namely, overcome unto redemption. Scripture tells us that, in the end, every tear will be wiped away. Until then, in the face of evil and suffering we are enabled unto Godly grief and engagement over those things in our world which simply ‘ought not be’, in the fullness of Hope that God, in Christ and in his redemption and sanctification of his people, is actively bringing about the day when these things WILL NOT be; all of creation restored into the fullness of God’s glorious intent. Until that day, those people redeemed and brought into transforming relationship with God through Christ embody this victory by living lives of hope, healing and genuine freedom in the midst of suffering and bondage as a witness to the greater reality over God’s victory over evil in and through Christ, praying as Jesus taught us, ‘Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.’ Come, Lord Jesus.

Reflection #2: Freedom and the Fall

2008-07-19T18:35:00.000-07:00

“In the beginning God created… and it was good… it was good… So God created human beings in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female He created them… it was very good.’ – Gen.1

Human beings, we are told, were created by God, in the image of God. And it was very good. What, however, does this image consist of? Intelligence? Morality? Reason? In Colossians, the Apostle Paul describes Christ as the image of God, IN whom we have been created and TO whom we are being conformed completely through the work of redemption and sanctification. (Hughes) As such, we may surmise, then, that the true image of God, and therefore the foundational essence of humanity, is Christoformity. The intent of God in the creation of humanity was that we, created as the image of that essential humanity present in Godself and embodied by Christ, would, in the natural expression of that essential image, be bound in loving relationship with God; even as Jesus, the Son, is in loving relationship with the Father through the Spirit. ‘As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you…’. God’s creation of mankind was, in essence, an invitation for humanity to participate in the mystery of the divine relationship itself; out of the overflow of that relationship, God created in order that He might share that profound, powerful and life-giving love with us. It is through the lens of this purpose for being that we may accurately know that we are created in the image of God; for, like God himself, we were created for relationship with God.

In the light of this inexplicable holy generosity that compelled creation, we come to realize that it is only through the sovereign will and love of God that such an interaction would ever be possible. For what can the not-yet-created, that which is yet nothing, do to participate in the work or will of the eternal, uniquely pre-existent Creator? That we exist at all hangs upon the will and pleasure of the sovereign God, creator and sustainer, who by his grace holds us above the nothingness from whence we came.

What, then, do we speak of when we speak of the Fall?

Most simply put, Man, created in the image of - for relationship with - God, opted for nothingness and bondage rather than the freedom for which we were created and, as such, denied ourselves that essential relationship upon which our very life and existence hangs. When Calvin speaks of total depravity, he is drawing our attention to the fact that the very image of God in which we have been created – our essential bond and source – has been so corrupted by sin; our rebellion and denial, that who we are presently is totally unrecognizable in comparison to that which we have been created to be. We were created for relationship, and we denied that relationship; this is the essence of the Fall.

But, we may ask, isn’t choice the essence of freedom? If this relationship with God were to be genuine and real, did humanity not need the option of denying it? Is not free will contingent upon this? And if so, can we be judged for simply exercising that freedom in the manner we saw fit?

While this logic rings true for us, this fact exposes the reality that we have thoroughly lost sight of our own essence, having handed it over in exchange for a lie and a world of deception. For the chief lie of the enemy of our souls is that real freedom; that ideal which we hold so dearly, consists merely of CONTRARY choice. The lie that we bought in the Garden was that unless we have the ability to choose AGAINST something (namely, God), then we aren’t genuinely free. In opting for this, the devil’s definition of freedom, what we thought we were purchasing was autonomy and independence, but this freedom was not freedom at all; but merely freedom from existence; from the source of life. This ‘freedom’ was death. It was, and is, bondage. To this day, however, we fail to acknowledge this; seeking to approach God through the same old farce of a definition of freedom. The enemy is laughing.

For the essence of real freedom was not to choose against something; it did not need a ‘No’ in order to be genuine. Rather, the freedom of the Garden, and the freedom of that relationship with God for which we have been created, is the freedom of choosing from among the infinite ‘Yes’s’, the infinite possibilities available within the character and essence of God’s divine, overflowing love and creation. We were created with nothing but potential before us; upheld and spurred on in the sovereign love and will, all of creation waiting to be grown, developed, shaped into the fullness of all that it could be. We opted, rather, for nothingness; and all of creation groans. Because of God’s sovereignty, however, when we hand him evil and nothingness, he knows what to do with it. He has created from nothingness before. The story of our redemption is that of this sovereign, loving God, condescending to our fallenness, in order to take our nothingness, and bring about that fullness of his original intent; for our salvation and life, and for his glory and infinite joy that we might find ourselves in right relationship with Him once again.

Reflection #1: The Triune God

2008-07-19T18:29:00.000-07:00

‘We believe in one God, the Father, almighty, maker of heaven and Earth….’

With this beginning, the Nicene Creed immediately sets Christian teaching apart from an entire world of faith systems; especially in the context of the Roman world from which this new movement was birthed. ‘One God’; in the face of the Roman/Greek/Pagan conception of a polytheistic universe in which a pantheon of gods sought to struggle and vie with one another for power, sexual dominion, and other various forms of conquest, Christian teaching silences this chaos entirely. There is no cosmic competition; no eternal battle for influence in which human beings become merely pawns and casualties. There is but ONE God, one source, one almighty Father and the impetus for all that is. This God is beyond competition; without equal, wholly free and uniquely pre-existent.

‘And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God…’

This oneness of God, however, is not aloneness. From the outset of God’s revelation of himself in scripture, we find that this one pre-existent God is not alone in himself. Rather, within one nature and one unity, we find community. Despite the mystery of this we recognize that, in a God such as the God of scripture, revealed to us in His very essence as Love, it follows that this God in his unique pre-existence would not be essentially ALONE, but necessarily in RELATIONSHIP. As this God is ONE, however, without peer or equal, with whom would this essential relationship have been before the foundations of time and space itself but with Himself? As such, the foundations of our understanding of the Trinity are laid. Who then, is this Jesus; the Son of God?

‘Begotten from the Father before all ages… God from God… not made… of one substance with the Father, through whom all things came into existence…’

Jesus is the one who takes us to the Father, and sends us the Spirit. He is the one sent by the Father, conceived by the Spirit, and born of Mary among us. Jesus is the son of the Father, who lives under and in the power of the Spirit. He is the one doing the work of the Father, by the power and enabling of the Holy Spirit. To deal with Jesus is to deal with both Father and Spirit.

The Son, co-inherent and in-existent with the Father and the Spirit, is one with them, although distinct from them. The Son is not created, but eternally begotten and coeternal. The Son receives Sonship, gives Fathership, and exudes Spirit. A variety of heresies have sprung forth from a misunderstanding of this relationship. Most notably Arianism, which proposed that Christ was not one with the Father and Spirit, but rather, created. Based on an anthropomorphization of sonship, Arius concluded that there must have been a time when the Son was not, therefore the Son could not be co-eternal with the Father, and hence the Son could not be one with the Father, but must be something essentially other. From the limitations of language, it may be understandable how Arius would come to this errant conclusion. However, to follow this conclusion to it’s natural end proves disastrous. For if Jesus is not one with the Father, then God Himself is not our savior, as scripture indicates; he sent someone else. As Christ alone is our essential hermeneutic and source of direct revelation of God’s character, if Jesus is not one with the Father, then we actually have no direct revelation through which to be in relationship with God. If this is the case, that, in looking at Jesus, we are not actually finding the revelation of God himself, then our whole discussion; our entire foundation for knowledge and belief is undermined. What begins as is a misinterpretation of language ends in our inability to know God. As such, the teaching of the Church affirms the oneness of the Son with the Father and the Spirit, as revealed by the witness of scripture and by the witness of Christ himself.

‘And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Life-giver, who proceeds from the Father… and the Son…’

The third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit of God, proceeds from the Father and the Son as the very embodiment of their relationship with each other; the personified relational empowering and enabling within Godself. As such, though it has been a matter of some debate, the center and unity of the Trinity is not found in any one person of the Trinity, which would thus undermine the unity therein, but rather the unity of God IS the trinity. Such was the clarification of Athanasius and others regarding this point.

To lose sight of the unity within the Trinity is to fall into tri-theism; perceiving that there is not one God, but three, essentially throwing ourselves back into pagan pluralism. Everything that God does, He does as one God (ie. The Father creates in the Son, by the power of the Spirit); the works of God are essentially undivided.

To lose sight of the distinctions within the Trinity is to fall into Modalism: the perception that God is actually all one ‘stuff’ only revealed in three distinct expressions. Christian teaching maintains that God is both eternally and essentially tri-personal. These distinctions, within one nature, are that of RELATIONSHIP. The Father begets; giving sonship and receiving fathership. The Son is begotten; receiving sonship and giving fathership. The Spirit proceeds; from both the Father and the Son. These distinctions are not merely a matter of names or appearance, but essential and personal.

To lose sight of the equality within the Trinity is to fall into subordination, as we have already seen and discussed in the missteps of Arianism; to conceive of the Son or the Spirit as something less than God. All of these relationships, though complex and mysterious, are absolutely vital to perceive correctly. For, it is no less than the very essence of revelation of, and genuine relationship with, God that is on the line should we allow ourselves to embrace error. The stakes are far too high. May God guide us in all wisdom.

Preliminary Thoughts: Open Theism

2008-07-14T19:09:00.000-07:00

“ Such an impotent view of God understandably strikes fear, if not revulsion, in the hearts and minds of many believers who hear it. In reality, I will now argue, the charge could hardly be further from the truth. I will contend that if we truly believe God is omniscient, possessing unlimited intelligence and knowledge, there is no basis for concluding he is less "in control" if he knows the future partly as a realm of possibilities than he is if he knows the future exclusively as a realm of eternally settled facts. In fact, I shall argue that any view of God which thinks God gains any significant providential advantage simply by virtue of knowing the future exclusively as a realm of eternally settled facts (rather than as partly comprised of possibilities thereby concedes that it has a limited view of God. More specifically, ironic as it sounds, I shall argue that this charge is premised on a denial of God's omniscience.” - G. Boyd

To respond simply to this initial argument of one of Greg Boyd's extensive treatises on 'Open Theism'; it seems to me that Boyd here is engaging the wrong question entirely. This isn’t an issue of figuring out what would make God ‘most providential’; and building a theology to fit that human ideal. It is about coming to understand God as He ACTUALLY IS, as he has freely revealed himself to us, and allowing that God to shape our thinking, not vice versa. This is the God who could describe himself no better than ‘I AM’, the God who ‘WAS and IS and IS TO COME’; the ‘creator AND SUSTAINER’. The essence of this revealed God is nothing short of the act of BEING itself. God is not a static, esoteric reality; God is an EVENT, an UNFOLDING. God is LIFE itself. And apart from this ESSENTIAL life from which all else that is living derives their CONTINGENT life, there is nothing.

