I made a commitment to non-violence in 2009, after surviving the coup that ousted Honduran then-president Manuel Zalaya. It wasn't that singular event that persuaded me to commit to peace, but was rather a long series of events that culminated in a so called "moment of clarity."
Antecedents
My spiritual heritage finds its roots in the undercurrent of 16th century religious reform - alternately called the "Radical Reformation," "the Anabaptists (re-baptizers)," or the "left wing" of the Protestant Reformation. Despite some suggestions to the contrary, most scholars now agree that this movement originated in Zurich ca 1524. The hallmarks of this type of Christianity are equality among the faithful, social justice, and non-violence (there are of course other aspects of this heritage that are emphasized by others, but these are the points of emphasis in my religious history).
I grew up always having some notion that lethal violence was bad, and that it was always better for people to live than to die. But along the way I became convinced that there were certain situations where it was necessary for someone to die. Most compelling to me was the history of WWII. I was absolutely convinced that the Allies were right in opposing Hitler's Nazism. This conviction illustrated to me that there are certain situations that demand lethal force.
Exceptions that prove or exceptions that deny?
So let me back up a little bit and explain what exactly I mean by non-violence. Non-violence to me is a pretext for dialogue: It is an orientation of discourse that seeks to answer the injustices of such evils as Nazism before they demand violent response. Non-violence to me is not a reactive measure - a passive resignation to the triumph of evil should it manifest itself in power - but is a proactive stance that seeks to identify evil before it has a chance to take root. That stance attempts to reveal and subvert evil before it demands violent response. The failure in the context of WWII was not the Allied response to Hitler's aggression, but was instead the unwillingness to check the Nazi regime's aggression preemptively.
Make it smaller.
Okay, so Nazi's and the holocaust are extreme examples, and hopefully not ones we are ever going to face in real life (although don't rule it out). What about a mugging? Or a home invasion? What then? Do we condemn our families to death by inaction when it seems unavoidable? Again, the answer is pre-emptive. What can I do to identify those potentialities and undercut them before they become reality? Can I avoid a mugging by how I dress? Can I avoid a home invasion by not flaunting my wealth or by making sure my house is secure? Perhaps not, but I can work towards reforming the social conditions that make mugging or home invasion attractive activities. I can advocate for better working conditions for others. I can commit myself to a community where my neighbors know me and know that I am looking out for their interests, and hopefully they will do the same.
Boil it down.
But ultimately, it boils down to a faith that relies on God for my protection and an understanding of the world that sees Love as the antithesis of fear and hatred. I cannot profess loving someone I kill, and therefore I cannot kill someone if I profess to love them.
The Older Brother
This post is inspired by Erwin McManus' sermon of 14 December, 2014.
Have you ever felt like you are on the wrong side of a story? Like the things that happen to you should have happened to someone else, or that the things that happened to someone else should have happened to you?
Have you ever watched someone make a terrible decision and been powerless to stop it? Maybe you've even tried to stop them; tried to explain how they were making a mistake; tried to alert them to the dangers of what they were doing?
Has it ever seemed like the entire country was devolving into violence, anger and hatred? And despite your loud yelling, obvious logic, and confident propositions no one listened to you?
I have.
And let me tell you how I've responded: I've been critical, angry, and petty. I've been despondent, ready to throw in the towel on this whole Christianity thing.
And I've been self-righteous.
I've been angry at the unjust flourishing enjoyed by those who seem to only care about their own interests and getting their own way--no matter what it costs others. I've been livid by what I perceive as self-absorbed piety.
And I've been angry at God for allowing the world to be like this.
But it gets worse. I've been angry at God because the people who seem to be the worst violators of justice and peace are those who call themselves Christians. And even worse still is that these people who claim to follow Jesus are claimed by Jesus too! They enjoy all the benefits of their privileged position, thinking that all they need to do is acknowledge that it was God who gave them that privilege.
And it makes me angry.
So angry in fact that I don't want to go to church, listen to a sermon, sing a song, or talk about Jesus. I've begun to feel as if the people at church are there celebrating themselves and the good fortune of being them.
Breathe.
In Luke 15 Jesus tells the parable that is commonly called "The Prodigal Son." I used to think I loved that story, because that's what good Christians do: they love stories of redemption and hope. But over the years I've begun to like it less and less. Not because I stopped loving redemption and hope, but because I started to realize that my identification with this story was not that of the prodigal, but of the the other son.
I am the older son.
I've never gone off the rails. I've made good decisions. I've done good things in my life. But I am critical and judgmental of those who haven't--let me qualify that-- I've been critical and judgmental of those who are critical and judgmental. I am what I critique. And I need to change.
Not a change that stops calling to a destructive world, but a change in my own heart. A change of how I feel about my fellow "older brother" types. And a change of how I feel about God.
Because the story in Luke 15 is really about God. It is really about a God who loves even the most disgustingly self-righteous as well as the most disgustingly unrighteous and wants to bring both types home. And I need to celebrate when they, like I, come home.
Have you ever felt like you are on the wrong side of a story? Like the things that happen to you should have happened to someone else, or that the things that happened to someone else should have happened to you?
Have you ever watched someone make a terrible decision and been powerless to stop it? Maybe you've even tried to stop them; tried to explain how they were making a mistake; tried to alert them to the dangers of what they were doing?
Has it ever seemed like the entire country was devolving into violence, anger and hatred? And despite your loud yelling, obvious logic, and confident propositions no one listened to you?
I have.
And let me tell you how I've responded: I've been critical, angry, and petty. I've been despondent, ready to throw in the towel on this whole Christianity thing.
And I've been self-righteous.
I've been angry at the unjust flourishing enjoyed by those who seem to only care about their own interests and getting their own way--no matter what it costs others. I've been livid by what I perceive as self-absorbed piety.
And I've been angry at God for allowing the world to be like this.
But it gets worse. I've been angry at God because the people who seem to be the worst violators of justice and peace are those who call themselves Christians. And even worse still is that these people who claim to follow Jesus are claimed by Jesus too! They enjoy all the benefits of their privileged position, thinking that all they need to do is acknowledge that it was God who gave them that privilege.
And it makes me angry.
So angry in fact that I don't want to go to church, listen to a sermon, sing a song, or talk about Jesus. I've begun to feel as if the people at church are there celebrating themselves and the good fortune of being them.
Breathe.
In Luke 15 Jesus tells the parable that is commonly called "The Prodigal Son." I used to think I loved that story, because that's what good Christians do: they love stories of redemption and hope. But over the years I've begun to like it less and less. Not because I stopped loving redemption and hope, but because I started to realize that my identification with this story was not that of the prodigal, but of the the other son.
I am the older son.
I've never gone off the rails. I've made good decisions. I've done good things in my life. But I am critical and judgmental of those who haven't--let me qualify that-- I've been critical and judgmental of those who are critical and judgmental. I am what I critique. And I need to change.
Not a change that stops calling to a destructive world, but a change in my own heart. A change of how I feel about my fellow "older brother" types. And a change of how I feel about God.
Because the story in Luke 15 is really about God. It is really about a God who loves even the most disgustingly self-righteous as well as the most disgustingly unrighteous and wants to bring both types home. And I need to celebrate when they, like I, come home.
Let's Talk About Tone
Over the past few months my social media channels have become more and more saturated with social debates on a broad range of topics. As I have sought to engage these topics effectively, I have become more and more combative in my engagements. This is not due to an intention but to a lack thereof.
Let me explain.
It has always been my purpose in any such debate to advocate for my position with a particular tone: that of gentleness, respect, and love. But over time, this intention became over shadowed by a desire for my voice to be heard. This desire to be heard resulted in an increase in volume, and a decrease in the nuance of my tone.
Think of it like a guitar amplifier.
Many guitar amps sound great turned all the way up. But when I say they sound great, I mean in terms of distortion. I personally LOVE distortion in my guitar amp--a modded 100w Marshall half stack--but the tone emitted from the speakers when cranked and distorted is only appropriate for certain functions. When accompanying a jazz crooner my distorted guitar amp is completely the wrong tone.
It is the same with conversations about justice and equality.
What I or anyone else has to say on those topics may well be valid, needed--even right. But if the mode of purveying that perspective is a cranked up Marshall in an intimate gathering then the beauty of both the gathering and the Marshall is completely lost.
How do you know if it's the right tone?
Does it build up or tear down? Does it belittle or encourage? That is how you know whether the tone of your argument is right. Even if the other party is wrong, you will not be right if your tone is combative and devaluing of their perspective. And from a purely practical perspective, you will never achieve you true aims through combative dialogue.
And friends, I've been combative. And I'm here to tell you I've been wrong.
Not about my positions. I will continue to advocate for the marginalized and the oppressed, because that is what Jesus did and what he clearly expects from his followers. But the way I do so must always be in love. This love does not mean that I silently allow evil to be carried out, but that by my words and actions I expose that evil for what it is without becoming evil myself. And I become evil myself when I fight evil with evil.
And do you know why I fight evil with evil?
Because I am afraid. Afraid of not sticking up for the right cause. Afraid of losing an argument. Afraid of losing face after losing an argument. But fear is always the wrong reason to engage. Fear creates more fear; creates more enemies. But love makes enemies less so. Not by allowing them to do evil uncontested, but by contesting it in such a way as to reveal its depravity without becoming evil in the process.
But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. Mt. 5:44-48.
Let me explain.
It has always been my purpose in any such debate to advocate for my position with a particular tone: that of gentleness, respect, and love. But over time, this intention became over shadowed by a desire for my voice to be heard. This desire to be heard resulted in an increase in volume, and a decrease in the nuance of my tone.
Think of it like a guitar amplifier.
Many guitar amps sound great turned all the way up. But when I say they sound great, I mean in terms of distortion. I personally LOVE distortion in my guitar amp--a modded 100w Marshall half stack--but the tone emitted from the speakers when cranked and distorted is only appropriate for certain functions. When accompanying a jazz crooner my distorted guitar amp is completely the wrong tone.
It is the same with conversations about justice and equality.
What I or anyone else has to say on those topics may well be valid, needed--even right. But if the mode of purveying that perspective is a cranked up Marshall in an intimate gathering then the beauty of both the gathering and the Marshall is completely lost.
How do you know if it's the right tone?
Does it build up or tear down? Does it belittle or encourage? That is how you know whether the tone of your argument is right. Even if the other party is wrong, you will not be right if your tone is combative and devaluing of their perspective. And from a purely practical perspective, you will never achieve you true aims through combative dialogue.
And friends, I've been combative. And I'm here to tell you I've been wrong.
Not about my positions. I will continue to advocate for the marginalized and the oppressed, because that is what Jesus did and what he clearly expects from his followers. But the way I do so must always be in love. This love does not mean that I silently allow evil to be carried out, but that by my words and actions I expose that evil for what it is without becoming evil myself. And I become evil myself when I fight evil with evil.
And do you know why I fight evil with evil?
Because I am afraid. Afraid of not sticking up for the right cause. Afraid of losing an argument. Afraid of losing face after losing an argument. But fear is always the wrong reason to engage. Fear creates more fear; creates more enemies. But love makes enemies less so. Not by allowing them to do evil uncontested, but by contesting it in such a way as to reveal its depravity without becoming evil in the process.
But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. Mt. 5:44-48.
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!
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| "The truth, some lies, and learning to tell the difference" |
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.
How Do You Say Nothing?
There are times in life where I simply have nothing to say. While I generally can't sleep because I have so many thoughts and ideas racing around my cranium, recently I have been sleeping like a baby. I love it! But that means I have nothing to say to the world through this little blog here.
So why am I writing this?
For two reasons. First, and selfishly, I committed to blogging regularly. I did this because I wanted to keep the "writing muscle" working, and because I wanted to strengthen my ability to honor my commitments. I am writing today to say that I have nothing to say for the sake of saying it.
Second, I value transparency and honesty. I try to curate an image of boundless ideation and constant thought. In reality, I am not that way; I have days and even weeks where not a single original or interesting thought crosses my mind. I sit like a blank canvas waiting for something I read or see to splatter some color onto the monochrome of my synapses. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't. This is one of those doesn't times.
But is saying nothing really nothing?
Is it not that my nothing might be a something to someone who needs to hear that it is OK to take a break? I push hard. I am a stay at home dad and a full time writer. I've been given an amazing opportunity to say the things I've long wanted to by a gracious and self sacrificing wife, and I am determined to make the most of it.
But being diligent does not mean being consumed by your work. When I am in that headspace my relationship with my family suffers. Ford does not get the attention he needs and Lesley does not get the attention she deserves. As much as it pains me to be mentally sedentary for a minute, it just might be good for me.
And it might be good for you, too.
Perhaps you need to take a minute and refresh. Maybe that minute involves reconnecting with God. Maybe it involves reconnecting with people. Maybe it means reconnecting with yourself. Either way, I encourage you to take a minute today to rest.
So why am I writing this?
For two reasons. First, and selfishly, I committed to blogging regularly. I did this because I wanted to keep the "writing muscle" working, and because I wanted to strengthen my ability to honor my commitments. I am writing today to say that I have nothing to say for the sake of saying it.
Second, I value transparency and honesty. I try to curate an image of boundless ideation and constant thought. In reality, I am not that way; I have days and even weeks where not a single original or interesting thought crosses my mind. I sit like a blank canvas waiting for something I read or see to splatter some color onto the monochrome of my synapses. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't. This is one of those doesn't times.
But is saying nothing really nothing?
Is it not that my nothing might be a something to someone who needs to hear that it is OK to take a break? I push hard. I am a stay at home dad and a full time writer. I've been given an amazing opportunity to say the things I've long wanted to by a gracious and self sacrificing wife, and I am determined to make the most of it.
