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| "The truth, some lies, and learning to tell the difference" |
NATHAN MYRICK
Featured in FULLER!
I'm taking a quick break from pontifications about the nature of reality and the meaning of life to share this link with you! I will be out of town for the rest of the week, so no more blog posts until November. So in lieu of a post, read about my work in FULLER, the new magazine from Fuller Theological Seminary!
Why Am I A Christian?
After a long conversation with an atheistic friend, he turned to me and asked--with great gentleness and compassion--"so why are you a Christian?"
It seems that after the conversation he was unable to see how anything I was saying (and let me be clear, this was not an evangelistic conversation) needed a "god" figure to underwrite it. To him, it was just perfectly clear and obvious that it was better to love others; better to give than to take; better to pursue peace; better to pursue healthy relationships with others. It was just better, he didn't need "god" to prove and command that they were better--they just were.
This raised an interesting puzzle for me. Now, obviously not every person is as amazing as my friend, and would, if given the chance throw off the consequential weight that "god" brings to relationships. But I had to stop and ask myself- "Why am I a Christian? Especially when Christians are so often opposed to the things I am for?" I admit, I was stumped.
And maybe I still am. Or would be, if I wasn't thoroughly convinced of the reality of sin. I see sin--that is, destructive acts and relationships--everywhere I turned. Especially in my own life. And I recognize that there is no way for me to stop sinning or being a part of systematic sinfulness in the society I live in. And so I still need a savior. Not to let me keep on being a part of that sinful system while white washing the tomb of my participation, but by offering me a way out of that system and into life for not only myself but for others also.
I am a Christian because I still need a savior. I know that sounds trite and perhaps does not satisfy anyone. But it is simply the truth. I still need someone to reach in and pull me out of the mess of evil I create and perpetuate. We can get into all sorts of debate about ontological reasons for sin or good or evil or God, but that is not my purpose here.
I am a Christian because I still need a community of people that are committed to the same restoration and healing that I am. But what's strange about that is that community is not always found in Christian circles. This of course causes me to question whether my commitment is to Christianity or to something else. But it also causes me to question whether or not the way we define "Christianity" as a collective whole is also not actually a commitment to Christ, but to something else. Maybe God's plan for the world is much bigger than distinguishing between who is "in" and who is "out." I don't know. But I hope. And the reality is, I am a Christian, because I am committed to following Jesus, who is my savior and the source of my community.
It seems that after the conversation he was unable to see how anything I was saying (and let me be clear, this was not an evangelistic conversation) needed a "god" figure to underwrite it. To him, it was just perfectly clear and obvious that it was better to love others; better to give than to take; better to pursue peace; better to pursue healthy relationships with others. It was just better, he didn't need "god" to prove and command that they were better--they just were.
This raised an interesting puzzle for me. Now, obviously not every person is as amazing as my friend, and would, if given the chance throw off the consequential weight that "god" brings to relationships. But I had to stop and ask myself- "Why am I a Christian? Especially when Christians are so often opposed to the things I am for?" I admit, I was stumped.
And maybe I still am. Or would be, if I wasn't thoroughly convinced of the reality of sin. I see sin--that is, destructive acts and relationships--everywhere I turned. Especially in my own life. And I recognize that there is no way for me to stop sinning or being a part of systematic sinfulness in the society I live in. And so I still need a savior. Not to let me keep on being a part of that sinful system while white washing the tomb of my participation, but by offering me a way out of that system and into life for not only myself but for others also.
I am a Christian because I still need a savior. I know that sounds trite and perhaps does not satisfy anyone. But it is simply the truth. I still need someone to reach in and pull me out of the mess of evil I create and perpetuate. We can get into all sorts of debate about ontological reasons for sin or good or evil or God, but that is not my purpose here.
I am a Christian because I still need a community of people that are committed to the same restoration and healing that I am. But what's strange about that is that community is not always found in Christian circles. This of course causes me to question whether my commitment is to Christianity or to something else. But it also causes me to question whether or not the way we define "Christianity" as a collective whole is also not actually a commitment to Christ, but to something else. Maybe God's plan for the world is much bigger than distinguishing between who is "in" and who is "out." I don't know. But I hope. And the reality is, I am a Christian, because I am committed to following Jesus, who is my savior and the source of my community.
Blind Spots
I just finished reading Mark Labberton's new book Called. It is a wonderfully thoughtful and pastoral exhortation to live life in such a way as to be the gospel in an embodied way. I highly recommend it.
As I was reading it, I began thinking about the ways I do and do not live into that calling. My thoughts drifted to my church, and to my service there (and by service, I do not mean to imply that I am in charge. I simply serve there--in a volunteer capacity). My thinking turned to reflection, and I remembered a series of events from the previous year that led me to question my involvement in that community.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not going to get into any sort of detail regarding those events. I am instead going to offer the insights I gained from some of those events: what it means to belong to a community and to serve there.