‘I AM’; apart from He who is, nothing is. Even the continued existence of the enemy of our souls is contingent upon the sovereign will and pleasure of God. God, we are told, created out of nothing. As such, all that exists is held by the very will of God over that chasm of nothingness from whence it came. If God were to will that the enemy did not exist, he would simply cease to exist. Period. He is utterly dependent on He from whom he would seek to rebel. This is why he is a defeated enemy, his only recourse in the hardened bitterness of his own rebellion but to lead God’s beloved creatures to ‘exchange the truth of God for a lie’; namely that lie that there is ANYTHING of substance apart from God, and that true freedom is NOT that blessed freedom of infinite possibility and potential that God placed before mankind in the Garden, but only the freedom of contrary choice.

For the enemy, if we can’t choose AGAINST something (namely, God), then we aren’t really free. This is the lie from the pit of Hell itself. Taken to it’s fullest expression, it would have us revile the ‘Tyranny’ of a God who has denied us freedom because he did not ask us whether or not we would like to exist! (this is, in essence the assumption underlying ‘The Great Divorce’)
We come to realize that God then, as the source and sustenance of all that IS; past, present, and future; the one in whom we ‘LIVE and MOVE and HAVE OUR BEING’, is fully aware of ALL that he is actively engaged in sustaining. We are told that the hairs on our head are numbered, that God knows every sparrow that falls to the ground. The contents of our very hearts are transparent to this God. He knows all of this, because apart from his upholding, sustaining will, none of it would BE at all. Even to that which is now opposed to him; that which breaks His heart, he continues to lend existence. This is the profundity of the divine LOVE.

To the question of open theism, then, we may now turn. Open theism would propose that, despite the fact that the future, in all its details and intricacies, has NO EXISTENCE at all apart from the conscious decision of God to actively create and sustain it, God is somehow UNAWARE of the full nature of that which he is creating and sustaining. Either, it seems, God is somehow UNABLE (too short sighted or too stupid) to be aware of these things, or He is UNWILLING; purposely covering up something over which he has every ability to be fully aware, but has decided to keep, as it were, from himself. What is the philosophical motivation to propose such a thing? The open theist would answer, because, if God already KNOWS; if our parts are already effectively WRITTEN, then we aren’t truly FREE. If God already knows what we are going to do before we do it, then this all must be one big arbitrary chess match between God and himself, with mankind caught in the middle, unable to do any other than that which has been already decided.

A few points: First, before we start, we must agree that God IS as He IS, and not merely as we would like him to be for the purposes of our own sense of self-importance. Often it feels that open theism largely finds its impetus in a sort of disapproval in thinking of the sovereignty of God operating in such a way that would make me feel like I am not in CONTROL. Simply because we (Americans, especially) don’t like to think that we lack a certain amount of perceived ‘autonomy’ doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Second, KNOWING and explicitly CAUSING are not the same thing. God’s knowledge is not a static knowledge, it is not a merely factual knowledge; it is a PERSONAL knowledge. God knows EXACTLY what I will do in EVERY situation; not because he causes me to do it, but because he KNOWS ME and he knows the situation in such a profoundly complete way that my course of action is absolutely obvious to him, even when it’s not to ME. We laugh at how predictable small children can be; parents know their children personally at such an essential level that they can ‘predict’ the response of their child in a given situation. I may know that my small niece will always choose chocolate over any other flavor of ice cream, even if she herself doesn’t know that about herself. I know my real friends; I know my wife, in some ways better than they know themselves. My knowing how someone I know will act in a given situation doesn’t mean that I MAKE them do it. I just KNOW them. How much deeper and fuller is God’s knowledge?! Will we now sit back and claim that, because we are KNOWN completely, we are therefore not completely free? God is unable to be anything other than God, namely, the God who IS and who KNOWS; we are both free and known, and that is not a contradiction in terms.

Thirdly, what essentially lies behind ‘Freewill Theism’ is a broken and corrupted understanding of free will. Essentially, we have bought the lies of the enemy hook, line and sinker. We fully believe that the only real freedom is the freedom of the contrary. If we cannot choose AGAINST, than we believe that we have no real choice at all. In reality, the ‘free will’ that God invested mankind with as an imprint of his own freedom was that freedom to fully BE; to live fully into the infinite potential of the infinite ‘yes’s’ that God had placed before us. ‘But’ the enemy says, ‘this tyrant God didn’t ASK YOU if you wanted THOSE options… He’s just spoon-feeding you. That isn’t FREEDOM.’ The deistic concept of the battle between good and evil is an essentially inaccurate paradigm for the Garden. We like to picture mankind in a neutral state, in an open field; good to the one side, and evil to the other. If we didn’t have that choice, we say, we wouldn’t be free. Mankind was not, however, in an open field. We were, in fact, standing at the edge of a precipice; the fullness of everything which God had created us for stretching out before us, and nothingness - inhumanity, death, non-existence - behind us. ‘Of ALL of the trees you may eat…’ The enemy convinced mankind that they could, in fact, co-opt the essence of God himself, if only they might loose themselves from that which God had given them without asking their permission; namely, Life. Of course, we didn’t realize that was the choice before us; all we saw was AUTONOMY. REAL freedom. And so we fell. Into death. Into inhumanity. It was only God’s unsearchable love that broke this fall from it’s inevitable end. Because he knew, of course. He knew we’d walk away, and he knew we’d break his heart, and he knew that there would be nothing that we could do about it for ourselves, and he knew that he would have to pay the price for our inevitable transgression. And he went ahead with this whole hair-brained scheme anyway because he knew that, in the end, when he’d done for us that which we could not do for ourselves and finally enabled us to take hold of all that which he’d created us for in order that we might participate in his sovereign, holy glory, it will have been worth it. Every tear wiped away, every transgression forgiven. He knew, so he was able to confidently bear our burdens. He knows, so he is able to journey with us even today; because he already sees us for what we WILL be, and he knows the journey that will take us there.

In failing to grasp this, freewill theism is simply built open the same, essential, prideful lies of Hell that mankind has dined upon since almost the beginning of time. That unless my will is OTHER than God’s will, it isn’t really FREE will. True freedom, however, is quite different. It is when my will finds itself WITHIN God’s perfect, sovereign, all-knowing will that I am truly free to be all that my creator has intended me to be. To take a racecar into a mud pit isn’t freedom; it’s foolishness. It wasn’t built for that. The enemy has made a good living, however, on making us believe that freedom and foolishness are the same thing. May God help us.

fade.

2008-04-01T07:14:00.000-07:00

Step outside into the sun, my love
Let it fall upon your shoulders,
Warm you through your clothes
See, these new shoots of grass are breaking through
In fact, it must be summer somewhere just south of here.

You won't; you won't ever leave my side.
'Cause I won't; I won't ever let your hands slip through my fingers

This is the way we die - just slowly fade
Behind a wrinkled face; from the dust I came
This is the way we walk into the twilights gleam
The shadows grow long, and you're holding me.

Evening comes so quietly, and soon
Wraps all in sunlight fading; inescapable
Sit beside me in the porch light's glow.
My love, we'll fade together; embrace the cool unknown.

so i lay me down...

2008-02-29T14:28:00.000-08:00

Sleep, like lovers do.
Sleep, like lovers do.
This life-giving grave; I lay myself down for you.
Sleep, like lovers do.

So much better now than where I used to be.
My heart's been bought and sold before; a pound of flesh for the lobbyists
and all those politicians - political loves - promising a life to me
they could never give at all.

So I lay me down
to die so that i might come alive somehow.
All that I have, I give;
these pieces, that I might be made whole again.

Sleep, like lovers do.
Sleep, like lovers do.
This life-giving grave; I lay myself down for you.
Sleep, like lovers do.

ashes and angels

2008-02-21T11:53:00.000-08:00

Strike the match and watch it burn;
this sulfurous plume, my nostrils turn.
The flame, the heat, the light
Where once a bridge, now just a funeral pyre.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

If I knew another way back to the place where I've come from I'd go.
But this path still smolders and the current's torrid in this brave new world.
My strength escapes, evaporates; and my broken soul, it bleeds
And my aching ears, they hear angel choirs; distant songs of wholeness sing.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

Remembering my father's house and those distant fields of innocence
There were lilac summers; the sickly sweetness of the nighttime air.
In spring, we'd walk - In winter, we'd warm by his hearth; a glowing fire within.
Now I curse a match, carelessly tossed, that keeps me from going back again.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

Feb. 5th

2008-02-05T17:55:00.000-08:00

It's 'Super Tuesday' today. (it's a big election thing) You ought to know about it. It's actually kind of a big deal. We should probably care.

CNN

ps. just for fun.

So...

2008-02-05T17:47:00.000-08:00

So, I know I don't post all that often... and when I do, entries tend to be 500% longer than the average, polite, blog attention span.

I guess I'm just not much good at this.

But, most of what ends up here is the product of wrestling with scripture and life through the lens of my ongoing education; in both the academic and practical - generally things that go from a journal to a teaching or paper, and then end up here for whoever has the patience or desire.

For what it's worth.

-CB

'The Sermon' - part 2: Law. Anger. Lust.

2008-02-05T17:31:00.000-08:00

:: So.. thinking through the 'Sermon on the Mount'. As mentioned in a previous post, Jesus introduces this well-known collection of teachings with a series of statements meant to both draw us in and illustrate the condition of heart that will bring about the purposes of God in us: blessed, he says, are the spiritually bankrupt, the grieving, the cheek-turners, the hungry and thirsty, the pure in heart and the peacemakers…

This is, Jesus says, what it is to be salt and light. People, who are aware of their spiritual emptiness, aware of their need for healing and wholeness, asking God to fill them, purify them, grow in them the depths of his character and holiness, that we might pour ourselves out as healers and peacemakers defined by the forgiveness and longsuffering gentleness of Christ himself. It is in this way that a world desperately seeking meaning and completion will finally be able to see the face of hope, and come to him.

Which, taken to heart, gives us an amazing picture of our world and what it is to engage it in all its’ beauty and brokenness. But… is this new? And, perhaps more importantly, is this message of Jesus a rejection of the Judaism from which it springs; the history, the prophecy and the law, or is it somehow coherent or embracing of that foundational message and that covenant?