But being diligent does not mean being consumed by your work. When I am in that headspace my relationship with my family suffers. Ford does not get the attention he needs and Lesley does not get the attention she deserves. As much as it pains me to be mentally sedentary for a minute, it just might be good for me.
And it might be good for you, too.
Perhaps you need to take a minute and refresh. Maybe that minute involves reconnecting with God. Maybe it involves reconnecting with people. Maybe it means reconnecting with yourself. Either way, I encourage you to take a minute today to rest.
Biblical Texts We Ignore
I got to thinking the other night about how every Christian position seems to orient itself towards certain interpretations of certain biblical passages while ignoring others. It seems that any doctrinal statement is at the expense of a comprehensive reading of the bible. Why is this?
"Numbers. Nothing good here; just a bunch of numbers..."- Lesley (Tongue planted firmly in cheek).
I posed the thought to my wife over dinner, and that was her response. She then agreed with me that each side of the conservaliberal divide emphasizes certain passages and ignores the ones the other side emphasizes.
What does this tell us?
It tells us that neither side is interested in being biblical. Instead, they are interested in being right. This is why I am not a liberal or a conservative. I've no interest in being right, nor in trying to make others think that I am so. I'm interested in being faithful.
It also tells us that our socio/political positions are woefully insufficient and catastrophically inadequate to partner with the God of the bible. If your "biblical" theology ignores part of the bible your "biblical" theology is sentimental bullshit. You can disagree about those parts that are troubling, but you can't ignore them and call yourself "biblical."
OR
The bible is contradictory. This is a statement of fact. How many times did David meet Saul? How many animals got on Noah's ark?
There are three options available in the wake of this revelation: You can ignore the parts of the bible that you don't like; you can throw out the bible altogether as nonsensical piety; or you can adjust your perspective of what the bible is saying until you can hold all of it together in first tension and finally a dissonant harmony.
What texts do you ignore?
"Numbers. Nothing good here; just a bunch of numbers..."- Lesley (Tongue planted firmly in cheek).
I posed the thought to my wife over dinner, and that was her response. She then agreed with me that each side of the conservaliberal divide emphasizes certain passages and ignores the ones the other side emphasizes.
What does this tell us?
It tells us that neither side is interested in being biblical. Instead, they are interested in being right. This is why I am not a liberal or a conservative. I've no interest in being right, nor in trying to make others think that I am so. I'm interested in being faithful.
It also tells us that our socio/political positions are woefully insufficient and catastrophically inadequate to partner with the God of the bible. If your "biblical" theology ignores part of the bible your "biblical" theology is sentimental bullshit. You can disagree about those parts that are troubling, but you can't ignore them and call yourself "biblical."
OR
The bible is contradictory. This is a statement of fact. How many times did David meet Saul? How many animals got on Noah's ark?
There are three options available in the wake of this revelation: You can ignore the parts of the bible that you don't like; you can throw out the bible altogether as nonsensical piety; or you can adjust your perspective of what the bible is saying until you can hold all of it together in first tension and finally a dissonant harmony.
What texts do you ignore?
Bleed.
This has been a summer where every ounce of optimism I had about being a Christian was vaporized like so much water in the California drought of public opinion. This has been a summer like so many others that will stand as the harbinger of things to come. From ISIS to Ukraine to Ferguson to Immigration to Wall Street the world has changed, and not for the better. But that's not what has sapped my hope for Christianity. That sapping is the result of the response of so many well-meaning (and that's my best hope for them) Christians to the events that I've just mentioned.
My God, what a world You love.
Christians. We are anything but. "The world will know you by your love" - Is that how you're known? That's not how I know you. I know you by your vitriol for anything you disagree with. I know you by your justification of systemic sin if it benefits you. I know you for your anger about what others do to water down the gospel, conform to the media's agenda, or take resources from the mouth of your children and give it to those less deserving.
I know you because I am you.
And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that I am a part of it, and that everything I do or say is a part of the problem. We are the problem. Christian! You are the problem! Sin is not the problem, you are sin to those you are trying to save! If you tell someone to repent of their sin while to them you represent everything evil they will not listen. And it is on you if they fail to, because the gospel you've presented is a sham.
Our gospel is a sham because it is not good news.
I've nothing hopeful to offer in conclusion. I've no good thing to say that will soothe the wound my words have opened, because the wound should not be soothed.
Bleed.
Bleed with those whom your words have severed. Let the dust drink up your blood like the blood of your brother. Suffer the rebuke that strikes me even as it strikes you. Know that I am you. I need to change. I don't know how, and I don't imagine grace will fix it without sacrifice.
God, show us how to be like Jesus in the power of your Spirit. Show us how to be for others in love.
My God, what a world You love.
Christians. We are anything but. "The world will know you by your love" - Is that how you're known? That's not how I know you. I know you by your vitriol for anything you disagree with. I know you by your justification of systemic sin if it benefits you. I know you for your anger about what others do to water down the gospel, conform to the media's agenda, or take resources from the mouth of your children and give it to those less deserving.
I know you because I am you.
And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that I am a part of it, and that everything I do or say is a part of the problem. We are the problem. Christian! You are the problem! Sin is not the problem, you are sin to those you are trying to save! If you tell someone to repent of their sin while to them you represent everything evil they will not listen. And it is on you if they fail to, because the gospel you've presented is a sham.
Our gospel is a sham because it is not good news.
I've nothing hopeful to offer in conclusion. I've no good thing to say that will soothe the wound my words have opened, because the wound should not be soothed.
Bleed.
Bleed with those whom your words have severed. Let the dust drink up your blood like the blood of your brother. Suffer the rebuke that strikes me even as it strikes you. Know that I am you. I need to change. I don't know how, and I don't imagine grace will fix it without sacrifice.
God, show us how to be like Jesus in the power of your Spirit. Show us how to be for others in love.
A New Language
Do you know anyone who is a racist? Or, better yet, do you know anyone who would claim to be a racist? Do you know anyone who would not object heartily if he were called a racist and refuse to accept that he was such?
A word devoid of meaning
It seems to me that the word "racist" and the meaning it conveys has become so much a cultural caricature that the word has lost currency. No one is a racist, because the caricature of racism is so unbelievable that it does not resonate with anyone.
Caricature is critique that has lost its power
When a critique becomes a caricature it ceases to wield power to convict. This is what has happened with the term racism. It has no power. Yet the prejudices that surround the concept of racism persist, and perhaps are even expanding. But what are we to call this ever expanding milieu of prejudice? How do we communicate with those who are such (and with ourselves if it be found that we are as well) that they are it without causing them to close their ears to our critique by the use of the word "racism/t?"
Culturism
We need a new word. I propose this: Culturism. Whereas racism assumes an essential biology, culturism reveals that the source of our prejudice is the culture--the way of speaking and acting that is meaningful--is the real source of our ire. When we are culturists when we exhibit behavior and attitudes that denigrate the normative behavior of another and find in that behavior something threatening or offensive.
The depth of prejudice
Additionally, culturism reveals that prejudice is not necessarily defined by skin color and place of birth, but is actually much less selective than that. Culturism is prejudice of action, behavior, and meaning, and this is what we actually do. So the next time you catch yourself thinking that some other group is stupid or bad, realize that what you are thinking is racist-but call it culturist so that you can still be convicted of your prejudice.
We're not racists--we're culturists.
A word devoid of meaning
It seems to me that the word "racist" and the meaning it conveys has become so much a cultural caricature that the word has lost currency. No one is a racist, because the caricature of racism is so unbelievable that it does not resonate with anyone.
Caricature is critique that has lost its power
When a critique becomes a caricature it ceases to wield power to convict. This is what has happened with the term racism. It has no power. Yet the prejudices that surround the concept of racism persist, and perhaps are even expanding. But what are we to call this ever expanding milieu of prejudice? How do we communicate with those who are such (and with ourselves if it be found that we are as well) that they are it without causing them to close their ears to our critique by the use of the word "racism/t?"
Culturism
We need a new word. I propose this: Culturism. Whereas racism assumes an essential biology, culturism reveals that the source of our prejudice is the culture--the way of speaking and acting that is meaningful--is the real source of our ire. When we are culturists when we exhibit behavior and attitudes that denigrate the normative behavior of another and find in that behavior something threatening or offensive.
The depth of prejudice
Additionally, culturism reveals that prejudice is not necessarily defined by skin color and place of birth, but is actually much less selective than that. Culturism is prejudice of action, behavior, and meaning, and this is what we actually do. So the next time you catch yourself thinking that some other group is stupid or bad, realize that what you are thinking is racist-but call it culturist so that you can still be convicted of your prejudice.
We're not racists--we're culturists.
Them
There is no shortage of rhetoric regarding the division of people. From racial divisions to cultural divisions; from socioeconomic divisions to religious divisions. It seems that humanity has some ingrained nature to construct barriers to determine who is or is not a part of my group.
By what they are not.
Group identity is a funny thing, as a crucial component of any group identity is the ability to determine who is not a part of the group. This apophatic (definition according to what the thing is not) ability is pervasive; everybody knows how to tell which people do not belong in any social setting.
Linguistic markers.
While there are many markers of belonging that are readily identified, the most common of these is language. The words we use and the way we use them determines by and large which group or culture we belong to (or do not belong to, as the case may be).
But there is a larger, more "meta," linguistic marker that transcends cultural barriers.
The use of the word "them." While innocent enough in origin, the word has come to be the biggest impediment to the spread of the gospel and the renewal of the world it brings. As long as there is a "them" then we have an excuse to regard "them" as less than we. As long as we have a mental category of "them" we will never be the people of God we think we are.
The destruction of them.
This is because the gospel of Jesus destroys "them" as a concept. Think of Peter in Acts 10 and the rest of the disciples in Acts 11 (I'm not going to quote it here because I want those of you who are interested to dig out your bible and see what it says for yourself). While they clearly understood an "in" and an "out," the Holy Spirit demanded a different understanding (see Act 11:17 for example).
Christians need to let our concept of "them" be destroyed by the transforming power of the gospel.
Remember that in Christ there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male plus female, but all are one in Christ. And while you may rightly point out that "in Christ" is a qualifier, and that those who are not "in Christ" are still "them," remember that God's explicitly stated intention is for there to be no "them" (try on Matthew 28 for an obvious example). That is the goal, the telos of God for humanity: "I desire that they should be one just as you and I are one" (John 17:21-22). That is what the gospel brings, and our resistance to such only proves our inability to obey Jesus.
But where sin flourishes, grace abounds.
In this we are the same as the disciples, and so there is hope for us. But the disciples eventually were "transformed by the renewing of (their) minds," and so can we. They key is that there can be no "them," just "we."
By what they are not.
Group identity is a funny thing, as a crucial component of any group identity is the ability to determine who is not a part of the group. This apophatic (definition according to what the thing is not) ability is pervasive; everybody knows how to tell which people do not belong in any social setting.
Linguistic markers.
While there are many markers of belonging that are readily identified, the most common of these is language. The words we use and the way we use them determines by and large which group or culture we belong to (or do not belong to, as the case may be).
But there is a larger, more "meta," linguistic marker that transcends cultural barriers.
The use of the word "them." While innocent enough in origin, the word has come to be the biggest impediment to the spread of the gospel and the renewal of the world it brings. As long as there is a "them" then we have an excuse to regard "them" as less than we. As long as we have a mental category of "them" we will never be the people of God we think we are.
The destruction of them.
This is because the gospel of Jesus destroys "them" as a concept. Think of Peter in Acts 10 and the rest of the disciples in Acts 11 (I'm not going to quote it here because I want those of you who are interested to dig out your bible and see what it says for yourself). While they clearly understood an "in" and an "out," the Holy Spirit demanded a different understanding (see Act 11:17 for example).
Christians need to let our concept of "them" be destroyed by the transforming power of the gospel.
Remember that in Christ there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male plus female, but all are one in Christ. And while you may rightly point out that "in Christ" is a qualifier, and that those who are not "in Christ" are still "them," remember that God's explicitly stated intention is for there to be no "them" (try on Matthew 28 for an obvious example). That is the goal, the telos of God for humanity: "I desire that they should be one just as you and I are one" (John 17:21-22). That is what the gospel brings, and our resistance to such only proves our inability to obey Jesus.
But where sin flourishes, grace abounds.
In this we are the same as the disciples, and so there is hope for us. But the disciples eventually were "transformed by the renewing of (their) minds," and so can we. They key is that there can be no "them," just "we."
The Bible: Literal? Inerrant? Infallible? Authoritative? True?
There are just so many semantic and linguistic nuances flitting about regarding the bible that a person hardly knows what to make of it. For many of us, the designations "inerrant" and "infallible" are academically split hairs that have become the weapons of war for those who find in them ultimate meaning. But we find no such meaning in them.
A quick distinction.
Let's just start out with what these terms actually mean. First, inerrant literally means without error; that every word and punctuation in the bible is without error. The second term, infallible, means that the intentions of the bible are always successful; literally, incapable of being wrong or of failing.
Further messiness.
However, when we get to tossing around terms like "error" and "failure" we need more distinction. What is an error? An error according to intention? An error according to standards of inquiry? Whose standards? What about success? Again, according to intention? According to other standards?
It gets worse.
Now, there is a distinction between what the words mean in a lexical sense and how people use them. When someone says "the bible is literally true" they may mean that the bible contains no errors in intention, but mostly what they mean is that everything in the bible happened woodenly and literally as it is recorded. When the Israelites were fighting the Amorites in Joshua 10 and the text says that "the sun stood still int he heaven,"literalists take it to mean that the sun is moving and the earth stood still. Now, we understand scientifically that as far as we are concerned the sun does not move, but that we move in relation to the sun. If the sun stopped moving it would have no impact on us whatsoever. So the passage in Joshua 10 makes no sense from this perspective.