I have written before about using your voice in service, and I do not want to retread too much on that topic, but as I've moved further from the time I wrote that post one thing in particular has come into sharper focus as the days have passed. That thing is humility wrapped up in confidence tied in with honesty.
Speaking your mind is a hard thing to do, especially in a big group of people who are driven and determined to accomplish something. It gets even harder when the opinion you are giving voice to is one of dissent from the prevailing attitude. This is most often because we are afraid of being alienated or labelled as "party poopers." Nobody wants the reputation of being the one who upset the jovial onrush of energy or action.
But it is important to do for two reasons. The first is obvious, and that is that it may be what others need to hear. You may have the right insight for the situation and can help steer the ship in a more healthy direction. But the second is not so obvious, at least, not at first.
The second reason is that sharing your perspective allows other people to have a glimpse into your world. It allows you to be known. This being known is the first step to being held accountable. If you truly want to grow in faith and community, you need other people to know who you are and to speak into your life when you need it.
This is the part that we really don't want, but at some level recognize that we need. And this is the challenge of being a part of a faith community. If we want to grow in our faith, and in turn participate in others growth, we need to be a part of the action. We need to voice our agreements and our disagreements--not with the purpose of getting our way (although that is a hard purpose to avoid) but with the purpose of being known and convicted if we are wrong.
And that means opening your life up to others.
There is always a down side, though. Not everyone takes this approach, and still fewer are able to recognize it and reciprocate when it is enacted. There are few things more disheartening than taking this step, voicing your opinion coupled with an invitation for others to speak to your position and identify sinful attitudes in your life, and have the response be exclusion and silence.
But that too shall pass. Keep at it. Keep voicing your opinion. Keep asking for input and accountability. Make it known that you truly want to grow, and to be a part of a community that is growing, too. Don't disconnect, keep connecting and engaging. Eventually there will be a response--maybe a negative one--but that will at least give you something to go on. And even then don't give up! Growth is sometimes painful, but necessary. Be ready to forgive and receive forgiveness.
And if the situation becomes evidently toxic, be ready to move on. Sometimes communities are not a fit for everyone, and there will be another community where you will fit. But don't make that move until you've tried everything to get connected and stay that way.
As I was reading it, I began thinking about the ways I do and do not live into that calling. My thoughts drifted to my church, and to my service there (and by service, I do not mean to imply that I am in charge. I simply serve there--in a volunteer capacity). My thinking turned to reflection, and I remembered a series of events from the previous year that led me to question my involvement in that community.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not going to get into any sort of detail regarding those events. I am instead going to offer the insights I gained from some of those events: what it means to belong to a community and to serve there.
I have written before about using your voice in service, and I do not want to retread too much on that topic, but as I've moved further from the time I wrote that post one thing in particular has come into sharper focus as the days have passed. That thing is humility wrapped up in confidence tied in with honesty.
Speaking your mind is a hard thing to do, especially in a big group of people who are driven and determined to accomplish something. It gets even harder when the opinion you are giving voice to is one of dissent from the prevailing attitude. This is most often because we are afraid of being alienated or labelled as "party poopers." Nobody wants the reputation of being the one who upset the jovial onrush of energy or action.
But it is important to do for two reasons. The first is obvious, and that is that it may be what others need to hear. You may have the right insight for the situation and can help steer the ship in a more healthy direction. But the second is not so obvious, at least, not at first.
The second reason is that sharing your perspective allows other people to have a glimpse into your world. It allows you to be known. This being known is the first step to being held accountable. If you truly want to grow in faith and community, you need other people to know who you are and to speak into your life when you need it.
This is the part that we really don't want, but at some level recognize that we need. And this is the challenge of being a part of a faith community. If we want to grow in our faith, and in turn participate in others growth, we need to be a part of the action. We need to voice our agreements and our disagreements--not with the purpose of getting our way (although that is a hard purpose to avoid) but with the purpose of being known and convicted if we are wrong.
And that means opening your life up to others.
There is always a down side, though. Not everyone takes this approach, and still fewer are able to recognize it and reciprocate when it is enacted. There are few things more disheartening than taking this step, voicing your opinion coupled with an invitation for others to speak to your position and identify sinful attitudes in your life, and have the response be exclusion and silence.
But that too shall pass. Keep at it. Keep voicing your opinion. Keep asking for input and accountability. Make it known that you truly want to grow, and to be a part of a community that is growing, too. Don't disconnect, keep connecting and engaging. Eventually there will be a response--maybe a negative one--but that will at least give you something to go on. And even then don't give up! Growth is sometimes painful, but necessary. Be ready to forgive and receive forgiveness.