:: Mt. 5:17-20

‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets…’

With this statement, Jesus places all that he is and all that he will say firmly within the flow of redemptive history as it would have been understood by these Jewish listeners; this message of God and Kingdom that he brings is not a matter of novelty, but of incarnation… ‘I have come to fulfill them…’ – Jesus offers himself as the incarnate expression of this plot that has been unfolding since the very entrance of sin into the world.

Perhaps we might also look at Jesus’ ‘fulfillment’ of the law in an interpretive light: more than just an outflow of the past or a result of it, could it be perhaps that Jesus is claiming that he himself is the lens through which we find the means to properly interpret and apply all that came before him? Either way… this is a deeply significant statement that ties Jesus to the ongoing unfolding of redemptive history.

v. 18-19

‘…heaven and earth pass away… the law will not pass away’ – Jesus’ use of the same word here (translated ‘to pass away’), joining these two thoughts together; expressing that, in Jesus’ view, the Law (Jewish covenant) is not merely some foreign moral code imposed upon creation, but it is rather an expression of the very heartbeat; the very character of creation itself... Which is fascinating.

In this, we begin to understand that the Law (much like the Sermon on the Mount) was not given strictly or primarily to mandate behavior… but to express something about the nature and character of God. The Law will not pass away… because it is a description of that which is essential and eternal… and until such a time as God is again fully revealed, the Law shall remain.

It is in THIS sense that Jesus fulfills the law: as the incarnate expression of the heart, nature and person of God.

v. 20 ‘ Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees…’

On the surface, this is a ridiculous statement. For the Jews of Jesus' day, these people WERE the righteous; the spiritual… the benchmark of practical faith. To imply, then, that these people, for all their lives’ devotion to getting it right, don’t make the cut, is an outstanding statement. WHO, then, has any hope of entering the kingdom?

How could one possibly achieve this ‘greater’ righteousness? What more could God possibly demand of a person then this? Because, should one try, it seems that it would quickly become obvious that we can’t, actually, do it… at least not in our own strength.

Maybe this is exactly the point?

What if the Law, and now Jesus, was never so much meant as a ‘color by numbers’ moral code, but rather a glimpse into the character of God, that we might come to realize our own brokenness, come to face our own inability to do anything about it, and so cast ourselves his grace and mercy in light of how far we fall short? (blessed are the poor in spirit… the spiritually bankrupt)

v.21-26 – Murder/Anger

Jesus now continues to expound upon this point: ‘… you shall not murder’ A decent moral code to live by… But, Jesus says, It is quite possible that we could live our entire lives having never broken this particular code in practice, while still missing the point… Still falling short of the character of God. Murder is merely an extreme symptom of the disease of brokenness, bitterness and anger that will wrap it’s roots around our souls should we give it the chance…

Your code is alright, Jesus says, but it doesn’t get to the heart of the matter… I’m not interested in behavior modification or treating the symptoms… I want to cure the disease in you. I don’t want merely the absence of outward conflict, I want real reconciliation. (v. 23-26)… It’s as we come face to face with God that we can see our need, and are invited to healing.

So, too in v. 26-30 : Adultery/Lust

‘So… you’ve never given in to the temptation to cheat on your spouse? That’s good. Kudos. But God is actually interested in more than your behavior… He’s interested in your heart.’ (note: this is not an attack on biology, but a commentary on intent. Could be translated ‘looking upon a woman in order to lust after her’… He is not dealing with repressing raw impulse, but addressing the lie that says it doesn’t matter how we incline our heart or what we allow in to our mind, so long as we don’t physically act on it)

Some would protest that Jesus’ teachings here, taken seriously, are simply unreasonable. How can he expect us to so discipline ourselves with respect to urges of this sort which come so naturally from within us as a result of our human condition?

But this is perhaps exactly the point; we ARE helpless to keep our own brokenness at bay… We are helpless to heal our own souls: to address the bitterness, anger and lust that run rampant within us. The best we can ever hope for is to strive for the appearance of righteousness; to put on a good face… to hope to keep the disease from showing symptoms… But all the behavior modification and self control in the world can never make us whole. It can never deal with the problem. It is not through legalism that we will find our way into the kingdom of God, but through grace. Through the forgiveness and healing transformation of God himself through the person of Jesus.

It is for this reason that Jesus, and the law, seeks to bring us face to face with the person and holiness of God; that we might recognize our need, and come to him for salvation.

Maybe you’re realizing that your faith, to this point, has been more about keeping yourself in line; more about good behavior than surrender?

Maybe you’ve got wounds that you carry around; bitterness or anger that you have towards someone who has wronged or hurt you, and you need to let that go, to open yourself up to healing?

Maybe there’s ways you’ve bought into the lie that the things you let into your heart and head aren’t a big deal, so long as you don’t let those things show, and those things you’ve let in and keep in are actually rotting you from the inside out?

Maybe you’re on the fence? Wouldn’t to this point, have described yourself as a follower of Jesus? Maybe you’re realizing that that’s a step you need to take?

Pure in Heart (Mt. 5)

2008-02-05T17:25:00.000-08:00

:: Jesus, in his introduction to a collection of teachings commonly known as the Sermon on the Mount, begins with a series of strange sayings… ‘Fortunate are the spiritually bankrupt. Fortunate are those who are wracked by grief. Fortunate are the un-vengeful oppressed, the persecuted…’

In the midst of this unique introduction, he says this: ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.’

Which sounds nice… makes sense… More sense than many of the others, anyway. But what does this little statement really even mean? In the Jewish understanding, to see God was synonymous with knowing God… ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will know God.’

But, who are the ‘Pure in Heart’? How does one become pure in heart? How do we reconcile this idea with Paul in Rom. 3; ‘There is no one righteous…’ or ‘for all have sinned’? – Who are these hypothetically Pure-hearted ones? What if I want to see/know God? What hope is there for me? The UNpure? The broken? The beaten up? The ashamed?

In fact, were we to look at it, we would find that the sermon on the mount is absolutely FULL of seemingly impossible demands: ‘Unless you are more righteous then the Pharisees… you will not enter the kingdom of God’ ‘Anger = Murder’ ‘Lust = Adultery’… Now that I think of it, WHO can live up to the standards of this God? I can’t possibly live up to this bar that you have set! What hope do we have but that you are MERCIFUL, and show us GRACE?

It is at this point that I begin to wonder… Maybe this is exactly the point? What if the Law, and now Jesus, was never so much meant as a ‘color by numbers’ moral code, but rather a glimpse into the character of God, that we might come to realize our own brokenness, come to face our own inability to do anything about it, and so cast ourselves his grace and mercy in light of how far we fall short? (blessed are the poor in spirit… the spiritually bankrupt)

In this, I begin to understand Jesus’ statement about the pure in heart… For how might any of us ever hope to be pure in heart, unless it is through the work of God in us?

And why is it that those who are pure in heart will see/KNOW God? Perhaps it is that as we seek to become pure-hearted, we are forced to let God IN? Perhaps it is in that cleaning process that we start to become familiar with the one who is doing the cleaning… Perhaps it is as we allow him to root around inside of us and cast the rubbish to the curb that we actually begin to know his character… on display through his purifying work; those things that he keeps and cleans, and those things that he simply throws away.

Much like the heart and soul of an artist is most poignantly communicated through their art, perhaps it is that the heart and character of God is best experienced through his work in us. Perhaps we grow in knowledge of God through this process of cleansing and transformation because, through it, we are growing more and more LIKE him.

As we explore and wonder at what this process is like… what it gives and what it demands of us, we are forced to come to a startling conclusion: God isn’t interested in being your friend.

Jesus isn’t interested in being your buddy, your acquaintance, or your crush. God isn’t interested in our charming religious flirtation… He isn’t satisfied with a couple Friday nights a month; a nice meal, a couple drinks and a good laugh. No… this God with whom we are dealing is looking for intimacy. God wants to be KNOWN… He wants to hold you close, take you to church, put a ring on you finger, and then get you in bed.

He wants to get into every pore, every wound, into the deepest and darkest and most vulnerable places of our souls… and there forge a connection of love as has changes us from the inside out.

In Luke chapter 9 Jesus asks his disciples; ‘I know what the crowds are saying, but who do YOU say that I am?’

Are we going to do this thing? How serious are you? Do you want to KNOW me, or are you content to just know ABOUT me? Are you in, or are you out?

‘Take up your cross and follow me.’ Because I don’t want you to date me… I need you to die for me; to die WITH me. Will you lay down your life? Surrender your sovereignty? Admit your inability? Let me inside? Because this is the only way you will ever truly know what it is to be alive.

God doesn’t want to be your friend. God is a lover. He isn’t satisfied with SOME of you; he wants it all. This isn’t a business agreement. It’s not a matter of good behavior and reward. This journey is a relationship. This is a marriage, and it is helpful to think of it in that way.

I didn’t marry my wife once. I’m married to her every day. And every morning is a decision about whether I will choose to live in that reality or not. Will I seek to grow in knowledge and love and sacrifice today? Will I die for her? Or not?

Jesus invites us to the altar today. This relationship will demand that we give him ALL of ourselves… our flaws, ambitions and dreams… But he has already given us all of himself. And that is enough. That is life itself, if we could only open our hands to receive it.

'The Sermon': Matthew 5:1-16

2008-02-05T17:07:00.000-08:00

:The Sermon on the Mount. Even more brilliant than you think.

This collection of Jesus' teachings is largely poetic, dramatic and pictorial; as opposed to functioning like a code of law to be approached with a spirit of absolutism, it is in many ways rather painting a picture and calling us into an experience of the character of God. It’s purpose is not to legislatively end the conversation, but to begin it; to invite us into deepest thought and cause us to wrestle with this God whom we are meeting.

The sermon takes the present and the practical and looks at those things through the lens of eternity; it looks backwards, from the culmination of the perfect, unbroken will of God to our present. Because it comes out of this consummated Kingdom perspective, it strikes us as largely heedless of earthly contingencies, radical, and even terrifying in places in its attack on complacency and shallow religiosity.

As we wrestle with these teachings and what they call out in us, we are forced to come to grips with the fact that the sermon, and the Kingdom for that matter, is not really concerned with what is practical or possible in the here and now… they are not so much about expounding upon what WORKS; the sermon is about the way God IS.

This journey Jesus invites us into, then, will be one into the heart and character of God as illuminated by these teachings of Jesus in Matthew 5-7. As we do so, we will find both invitation and challenge as we come face to face with the unlimited goodness and love of God, and begin to understand that it is his desire to grow in us that same love, that we might see heaven and earth brought together.

The Beatitudes

We begin here, with Mt. 5:1-16… probably some of the most familiar verses in scripture; but again, statements whose intent and implications actually go much deeper than most of us have ever cared to wrestle with before…

v.3 ‘Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven’

A fine sounding statement... but what does this even mean? What does it look like to be ‘poor in spirit’? Is that really a good thing? Why are they blessed? Why do THEY get the Kingdom of Heaven?