Inerrant/Infallible.
This is where the inerrantist or infalliblist steps in and says, well, that was just a figure of speech. The intention of the text was to say that God made the day last extra long so that Israel could destroy the Amorites (a questionable ethical concession, but one that we will avoid for today). It was not a scientific explanation of how the feat was accomplished, but was rather a subjective account of what happened from their perspective.
Not helpful.
I've thought for many years that these designations were not only unhelpful, but were just plain silly. The bible is not a science text book; the modern concept of history did not exist when the bible was written. The intention of the bible was not to prove itself by the criteria we've constructed for it. Rather it was to bear witness to the movement of God of restoring the whole world to Godself. The renewal of all things. So often we get it into our heads that the bible exists to prove us right. It doesn't. Our being right about the bible makes no difference to the bible. Nor does it to God.
Some questions.
When can we get beyond these unhelpful ways of talking? And what is a better way of talking about the bible? Do we really need to assent to one of these designations to be a follower of Jesus?
Are we too stuck on this bible thing?
Jesus said that the sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the sabbath in Mark 2. I wonder if he would say the same thing about the bible: the bible was made for humans, not humans for the bible. Just a little something to consider.
A quick distinction.
Let's just start out with what these terms actually mean. First, inerrant literally means without error; that every word and punctuation in the bible is without error. The second term, infallible, means that the intentions of the bible are always successful; literally, incapable of being wrong or of failing.
Further messiness.
However, when we get to tossing around terms like "error" and "failure" we need more distinction. What is an error? An error according to intention? An error according to standards of inquiry? Whose standards? What about success? Again, according to intention? According to other standards?
It gets worse.
Now, there is a distinction between what the words mean in a lexical sense and how people use them. When someone says "the bible is literally true" they may mean that the bible contains no errors in intention, but mostly what they mean is that everything in the bible happened woodenly and literally as it is recorded. When the Israelites were fighting the Amorites in Joshua 10 and the text says that "the sun stood still int he heaven,"literalists take it to mean that the sun is moving and the earth stood still. Now, we understand scientifically that as far as we are concerned the sun does not move, but that we move in relation to the sun. If the sun stopped moving it would have no impact on us whatsoever. So the passage in Joshua 10 makes no sense from this perspective.
Inerrant/Infallible.
This is where the inerrantist or infalliblist steps in and says, well, that was just a figure of speech. The intention of the text was to say that God made the day last extra long so that Israel could destroy the Amorites (a questionable ethical concession, but one that we will avoid for today). It was not a scientific explanation of how the feat was accomplished, but was rather a subjective account of what happened from their perspective.
Not helpful.
I've thought for many years that these designations were not only unhelpful, but were just plain silly. The bible is not a science text book; the modern concept of history did not exist when the bible was written. The intention of the bible was not to prove itself by the criteria we've constructed for it. Rather it was to bear witness to the movement of God of restoring the whole world to Godself. The renewal of all things. So often we get it into our heads that the bible exists to prove us right. It doesn't. Our being right about the bible makes no difference to the bible. Nor does it to God.
Some questions.
When can we get beyond these unhelpful ways of talking? And what is a better way of talking about the bible? Do we really need to assent to one of these designations to be a follower of Jesus?
Are we too stuck on this bible thing?
Jesus said that the sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the sabbath in Mark 2. I wonder if he would say the same thing about the bible: the bible was made for humans, not humans for the bible. Just a little something to consider.
Tone
Have you ever noticed that you can tell which side of an argument a person favors just from the tone of their voice? They don't even have to take a side for you to know where they stand. You can just tell. Tone is also indicative of religious or philosophical leanings. I can peg a televangelist from a mile away because of the tone of his voice. And I bet you can too.
More than just a sound.
More than just a sound.
But there are other kinds of tone. For instance, the sorts of words we use to describe a situation or topic can also be a kind of tone. When courtroom drawings were regular occurrences in newspapers, the way the characters in the trial were depicted was a type of tone; sometimes the way the artist drew the defendant would be a determining factor of whether or not they were found guilty.
Tone matters.
The tone we use can have far reaching consequences. If the tone I carry when writing on this blog is too cynical, I stand to lose influence with those who are committed to the topics I address here. If too rigid, those who disagree with me will tune me out.
Appropriate, or fitting-ness, of tone.
Is there ever a time when an abrasive tone is the most effective? I think there is. For instance, when a child is about to run into traffic an urgent and authoritative/controlling tone is needed in both word and action. But what about something a little less obvious? Say doctrinal allegiance? If a certain doctrinal stance is vital to you, are you willing for your tone to exclude those who disagree from your church? Is your own personal righteousness dependent on an unwavering tone?
Consider the effect of your tone before you speak and act.
It is okay and even good to make a stand on things that matter to you. But when your stance is one of exclusion and ostracism you gain nothing. You may even lose those who were entrusted into your care. It is okay to disagree, but the tone of your disagreement matters more than your position, especially if you are trying to lead people in following Jesus. Think about that next time you address one of the more divisive topics in society.
Tone matters.
The tone we use can have far reaching consequences. If the tone I carry when writing on this blog is too cynical, I stand to lose influence with those who are committed to the topics I address here. If too rigid, those who disagree with me will tune me out.
Appropriate, or fitting-ness, of tone.
Is there ever a time when an abrasive tone is the most effective? I think there is. For instance, when a child is about to run into traffic an urgent and authoritative/controlling tone is needed in both word and action. But what about something a little less obvious? Say doctrinal allegiance? If a certain doctrinal stance is vital to you, are you willing for your tone to exclude those who disagree from your church? Is your own personal righteousness dependent on an unwavering tone?
Consider the effect of your tone before you speak and act.
It is okay and even good to make a stand on things that matter to you. But when your stance is one of exclusion and ostracism you gain nothing. You may even lose those who were entrusted into your care. It is okay to disagree, but the tone of your disagreement matters more than your position, especially if you are trying to lead people in following Jesus. Think about that next time you address one of the more divisive topics in society.
The Genie is Not Free; He's Dead.
Robin Williams died yesterday of an apparent suicide. By now I'm sure this is not news, and in fact most of you will be tired of reading about it; but please, don't stop reading this now because I have jumped on the bandwagon. I actually have something I wish to say.
The Academy tweeted this after news of Williams' apparent suicide broke:
"Genie, you're free"
I am going to be horrifically cold and abrasive in my next line, so if you wish to maintain a nice illusion of my person you'd better quit reading now (see how contradictory I am?).
Genie, you're not free; you're dead.
Dear Academy: please stop confusing sentimentality with comfort and filling the hearts and heads of those who listen to you with the idea that if you end your life in a fit of depression you will be free!
While comforting in a superficial, shallow way, this sentiment is actually incredibly destructive! The most devastating evils in the history of the world have become so because they were packaged as something nice and safe. But they were not.
By glorifying suicide as a means of escape from the horrors of life we are causing these horrors. It is like filling your baby's bottle with heroin; it tastes good and will make the kid sleep, but then it kills him.
If you are entirely out of hope; if the horrors of life have caught you and you can see no way out, there are people who will help you. If you feel like there is no one to help, email me. I will find you someone who will help you. And please listen to me when I say that ending your life will not let you escape the pain; you will just be dead. There is hope, and there is healing.
The Academy tweeted this after news of Williams' apparent suicide broke:
"Genie, you're free"
I am going to be horrifically cold and abrasive in my next line, so if you wish to maintain a nice illusion of my person you'd better quit reading now (see how contradictory I am?).
Genie, you're not free; you're dead.
Dear Academy: please stop confusing sentimentality with comfort and filling the hearts and heads of those who listen to you with the idea that if you end your life in a fit of depression you will be free!
While comforting in a superficial, shallow way, this sentiment is actually incredibly destructive! The most devastating evils in the history of the world have become so because they were packaged as something nice and safe. But they were not.
By glorifying suicide as a means of escape from the horrors of life we are causing these horrors. It is like filling your baby's bottle with heroin; it tastes good and will make the kid sleep, but then it kills him.
If you are entirely out of hope; if the horrors of life have caught you and you can see no way out, there are people who will help you. If you feel like there is no one to help, email me. I will find you someone who will help you. And please listen to me when I say that ending your life will not let you escape the pain; you will just be dead. There is hope, and there is healing.
The Web of Time and The Permanent Now
I currently contribute a thought or two to a Facebook Discussion Group/Public Forum called "A / THEISM: An ongoing discussion on religion, irreligion & morality". One of the recent discussions centered around the relationship between humanity and the potential of divinity. While I would love to wax poetic about the nuances and finer points of this topic, I would be remiss to do so here, and recommend you visit the forum and read for yourself.
At some point during the discussion, a comment was made regarding the nature of time and the potentiality of God within/beyond/participating in time.
The Emergence of a Question
As I have had opportunity to reflect on this point, I've been struck by the incredibly limited understanding of time that I (and I assume others) operate with. I think of time as a single constant; a line if you will. Most of us have seen (probably in our Western Civ. textbooks) a timeline of history, whereon the noteworthy moments and advances are plotted. This is a helpful device for gaining a sense of one history, but not for understanding the unit of reference commonly called "time."
Let me explain in a little more detail: there are many such histories with their own developments and recessions. While it may not be readily apparent while living in a single history, when our own history intersects or collides with another we are made (sometimes startlingly) aware of the divergences of history.
What if time were also this way? What if there are many times; a web perhaps?
This seems to interact with our notions of cause and effect and our preoccupation with "first causes" or singular results. We want there to be a single, identifiable cause for everything we encounter. This helps make life understandable. But the reality of life is not this way. There are many, many causes, and many, many effects. A single action will likely effect many other actions, and may in turn have been caused by many other such actions.
Time functions in this way also.
Since time is not an actual entity, but rather is an object of understanding; a means of tracking development, movement, etc, it then follows that the future of this point for each of us can be one of many possible paths. Time therefore is not a single constant, but many intersecting constants that continually interact.
Think of it as the many strands in spider's web.
Each strand represents a given sequence of events that emanate from any certain action or event. This is generally how we experience time; as a constant "now" that is ever changing, becoming the present from many direct or indirect points in history.
This helps us understand how God can be beyond yet within time.
Because time is not a governing force, but rather an attempt to track and understand what is happening, we do not need to construct an explanation of God's relationship to it. Instead, we need to speak about that relationship in terms that work within the paradigm we are using to explain what is happening. So if this is our aim, then we can say that God is the presence of the experiential now, the eternal present. This is not a claim in conflict with science nor classical theism, but is rather a way of explaining how God can be what the bible claims God is. The Permanent Now.
Time functions in this way also.
Since time is not an actual entity, but rather is an object of understanding; a means of tracking development, movement, etc, it then follows that the future of this point for each of us can be one of many possible paths. Time therefore is not a single constant, but many intersecting constants that continually interact.
Think of it as the many strands in spider's web.
Each strand represents a given sequence of events that emanate from any certain action or event. This is generally how we experience time; as a constant "now" that is ever changing, becoming the present from many direct or indirect points in history.
This helps us understand how God can be beyond yet within time.
Because time is not a governing force, but rather an attempt to track and understand what is happening, we do not need to construct an explanation of God's relationship to it. Instead, we need to speak about that relationship in terms that work within the paradigm we are using to explain what is happening. So if this is our aim, then we can say that God is the presence of the experiential now, the eternal present. This is not a claim in conflict with science nor classical theism, but is rather a way of explaining how God can be what the bible claims God is. The Permanent Now.
White Privaledge (Privilege)
I think I was in my mid twenty's when I first understood the privilege and standing my gender and skin color afforded me. It was for many reasons that I was unaware of these privileges, primarily that I grew up in a largely homogenous town where being those things didn't really get you anything someone else couldn't get.
I don't really remember what happened that made me realize the luxury I enjoy. I think it was more of a gradual dawning, the way the sun rises over the prairie- a glow, then a glimmer, then a spot, then a sliver growing into the brilliance of the mid-day sun. That's how I think I realized privilege.
I am curious and tempted by that curiosity to explore the depths and layers of that privilege, but that is not the question I want to ask here. The question I want to ask here is this:
I'm white and male. What can I do about it?
Do about it isn't really the right way of saying it. There is nothing I can do, short of major experimental surgery, to change that fact anymore than a person who is not those things can change either. And besides, even if I could change, that would still be an exercise of the privilege I am trying to escape. Rather, I think it's time for white men to own up to the privilege they are afforded and work to a) end that inequity with this generation and b) use that privilege to empower others.
The first thing step is recognizing and destroying entitlement.
Entitlement is such an ugly thing. And what makes it worse is that in order to be entitled you cannot know that you are; no truly entitled person knows they're entitled. Entitlement, as I am using the word, is expecting certain standards of treatment that are at the expense of others. Very few people are willfully and disregarding the well being of another in the pursuit of "their rights." Most do so in ignorance. But let me be clear: most white males think they are entitled to a certain standard of living, comfort, social standing, and respect, and will pursue this "right" to the detriment of all others.
Entitlement almost always thrives in the shadow of ignorance.
You can't fix something you don't know is broken. So let's make a short list of things people think they are entitled to:
-Get What I Want: This is the most obvious form of entitlement, and is probably what your mind jumped to when you read the word in this post. But it may surprise you haw entitled you actually are in this regard. If you don't stop and think about what effect your desire will have on other people-especially those around you, but also in far-off corners of the world-you have entitlement issues.
-Convenience: This one is less obvious than the first, but still more obvious than the next two. Convenience dovetails right into getting what we want at the expense of others, such as cutting someone off in traffic or going to the express lane at the grocery store when you have more items than are allowed in that lane. You do these things because you think, way down deep, that it is your right to get to where you are going or wait the shortest amount of time in line. But these are not your rights. And if you are aware of the fact that your pursuit of this things deprives others of what is their right, you can begin moving away from entitlement and into empowerment.