And if the situation becomes evidently toxic, be ready to move on. Sometimes communities are not a fit for everyone, and there will be another community where you will fit. But don't make that move until you've tried everything to get connected and stay that way.
On Value vs. Sin
This post in inspired by Caroline Vandenbree.
I have grown up in the tension between being loved and being sinful. I've grown up in no man's land, between the "liberal" trench of grace on my left and the "conservative" trench of the reality of sin on my right. I've heard and seen many leaders berate the 'other side' for either being too soft on sin or being too low on love or grace. And I've nodded in agreement with both.
But it never made sense to me.
It has, for as long as I've been old enough to understand the conversation, always seemed like there was some inexcusable leap being made on both sides.
This disconnect came into focus for me this last week as I was interacting with something Caroline posted on facebook. Her post was the site of some debate about wishy-washy churches vs strong, 'real' churches. Of course, it was the same old rhetoric, only this time the language had changed slightly. Instead of being an emphasis of sin at the cost of grace, or vice versa, the emphasis was on value--as in, you are valued by God regardless of anything else.
This statement of value received the push back from the 'conservative' side as being an indication of watered down gospel--not enough sin talk.
But hold on a second. Value in God's eyes has absolutely nothing to do with sinfulness. Let me say that again, being valued by God does not mean sin is not a problem. In fact, value and sinfulness are independent of one another; they don't have any bearing on the other. You are infinitely valuable regardless of your sinfulness.
And it all clicked for me. We have conflated our sense of worth with our ability to be sinless.
Our battles and melees are really a protection of our inner sense of worth. That inner sense of worth is the root of real, actual, sin. That inner value that depends on our own ability to speak rightly or abstain rightly or do rightly is exactly the source of real sin.
But you are valued beyond measure by God regardless of your sin. Value is not a negotiable commodity for God. Yes, you are a sinner and so am I, but that reality should never impinge on the grace that reveals the root of sin. You see, by emphasizing sin at the expense of value, Christians have unwittingly enabled the power of sin to remain in their life. It's like when you obsess over a bad habit; you keep doing it because you keep thinking about it. You want to stop biting your nails? Stop thinking about not biting them. Think about something else. You want to live into the call of grace that rescues us from the grip of sin? Stop thinking about sinning or not sinning or making sure everyone else knows how sinful they are. Let the cost of God's value of your person render your inner righteousness the rubbish you want everyone else's righteousness to be.
You are a sinner and you are valuable. Those two things are not in opposition.
I have grown up in the tension between being loved and being sinful. I've grown up in no man's land, between the "liberal" trench of grace on my left and the "conservative" trench of the reality of sin on my right. I've heard and seen many leaders berate the 'other side' for either being too soft on sin or being too low on love or grace. And I've nodded in agreement with both.
But it never made sense to me.
It has, for as long as I've been old enough to understand the conversation, always seemed like there was some inexcusable leap being made on both sides.
This disconnect came into focus for me this last week as I was interacting with something Caroline posted on facebook. Her post was the site of some debate about wishy-washy churches vs strong, 'real' churches. Of course, it was the same old rhetoric, only this time the language had changed slightly. Instead of being an emphasis of sin at the cost of grace, or vice versa, the emphasis was on value--as in, you are valued by God regardless of anything else.
This statement of value received the push back from the 'conservative' side as being an indication of watered down gospel--not enough sin talk.
But hold on a second. Value in God's eyes has absolutely nothing to do with sinfulness. Let me say that again, being valued by God does not mean sin is not a problem. In fact, value and sinfulness are independent of one another; they don't have any bearing on the other. You are infinitely valuable regardless of your sinfulness.
And it all clicked for me. We have conflated our sense of worth with our ability to be sinless.
Our battles and melees are really a protection of our inner sense of worth. That inner sense of worth is the root of real, actual, sin. That inner value that depends on our own ability to speak rightly or abstain rightly or do rightly is exactly the source of real sin.
But you are valued beyond measure by God regardless of your sin. Value is not a negotiable commodity for God. Yes, you are a sinner and so am I, but that reality should never impinge on the grace that reveals the root of sin. You see, by emphasizing sin at the expense of value, Christians have unwittingly enabled the power of sin to remain in their life. It's like when you obsess over a bad habit; you keep doing it because you keep thinking about it. You want to stop biting your nails? Stop thinking about not biting them. Think about something else. You want to live into the call of grace that rescues us from the grip of sin? Stop thinking about sinning or not sinning or making sure everyone else knows how sinful they are. Let the cost of God's value of your person render your inner righteousness the rubbish you want everyone else's righteousness to be.
You are a sinner and you are valuable. Those two things are not in opposition.
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