The Greek translated as ‘poor’ here is an image of the financially destitute (poor, poor as a beggar)… which was helpful for me as I thought about this passage; this idea of spiritual poverty. Why would those in spiritual poverty be considered ‘fortunate’? What advantage might they have over people in different circumstances? Because, if we’re honest, none of us would aspire to be destitute; spiritually or otherwise.

It is as if this passage could read; ‘Blessed are the spiritually bankrupt… because they can’t fool themselves. They understand that they are in a place of need. Other people might be able to tell themselves that they’ve got things pretty well in hand; that they’re decent enough people – morally and spiritually inclined enough – secure enough in their achievements to warrant whatever reward might lie at the end of the rainbow. Not these people. Broke and busted, empty-handed, they know they have a need that they are helpless to provide for themselves… and so, they are ready to receive what I would give them.’

The fact is that every person is in need of this gift of grace; these people, though – the empty and the broken – are just going to be naturally quicker to understand that. While the rest of us might be able to distract ourselves from our need for a little while, these people have nowhere else to go. In this, they are fortunate indeed.

Are you empty? Are you broken? Are you searching? You are not far. You are not alone. Jesus is nearer than you might ever expect.

v.4 ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.’

Again, we might ask, how is it that those in mourning could be considered fortunate? Given a choice, we certainly would not aspire to mourn! We would not choose to be consumed by grief.

But much like the sentiment of the previous verse, Jesus finds something in the posture of the grieving that is of deep value. It is as if he is saying, ‘Fortunate are the wounded; those who are at their end in painful circumstances, because they know that real comfort is what they need. They do not have the luxury of the numbing salve of feeling comfortable in their circumstances; They are profoundly aware that they need help and healing. This healing and wholeness that we all need, these people will receive it… because they know their life depends on it.

Are you wounded? Are you hurting? Broken-hearted? Jesus wants to meet you there. Would you let him heal you?

v.5 ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’

‘Meekness’ doesn’t really jump out as a highly valued virtue in our society. To us, the word implies ‘mouse-like’, ‘easily pushed around’… ‘quiet’. The word translated as ‘meek’ or ‘gentle’ here is actually defined as, ‘the humble and gentle attitude which expresses itself in patient submissiveness to offense, free from malice and desire for revenge.’

Thinking about this, it starts to read a bit differently… ‘Blessed are the cheek-turners; those who refuse to play by the ‘power-over’ paradigm of this world… who give themselves for the subversive movement that is the kingdom of God even when it looks like just getting beaten up.’

There is nothing mouse-like about this meekness. This is the meekness that is able to stand with hope under suffering… This is the gentleness of civil rights marchers who peacefully faced fire hoses and police dogs to stand for what was right. This is the legacy of Martin Luther King and those who stood with him; the gospel and hope of Jesus, profoundly on display. These people changed the world.

The idea of ‘inheriting the earth/land’ that we see here is also a profound idea, harkening deep within Jewish history: The covenant with Abraham, that his decendents would be given a land of their own as an inheritance, the journey of the exodus from slavery to the ‘promised land’… again themes adopted by the civil rights movement…

Using this language implies that it is through those who willingly shoulder suffering for the good of their world that Gods promises and purposes will be fulfilled… it is through these suffering servants, ultimately embodied by Jesus himself, that redemptive history will move forward.

Will we be these people? Will we lay our lives down for the sake of our world? What might this look like?

v.6 ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.’

The God of scripture is a God who longs to see his people filled, satisfied, made whole. It is what we have been created for; that, connected to our source, we would want for nothing.

To see his purposes accomplished in the world, it is important that we grasp, however, the nature of this filling. When God fills a person, he does not fill them to the brim… He fills us to overflowing. Because his blessing is not for us alone. (Abraham) This brings to mind for me the interaction between Jesus and a woman he met at a well one afternoon… a woman who was spiritually thirsty, and who Jesus offered to fill. He warned her, however, that the water he gives does not merely fill a person, but becomes within them a spring; welling up to eternal life.

God pours into us in such a manner such that we are not merely satisfied, but overflowing.

Are there ways in which we have resisted overflowing? If we’re honest, might we confess that we operate as if this blessing is intended for us alone?

v.7 ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.’

Reminds me of the Lords prayer; ‘Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’

Do we take the time to wrestle with the connection between our ability to receive forgiveness and mercy and our ability to give those things? The implication of scripture, here and in other places, is that unforgiving and unmerciful people cannot receive forgiveness or mercy. Why? Will God refuse it, or will they simply find themselves unable to accept it?

Are there people in our lives that we have not forgiven? Would we ask God to help us let go of our bitterness toward those people so that we might take hold of his mercy toward us?

v. 8 ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God’

In scriptural tradition, to see God is to KNOW God. That said, this is all well and good… but how does one go about becoming ‘pure in heart’?

It is only through the work of God that we are even able to be pure in heart. Perhaps, then, it is in the midst of this cleansing process that we become intimately familiar with God himself; as we allow him to root around and cast out the rubbish to the curb, we begin to know his character as it is on display in and through his purifying work.

Much like the heart and soul of an artist is most poignantly communicated through their art, perhaps the heart and character of God is best experienced through his work in us. Our knowledge of him grows as we allow ourselves to be shaped more and more into the likeness of him who we are seeking to know.

At some level, there is only so much we can know about God without surrendering to him. Because to try and know him while denying him access to our lives is like trying to appreciate the work of Picasso without ever looking at a painting. The encyclopedia doesn’t do him justice. God needs to be experienced to be known.

God isn’t interested in just grabbing coffee with us… Flirting from a safe distance. He wants to be intimate; to work within us, to get into every pore, every thought, every hope, clean us out so that he might connect with us and shape us at the level of our souls.

Are there ways in which we are avoiding intimacy with God? Keeping him at a distance? Will we accept his invitation to surrender, cleaning and relationship?

v.9 ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.’

The term ‘peacemaker’ here was commonly used to refer to kings who established peace. In this light, it is important to note that this is not a matter of conflict avoidance… To be a peacemaker in this sense is to enter a conflict and engage it. To wage peace. Militant Love.

We find here a picture of Christ himself on the cross; interceding with God on behalf of a humanity which found itself bankrupt in its conflict with their creator. He spreads his arms, enters the fray, and draws heaven and earth together again.

He then calls us to become ambassadors of Shalom… To take up our cross and follow him; to be those in the world who seek out conflict and brokenness so that we might bring his healing to bear – out of the overflow of that which he has done for and within us.

This task is not an easy one, nor without its inherent risks, for we find this mandate followed by v. 10-12:

To step into a conflict is to risk getting beaten up. You’ll probably get shot at. Again, the champions of civil rights here in the U.S. know this well… To be a peacemaker often does not feel very peaceful.

We find here a significant departure between Christianity and many world religions, like Buddhism, which teach transcendence – elevating oneself above the brokenness and conflict of our world. Jesus, in contrast, calls those who follow him into radical, sacrificial, even painful engagement with all the ways our world is messed up… to embrace, enter, and bring healing to those difficult places as an expression of the character of this God with whom we are dealing.

It is in this spirit that Jesus closes this section of teaching with v. 13-16

:: This is what it is to be salt and light. People, who are aware of their spiritual emptiness, aware of their need for healing and wholeness, asking God to fill them, purify them, grow in them the depths of his character and holiness, that we might pour ourselves out as healers and peacemakers defined by the forgiveness and long suffering gentleness of Christ himself. It is in this way that a world desperately seeking meaning and completion will finally be able to see the face of hope, and come to him.

Blizzard

2007-12-16T08:36:00.000-08:00

[a little something a wrote a couple years ago that I was reminded of this week]

:: It's snowing this morning. It will be all day, I'm told... Blizzard conditions. Sunday is usually one of my busiest days; but not today. A blizzard tends to slow things down. Everything that I would have occupied myself with has been canceled... a storm-mandated Sabbath.

Might a blizzard have something to tell us? To a world addicted to business and identities rooted in what we do, a blizzard whispers, 'Stop. Business has been canceled. You'll have to find something else to define you today.'

Falling snow creates an eerie kind of quiet. Everything is muffled. Solid surfaces no longer respond to the stimulus of sound the way we expect them to. Inside our caves of wood and glass, we watch the snow bury our plans for the day and we feel the adrenaline of expectation drain from our systems. What we feel at this moment is telling... is it peace? Or panic?

Sometimes I honestly think that people drive off the road during a snow storm just to keep their high. 'No, this meeting can't wait. I'll have to risk it.' 'We need a movie... can't just sit around and stare at each other all day.''We should have gotten groceries yesterday... just didn't have the time.'... We'll stick our fingers in our ears and hum just to keep the quiet out. If I can drive off the road in the process; even better... The hassle and frustration of crashing just to keep the adrenaline flowing.

The blizzard says, 'Stop.' I will not be defined by what I do or produce today. I will realize how small I am, and find peace in that. I will remember those who do not have the luxury of thinking they can define themselves by their career, and those who lack walls of wood and glass to hide behind or escape from, and I will pray. I will read a book. I will listen for God in the quiet...

... Or maybe I'll go for a drive.

surrender.

2007-11-29T18:15:00.000-08:00

A quote from a community that I dearly love... as I ponder some things.

Context HERE. (New Exodus)

"...Today, Egypt can be seen as a picture of what we're all born into. We're all born into oppression by sin. We're born with a sinful nature that pulls us, distorts things and takes us in directions that are destructive to us. Every single human being is born into bondage to sin. God wants to liberate us from sin, and he has a plan to do this. (*) In the same way that the Jewish people were called by God to use their wealth and influence to bless those who need it most, so God has called the Church to do the same, to be his flesh and blood - his body - in the world, so the Church is called the Body of Christ. When we begin to use our resources, energy and power to preserve our own comfort and empire, we are sinning. Eventually, our sin will cause us to lose our power, wealth and influence. And God's plan for blessing the world will be lost for a time.

The reason we study the Exodus is because we want to understand who Jesus is and what he's doing. He wants to liberate the world from physical, spiritual and cultural bondage. Most of us have been given great wealth, talent and energy. And God wants us to share it with others who don't have enough. What if the Church began to understand that God wants to fix this entire planet?"

http://www.marshill.org/believe/newexodus/today.php

--

"We're born with a sinful nature that pulls us, distorts things and takes us in directions that are destructive to us. Every single human being is born into bondage to sin. God wants to liberate us from sin, and he has a plan to do this."