-Be Heard: Still more difficult to observe-yet more powerful in its scope- is the notion that I have a right to be heard at the expense of others. This generally is most observable in legal proceedings. Entitled people tend to speak more forcefully-and subsequently get the benefit of many decisions-than people who feel they are not entitled to their own voice. This also shows up in emotionally abusive religious experiences; the entitled person, usually the abuser, by his/her actions and words deprives the abused of their ability to speak and receive the benefit of arbitration from an outside source. If think your voice is the only one that needs to be heard, you are entitled.
-Best Bang for Buck: This is tricky because entitlement here is intertwined with cultural values of frugality and stewardship. It makes good, practical sense to purchase goods that give you the best ROI, or Return On Investment. But when we pursue this goal without restraint we actually begin depriving others of their needs. Your $3 T-shirt from H&M cost more than that to make. Someone along the line between the cotton field and the sales floor is taking the loss. And I guarantee you it is not the CEO.
So back to my original question, what to do with my privilege, I propose a recognition of that privilege and a commitment to use it to empower others. It is kinda like the concept of replacing yourself in a work environment; you empower others to do what you do so that the company can be more effective and healthy. And while the analogy only goes so far, it is the same idea with regard to society: give your privilege away so that the society can be more effective and healthy. This takes many forms, but here are three simple takeaways:
1-Advocate for those who are not of the privileged few. Fight for the rights of women and "racial" minorities. If you arrive at a supermarket cashier at the same time as someone else let them go first. If you know that a law is written in such a way that it discriminates, tell your representative to fight to fix it.
2-Recognize and eliminate the areas of Entitlement in your life. Take an honest look at how you behave in relation to your desires and values. Do you pursue them without consideration of the cost to others? If so, you need to change.
3-Be generous. Recognize the difference between your needs and your wants and use the time/money/brainpower you might have spent pursuing your own desires and spend it on someone else. Especially someone who needs it. Buy one t-shirt that will pay the people who made it instead of five that don't. This is a privileged thing to do, but it is not oriented towards sustaining privilege at the expense of others.
I don't really remember what happened that made me realize the luxury I enjoy. I think it was more of a gradual dawning, the way the sun rises over the prairie- a glow, then a glimmer, then a spot, then a sliver growing into the brilliance of the mid-day sun. That's how I think I realized privilege.
I am curious and tempted by that curiosity to explore the depths and layers of that privilege, but that is not the question I want to ask here. The question I want to ask here is this:
I'm white and male. What can I do about it?
Do about it isn't really the right way of saying it. There is nothing I can do, short of major experimental surgery, to change that fact anymore than a person who is not those things can change either. And besides, even if I could change, that would still be an exercise of the privilege I am trying to escape. Rather, I think it's time for white men to own up to the privilege they are afforded and work to a) end that inequity with this generation and b) use that privilege to empower others.
The first thing step is recognizing and destroying entitlement.
Entitlement is such an ugly thing. And what makes it worse is that in order to be entitled you cannot know that you are; no truly entitled person knows they're entitled. Entitlement, as I am using the word, is expecting certain standards of treatment that are at the expense of others. Very few people are willfully and disregarding the well being of another in the pursuit of "their rights." Most do so in ignorance. But let me be clear: most white males think they are entitled to a certain standard of living, comfort, social standing, and respect, and will pursue this "right" to the detriment of all others.
Entitlement almost always thrives in the shadow of ignorance.
You can't fix something you don't know is broken. So let's make a short list of things people think they are entitled to:
-Get What I Want: This is the most obvious form of entitlement, and is probably what your mind jumped to when you read the word in this post. But it may surprise you haw entitled you actually are in this regard. If you don't stop and think about what effect your desire will have on other people-especially those around you, but also in far-off corners of the world-you have entitlement issues.
-Convenience: This one is less obvious than the first, but still more obvious than the next two. Convenience dovetails right into getting what we want at the expense of others, such as cutting someone off in traffic or going to the express lane at the grocery store when you have more items than are allowed in that lane. You do these things because you think, way down deep, that it is your right to get to where you are going or wait the shortest amount of time in line. But these are not your rights. And if you are aware of the fact that your pursuit of this things deprives others of what is their right, you can begin moving away from entitlement and into empowerment.
-Be Heard: Still more difficult to observe-yet more powerful in its scope- is the notion that I have a right to be heard at the expense of others. This generally is most observable in legal proceedings. Entitled people tend to speak more forcefully-and subsequently get the benefit of many decisions-than people who feel they are not entitled to their own voice. This also shows up in emotionally abusive religious experiences; the entitled person, usually the abuser, by his/her actions and words deprives the abused of their ability to speak and receive the benefit of arbitration from an outside source. If think your voice is the only one that needs to be heard, you are entitled.
-Best Bang for Buck: This is tricky because entitlement here is intertwined with cultural values of frugality and stewardship. It makes good, practical sense to purchase goods that give you the best ROI, or Return On Investment. But when we pursue this goal without restraint we actually begin depriving others of their needs. Your $3 T-shirt from H&M cost more than that to make. Someone along the line between the cotton field and the sales floor is taking the loss. And I guarantee you it is not the CEO.
So back to my original question, what to do with my privilege, I propose a recognition of that privilege and a commitment to use it to empower others. It is kinda like the concept of replacing yourself in a work environment; you empower others to do what you do so that the company can be more effective and healthy. And while the analogy only goes so far, it is the same idea with regard to society: give your privilege away so that the society can be more effective and healthy. This takes many forms, but here are three simple takeaways:
1-Advocate for those who are not of the privileged few. Fight for the rights of women and "racial" minorities. If you arrive at a supermarket cashier at the same time as someone else let them go first. If you know that a law is written in such a way that it discriminates, tell your representative to fight to fix it.
2-Recognize and eliminate the areas of Entitlement in your life. Take an honest look at how you behave in relation to your desires and values. Do you pursue them without consideration of the cost to others? If so, you need to change.
3-Be generous. Recognize the difference between your needs and your wants and use the time/money/brainpower you might have spent pursuing your own desires and spend it on someone else. Especially someone who needs it. Buy one t-shirt that will pay the people who made it instead of five that don't. This is a privileged thing to do, but it is not oriented towards sustaining privilege at the expense of others.
Being vs Doing, vs Doing vs Feeling, vs Doing vs Doing
Who are you?
No, not what do you do, but who are you?
Now, could you be this person without doing what you do?
How does this make you feel?
We spend a lot of time thinking about who we are.
Have you ever noticed that sometime during their early twenty's most people will struggle to define themselves and articulate that definition in some semblance of existential identity. And identity is really what we are/were all after; we wanted to figure out what identified us as us.
Somewhere along the line we started realizing that what we did was not who we were. Or, at least we thought so. But there were other thoughts crowding out that one, because even if we listened to that thought, another was whispering,
"But if you don't do anything, how can you be anything?"
In the middle of this neurological dialogue our feelings may have interrupted and asserted that they were the real source of identity; doing or saying anything oppositional to how we felt was false, because our feelings were the source of our identity. Of course, we intuited that this wasn't quite right either, and then we began trying to understand what it meant to do something without being that something.
And here we came to the crux of the search for identity: the difference between doing and doing. See, if our being has nothing to do with our doing, then how do we know we exist if we never do anything to signify that existence? Being is not an object of understanding alone, but is also an object of substance, as who we are is displayed by our actions; "you can tell a tree by its fruit"-Jesus.
But doing an action is different than doing a job. And here we need to articulate the distinction between action and vocation. Much of what I feared in being defined by what I did was the obsession I nurtured with occupation, or a lack thereof. I did not want to be defined by what I did to earn a living. And in this sense, doing is different than being. But in the more important sense, what we do in terms of words, thoughts, actions, flows from and into who we are as humans.
We are not merely our doings, but we are not apart from them either.
This inseparability is not confined to the projected sense of being; our doing also forms our being. It creates us, makes us who we are. If you wanted to become a soccer player, you played soccer. You did the thing you wanted to be until you were good enough at doing it that you became it. The same concept holds true for other things as well, such as thankfulness, gentleness, patience, etc. We become these things by practicing them. And so in an important sense we become what we do.
This works negatively as well.
If we continually act in anger, arrogance, entitlement, pride, we will become those things- even if we did not start off being them! It is not inauthentic to practice patience even if you do not feel patient. It is transformative. The act of trying to be patient makes you more patient.
If you find yourself arguing with yourself about who you are vs what you do, remember that eventually you will become what you do.
No, not what do you do, but who are you?
Now, could you be this person without doing what you do?
How does this make you feel?
We spend a lot of time thinking about who we are.
Have you ever noticed that sometime during their early twenty's most people will struggle to define themselves and articulate that definition in some semblance of existential identity. And identity is really what we are/were all after; we wanted to figure out what identified us as us.
Somewhere along the line we started realizing that what we did was not who we were. Or, at least we thought so. But there were other thoughts crowding out that one, because even if we listened to that thought, another was whispering,
"But if you don't do anything, how can you be anything?"
In the middle of this neurological dialogue our feelings may have interrupted and asserted that they were the real source of identity; doing or saying anything oppositional to how we felt was false, because our feelings were the source of our identity. Of course, we intuited that this wasn't quite right either, and then we began trying to understand what it meant to do something without being that something.
And here we came to the crux of the search for identity: the difference between doing and doing. See, if our being has nothing to do with our doing, then how do we know we exist if we never do anything to signify that existence? Being is not an object of understanding alone, but is also an object of substance, as who we are is displayed by our actions; "you can tell a tree by its fruit"-Jesus.
But doing an action is different than doing a job. And here we need to articulate the distinction between action and vocation. Much of what I feared in being defined by what I did was the obsession I nurtured with occupation, or a lack thereof. I did not want to be defined by what I did to earn a living. And in this sense, doing is different than being. But in the more important sense, what we do in terms of words, thoughts, actions, flows from and into who we are as humans.
We are not merely our doings, but we are not apart from them either.
This inseparability is not confined to the projected sense of being; our doing also forms our being. It creates us, makes us who we are. If you wanted to become a soccer player, you played soccer. You did the thing you wanted to be until you were good enough at doing it that you became it. The same concept holds true for other things as well, such as thankfulness, gentleness, patience, etc. We become these things by practicing them. And so in an important sense we become what we do.
This works negatively as well.
If we continually act in anger, arrogance, entitlement, pride, we will become those things- even if we did not start off being them! It is not inauthentic to practice patience even if you do not feel patient. It is transformative. The act of trying to be patient makes you more patient.
If you find yourself arguing with yourself about who you are vs what you do, remember that eventually you will become what you do.
Thankfulness
While I spend a lot of my time on here pontificating and waxing (un)poetically about the nature of life, the difference between faith and belief, truth and lies, love and hate, etc, today I am convicted to write about thankfulness. I have much to be thankful for, and even though I don't always feel like doing it, taking the time to recall what I am thankful for does in fact stimulate those feelings of thankfulness. I could launch into a long list of such things, but instead I am going to write briefly about two things.
But before I do that, I need to hop down a rabbit trail for some reflection on integrity and thankfulness. There are times when it feels inauthentic to be thankful. Sometimes it seems that at my core I am anything but thankful. This seems to be a paradox when I consider my own value of integrity with myself; I never want to fake something or express a sentiment that I consider to be false. So practicing thankfulness when I don't feel thankful seems disingenuous. This of course assumes that feeling a certain way is the sole litmus test of personal truth, while simultaneously ignoring the practice principle: if you want to authentically be something you've got to practice it. As hard as this is to accept, if you want to be thankful start thanking someone for things.
First, I am incredibly thankful for my family.
This one is obvious and seemingly easy, but family is sometimes trying. It's been six months since Ford was born, and during those months there have been moments when I felt like it was all for nothing. I knew, objectively, that it was worth it, but raising an infant as a stay at home dad is something I was unprepared for. There was just so much that I needed to be able to offer emotionally to Ford without any reciprocation; without receiving anything in return for my emotional investment. And to be honest there were days when I felt like it was all for nothing. A person can think like that when they are unable to embrace thankfulness.
Now, six months in, Ford is smiling, laughing, scooching, grabbing, chewing eating hugging "kissing" (open mouthed baby kisses. Imagine a baby going to nurse on your face but instead of sucking he just holds his mouth there. At first we thought he was hungry, but then we realized he was showing us affection in the same way we were- we kissed him a lot), and basically being a tiny, adorable human. And while I can still remember the feelings of wasted life, I can now see them as disingenuous. Part of what helps me see that is being thankful. Taking the moments to recall and recount the things that Ford does and the person he is becoming. When I think about those things I cannot but be thankful for the life I have with him. Stay at home dads for the win!
The other part of family is my incredible wife, Lesley. It is not just anyone who will recognize that, for the time being, she needs to be the breadwinner of the family and willingly gives up her dream of being a stay at home mom for the sake of her family. Lesley is that woman. And on top of that, she has seldom been anything but encouraging to me as I sort out my feelings and thoughts about our new roles. She even is happy to let me go out with my academic friends for a beer in the evening; without complaining or even getting upset! And on top of that, she's gorgeous. I don't know how I got so lucky to end up with her, and I am so incredibly thankful for her.
The second thing I am thankful for are futures.
For those of you who do not know me, I've spent a lot of time around death. I don't talk about it often, but an alarming number of my friends are no longer living. They each have their own story, and I cannot do any of them justice recounting it here, but suffice it to say that the question of death-and why I am still alive-has been one that I have travelled with for a good many years. And during that traveling I've started to realize what death means beyond the end of a body's life: it is the loss of futures. In this sense, people can be dead while still alive. Death is the impossibility of a future, a friend once wrote, and she was right.