* The question is... what? They want to make a leap here from the problem of sin to the role of the Church in the world; to how we use our power. What this misses is the reality that, in order for us to take part in this great Mission of God; the living out of the Gospel, there must first be a fundamental shift in our own, personal rebellion and self destruction... a reckoning, a repentance, an acceptance of the invitation of Jesus and a fundamental change of allegiance.

Unless I come to this moment of profound surrender and acceptance of that reconciliation made freely available in Christ; through his life, death and resurrection, I will never be able to fully enter into what God is seeking to do in the world. I may be attracted and converted to a compelling community, because the truth is, when the Gospel is actually lived out it looks very compelling. But, at the end of the day, standing near the table and appreciating the smell of the food is not the same thing as joining in the feast.

This is indeed a journey… but a journey with points of arrival; perhaps the most significant of which is that moment when I, compelled by the gospel and moved by the invitation to join in it, say ‘Yes… Jesus, I (personally) want what you have to offer. Free me. Heal me. Use me.’

This, of course, will find its context and be fleshed out in community. But it is MY will that I must surrender. I am a rebel who must lay down MY arms. Until this happens, we cannot move forward.

What I find here in this cross-section of Mars Hill is a beautiful picture of what the Gospel ought to look like when it comes to fruition… but, as it stands, it is a chain with a missing link. It's the mystery of the missing atonement. It troubles me... if for no other reason that (albeit from a distance) these are people that I have come to love.

:: Side note (from a brief conversation last night)... If, in the end, 'every knee will bow' (in a positive sense), free will essentially has essentially been tossed aside. It seems to me that God has consistently refused to do this. He holds humanity in much too high a regard.

Willow Creek Repents?

2007-11-10T10:16:00.000-08:00

http://blog.christianitytoday.com/outofur/archives/2007/10/willow_creek_re.html#more

Interesting... The article, the comments... The potential implications for mainstream evangelicism... Worth a read, anyway.

John 15:1-17

2007-11-01T17:28:00.000-07:00

+ So, here's the thing: there's a lot of ways that seem right to a man... A lot of paths that look like salvation - wholeness, healing, and everything you were meant to be - but at the end of the day, they're nothing but empty promises

Dead-ends and Dry wells.

I'm the true vine; the real source, the wellspring of life and love and song that you've been built for. I'm the voice... when all you've heard up 'till now has been the echo.

Remain in me. Send down your roots and drink deeply in this soil. Remain in me - A branch, once cleft, finding itself grafted, reunited, reinvigorated - amazingly and undeniably alive... Alive again.

Remain in me. Outside this vine is death; dryness, disconnection and discarded things - lit up, perhaps, for a moment... a flash of light, a moment of warmth, and then nothing but ashes.

Will you waste yourself; spent in every direction but life? My father knows something about productive sacrifice.

When he bids a person come, he bids them come and... die?

At the hand of the gardener... death for life; surrender for freedom - sacrificing those things that do not matter for that which truly does.

Remain in me... bear my fruit. From the overflow of what I would pour into you, may you flood this place with love and life. Connect the hose, turn on the tap... and see what happens.

Broken open and poured out - I will do this for you. And, as the father sends me, so I send you.

My life for you, and yours for this world.

Because that's love. This is love.
Because that's love. THIS is love.

Friends, may you love one another.

Honor, Shame, Aliens, Philippians, and me.

2007-11-01T17:17:00.000-07:00

“’Let’s say I was an alien and I had to go back to my home planet and explain to some head-of the-aliens guy about what people on this planet were like.’ I told Grant that I would say to the head alien, ‘The thing that defines human personalities is that they are constantly comparing themselves to one another… Humans, as a species, are constantly, and in every way, comparing themselves to one another, which, given the brief nature of their existence, seems an oddity, and, for that matter, a waste. Nevertheless, this is the driving influence behind every human’s social development, their emotional health and sense of joy, and, sadly, their greatest tragedies. It is as though something that helped them function and live well has gone missing, and they are pining for that missing thing in all sorts of odd methods, none of which are working. The greater tragedy is that very few people understand they have the disease. This seems strange as well, because it is obvious. To be sure, it is killing them, and yet sustaining their social and economic systems. They are an entirely beautiful people with a terrible problem.’”

– Don Miller, ‘Searching for God Knows What’

:: Why is it that when somebody cuts me off in traffic, steps in ahead of me in line, or otherwise fails to pay me what I feel is my due acknowledgement, I take such great offence? What is it in me that triggers that rage; that redness of face, that coldness of stare and that predictable surge of barely restrained profanity? On the surface, it hardly makes sense. Whatever the motivation of such an offender, the pragmatic reality is that this intrusion actually costs me very little; a few minutes of my time, at the very most.

But the deepest truths are rarely pragmatic. These seconds or minutes cost me by another’s disregard are not an attack on my schedule. No, an intrusion of that sort I might be able to simply let pass. As valuable as it is, it is not my time that had been taken from me; if I am able to look deep enough it is, in fact, my identity and my worth that I feel are at risk.

In our post-modern, American culture, we like to think that identity is something that simply flows from inside of a person and is communicated to the rest of the world through whatever vehicle they may choose to express it. Individualism dictates that identity and worth have no greater source than one’s self. Our identity - who we are - cannot be handed to us by anyone or anything. And, for that matter, it cannot be taken away.

While most people would claim to believe this, however, we simply do not live as if it is true. In every instance of offence or disrespect, we feel and respond as if this intrusion has actually cost us something deeply significant. We behave as if our very justification for existence is on the line. While individualism can do very little to explain this visceral reality apart from an appeal to some latent hangover of a long irrelevant survival instinct, there is another possibility.

What if, despite what one might expect, human beings were actually wired to receive their identity from an outside source? What if, somewhere along the way, we had lost our connection with that source? And what if, as a result, we now find ourselves trying to establish our own sense of worth and value? What if we now found ourselves in the midst of a deep and continual struggle to justify our own existence and imbue ourselves with a sense of significance?

Should such a thing be true, the nearest outside source available to replace that from which we had been disconnected would be each other. It would be totally natural for a totem-pole system of comparative values to emerge, where my worth is determined by how many people are beneath me in the applicable social strata. Affirmation, achievement, social and economic success, association with those more highly regarded than I; all these would be desirable and a means of filling that felt void of sustainable value.

In such an economy, disrespect or improper association could quickly cost a person their place; inevitably decreasing their worth. In many ways, this would feel like a fate worse than death; something to be avoided at all costs.

This is, of course, precisely the scenario spelled out by the narrative that we find in scripture. The author of Genesis tells us of a rebellion in which we walked away from God - in the tragic irony of a leaf declaring independence from its vine - and in this, lost our connection with our source. Enter insecurity, shame, relational brokenness and death. Enter a totem-pole world.

:: Honor and Shame in the 1^st Century

While we, as 21^st century Americans, tend to try and live as if this were not the case – convincing ourselves that we alone determine who we are in the world- and so thinly veil the totem-pole realities of our own nature, the Greco-Roman culture of first century Palestine was in many ways more honest. As explored in the article ‘Honor and Shame’, the social dynamic of this culture was structured almost explicitly around the felt reality of comparative values. A life of honor and esteem was considered to be the highest end, while dishonor was to be feared more then death. A challenge could not be left unanswered, and a gift could not be received without a more extravagant gift offered in return. This dynamic was the understood and accepted paradigm for the social economy of the day.

When we read the New Testament in this light, particularly the pastoral letters of Paul, we see certain things come to the surface that we may not have otherwise noticed. Even in the teachings of Jesus himself in the gospels, we see this dynamic play itself out. Take the discourse in Luke 14, for example, where Jesus addresses the propensity of people to seek out the seats of greatest honor at public celebrations. He goes on to tell his disciples that when they throw a party, they ought not invite their friends at all – who would then be socially obligated to outdo the invitation of their host at a subsequent event, and so pay them back – but to invite those of no social value whatsoever; people who could have no hope of returning the favor or boosting the hosts social clout.

In the course of his life and ministry, Jesus in fact continually engages this accepted system of value with a frustrating subversion. Again and again he refused to play by the rules. He subjected himself to shame by the people who he chose to associate with. He did things entirely unbecoming his station in that society. His stories contained images of people who displayed a willful ignorance of the social graces one would employ to climb the ladder of clout and honor. In a religious context, the priests and teachers of the law were the gatekeepers to the upper echelons of honor; Jesus repeatedly failed to pay them the respect that they felt they were due, and instead called their entire system into question as he proposed to open the access to God to the whole world through himself.

This was a blasphemy deserving of death in their opinion, not only on the basis of the role that Jesus was claiming for himself, but also because the kinds of people whom the life and teachings of Jesus implied that God himself would dwell among was absolutely… shameful. In a culture that, at its very core, assumed that value and honor were things that could be gained and lost on the basis of acquaintance, it would make sense that, subconsciously, people might assume this same dynamic applied even to God. The implicit thought would be that for God to allow himself to fellowship with the undeserving and the unclean would somehow make him less… God. This was serious blasphemy indeed.

When we turn to Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we find it ripe with these cultural undertones and implications. Paul is attempting to explain to a people who live in the midst of a totem pole society how to find honor in following a savior who, in the eyes of the world, chose the route of shame and invited us to walk in his footsteps; in both his life and death. When we realize this context, we can appreciate the pastoral challenge before Paul as he seeks to disciple and grow this church in Philippi.

:: The Letter to the Philippians

+ Paul’s Chains Advance the Gospel

This Honor and Shame dynamic is thrown into striking relief by the fact that this is a letter written to a church by an apostle who finds himself, at the time of his writing, in chains. For all intents and purposes, they are being asked to accept life instruction from a known convict. After his introductions, Paul wastes no time in naming the ‘elephant in the room’, per se. Starting in verse 12 of chapter 1, he writes this:

“Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear to the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.”

Given the context, it is fairly evident that the undertone that Paul is striking here is one of, ‘I know this looks like shame, but the purposes of God are actually being accomplished in it’. And this will carry throughout the entire letter, including the framework for his presentation of the gospel itself. It is interesting to note that Paul adopts the accepted language for honor/shame dynamics, all while arguing that this system of value is essentially no longer valid in Jesus. In verse 20, he writes; ‘I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage…’. It is fascinating to consider how this would have been read by those who first received it.

+ Life Worthy of the Gospel

“Whatever happens, as citizens of heaven live in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ... For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for him… ” 1:27-29

Paul’s experience has been that the disciples of Christ in his day were often met with persecution and social disgrace by Jewish and Roman cultural contexts which either did not understand them or hated them for their allegiance to Jesus. He prepares this Church for what will be, inevitably, a very difficult struggle as they find themselves cut loose from the social standings that had long supported their sense of worth and dignity, and he does so by reminding them that their true source of value, and their true citizenship, lies in heaven. Because of this, no abuse or disgrace they receive for the gospel can take anything away from them. On the contrary, to be shamed for the sake of gospel may truly be considered the greatest honor. He challenges them with the question of what their lives will be considered ‘worthy’ in light of: the jury of their peers, or God himself?

+ Imitating the Humility of Christ

The crux of Paul’s argument for the reversal of the accepted paradigm of honor is found in chapter 2, verses 1-11, with his exposition of the life and ministry of Jesus himself through the lens of honor and shame. Paul here explores the paradox and encouragement of proclaiming a crucified savior. Despite what many may say, it is unlikely that crucifixion is the most painful way that the Romans knew to dispatch a person. I feel that that honor may be reserved for living torches or being cooked alive in boiling oil. No, crucifixion, while agonizing, was not the perfection of pain; it was the perfection of shame. To hang, naked and bleeding, perhaps for days, beside a busy interchange as a spectacle and example of what happens to those who oppose the empire; this was about more than destroying a body – it was about destroying a person; their name, their reputation, and their following. This is why Paul, speaking of the humility of Christ, exclaims that he subjected himself to death – ‘even death on a cross!’ v.8.

Kings were not expected to be known for their humility; they were known for their glory and power. Paul expounds on the idea that the glory of Jesus - one even with God himself – was made even more significant by the fact that he did not feel the need or entertain the temptation to hold that glory over his people, but rather took the place of a servant; faithful even unto death in shame and ignominy for the sake of those who he came to save. With this as our paradigm of faithfulness, our own self-aggrandizement seems nothing short of profane, and Paul uses this picture of Jesus to explain the new economy of value that God invites us into through the sacrifice of his son.

+ Do Everything Without Grumbling

In 2:12-18 Paul follows that which we have just discussed to its logical and practical conclusion in the context of Christian community. That is, we ought not be concerned about receiving our due, or complain that the tasks we are called into are not fitting our place in society, but rather, in response to the self-giving and humility of Jesus, to serve one-another without grumbling. In this, Paul implies, real value and real glory are found; as we reflect the character of God back to him.

+ No Confidence in the Flesh

Paul winds down his apologetic for shame in chapter 3 by turning the spotlight on his own experience; a man whose resume and associations demand an honor and place in society that would have been enviable. In light of this Jesus, he claims, ‘Whatever were gains for me I now consider a loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him…’ v.7-9

The word, translated here as ‘garbage’, could actually be read much more strongly. The Greek ‘skubalon’ could also be translated ‘filth, lumps of manure or human excrement; the portion of food rejected by the body as unnourishing…’ (Rogers & Rogers, 1998). Essentially, Paul resorts to profanity here to describe how he has come to feel about what could have been his substantial societal worth based on his own merits. In light of Jesus, all that he may come to suffer, whatever shame may be heaped upon him for the sake of the gospel; these things are worth more than any honor or value the world can offer him. To the Philippian church, this is placed before them as an exhortation and challenge to live the path of descent in the footsteps of Jesus in the face of a society that will undoubtedly look upon this as foolishness and disgrace; as, in fact, a fate worse than death. But this death, scripture claims, is in fact the path to real, abundant life.

:: My Experience

Thinking of my own church experience in light of these ideas, it becomes obvious to me that the ways we interact with each other in community are largely rooted in our sense of individual security, identity and worth. The legacy of the Fall is that of a people, disconnected from our source, who are dying to justify our own existence and value in the world. In this, we find ourselves working out of an economy of scarcity, where to ‘consider others better than ourselves’ is actually a threat to our very survival, and so avoided at all costs. If we fail to respond to Jesus’ call out of this state of being into the reconnection with God the father made possible by his journey into the depths of earthly shame on our account, real selflessness, service, and Christian unity is not possible.

We see it played out in the church in the same ways we see it played out all around us everyday. If I fail to name and surrender that piece of my own brokenness that compels me to respond profanely to being cut off in traffic, in the long run I will not coexist any more effectively within the confines of the sacred community. I may mask it for some time in the name of being peaceable, but eventually this root insecurity will make itself known. Power struggles, grudges, an inability to forgive, the inability to accept constructive criticism; all flowing from our unconscious feeling that we leak value and worth. The same dynamics that were explicitly in play in the honor and shame-based culture of the 1^st century still effect us today, although in somewhat more subtle, and therefore less easily recognizable, ways.

In Jesus, we find ourselves called beyond this economy of scarcity. Jesus invites us to rediscover our identity and security as it flows from the God who created us as his image-bearers and pours out his sacrificial love for us. Freed, then, from the felt necessity of self-aggrandizement and fear of devaluation, we will finally be able to serve each other in the manner we are called to in Christ Jesus; for his glory, in his strength, and for his purposes in the world.

-----

Don Miller, “Searching for God Knows What”, Nelson Books, Nashville TN, 2004

Rogers and Rogers, “The New Linguistic and Exegetical Key to the Greek New Testament”, Zondervan, Grand Rapids, MI, 1998

mind matters

2007-10-12T19:04:00.000-07:00

"One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.^[e] Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.'^[f] The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'^[g]There is no commandment greater than these."" - Mark 12:29-31

What does it mean to love God with all your... mind?

This question is central to what, from Jesus' inference by quotation of the Shema in this context, it means to engage in the covenant relationship with God; both for the people of Israel through history and those who would follow him into this new movement that was being birthed before their eyes. And while at a cursory read we may feel that we understand this idea rather satisfactorily enough, there is a deeper question that must be asked first; one which we may feel that we are somewhat less equipped to engage.

That is, before we can properly address what it means to love God with all our mind, we must come to grips with - at some level - what it is that we are really referring to when we speak of 'mind'. What is it, really? What is its nature? What is its function in our lives? Our identities? Our relationships? It is only once we are aware of what we are actually talking about that we can possibly address what it means to subjugate this aspect of ourselves to the will and purposes of God in and for our lives.

It is at this juncture that I stray into the deep end of a philosophical pool in which I can, at best, paddle awkwardly and embarrassingly; really for no one else's benefit but my own and for the simple joy of getting wet. With this in mind, we proceed:

A few thoughts:

+ The mind is our lens… our interpretive eye… It is our consciousness and awareness; of ourselves and our world. It is our vehicle of perception; the means by which observations (from the input of our senses) become information. Aristotle described the mind as ‘the part of the soul by which it knows and understands’. That is to say (I think) that it is the means by which the soul reaches out to KNOW. It is the expression and vehicle of the hearts desire to understand.

+The mind turns stimulus into information and it is the storehouse of that accumulated knowledge and experience.

+The mind is the point of contact between my soul – that which is essentially ‘me’ – and everything else. As such, it is the gatekeeper to our hearts. The mind determines what information, observation and stimulus will stick with us and shape us, and what will simply be discarded. It differentiates between nutrients and waste… determines friend from foe. It is the point at which we decide who or what we allow to shape our experiences, let into our sphere or provide voice to our identity.

On the flip side, the mind is also the conscience for the dialogue of the soul itself; it is the filter between our hearts and our mouths… Between what we feel and how we act. We know this to be the case, because we have all experienced what it is like when we happen to bypass this filter in a moment of impatience or inflamed emotion.

:: In all these respects, the Mind is constantly processing input. It is constantly engaging our environment. And, in the process, it is constantly being shaped.

The question is, as we ponder Jesus' invitation to discipleship of the mind, will we engage this process; will we be intentional, or simply allow it to happen?

A few questions to guide this reflection...

+ First, what do we allow into our minds?

If you were to travel on I-95 through Rhode Island, as I do on a regular basis, you would undoubtedly notice that the section of roadway between exits 14 and 16 has a certain... essence. A presence, if you will. A sensual experience that makes its way into the airspace of your vehicle and proceeds to journey with you for several miles. It's that undeniable smell that lets me know I'm in Cranston.

I guess they have to put wastewater treatment plants somewhere...

Back in the day, these wonderful facilities didn’t exist. Biology being what it is, people of course still had to deal with the byproducts of digestion just as we do today, they just flushed it directly into the bay... or whatever body of water happened to be most convenient. Over time, we gradually realized that this was actually really detrimental to both the environment and our health…So we developed treatment plants sort the *stuff* out of our l'eau de toilette so that what finally passes through into the watershed isn’t (as) harmful.

The question is, how much stuff do we simply allow into our minds without any kind of filter whatsoever? Advertisements, opinions, images… Why is it that we treat our waste water with more prudence than what we allow into our lives? How much of our cultural refuse do we indiscriminately allow to enter and influence us without our even being aware of it?

Perhaps even more tragic are those moments when we are 'prudent' enough - exercise enough of a filter - to recognize that something is shit, and then proceed to consume it anyway. Knowing is... half the battle? Maybe. Pornography, gossip, comments and opinions we simply shouldn't give ear to, conversations that we know we simply shouldn't be having...

Having anti-virus software on your computer is one step... actually turning it on is another. You actually need to activate it in order for it to do any good. So often we engage junk with our defenses, knowingly, down… And then we wonder why the hard drive is non-functional the next day… These things we let in actually start rearranging the place… shaping their host in their own image.

+ Second, what do we allow through our minds?

Are we aware of how our own thoughts shape us? We all know those moments when thoughts just seem to make their way up from the bowels of our soul into the realm of our conscious thought. We run into a person, get into a situation, we're engaged in a simple conversation... and suddenly this voice pops in, saying things we never thought we were capable of saying; reflecting terrible, cutting judgment and a corrupt or belittling spirit. These are moments that make us glad that we have a filter between heart and mouth.

The question is, what do we DO with these thoughts? These things that stem from the depths of our own brokenness… Left to their own devices, these thoughts will cycle through our conscious and back into our hearts, to grow and ferment a little bit more before surfacing again. Do we let them? Do we even perhaps at some level - dare we say- enjoy the beast that hides beneath the surface? Though we'd NEVER give voice to this side of our personality, does it give us a sense of strength to know that the darkness is there? That it COULD be unleashed?

We need to recognize that we do not entertain this company lightly. Let's just call this... sub-letting to the devil. Our thought life WILL shape and color our heart and soul… it will. It does. Toxins don't just hang out in a system... they kill it.

If you have ever seen someone who is suffering from kidney failure, you know this. The waste which their non-functional kidneys are not removing from their blood stream is visible on their face; their complexion literally looks... yellow. When we fail to discipline our own thoughts, we knowingly allow those toxins to stay in the system. This will have consequences. So... do we allow these thoughts to cycle and ferment, or do we grab them, name them, and toss aside those things that do not reflect or produce in us the people that we know we have been created to be? Paul writes:

2 Cor 10:5 : ‘We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.’

Do we address our own brokenness, or simply acquiesce?