In all of the myriad ways it can be applied, the possibility of a future is something that I am incredibly thankful for. A future transcends my own paltry existence; a future conjures up themes of meaning, purpose, legacy, etc. My future does not end with me, or even my son, but can continue in the legacy of the work I do here and now. That legacy, that future, is love. I want to be remembered as someone who loved deeply, without reservation or arrogance. My future will be the past to someone who is loved. That is something I am thankful for.
But before I do that, I need to hop down a rabbit trail for some reflection on integrity and thankfulness. There are times when it feels inauthentic to be thankful. Sometimes it seems that at my core I am anything but thankful. This seems to be a paradox when I consider my own value of integrity with myself; I never want to fake something or express a sentiment that I consider to be false. So practicing thankfulness when I don't feel thankful seems disingenuous. This of course assumes that feeling a certain way is the sole litmus test of personal truth, while simultaneously ignoring the practice principle: if you want to authentically be something you've got to practice it. As hard as this is to accept, if you want to be thankful start thanking someone for things.
First, I am incredibly thankful for my family.
This one is obvious and seemingly easy, but family is sometimes trying. It's been six months since Ford was born, and during those months there have been moments when I felt like it was all for nothing. I knew, objectively, that it was worth it, but raising an infant as a stay at home dad is something I was unprepared for. There was just so much that I needed to be able to offer emotionally to Ford without any reciprocation; without receiving anything in return for my emotional investment. And to be honest there were days when I felt like it was all for nothing. A person can think like that when they are unable to embrace thankfulness.
Now, six months in, Ford is smiling, laughing, scooching, grabbing, chewing eating hugging "kissing" (open mouthed baby kisses. Imagine a baby going to nurse on your face but instead of sucking he just holds his mouth there. At first we thought he was hungry, but then we realized he was showing us affection in the same way we were- we kissed him a lot), and basically being a tiny, adorable human. And while I can still remember the feelings of wasted life, I can now see them as disingenuous. Part of what helps me see that is being thankful. Taking the moments to recall and recount the things that Ford does and the person he is becoming. When I think about those things I cannot but be thankful for the life I have with him. Stay at home dads for the win!
The other part of family is my incredible wife, Lesley. It is not just anyone who will recognize that, for the time being, she needs to be the breadwinner of the family and willingly gives up her dream of being a stay at home mom for the sake of her family. Lesley is that woman. And on top of that, she has seldom been anything but encouraging to me as I sort out my feelings and thoughts about our new roles. She even is happy to let me go out with my academic friends for a beer in the evening; without complaining or even getting upset! And on top of that, she's gorgeous. I don't know how I got so lucky to end up with her, and I am so incredibly thankful for her.
The second thing I am thankful for are futures.
For those of you who do not know me, I've spent a lot of time around death. I don't talk about it often, but an alarming number of my friends are no longer living. They each have their own story, and I cannot do any of them justice recounting it here, but suffice it to say that the question of death-and why I am still alive-has been one that I have travelled with for a good many years. And during that traveling I've started to realize what death means beyond the end of a body's life: it is the loss of futures. In this sense, people can be dead while still alive. Death is the impossibility of a future, a friend once wrote, and she was right.
In all of the myriad ways it can be applied, the possibility of a future is something that I am incredibly thankful for. A future transcends my own paltry existence; a future conjures up themes of meaning, purpose, legacy, etc. My future does not end with me, or even my son, but can continue in the legacy of the work I do here and now. That legacy, that future, is love. I want to be remembered as someone who loved deeply, without reservation or arrogance. My future will be the past to someone who is loved. That is something I am thankful for.
"God Knows My Heart" and other things we need to stop saying...
Have you ever heard someone say something to the effect of "God knows my heart" when an interaction has gone sour? Have you perhaps ever said that? I have, on both counts. But it's also a saying that has never really sat well with me-even when I've said it!
Here's why.
When we say something like this what we mean it to say is "It's not my fault this relationship has soured" or "I intended it to go differently" or "I am misunderstood." What is at the heart of this saying is that our words or actions-or the way our words/actions were received-have not matched up with our intentions. Such sayings are an attempt to express our disappointment or indignation over some incongruence in our lives.
But when we express this sentiment we are operating under a set of assumptions that may not be helpful.
The first assumption is that it is our intention and not our words or actions that matter to God. We hide our failures to be Christlike behind a veil of good intentions that prohibit us from growing in our relationships to others. For instance, when we offend a friend in conversation or attempt to intervene on behalf of a friend and it is not well received, we console ourselves by saying that we didn't mean to hurt them or muddle the relationship.
But regardless of our intentions, we have.
This is troubling because when we have this attitude we allow our intentions to disconnect from our actions and remain so. We do nothing to improve our ability to navigate sensitive conversations or difficult situations. We give up. And we suffer, and our relationship with others suffers. And our relationship with God suffers. God may know your heart, but he is equally concerned with your heart matching up to your actions.
This is really blame shifting.
Maybe instead of indignantly offering some pithy proof that regardless of the result of our actions we meant them for good, we accept responsibility for the way things ended up and sought reconciliation? Maybe the other person or party is not interested, but that really is beyond your control. And further, if you do not analyze your own words and actions you will not be able to recognize what your interactions contributed to the souring. Maybe it wasn't my business to say that- even though I meant to help! Instead of getting upset, I should apologize for sticking my nose where it ought not go and seek to control my tongue. Maybe it's a worse situation than a relational offense and I've actually ruined someones life or taken their livelihood. I need to make it right instead of insisting that I didn't mean to do it. It doesn't matter that much if I meant to or not; I did.
Own your "ish."
Yes, there are times when despite our best efforts everything has gone pear shaped. That happens, and we can be comforted by the thought that God can fix it. But please, stop saying things like "God knows my heart," because it communicates that you don't care about your part in the problem and are not going to do anything to make it right. Even more, it communicates that you think your intentions matter more than your actions- they don't. Be responsible. Learn what effects your actions and words have. Learn self control. Study your friends so you know how your words will affect them. Pay attention to the world around you so you know what effect your actions have on those around you. Don't "quench the Spirit's" work on your life.
Here's why.
When we say something like this what we mean it to say is "It's not my fault this relationship has soured" or "I intended it to go differently" or "I am misunderstood." What is at the heart of this saying is that our words or actions-or the way our words/actions were received-have not matched up with our intentions. Such sayings are an attempt to express our disappointment or indignation over some incongruence in our lives.
But when we express this sentiment we are operating under a set of assumptions that may not be helpful.
The first assumption is that it is our intention and not our words or actions that matter to God. We hide our failures to be Christlike behind a veil of good intentions that prohibit us from growing in our relationships to others. For instance, when we offend a friend in conversation or attempt to intervene on behalf of a friend and it is not well received, we console ourselves by saying that we didn't mean to hurt them or muddle the relationship.
But regardless of our intentions, we have.
This is troubling because when we have this attitude we allow our intentions to disconnect from our actions and remain so. We do nothing to improve our ability to navigate sensitive conversations or difficult situations. We give up. And we suffer, and our relationship with others suffers. And our relationship with God suffers. God may know your heart, but he is equally concerned with your heart matching up to your actions.
This is really blame shifting.
Maybe instead of indignantly offering some pithy proof that regardless of the result of our actions we meant them for good, we accept responsibility for the way things ended up and sought reconciliation? Maybe the other person or party is not interested, but that really is beyond your control. And further, if you do not analyze your own words and actions you will not be able to recognize what your interactions contributed to the souring. Maybe it wasn't my business to say that- even though I meant to help! Instead of getting upset, I should apologize for sticking my nose where it ought not go and seek to control my tongue. Maybe it's a worse situation than a relational offense and I've actually ruined someones life or taken their livelihood. I need to make it right instead of insisting that I didn't mean to do it. It doesn't matter that much if I meant to or not; I did.
Own your "ish."
Yes, there are times when despite our best efforts everything has gone pear shaped. That happens, and we can be comforted by the thought that God can fix it. But please, stop saying things like "God knows my heart," because it communicates that you don't care about your part in the problem and are not going to do anything to make it right. Even more, it communicates that you think your intentions matter more than your actions- they don't. Be responsible. Learn what effects your actions and words have. Learn self control. Study your friends so you know how your words will affect them. Pay attention to the world around you so you know what effect your actions have on those around you. Don't "quench the Spirit's" work on your life.
Loving Driscoll, Coulter, Jakes and Osteen.
There are so many people who claim to speak for "Christianity" that I wish to have nothing to do with. I wish they would go away or that someone with authority would tell them that they are not Christians and that they do not speak for Jesus.
But that's not going to happen.
And so I am constantly trying to distinguish who I am and where I stand in opposition to these people. I claim Jesus as well, or rather I hope he claims me, but I do not want to be associated with those who are destructive and hurtful. I might even go so far on my worse days to call their actions (if not their persons) evil. And yet we claim the same Jesus.
What is a boy to do?
On the one hand, I do not support their words or actions. But on the other, they likely wouldn't support mine either. So let me ask you this: regardless of whether or not you agree with me or with some of the names in this title, does your agreement dictate who is or is not a Christian? Are there Christians who disagree with me or I with them? Does that mean they are not Christians? Are there Christians who have done horrendous things throughout the centuries? Does that make them not Christians? Is Christianity predicated on universal agreement with our actions? Is it morally democratic?
Even though I oppose the actions and positions of certain people, I cannot exclude them from the kingdom of heaven because of it.
As if it was my decision to make anyway. But I think we expend vast amounts of energy trying to disallow the perspectives of those with whom we disagree in the hopes that our evangelistic efforts will not fail because of their celebrity. What if instead of this expense we accept these destroyers as fellow destroyers with us, because none of us is above the crest of sin. Nor are we above the authority of others.
Now, I am not saying that we should stop calling these people out. Far from it. When we are actively including even those we find abhorrent into our fellowship we should be all the more diligent in opposing them and calling them to account for their destructiveness because it is our destruction as well as theirs at stake. But we are to do so as fellows, not as others. We may need to articulate how we differ from them, but that difference should never be intended to "other" them.
I am arguing for a radical inclusiveness that transcends ideological boundaries.
Turns out, this is what we see from Jesus and his followers in the NT. People were included into the kingdom of Jesus despite obvious disagreement. Think about Simon the Zealot chilling out with Matthew the Tax Collector. Neither stopped being what they were (or at least the text does not say so), but rather they partook in the same life together, despite their obvious differences and opposition.
But I am also arguing for a change in attitude by both the Fundies and ex-Fundies.
Instead of an attitude of hatred and exclusion our attitude must be that of brothers and sisters. We are family, and like any family there will be those who walk into destruction. But what kind of a family is it that does nothing to help those who do so? They are a family in biology only. So yes, I love Driscoll, Coulter, Jakes and Osteen, even though I think they are wrong and destructive. I count them my family-and I will continue to call them out as such. Not as enemies.
The Truth is Human, too
One of the most compelling, ironic, and terrifying passages in the bible for me is John 18. It may sound weird, but I think verse 38 should be seen as one of the most serious warnings for us who study such things.
John 18 finds Jesus before Pilate. After a series of questions, Pilate utters those immortal words- "What is truth?"
The most obvious aspect to this verse is the irony. In several places (most notably John 14) Jesus has claimed to be the truth. And when he states that "everyone who belongs to the truth listens to me" we should hear his assertion of chapter 14 reverberating through our minds. And so when Pilate asks rhetorically what truth is, we should want to scream "He's right in front of you!"
Yet while we have, over the centuries, established a theological connection between truth and divinity, we balk at the connection between truth and humanity.
See, evangelical Christians are quick to assert that Jesus is the truth. Even if we don't get this turned around, we still maintain that truth is only to be found in Jesus' divinity, and not his humanity. This, I think, is founded on a mis understanding of the warning of Pilate's question; we assume that truth from a human perspective is what Pilate wanted, and it was for this reason that he failed to perceive the truth before him.
But it was not human truth that Pilate was after; it was divine.
In the verses preceding the philosophical despair, Pilate has been asking Jesus if he is a king-he is aware that Jesus is not a human king (see vs 36-37). He is asking if Jesus considers himself a "god" in the Roman sense. When Jesus turns that inquiry on it's ear, Pilate disengages, uttering his infamous words.
This parallels the debates of the early church.
Who was Jesus? Was he a man? A "god?" An Aeon? Was he Messiah? Was Messiah a man? Was he YHWH? The conclusion of millennia is that he was/is both God and human. This has been a foundation of the Christian faith- that Jesus was the Messiah, and as such was both fully God and fully human.
But if this is so, what of the truth of Jesus' humanity?
In Jesus we point to God's unique apprehension of truth. Yet we ignore the complete picture of Jesus; we elevate his divinity at the expense of his humanity. While he is uniquely the truth, the human aspect of that reality cannot be overlooked with pious eyes towards the heavens. This, I think, is actually the warning of Pilate's words. Of course we must take the obvious road as well as the other. But the irony goes deeper than that. We cannot ignore that in Jesus truth is to be found by humans and in humans. Truth is not reserved for the Platonic Forms, but is instead the property of humanity through the revealed incarnation of Jesus the Messiah.
Your humanity does not preclude you from the truth. It enables you to engage it.
Because you are human you may know the truth that sets you free, but it is not found by looking at the sky. It is found by looking at others. It is found by looking at Jesus.
John 18 finds Jesus before Pilate. After a series of questions, Pilate utters those immortal words- "What is truth?"
The most obvious aspect to this verse is the irony. In several places (most notably John 14) Jesus has claimed to be the truth. And when he states that "everyone who belongs to the truth listens to me" we should hear his assertion of chapter 14 reverberating through our minds. And so when Pilate asks rhetorically what truth is, we should want to scream "He's right in front of you!"
Yet while we have, over the centuries, established a theological connection between truth and divinity, we balk at the connection between truth and humanity.
See, evangelical Christians are quick to assert that Jesus is the truth. Even if we don't get this turned around, we still maintain that truth is only to be found in Jesus' divinity, and not his humanity. This, I think, is founded on a mis understanding of the warning of Pilate's question; we assume that truth from a human perspective is what Pilate wanted, and it was for this reason that he failed to perceive the truth before him.
But it was not human truth that Pilate was after; it was divine.
In the verses preceding the philosophical despair, Pilate has been asking Jesus if he is a king-he is aware that Jesus is not a human king (see vs 36-37). He is asking if Jesus considers himself a "god" in the Roman sense. When Jesus turns that inquiry on it's ear, Pilate disengages, uttering his infamous words.
This parallels the debates of the early church.
Who was Jesus? Was he a man? A "god?" An Aeon? Was he Messiah? Was Messiah a man? Was he YHWH? The conclusion of millennia is that he was/is both God and human. This has been a foundation of the Christian faith- that Jesus was the Messiah, and as such was both fully God and fully human.
But if this is so, what of the truth of Jesus' humanity?
In Jesus we point to God's unique apprehension of truth. Yet we ignore the complete picture of Jesus; we elevate his divinity at the expense of his humanity. While he is uniquely the truth, the human aspect of that reality cannot be overlooked with pious eyes towards the heavens. This, I think, is actually the warning of Pilate's words. Of course we must take the obvious road as well as the other. But the irony goes deeper than that. We cannot ignore that in Jesus truth is to be found by humans and in humans. Truth is not reserved for the Platonic Forms, but is instead the property of humanity through the revealed incarnation of Jesus the Messiah.
Your humanity does not preclude you from the truth. It enables you to engage it.
Because you are human you may know the truth that sets you free, but it is not found by looking at the sky. It is found by looking at others. It is found by looking at Jesus.
Faith pt III: The Aspect of Trust.
This is going to be a short post. I have a sick baby and my brain is more engaged with that than the work of thinking.
While listening to the sermon at church today, I got to thinking about how trust is a crucial aspect of faith that has nothing to do with belief.
Trust does not need belief.
That's part of biblical faith that defies our ideas about belief and being right; you don't have to be right to trust. I know that sounds dangerous-and maybe it is-but trust does not depend on our construction of reality.
The world you inhabit by trust is not one that you built in your mind.
Trust requires action; requires obedience. Faith calls into action through trust what belief preserves us from. Where belief renders action a secondary priority, trust is the mechanism by which faith is empowered.
We trust in that which we do.
Hebrews 11 states that it was by faith that the "heroes" were able to do great things. But when we look at the way faith is described in the bible, it is always coupled with the motion of trust; "trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding" (Prov. 3). In this way, belief may be understood as our own understanding; it is not that we give up the search for understanding (which is what we are asked to pursue), but rather we do not trust on a certain type of understanding-our own.
Trust as in marriage.
And so to continue the thought of faith as a type of marriage relationship, the way in which a marriage is faithful is if trust is engaged between the parties. To do faith according to the bible necessarily relies on the trust that keeps a marriage together. The trust that faith brings does not rely on belief, but rather on the faithfulness of the other.
In the sense of a God-Human relationship, faith trusts in the faithfulness of God.
While listening to the sermon at church today, I got to thinking about how trust is a crucial aspect of faith that has nothing to do with belief.
Trust does not need belief.
That's part of biblical faith that defies our ideas about belief and being right; you don't have to be right to trust. I know that sounds dangerous-and maybe it is-but trust does not depend on our construction of reality.
The world you inhabit by trust is not one that you built in your mind.
Trust requires action; requires obedience. Faith calls into action through trust what belief preserves us from. Where belief renders action a secondary priority, trust is the mechanism by which faith is empowered.
We trust in that which we do.
Hebrews 11 states that it was by faith that the "heroes" were able to do great things. But when we look at the way faith is described in the bible, it is always coupled with the motion of trust; "trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding" (Prov. 3). In this way, belief may be understood as our own understanding; it is not that we give up the search for understanding (which is what we are asked to pursue), but rather we do not trust on a certain type of understanding-our own.
Trust as in marriage.
And so to continue the thought of faith as a type of marriage relationship, the way in which a marriage is faithful is if trust is engaged between the parties. To do faith according to the bible necessarily relies on the trust that keeps a marriage together. The trust that faith brings does not rely on belief, but rather on the faithfulness of the other.
In the sense of a God-Human relationship, faith trusts in the faithfulness of God.
The Objective Fallacy, or, Taking Back the Bible
The fallacy of thinking that we can read anything without doing the work of interpretation has reached critical mass. I find this fallacy most often attached to the bible. Too often I hear Christian leaders claim for their interpretation of the bible absolute authority. It sounds like this (tell me if it rings any bells):
"This is not what I say, it's what the bible says."
This says two things right off the bat. First, it says that the person talking is not honest enough to own their interpretation. Second, it says that they are not actually confident in their own reading and to cover up for their doubt they claim "Scriptural Authority" so as to not deal with objections or arguments. This tactic is both dishonest and destructive.
This is the Objective Fallacy.
The objective fallacy is according the weight and significance of objectivity to something that is highly subjective. It is claiming absolute authority for something that is unworthy of it. It is lying about the authority of your words in the hopes that people will accept your words without holding you responsible for the results they have on the world.
Any thinking person should realize that the words in the bible did not fall from the mouth of God and plop directly into your ear canals. They were written by humans, copied by humans, translated by humans over centuries and millennia.
Society has changed.
The world of the bible is, in one respect, the world of today. People are still people, food is still food. But the social patterns and ways of speaking are very different. This is nowhere more evident than when it comes to reading the bible and understanding exactly what is meant by the words and phrases. On the one hand, we can get a pretty good idea about what certain things mean (death is still death, love is still love). On the other, we're really not sure what many of the phrases in the bible mean to our world today. Additionally, even the words of today require interpretation. I can speak normal, present day English to you and you will have the task of interpreting what I say and mean.
And there is a good chance you will misunderstand me.
My wife and I do this all the time. She will have one thing in her head and I an entirely different thing, and while we each think the other is talking about what we are talking about, we end up on completely different pages. The end result is frustration followed by realization that we were misunderstanding each other. The task of the interpreter is to engage such conversations from within and bring clarity and understanding to them.
And the bible is the same.
I have written about how the bible needs to be interpreted in another blog post, so I won't retread it all here. But I will say that no one reads the bible without interpreting it according to what they know or without the aid of the Holy Spirit. It is neither one or the other, but it is both and the other. However, to ignore your role in the process is dishonest and destructive.
And I am sick of that destruction.
It's time to take the authority of the bible away from those who abuse it and make it guilty of their own error. If you are a pastor or teacher who says things like this, STOP! Own your ish (as my friend Satoshi says). Don't profane the word of God for the sake of getting your way. For the rest of us, stop listening to people who say things like "It's not me, it's the bible." Take back the bible from those who have laid hold of it through violence and have continued to do violence to and through it. Claim your interpretation; do the work; own your ish. And then listen humbly to others who differ from you and see where the Holy Spirit convicts you.
"This is not what I say, it's what the bible says."
This says two things right off the bat. First, it says that the person talking is not honest enough to own their interpretation. Second, it says that they are not actually confident in their own reading and to cover up for their doubt they claim "Scriptural Authority" so as to not deal with objections or arguments. This tactic is both dishonest and destructive.
This is the Objective Fallacy.
The objective fallacy is according the weight and significance of objectivity to something that is highly subjective. It is claiming absolute authority for something that is unworthy of it. It is lying about the authority of your words in the hopes that people will accept your words without holding you responsible for the results they have on the world.
Any thinking person should realize that the words in the bible did not fall from the mouth of God and plop directly into your ear canals. They were written by humans, copied by humans, translated by humans over centuries and millennia.
Society has changed.
The world of the bible is, in one respect, the world of today. People are still people, food is still food. But the social patterns and ways of speaking are very different. This is nowhere more evident than when it comes to reading the bible and understanding exactly what is meant by the words and phrases. On the one hand, we can get a pretty good idea about what certain things mean (death is still death, love is still love). On the other, we're really not sure what many of the phrases in the bible mean to our world today. Additionally, even the words of today require interpretation. I can speak normal, present day English to you and you will have the task of interpreting what I say and mean.
And there is a good chance you will misunderstand me.
My wife and I do this all the time. She will have one thing in her head and I an entirely different thing, and while we each think the other is talking about what we are talking about, we end up on completely different pages. The end result is frustration followed by realization that we were misunderstanding each other. The task of the interpreter is to engage such conversations from within and bring clarity and understanding to them.
And the bible is the same.
I have written about how the bible needs to be interpreted in another blog post, so I won't retread it all here. But I will say that no one reads the bible without interpreting it according to what they know or without the aid of the Holy Spirit. It is neither one or the other, but it is both and the other. However, to ignore your role in the process is dishonest and destructive.
And I am sick of that destruction.
It's time to take the authority of the bible away from those who abuse it and make it guilty of their own error. If you are a pastor or teacher who says things like this, STOP! Own your ish (as my friend Satoshi says). Don't profane the word of God for the sake of getting your way. For the rest of us, stop listening to people who say things like "It's not me, it's the bible." Take back the bible from those who have laid hold of it through violence and have continued to do violence to and through it. Claim your interpretation; do the work; own your ish. And then listen humbly to others who differ from you and see where the Holy Spirit convicts you.
The Cynical Confession of Cynicism
It is, at times, easy to hide my cynicism from myself. I seem to have mastered the art of concealing my attitudes and feelings about certain things in life from myself and thereby from my conscious stream of communication.
Yet sometimes my cynicism makes of itself an obvious presence. Sometimes, given the right circumstances, my cynicism comes pouring out in an obfuse torrent that takes me quite by surprise. This weekend provided one such opportunity for cynicism to flourish, and it yet again surprised and, to be honest, scared me.
The details are somewhat irrelevant, but the epicenter of my cynical ranting was the continual and pervasive proliferation of American Conservativism masquerading as Christianity. This pretension is where I grew up, or rather it was the attitude I took upon myself while undertaking that heavenward development. The circumstances of my extraction from said mental location are numerous and vast, and cannot be adequately explained in such a blog as this, save to say that it has been a slow movement of pain and recognition of betrayal that may or not actually exist beyond the horizons of my brain. But now I harbor such a deep disdain for anything that smacks of such leanings that I cannot contain my feelings and they come roaring out in an undiscriminating profusion.
If it were not so...
Nevertheless I wish it were not so. I wish that I was able to stand at some safe, perhaps even unbelieving, distance from such proceedings and see not a murderous conspiracy of empowered men and social classes to consolidate their control or finances, but instead see the good intentioned souls who wish only to preserve the life and breath of those near and dear to them.
And it is of this wish that I often choose to remain mute.
It is of this yearning for sight that my eyes remain closed and my fingers stuck firmly into my ears so as not to hear or see the events as they unfold around me. I wish I did not know the things I know and had not heard the things I have. Ignorance seems all the more blissful to cynics like me.
And so it is that I chose to hide my cynicism from myself (with the intention that others should not see) so that I may have a voice with those whom I wish to speak. I know that if I just let the cynic out for the evening those who need to hear what I want to say will never give me a bent ear. And so over time I get so used to living in my facade that when the cynic comes out I am surprised and afraid. I do not want to be that person. I want to live in forgiveness and not in cynicism. But how can I ignore the continual barrage of empty rhetoric and sloganeering that only tears off the scabs of those I know and love?
And how can I still love a God and a bible that have been so thoroughly claimed by such brutal and destructive means? How can I hold onto my love of a relationship so depraved and counter to its own designs as Christianity? Either I assert that I am not those people and that Christianity is something else, or I claim them as my people and sacrifice all of my own integrity in the process.
And so I am a cynic, and the circle ends where we began.
The truth is that I am those people. I'll never live beyond the shadows of the pillars I've known all my life. It is an uphill struggle to remain hopeful and optimistic while working towards something that is so unlikely as a reconciliation of humanity. Maybe normal, non-crazy people can "take back the bible" from the extremists and fundamentalists. But that can't be me, because I'm as crazy as the next guy. But I do hope for a reconciliation of humanity. This seems to me to be the bible's hope as well.
The question for me is on who's terms?
None of us speak for God, and none of us are right about what we think about God. I'm sure I'll get a response to this post that answers my question with "God's terms," which will of course mean "my terms." And I'll agree with them, meaning I agree with what they say but not with what they mean. As cynical as ever.
How do I get beyond my cynicism? Do I own it and let it drip from my fangs? Do I hide it as I have been and cut off my right hand so as not to offend someone else?
I think the cure for cynicism is forgiveness, but I've yet to learn how to do that effectively.
Yet sometimes my cynicism makes of itself an obvious presence. Sometimes, given the right circumstances, my cynicism comes pouring out in an obfuse torrent that takes me quite by surprise. This weekend provided one such opportunity for cynicism to flourish, and it yet again surprised and, to be honest, scared me.
The details are somewhat irrelevant, but the epicenter of my cynical ranting was the continual and pervasive proliferation of American Conservativism masquerading as Christianity. This pretension is where I grew up, or rather it was the attitude I took upon myself while undertaking that heavenward development. The circumstances of my extraction from said mental location are numerous and vast, and cannot be adequately explained in such a blog as this, save to say that it has been a slow movement of pain and recognition of betrayal that may or not actually exist beyond the horizons of my brain. But now I harbor such a deep disdain for anything that smacks of such leanings that I cannot contain my feelings and they come roaring out in an undiscriminating profusion.