+ Lastly, what do we allow to SHAPE our minds?

In his theory of knowledge, Aristotle states that to ‘Know’ is to have the soul become 'one in form with the object to be known'…This is described as 'isomorphism'.

That is to say that whatever it is that I seek to know; whether that be a tree, rock, or another person, it will require that I come out of myself and enter into the experience of that which I seek to know. I take its shape, allow myself to feel what it feels. I enter into your experience, and allow that to shape... me. That is why it is so profound to feel that we are in the presence of someone who truly knows us. They have, in some way, allowed us to shape them... surrendered a piece of their autonomy in order to understand who we are.

How does this inform what we mean when we say that we are seeking to know… God? How will this journey into HIS experience, HIS heart and character shape us? This gives perspective to Johns words when he says ‘Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.’ (1 Jn 4:8 )

That is to say if we haven’t been SHAPED, it means we don’t KNOW.

Our Minds, and our lives are shaped by what we pursue. What we know will precipitate the expression of who we are. Will this be God, or the inadvertent molding of our minds, and identities, by the forces of our culture? It is in this respect that Paul writes to the Roman church: ‘Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.’ (Romans 12:2)

May we love God with all our mind. May we actively engage our world with genuine, critical awareness. And may we allow that awareness shape us and the lives we live.

Shocking?

2007-10-11T15:47:00.000-07:00

Shocking? No.

Heartbreaking?

'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us...' Oh, how we have muddied these waters.

http://www.barna.org/FlexPage.aspx?Page=BarnaUpdate&BarnaUpdateID=280

Anybody?

2007-10-11T05:54:00.001-07:00

sexy

2007-10-07T06:13:00.000-07:00

[Genesis 2:4 – 3:10]

At the apex of the creation story that we find in Genesis; at its very heart and point of focus, we find these words:

'The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.' - Gen 2:25

Having journeyed with the author through his poetic narrative to this point, we come to realize that the nakedness described here runs much deeper than a simple commentary on their lack of clothing. Rather, to mention the comfortable nakedness of these first people is to penetrate the callousness of of own experience and the knee jerk reactions of absurdity and awkwardness we feel at such a mental picture and pull out a profoundly essential, though perhaps deeply latent, longing; the longing for home.

The nakedness of Adam and Eve is a potent visual representation of everything that rebellion has cost us. These are people... undivided. Perfectly connected. To God. To Creation. To each other. To themselves. It is a picture of people who have nothing to hide; the blessed union of identity, self awareness, transparency and relationship.

The Hebrews describe this as 'Shalom'.

Some theologians have described it simply as 'the way it ought to be'.

However you describe it, it is a picture of the world and the relationships that we have been built for. And it is what, over the course of the next chapter of Genesis, we watch ourselves walk away from. As we choose the path of self-sufficiency, self-identity and self-government - in the tragic/comic irony of leaves declaring independence from the vine - we find these relationships broken on every level.

Enter insecurity. Shame. Guilt. Blame. Hiding.

Clothing.

Where there was once perfect relationship, we find ourselves broken, divided and deeply disconnected.

Which, as a backdrop, provides a fascinating lens on human sexuality as we see it play out all around us.

[much of what follows is derived from a teaching by Rob Bell called 'sexy on the inside', which incidentally provides the framework for one chapter in his most recent book, 'Sex God'... which you should buy and read... right now]

:: The english word, 'sex' finds its root in the Latin; 'secare'. Literally, secare means 'to sever, amputate, disconnect from the whole'. It is from this term that we also get words like 'section', 'dissect', etc.

Sex... disconnection. Fascinating.

Through this lens, our ‘Sexuality’ might be understood as our awareness of our disconnection - that separation that finds its origin in the fall - and our desire/search to find reconnection… Perhaps we become consciously aware of our sexuality as the tension between our own disconnection and the kind of relationship that, deep down, our soul tells us we’ve been built for.Perhaps the felt reality of our sexuality is that straining of our whole being for the reclamation of shalom.

This is about so much more than two people fumbling around in the dark… This is about so much more than physical union. In fact, unless we recognize this longing in ourselves - for deep connection and for real relationship - we are apt to allow our understanding of our own sexuality to become, at best, shrunken and, at worst, totally hijacked by the definitions of our culture.

In his book, Bell comments on the irony of sexual expressions that assume that begin and end with the merely physical:

" [these friends] help me understand why the Right Light district in Amsterdam is so sexually repressed. If you have ever walked through this part of the city, where prostitution is legal, you know it can be a bit jarring to have the women in the windows gesturing to you, inviting you to come in and have 'sex' with them.

What is so striking is how unsexual that whole section of the city is. There are lots of people 'having sex' night and day, but that's all it is. There's no connection...

And so in the Red Light district, there's lots of physical interaction and no connection. There's lots of people having lots of physical sex - for some it's their job - and yet it's not a very sexual place at all.

There's even a phrase that people use with a straight face - 'casual sex'. The rationale is often, 'it's just sex.'

Exactly. When it's just sex, then that's all it is. It leaves a person deeply unconnected." p.43

In contrast, Mother Theresa has been described by people who knew her as an extremely sexual (one writer has even used the word 'erotic') person… And she was a virgin her whole life. This was not a ‘repressed’ woman. She had a vibrant, living, sexuality… It was this energy and drive that she channeled into her profound, earth shaking connection with the poorest and most overlooked people on earth.

Our problem is that we have taken one, very small, aspect of sexuality – that of a physical interaction between two people – and have made this the whole conversation… In reality, our sexuality is ALL the ways we strive to reconnect with our world, with each other, and with God.

We may feel that euphoria of connection at a concert, a sporting event, or in corporate worship… Though music, or being immersed in the beauty of creation… In ‘tell-all’ conversations that last all night, or over a casserole at a family reunion… That sense of connection that makes us feel as if, for a moment, the world is as it should be.

On the flip side, we feel that tension and disconnection in our grief over a broken relationship, in news clips that convince us that there is just no way we could ever all get along… When we’re lonely even when we’re surrounded by a group of friends… When we just wish we didn’t have to hide anymore, and wish that people would love us even if they really knew us.

Sex is about connection.

Its about connection... and commitment. One of the biggest lies our culture shoves down our throats is that we can have the meaningful connections we deeply long for without any kind of commitment… Without having anything demanded of us.

Because you see, I want to connect with you; but I want to keep my options open. Because what if you get annoying (or fat, or have bad breath, or a troublesome family, or are generally less interesting than I thought you were initially)? I need to have the freedom to disconnect if this should ever become too hard.

How many female friends do I have that fall into the patterns of live-in boyfriends and indefinite 'engagements' when, if they're feeling honest, they'd admit that all they want is a pair of rings and the assurance that this whole affair is more than a 'test drive'? What is it about commitment that makes us feel whole... or authentically valued?

Beyond dating, the reason so many marriages fail is that so many of us fail to appreciate or realize the beautiful thing about marriage IS the commitment.

It’s when you get past the honeymoon and start to uncover the ugly, broken pieces of each other… and stick it out… and love each other MORE because of it because you’ve connected at a deeper place, having that much less to hide… THAT’s where it gets beautiful. That's where it gets real.

The tragedy is that most people never get to that place, because they were never told to expect that real connection would be costly.

This obviously happens in the context of romantic relationships, but as we've been discussing, this is only a small percentage of our expressed sexuality when it comes to the search for meaningful connection. No, this 'sexual dysfunction' of the failure to commit also plagues us in the context of community. We Christians even have a term for what it looks like:

‘Church-hopping’.

Which by any other name might just sound, appropriately, like an outward expression of our rampant, unhinged consumerism; the cancer of self-regard. It is the perspective that I, as a consumer of religious goods and services have the right to demand everything and sacrifice nothing. The customer is always right.

I have no reason to stay in any community that stretches, demands, or simply isn't hip (or square) enough for me. With no appreciation for commitment or any degree of long-suffering, there's nothing to keep me from hitting the road should this become to difficult. In something that I could describe no better than ecclesiastical masturbation, I'll keep moving until I find a community that shows less resistance to my efforts to create it in my own image.

::The tragedy of this pattern - whether romantically, in the context of community, or otherwise - is that, ultimately, we miss out on the connection that everything in us longs for.

When we refuse to realize that relationship will be costly… When we think that we can cover over our disconnection by simply being attractive enough, drawing enough attention from the right people, by giving ourselves away to anyone who might be interested… or by taking what they have to give…

We reduce ourselves to the sum total of what we can consume and the pleasures we can experience.

We are so much more.

:: Our world would tell us that ‘sexy’ is a fleeting physical reality, attained by a few blessed-born individuals or those who can afford to buy it. It’s something that can be captured in a photo and something that quickly diminishes with age unless we purchase the right supplements and work out enough. Sexy is the number of people you can convince to consume you with their eyes and give nothing back.

Scripture would tell us something different, if we are willing to listen. ‘Sexy’ is a person who is fully present. A person who is letting themselves be healed, made whole, and so able to give themselves away without becoming something less than what they were. Sexy is being deeply connected… Mother Theresa connected. Connected with their creator, with creation, and with who they’ve been created to be. To ‘sexy’ is to be fully, alarmingly, scandalously and infectiously alive. Fully human.

This is the journey Jesus invites us in to.

May we be truly sexy people... In all the ways that matter, and in none of the ways that don't.

The Kingdom of God and the Missional Church

2007-10-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

“He told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches."” – Matthew 13:31-32

:: The Kingdom and the Gospel ::

In the life and ministry of the Jesus we find recorded in scripture, there is no one topic more central to his teaching, invitation, or understanding of his own vocation than that of the Kingdom of God. From his very first recorded words as a rabbi, prophet and teacher, it is this proclamation that we find on his lips; ‘The time has come… The Kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!’ (Mk 1:15). For Jesus, it was this message of ‘the Kingdom’ that comprised the very context for everything that he would say and do. In the Gospels, it is everywhere. From this observation alone, even a superficial foray into the New Testament would reveal this as an important and central concept. As followers of Jesus now thousands of years removed from this original utterance, then, our struggle is not with the realization that this ‘Kingdom of God’ which Jesus refers to is important; our struggle is rather to understand what, exactly, he meant by it.

And it is this pursuit; the pursuit of real understanding, that will invite us into the story of Jesus himself – in his context and through the ears of his original listeners – rather than merely finding ways to fit Jesus and his message into OUR stories. What would a proclamation of the ‘Kingdom of God’ have meant to a Jewish audience in a 1^st century Palestine under Roman occupation? How would this ‘good news’ have resonated with their traditions and expectations? How does this fit within the flow of redemptive history as a continuation or consummation of God’s ongoing relationship with his covenant people? Unless we enter into these questions with some diligence we are sure to miss the significance and calling implicit in that which Jesus is inviting us to ‘repent and believe’ in when he speaks of the Kingdom.

Consideration of the Jewish understanding of history will prove to be especially critical for the purposes of interpreting both Jesus’ view of his own role in redemptive history, as well as his message of the Kingdom. Hebrew tradition divides the unfolding of history into two ages: the ‘present age’, and the ‘age to come’.

The ‘present age’ is defined by the brokenness and conflict that flows from the legacy of rebellion and sin that separated both mankind and creation from their creator. This age is much like a leaf separated from the vine: cut off from its’ source, it is empty, dying, and falling back into chaos. The reign of sin, the symptoms of death, the apparent victory of the enemy; these are the characteristics of what the Jews of Jesus’ day would describe as ‘the present age’. At this point in their collective story as a nation, and as Gods covenant people, the people of Israel would have a heightened awareness and identification with the brokenness and oppression of this age due to their suffering at the hands of the Babylonian Empire. Having lost sight of their calling to be the faithful vehicle of God’s blessing to the whole world, they had been conquered and overrun by a foreign, pagan empire, and taken into captivity in a foreign land.

“By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the poplars we hung our harps… How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land?” – Psalm 137:1-4

It was in this context; in this tangible re-visitation of the experiences of their ancestors as captives in Egypt, that we find the seeds of expectation for a “New Exodus”¹– hope for the ushering in of a new age – planted. The Jewish people, knowing the heart of their God for the healing and restoration of his people and his world, expected that the ‘age to come’ would break in suddenly; that, carried by a new ‘son of David – a ‘messiah’, or ‘anointed one’ – a new reign of God would break in to this present age, re-establish the people of Israel, and God himself would once again dwell in the midst of his people in peace and prosperity. They expected that this would be both cataclysmic and beautiful; that the enemies of God would be vanquished and the people of God restored and blessed.

By the time of Jesus, the physical exile in Babylon had largely ended as the Romans established a new empire where the Babylonians had once ruled. The Jewish people had been partially restored to their ancestral lands; Jerusalem and the temple had been rebuilt, though not universally accepted. The sense was that, under Roman occupation now, and in the continued absence of God’s tangible presence, the exile was still very real and the expectation for the in-breaking of the reign of God was still very imminent.

It is absolutely vital that we understand that the expectation of Israel concerning the ‘age to come’ was not that the ‘chosen people’ would be swept away from this world to some disembodied state of eternal bliss; to leave earth behind for heaven. Rather, it was that heaven would be BROUGHT to earth. That God would come and dwell with his people. That expected cataclysm of the in-breaking ‘age to come’ was not an escapist dream; it anticipated a collision of realms – heaven and earth – brought back together again.

To clarify yet further, it is also important to recognize that the Jewish understanding of ‘heaven’ was not primarily geographical; heaven was not a location somewhere on the other side of the universe where God dwelt amongst the clouds. (This idea reveals the echoes of Greek mythology that have crept into our own thinking.) No, in the understanding of Jesus’ contemporaries, heaven was not a physical location; it was understood as the realm where God’s will was done. This realm, because of our sin and for our sake, was separated from our own experience by a sort of ‘veil’ (echoes of this idea found in Lam 3, Ez 13, 2 Cor. 3). It was understood that there were places where this ‘veil’ was thinner than others; places where heaven and earth were closer together – most notably, the temple. One day, it was believed that this veil would be lifted – that heaven and earth would come together fully – and that this would either mean judgment or glorification, depending on how one had oriented oneself toward this day.

Here, we can begin to understand Paul’s statement in 1 Corinthians 13; ‘Now we see but a poor reflection, as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.’ This ‘age to come’ would be both beautiful and terrifying, and it would come suddenly.

I explore all of this simply to illustrate how Jesus’ hearers would have interpreted this proclamation of ‘the Kingdom of God’ through the lens of the expected ‘age to come’. Heaven was, for them, the place where Gods will was done. To proclaim that the ‘kingdom of Heaven/God’ was at hand was to say that the realm of God’s consummate will was breaking through into our reality. The age to come was breaking in. Heaven was touching down.

So, Heaven is the realm where Gods will is done perfectly. The ‘Kingdom of God’, proclaimed as good news by Jesus and his disciples, is a description of that state being made reality here on earth. When Jesus teaches his disciples how to pray, his prayer hinges upon the request of God that ‘Your kingdom come, your will be done; on earth as it is in heaven.’ (Mt. 6:9) All that I have tried to say in this essay thus far has already been said, more efficiently and eloquently, by Jesus himself in the Lords Prayer. The Kingdom is about seeing God’s will being done, on earth as it is in heaven. It is about participating with God in the in-breaking of his reign into our reality. It is, quite simply, the act of bringing heaven to earth. This is the ‘good news’ that the gospels proclaim and call us to live into.

:: The ‘Missional Church’ ::

In John chapter 20 we find Jesus, having risen from the dead, appearing to his disciples. Behind the locked doors where they were hiding he appears in their midst, showing them the wounds of crucifixion on his hands and his side. Then, he says something incredibly disturbing:

‘As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.’ (Jn 20:21)

On the surface, this may not strike us as earth shattering. That is, until we realize that Jesus says this while holding his hands out to them in order to help them understand what this ‘sending’ means. Jesus was sent to be broken and poured out for the healing and restoration of the world. It would seem that, if we are to be followers of Jesus today, our own sending might look much the same.

You see, Jesus’ contemporaries were right to expect that the in-breaking of Gods kingdom would be a sudden, earth-shattering thing. What they did not expect, however, was a suffering servant and a sacrificial lamb. In their search for a political messiah and a nationalistic revolution, they missed the whisper in the longing for an earthquake. No, the long-awaited in-breaking of the ‘age to come’ didn’t drop in like an atom bomb; it hit the ground like a mustard seed. It died, cracked open, and that’s when things started to get interesting.

If there is one thing that the story of scripture tells about the character of this God with whom we are dealing, it is that He is frustratingly… organic. Rather than working above, beyond, or outside of his beloved, broken, groaning creation, God has consistently chosen to pursue his purposes in and through human history. God chooses to work in and through… us. He always has. And so when Jesus looks his disciples in the eyes and tells them that he is sending them to their deaths, we ought not be surprised. For, ‘Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (Jn 12:24) This was the path marked out by Jesus himself, and Paul did not refer to the Church as the ‘Body of Christ’ lightly. Rather, to follow Jesus in participating in the in-breaking of the Kingdom will mean that we, and our communities, will be broken open and poured out for the healing of our world. Spent for the good of our neighbors, our cities; even our enemies. Living Eucharists. ²

So what, we may ask, does it mean to be a ‘Missional Church’? If we were to simply dissect the term itself, we could reasonably say that it refers to a community of people, living as the body – the hands and feet – of Christ, committed to seeing Gods purposes – His will, or ‘mission’ – accomplished here on earth. People, being changed and healed by the work of Jesus in them, who offer their lives to him for the purpose of seeing Heaven itself brought to earth; making the in-breaking of Gods reign a tangible reality in and through the people and communities that God has created them to be. It is not enough to simply claim de facto membership in the ‘Body of Christ’ if we have no intention of using that body the way Christ himself did, or taking that body the places that Christ himself would go. We must realize that, as followers of Jesus, our identity is inseparable from our purpose; our mission.

For ours is a movement and a legacy of mustard seed monuments. Small seeds, placed deep into the soil of the places God has planted us and called us to die for; if we allow ourselves to crack open and be poured out, we find ourselves more full than we could possibly comprehend. Root systems push outward, breaking hard soil, stretching upward and changing the landscape itself. In the fullness of time, that step of sacrifice yields fruit and shelter for future generations and a legacy of the work of a God who glories in small beginnings.

To be a ‘Missional Church’ is to come to grips with the reality that we were never intended to be gathered together for merely our own sake. Rather, in the legacy of Gods covenant with Abraham we have been blessed to be a blessing; called out to be the vehicle through which all of creation may be blessed by the work and heart of God. It is to offer ourselves to the world as the physical evidence of the consummation of a Kingdom where Gods will is done right here in their very midst. It is to embody the character of the God who poured himself out in love so that broken people might find life. It is a call to go; to demonstrate and announce the reality and the ‘good news’ of this in-breaking kingdom to those who have not yet heard. It is to die, and to find real life on the other side. It is to invite others to join us in that journey. To be a ‘Missional Church’ is to be a people who have drawn so close to the heart of God that we find our hearts beating in time with his.

:: My Experience ::

I have been extraordinarily blessed in this season of my life to find myself surrounded by a community that is truly wrestling with what it means to be a ‘missional’ church: Biblically rooted, actively engaged in helping to meet needs of the community; proclaiming the gospel in both word and deed. God is doing some great things in our midst, and I stand in awe of that.

At the same time, we are held back by same things that hinder most suburban, wealthy, predominantly white churches that I know of. Our wallets (and our debts) are too big, our imaginations are too small. We are too comfortable, and too far removed from people who God would call us to love if we could only open our eyes and see them. We are too conservative, too well educated, and too reluctant to risk. We are too competent for our own good. We’re too homogeneous. Our numbers have grown more quickly than our ability to administrate; consequently the vision sometimes gets lost in the shuffle and communication isn’t what it should be.

This is, of course, a gross generalization of a fairly large community. Corporately, though, these are things that we all must own and press into if we are to pursue what God has for us. Overall, though, we’re putting one foot in front of the other. We are committed to this journey, and that’s exciting to see. We are growing in our understanding of what Gods ‘mission’ is and what our role might look like in the place that God has planted us. We’re blind people who are in the process of becoming less so; and I praise God for that every day.

1 N.T. Wright is the first person I have heard use this terminology.

2 Rob Bell used phrase in a teaching segment at a pastors conference at Mars Hill Bible Church called ‘Isn’t She Beautiful?’. He borrowed it from a spiritual director of his. Where it come from before that, I’m not sure; but it’s brilliant.

Relevant Works:

Bartholomew, Craig. Goheen, Michael. ‘The Drama of Scripture: Finding Our Place in the Biblical Story’. Grand Rapids, MI. Baker Academic, 2005

Wright, N.T. ‘The Challenge of Jesus’. Downers Grove, IL. Intervarsity Press, 1999

Wright, N.T. ‘New Exodus, New Creation, New Humanity’. Audio recording posted at: http://www.calvin.edu/worship/idis/theology/ntwright_romans_part2.mp3