If it were not so...
Nevertheless I wish it were not so. I wish that I was able to stand at some safe, perhaps even unbelieving, distance from such proceedings and see not a murderous conspiracy of empowered men and social classes to consolidate their control or finances, but instead see the good intentioned souls who wish only to preserve the life and breath of those near and dear to them.
And it is of this wish that I often choose to remain mute.
It is of this yearning for sight that my eyes remain closed and my fingers stuck firmly into my ears so as not to hear or see the events as they unfold around me. I wish I did not know the things I know and had not heard the things I have. Ignorance seems all the more blissful to cynics like me.
And so it is that I chose to hide my cynicism from myself (with the intention that others should not see) so that I may have a voice with those whom I wish to speak. I know that if I just let the cynic out for the evening those who need to hear what I want to say will never give me a bent ear. And so over time I get so used to living in my facade that when the cynic comes out I am surprised and afraid. I do not want to be that person. I want to live in forgiveness and not in cynicism. But how can I ignore the continual barrage of empty rhetoric and sloganeering that only tears off the scabs of those I know and love?
And how can I still love a God and a bible that have been so thoroughly claimed by such brutal and destructive means? How can I hold onto my love of a relationship so depraved and counter to its own designs as Christianity? Either I assert that I am not those people and that Christianity is something else, or I claim them as my people and sacrifice all of my own integrity in the process.
And so I am a cynic, and the circle ends where we began.
The truth is that I am those people. I'll never live beyond the shadows of the pillars I've known all my life. It is an uphill struggle to remain hopeful and optimistic while working towards something that is so unlikely as a reconciliation of humanity. Maybe normal, non-crazy people can "take back the bible" from the extremists and fundamentalists. But that can't be me, because I'm as crazy as the next guy. But I do hope for a reconciliation of humanity. This seems to me to be the bible's hope as well.
The question for me is on who's terms?
None of us speak for God, and none of us are right about what we think about God. I'm sure I'll get a response to this post that answers my question with "God's terms," which will of course mean "my terms." And I'll agree with them, meaning I agree with what they say but not with what they mean. As cynical as ever.
How do I get beyond my cynicism? Do I own it and let it drip from my fangs? Do I hide it as I have been and cut off my right hand so as not to offend someone else?
I think the cure for cynicism is forgiveness, but I've yet to learn how to do that effectively.
On the Wrong Side of History
Have you ever wondered what history will make of the things you are concerned with? This is of course, not to trivialize the things that are real issues (such as earning enough money to buy food, getting enough sleep, etc) that no one in history will ever know about. What I mean are the large scale debates and arguments that seem to have captivated the imagination of our society.
How will history judge our reading of the bible?
Certainly there have been times throughout the course of human existence when the bible was read wrongly. The easiest example of this in recent memory is the position of many in this country (USA) towards dark skinned peoples of African descent; less than human, destined by God for slavery, etc. These positions were argued from the bible; people really thought that this was the bible said. To almost anyone reading such nonsense in the present it is unbelievable. How could anyone think this way? How could anyone read the bible this way?
It's actually easy.
You willingly (or otherwise) are unaware of your own context. You refuse to admit that your experience and opinions about what will better your situation have any bearing on the way you read the bible. But they do, and your best hope at being faithful is to admit that they do, study them, and try to discern how they impact your reading. Once this has been "mastered" find someone who reads it differently and compare the differences and see what informs those differences.
So what about now?
What is the slavery of today? Gender issues? Sexual orientation? Gender roles? Food ethics? Consumer ethics? How do we allow the bible to read us so as to convict us of our wrong-sided-ness? How do we end up on the right side of history (understand I am using the term differently here than "winning")? Confess our filters. Seek out and acknowledge what biases our assumptions leave us with.
And above all, ask yourself if your opinion is influenced by what will gain you something. Are you only looking out for #1?
How will history judge our reading of the bible?
Certainly there have been times throughout the course of human existence when the bible was read wrongly. The easiest example of this in recent memory is the position of many in this country (USA) towards dark skinned peoples of African descent; less than human, destined by God for slavery, etc. These positions were argued from the bible; people really thought that this was the bible said. To almost anyone reading such nonsense in the present it is unbelievable. How could anyone think this way? How could anyone read the bible this way?
It's actually easy.
You willingly (or otherwise) are unaware of your own context. You refuse to admit that your experience and opinions about what will better your situation have any bearing on the way you read the bible. But they do, and your best hope at being faithful is to admit that they do, study them, and try to discern how they impact your reading. Once this has been "mastered" find someone who reads it differently and compare the differences and see what informs those differences.
So what about now?
What is the slavery of today? Gender issues? Sexual orientation? Gender roles? Food ethics? Consumer ethics? How do we allow the bible to read us so as to convict us of our wrong-sided-ness? How do we end up on the right side of history (understand I am using the term differently here than "winning")? Confess our filters. Seek out and acknowledge what biases our assumptions leave us with.
And above all, ask yourself if your opinion is influenced by what will gain you something. Are you only looking out for #1?
The Concept of God
It's almost funny how many times I've had a conversation with someone that includes, at one point or another, their confession to having a problem with "the concept of god." Almost funny.
It's funny how things can be almost funny but upon further inspection definitely not funny. How that's funny is beyond me. "Funny" is a funny thing. My response to this almost funny admission has become something akin to well oiled machine:
"That's because God is not a concept."
I know this seems obvious, but it is worth exposing and highlighting the ways in which our imaginations work against us by insisting that we construct concepts for things we are unsure of. We conceptualize as a way of making sense of things that do not fit within the limits of our constructed reality. It is our cognitive defense mechanism to guard against mystery, and thereby against potential danger.
But why do we need a concept of God?
I think it is because we need a God who is apprehensible to our imaginations. We need an imaginable God. But we are unsure where to find the material needed for our construction of an imaginable deity. This is because we have heard so many theories and concepts about the notion of God that we are unable to decide where to begin. Even the best intentioned of us who attempt to construct an understanding of God from the bible are so filtered and swayed by competing theories and philosophies that we are unable to determine a point of departure.
So how do we stop conceptualizing about God?
And what do we replace the concept of God with? First, we need to realize that God is not a concept but a person. Not a human, of course, in the strict sense, but a person nonetheless. This in turn reveals the answer to the second question: relationship. It is not possible to have a relationship with a concept. And if your relationship with God seems misaligned with your concept of God, it's because your concept is misaligned with God. Or rather, your concept is something other than God. In fact, our concepts are actually a projection of ourselves. We are the concepts of God we seek to have a relationship with. But it cannot be done. There is no one-sided relationship.
So if you, like so many others, struggle with the concept of God, good! You're on the right track.
It's funny how things can be almost funny but upon further inspection definitely not funny. How that's funny is beyond me. "Funny" is a funny thing. My response to this almost funny admission has become something akin to well oiled machine:
"That's because God is not a concept."
I know this seems obvious, but it is worth exposing and highlighting the ways in which our imaginations work against us by insisting that we construct concepts for things we are unsure of. We conceptualize as a way of making sense of things that do not fit within the limits of our constructed reality. It is our cognitive defense mechanism to guard against mystery, and thereby against potential danger.
But why do we need a concept of God?
I think it is because we need a God who is apprehensible to our imaginations. We need an imaginable God. But we are unsure where to find the material needed for our construction of an imaginable deity. This is because we have heard so many theories and concepts about the notion of God that we are unable to decide where to begin. Even the best intentioned of us who attempt to construct an understanding of God from the bible are so filtered and swayed by competing theories and philosophies that we are unable to determine a point of departure.
So how do we stop conceptualizing about God?
And what do we replace the concept of God with? First, we need to realize that God is not a concept but a person. Not a human, of course, in the strict sense, but a person nonetheless. This in turn reveals the answer to the second question: relationship. It is not possible to have a relationship with a concept. And if your relationship with God seems misaligned with your concept of God, it's because your concept is misaligned with God. Or rather, your concept is something other than God. In fact, our concepts are actually a projection of ourselves. We are the concepts of God we seek to have a relationship with. But it cannot be done. There is no one-sided relationship.
So if you, like so many others, struggle with the concept of God, good! You're on the right track.
Can you be a Christian and not Believe?
Please forgive my blatant hook of a title, but I do wish to seriously ask this question. In a previous post I said that the bible does not actually tell us to believe, but rather that the word we translate "believe" is actually "do faith." If you want to know more about this, please read that previous post and another that explains this more thoroughly.
But if the bible says that we must "do faith" to be saved, then what about believing?
This is truly an important question. Can you be an "unbeliever" and still be a Christian? If the answer is yes, then into what are we converting those who we "win for Christ?" If the answer is no, then what do we do with the bible?
Let's start with some basics: What to we mean when we say "believe?"
We mean the mental and imaginative consent to a set of limits for what can be real. That is, to believe is to agree to consider the possibility of reality to stop and start at such and such a point. It is to think and consider that only certain things can be real. This limit to reality is further defined by certain criteria that must be met. Those criteria are generally defined in historical and objective terms: saying you "believe in Jesus" means that you consider him to have been an actual person who was and is God the Son. Believing in this sense means you think this is real; this is a set of parameters for reality that you accept and try to abide within.
This seems to offer an easy and obvious distinction for those who are "in" versus those who are "out." If you think this is real, you're in; if not, you're out. But there are a number of problems with this. For one, it assumes that thinking is the only aspect of human life that matters soteriologically (with significance for salvation). For another it relies exclusively on the subjective opinion of the individual while claiming objectivity for the opinion.
But the biggest problem is that it disagrees with what the bible says.
There are a number of passages that clearly oppose this sort of understanding for salvation (I am of course assuming that being a Christian means "being saved." This is not the only nor the best explanation of the term, but for the present post it is my preference). I've written previously on Matthew 25, and encourage you to investigate my reading of that text. Matthew 25:31-46 relays Jesus' warning/promise of judgment following the coming of his kingdom; the judgment is between the "sheep" and the "goats." Those who are welcomed into the kingdom are not those who performed miraculous signs, but are those who engaged in loving and caring acts. But it is the response of those who were "put out" of the kingdom that gives the idea that assenting to a definition of reality is the condition of salvation real trouble- "Didn't we cast out demons in your name? Didn't we heal the sick in your name? Didn't we perform miracles in your name?" These actions, on the surface, appear to be the kind of actions that faith alone could produce. Yet they are not, according to Jesus.
Those actions are based on belief; on a perspective of reality.
These actions, while being a part of what Jesus did, are not the hallmark of faith, it seems. And that is because they are performed for the benefit of the self and the personal sense of righteousness that results from them. It is the Car Window Effect that puffs up the ego and assures the performer of his or her personal righteousness, but does not meet the actual need of the other. It does not meet that need because there is no sacrifice involved. To give of your own food, shelter, time, is to sacrifice.
Sacrifice is what belief protects us from.
Why did the Ancient Israelites need to sacrifice their produce and livestock? It was not to appease a bloodthirsty or greedy divine spirit! It was instead to ritually remind and bind the people to what it costs to be for others, to be "the seed of blessing for the nations" (Gen. 22:17-18). To be the means of restoration for the whole world cannot involve hoarding or greed.
When we make the terms of the salvation an assent to certain metaphysical tenets about the limit of reality, we remove the crucial criterion from the table.
This is what I think James was getting at in chapter 2. "Faith without works is dead" because faith without works is belief. And the "works" are not transactional, they are sacrificial. Faith is the sacrificial movement towards others in love. Sometimes this movement requires a lack of belief, because belief can prevent us from having faith. Sometimes it means being courageous in acting out those beliefs.
But can I be a Christian and not believe?
Yes and no. Christianity is not a reductionist proposition, nor is it defined by assent to conceptualizations. However, belief alone is not what determines a person's status within or beyond the promised kingdom of heaven (salvation). Of course, none of us will ever be able to give up believing in something. But those beliefs can never be afforded the authority we seem to give them at present. Instead, faith seems to act as an altogether independent force from belief. Sometimes faith affirms belief in a secondary sort of way. Sometimes faith opposes belief directly.
But what we really mean when we ask if belief is what matters is "Can you be a Christian and not believe like me?" When we realize that this is what we are asking, the answer is immediately yes. You are not a Christian because of what you believe, but rather you are a Christian because you participate in the faithful life of restoration of the whole world to Christ-modelled relationship with God through the ongoing work of the Spirit. This participation happens on every level; emotional, physical, mental, physiological, spiritual. And as we participate we become transformed even as we are renewed. This is never quantifiable or controllable. But it is obvious when we see it, we just can't quite explain why it's obvious or what it is exactly.
But if the bible says that we must "do faith" to be saved, then what about believing?
This is truly an important question. Can you be an "unbeliever" and still be a Christian? If the answer is yes, then into what are we converting those who we "win for Christ?" If the answer is no, then what do we do with the bible?
Let's start with some basics: What to we mean when we say "believe?"
We mean the mental and imaginative consent to a set of limits for what can be real. That is, to believe is to agree to consider the possibility of reality to stop and start at such and such a point. It is to think and consider that only certain things can be real. This limit to reality is further defined by certain criteria that must be met. Those criteria are generally defined in historical and objective terms: saying you "believe in Jesus" means that you consider him to have been an actual person who was and is God the Son. Believing in this sense means you think this is real; this is a set of parameters for reality that you accept and try to abide within.
This seems to offer an easy and obvious distinction for those who are "in" versus those who are "out." If you think this is real, you're in; if not, you're out. But there are a number of problems with this. For one, it assumes that thinking is the only aspect of human life that matters soteriologically (with significance for salvation). For another it relies exclusively on the subjective opinion of the individual while claiming objectivity for the opinion.
But the biggest problem is that it disagrees with what the bible says.
There are a number of passages that clearly oppose this sort of understanding for salvation (I am of course assuming that being a Christian means "being saved." This is not the only nor the best explanation of the term, but for the present post it is my preference). I've written previously on Matthew 25, and encourage you to investigate my reading of that text. Matthew 25:31-46 relays Jesus' warning/promise of judgment following the coming of his kingdom; the judgment is between the "sheep" and the "goats." Those who are welcomed into the kingdom are not those who performed miraculous signs, but are those who engaged in loving and caring acts. But it is the response of those who were "put out" of the kingdom that gives the idea that assenting to a definition of reality is the condition of salvation real trouble- "Didn't we cast out demons in your name? Didn't we heal the sick in your name? Didn't we perform miracles in your name?" These actions, on the surface, appear to be the kind of actions that faith alone could produce. Yet they are not, according to Jesus.
Those actions are based on belief; on a perspective of reality.
These actions, while being a part of what Jesus did, are not the hallmark of faith, it seems. And that is because they are performed for the benefit of the self and the personal sense of righteousness that results from them. It is the Car Window Effect that puffs up the ego and assures the performer of his or her personal righteousness, but does not meet the actual need of the other. It does not meet that need because there is no sacrifice involved. To give of your own food, shelter, time, is to sacrifice.
Sacrifice is what belief protects us from.
Why did the Ancient Israelites need to sacrifice their produce and livestock? It was not to appease a bloodthirsty or greedy divine spirit! It was instead to ritually remind and bind the people to what it costs to be for others, to be "the seed of blessing for the nations" (Gen. 22:17-18). To be the means of restoration for the whole world cannot involve hoarding or greed.
When we make the terms of the salvation an assent to certain metaphysical tenets about the limit of reality, we remove the crucial criterion from the table.
This is what I think James was getting at in chapter 2. "Faith without works is dead" because faith without works is belief. And the "works" are not transactional, they are sacrificial. Faith is the sacrificial movement towards others in love. Sometimes this movement requires a lack of belief, because belief can prevent us from having faith. Sometimes it means being courageous in acting out those beliefs.
But can I be a Christian and not believe?
Yes and no. Christianity is not a reductionist proposition, nor is it defined by assent to conceptualizations. However, belief alone is not what determines a person's status within or beyond the promised kingdom of heaven (salvation). Of course, none of us will ever be able to give up believing in something. But those beliefs can never be afforded the authority we seem to give them at present. Instead, faith seems to act as an altogether independent force from belief. Sometimes faith affirms belief in a secondary sort of way. Sometimes faith opposes belief directly.
But what we really mean when we ask if belief is what matters is "Can you be a Christian and not believe like me?" When we realize that this is what we are asking, the answer is immediately yes. You are not a Christian because of what you believe, but rather you are a Christian because you participate in the faithful life of restoration of the whole world to Christ-modelled relationship with God through the ongoing work of the Spirit. This participation happens on every level; emotional, physical, mental, physiological, spiritual. And as we participate we become transformed even as we are renewed. This is never quantifiable or controllable. But it is obvious when we see it, we just can't quite explain why it's obvious or what it is exactly.
Truth as Relationship II
I've been thinking more about John 14 lately, and I am still wrestling with Jesus' claim to be the "truth." In the past, I've written about how if are not careful we will mistake our assumed knowledge of truth for Jesus. An other way of saying this is that because we think we know what truth is we know who Jesus is. But that is the wrong way around, because we have an idea about truth that is not (for most of us) based on who Jesus is. Instead, we need to pursue Jesus and be open to what is true because of him, and not attempt to figure out who he is based on what we think is true.
And I'm not the only one who thinks like this.
Have you ever heard of the distinction between Big T- Truth and little t- truth? Here is a helpful (if somewhat academic) article about the distinctions between the two. To my point, we tend to think about truth as the easily verified, concrete, empirical reality of matter and logic. Mathematics and Newtonian physics are easy examples of truth. On the other hand, Truth tends to be representative of more qualitative matters; morality, ethics, and of course, beliefs. Many Christians have found these designations helpful, as the designations allow them to play by different rules when discussing morality versus mathematics.
But what we don't realize is that these distinctions are the product of a set of assumptions about the nature of the world (philosophers call this "ontology").
We assume that certain aspects of the human experience have different evaluative rules. But where this falls apart is when we consider the consequences our subjective Truths have for the objectivly true world. And to make this even more complicated, the process works in reverse; Big T-Truths are informed and formed by little t-truths as we experience them. I suspect that the distinctions exist only in our minds and imaginations. Of course, based on my own arguments about the construction of reality/ies, that which exists in our minds eventually exists in actuality. However, and to the point, how do we evaluate those realities which are the product of such imagination without succumbing to the feedback loop of T/t-truths informing each other and continuing to deceptively exist symbiotically?
This is the basis of my argument: there need be no such T/t distinction.
The entire framework is wrong. Especially if we take Jesus' claim in John14 seriously. We cannot be foolish enough to project onto Jesus our own imaginative attempt at avoiding the struggle of reconciling our existence with what we want Jesus to be saying.
I have a different proposition.
This is why I have posted previously my hypothesis that it is helpful to think of truth as the positive relationship between an entity and reality, and of a lie as the negative relationship between an entity and reality. Sometimes the entity is a reality, or at least the perception of reality. Sometimes the entity is a person or idea. This semantic turn works to reconcile T/t distinction, and allows reality to be evaluated on the merits ascribed for it in the bible. Yet it also, and simultaneously, allows for us to understand a multivalent meaning in Jesus claim to be the truth; in Jesus resides the fullness of God and humanity. In him we have a picture of perfect relationship to God- he is the epitome of truth.
For us to participate in Jesus' claim to be the truth we must get rid of our notion of T/t.
T/t is a lie because it creates a negative reality based on what we read in the bible. We cannot align ourselves with John 14 and still allow for a "truth" that exist's beyond the scope of that claim, yet we cannot blame Jesus for evil, and so reality has to exist that is not "true" according to the language of John 14. We therefore, for our own sakes, need change the way we think about truth so as to live more faithfully into the reality of Jesus' restoring the world to Godself.
There is of course an unresolved issue in this.
Can we allow for a reality that is not God? We have to, so the semantic turn requires qualification. Perhaps we can say that there are lying realities as well as truthful realities. I am inclined to this line of thinking because I doubt the ability of myself or any other human to be able to fully understand reality. It then becomes possible for us to allow for a congruent reality to exist beyond the scope of our perception of it.
I wish to clarify a possible point of confusion here: I am not suggesting a pantheism wherein God is every existing thing. I do think that God has left divine fingerprints on everything he has created, but I distinguish the creator from the creation.
And I'm not the only one who thinks like this.
Have you ever heard of the distinction between Big T- Truth and little t- truth? Here is a helpful (if somewhat academic) article about the distinctions between the two. To my point, we tend to think about truth as the easily verified, concrete, empirical reality of matter and logic. Mathematics and Newtonian physics are easy examples of truth. On the other hand, Truth tends to be representative of more qualitative matters; morality, ethics, and of course, beliefs. Many Christians have found these designations helpful, as the designations allow them to play by different rules when discussing morality versus mathematics.
But what we don't realize is that these distinctions are the product of a set of assumptions about the nature of the world (philosophers call this "ontology").
We assume that certain aspects of the human experience have different evaluative rules. But where this falls apart is when we consider the consequences our subjective Truths have for the objectivly true world. And to make this even more complicated, the process works in reverse; Big T-Truths are informed and formed by little t-truths as we experience them. I suspect that the distinctions exist only in our minds and imaginations. Of course, based on my own arguments about the construction of reality/ies, that which exists in our minds eventually exists in actuality. However, and to the point, how do we evaluate those realities which are the product of such imagination without succumbing to the feedback loop of T/t-truths informing each other and continuing to deceptively exist symbiotically?
This is the basis of my argument: there need be no such T/t distinction.
The entire framework is wrong. Especially if we take Jesus' claim in John14 seriously. We cannot be foolish enough to project onto Jesus our own imaginative attempt at avoiding the struggle of reconciling our existence with what we want Jesus to be saying.
I have a different proposition.
This is why I have posted previously my hypothesis that it is helpful to think of truth as the positive relationship between an entity and reality, and of a lie as the negative relationship between an entity and reality. Sometimes the entity is a reality, or at least the perception of reality. Sometimes the entity is a person or idea. This semantic turn works to reconcile T/t distinction, and allows reality to be evaluated on the merits ascribed for it in the bible. Yet it also, and simultaneously, allows for us to understand a multivalent meaning in Jesus claim to be the truth; in Jesus resides the fullness of God and humanity. In him we have a picture of perfect relationship to God- he is the epitome of truth.
For us to participate in Jesus' claim to be the truth we must get rid of our notion of T/t.
T/t is a lie because it creates a negative reality based on what we read in the bible. We cannot align ourselves with John 14 and still allow for a "truth" that exist's beyond the scope of that claim, yet we cannot blame Jesus for evil, and so reality has to exist that is not "true" according to the language of John 14. We therefore, for our own sakes, need change the way we think about truth so as to live more faithfully into the reality of Jesus' restoring the world to Godself.
There is of course an unresolved issue in this.
Can we allow for a reality that is not God? We have to, so the semantic turn requires qualification. Perhaps we can say that there are lying realities as well as truthful realities. I am inclined to this line of thinking because I doubt the ability of myself or any other human to be able to fully understand reality. It then becomes possible for us to allow for a congruent reality to exist beyond the scope of our perception of it.
I wish to clarify a possible point of confusion here: I am not suggesting a pantheism wherein God is every existing thing. I do think that God has left divine fingerprints on everything he has created, but I distinguish the creator from the creation.
Being for Others
If I can be so incredibly arrogant as to assess the enduring legacy of conservative evangelicalism as a culture, it would be a culture of fear. Fear of the “world” (try figuring out exactly what the “world” is in the bible. I guarantee it will scare the bejesus out of you); fear of knowledge; fear of failure; and above all, fear of being wrong.
We all have fears.
My own fear is that God doesn’t really love us after all. I’ve been assured of this love for me in innumerable and immeasurable ways, yet seen it betrayed in some of the most despicable of circumstances in the lives of others. It is easy for me to understand God’s love for me, but I am unnerved when I fail to see it in the life of my friends. Does God love the undocumented immigrants living in tin huts along the Rio Bravo in towns like Socorro, Texas? Does God love the tens of thousands of people who are victims of the sex trade? What of the poor little girls in Bokencamp, near Corpus Christi, who have escaped that fate in Latin America only to be interred upon entering the US and who will be returned to that life should no family or guardian be located for them in Estados Unidos? What of the greasy smear on the train tracks of the Manitoban prairie that was once a guy named Brad, or the 5 year old victim of AIDS whose emaciated life left her while my arms offered her the paltry sum of God’s love I could muster in Honduras?
We all have fears.
My own fear is that God doesn’t really love us after all. I’ve been assured of this love for me in innumerable and immeasurable ways, yet seen it betrayed in some of the most despicable of circumstances in the lives of others. It is easy for me to understand God’s love for me, but I am unnerved when I fail to see it in the life of my friends. Does God love the undocumented immigrants living in tin huts along the Rio Bravo in towns like Socorro, Texas? Does God love the tens of thousands of people who are victims of the sex trade? What of the poor little girls in Bokencamp, near Corpus Christi, who have escaped that fate in Latin America only to be interred upon entering the US and who will be returned to that life should no family or guardian be located for them in Estados Unidos? What of the greasy smear on the train tracks of the Manitoban prairie that was once a guy named Brad, or the 5 year old victim of AIDS whose emaciated life left her while my arms offered her the paltry sum of God’s love I could muster in Honduras?
Jesus loves me, this I know, but what makes me so goddamn special?
But fear thrives in isolation.
It's simple: I'm not. We live in fear of the other. We live in fear of the possibility that she might be right, and I, wrong. And of course, that fear causes us to place unassailable defenses between ourselves and others. I can protect my innocence and piety by assuring myself that I am different than you, and so this is what I do.
We isolate ourselves because we are afraid. It is a vicious cycle. This system of fear continues to function because we think that we are our own persons and selves; that our fears are between us and…us. We tend to conceive of ourselves in isolation from each other, but we are not that in actuality. Each of us is invested in our friends and families, experiencing the triumphs and failures of others.
And in some profound way, we are members of one another (Rom. 12, 1 Cor. 12, Eph. 4).
This is why the issue of God’s seeming abandonment of others is so troubling: it creates a disconnect in myself; the self I share with others becomes severed from the self I experience as me. I am not me in opposition to you, but I am me because of you. And so when the people who are supposed to be members with me in Christ experience the abandonment of God, I too feel the ache. I cannot notice the homeless man on the street corner and think: “There but for the grace of God go I,” but “there with the grace of God go I.” It is a terrible and radical shift, but if we all made it there might not be any room for fear to reign. But the shift cannot be made until we ourselves are transformed by the renewing of our mind regarding the authority we give to the System of Belief.
But faith is being for others in love.
Where belief needs to be right; where they fear being wrong to the extent that they don't care who they destroy to protect their piety, faith is unconcerned with personal righteousness. Faith sees in the dying orphans of this world the very dearest of God's children. Faith laments the injustice of the world and calls on God to act. But faith does not need to be right. Faith can be wrong; faith can call God out wrongly, because faith depends on God's faithfulness, not it's own. Faith loves beyond reason. Faith hopes for good and calls God out when it seems God has not lived up to expectations. And this act opens the faithful to God's own heart and response.
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