Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Do I Love the Church?
As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.
See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority. In him also you were circumcised with a spiritual circumcision, by putting off the body of the flesh in the circumcision of Christ; when you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead. And when you were dead in trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive together with him, when he forgave us all our trespasses, erasing the record that stood against us with its legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.
Therefore do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or sabbaths. These are only a shadow of what is to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. Do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions, puffed up without cause by a human way of thinking, and not holding fast to the head, from whom the whole body, nourished and held together by its ligaments and sinews, grows with a growth that is from God.
If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the universe, why do you live as if you still belonged to the world? Why do you submit to regulations, ‘Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch’? All these regulations refer to things that perish with use; they are simply human commands and teachings. These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-imposed piety, humility, and severe treatment of the body, but they are of no value in checking self-indulgence. - Colossians 2:6-23
The past few years have been especially challenging for my relationship with Christianity. I must admit that I often fail to see the Jesus referenced in Colossians in the churches of North America (where I live). I cannot count the number of times I've heard some variation of "Do not handle; Do not taste; Do not touch" under the guise of "protection from sin." I cannot count the number of times I've heard Plato's philosophical musings indirectly referenced by Christian leaders as being essential elements of the faith, instead of - as Paul uses them here - as a familiar, contemporary way of speaking that helps us understand the difference between Jesus and the "world" (world=religion/belief-based living).
And I wonder if what we call the "church" in North America is actually preaching Jesus, or the 'elemental spirits of this world.'
Consider this: Much of our time as Christians seems to be spent determining who exactly is "in" and who exactly is "out." We assume that those 'elemental spirits of this world (church)' are the opposite of our belief-based understanding, and therefore we can accurately determine who is "in" and "out" based on ourselves; if you disagree with me you're out.
But this is exactly the opposite of what Jesus did as recorded in the Gospels.
In fact, he made an explicit point to refute the attempts of his disciples and opponents who tried to determine that very thing. The out was in and the in was - out? Was it? Jesus never actually says that. Interestingly enough, he said that he was the "in," and anybody was in if they went in by/with/through/over/in him.
Church seems to be the opposite of that - while saying exactly that.
This is because we (church) still see the world as some sort of dualistic binary. There is in and out, good and evil, rich and poor, slave and free, male and female, us and them. And so we think we need some sort of filter to determine who gets to be "us" and not "them."
And this makes me mad. It makes me want to quit this whole church thing.
Because I am less and less convinced that church in North America is effectively doing what Jesus said to do and did himself. Each day I see a starker and starker contrast between the good news of God's cosmic and ongoing work of creation and healing and the organization that claims to be the gatekeeper of participation with that work.
And I find it harder and harder to love the church.
And this is where I, too, fail to follow Jesus. I want the church to be wrong. I want Jesus to tell them - those who tell others - to "depart from me for I never knew you." I don't want to love them anymore. I see all the pain and all the hatred and all the destruction and I, like Pilate, want to wash my hands of it.
And I see how I am them.
I am the same as those who I do not want to love. I want "them" to be on the outside. I am still a part of it. Can I love like I think Jesus loves - without condition, without condemnation? Without wanting there to be a "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.
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.
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 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.
Faith the Second
Last week I began exploring how the bible uses the word faith and what it means by it. I began comparing Malachi 1-3 to Romans 9, and argued that the sense in which Paul is using faith in Romans 9 by quoting Malachi 1 is the same as that which Malachi is using it: the proper orientation of spouses in marriage. The bible uses "faith" in the sense of how marriage partners are supposed to be "faithful" to each other. It is, in this instance, not a set of markers for what is real. Faith is not a conceived set of limits to reality.
The second sense of faith that I want to look at is the way it functions in Luke 17 1-10. In verses 1-4 Jesus instructs his disciples to forgive the repentant and be forgiven without limit. The disciples response to this admonition is: "Lord, increase our faith!" (vs. 5). This seems an illogical request to the way we think of faith- why is faith the critical component of forgiveness?
If we are determined to maintain an understanding of faith that is purely cognitive, then we must construct an impressive network of patterns and cause/effect sequences to arrive at a point where we can understand the disciples' response. We would need to assume that the way we understand reality determines our action absolutely. That construction assumes a cognitive authority that is imputable for action; that there is no action that can transgress what we think of as real. So in that sense, we would say that the disciples have a readily accessible understanding of the world which says that you cannot forgive a person that much because it will violate some universal principle of retibutive justice. And so a new paradigm must be employed that eschews justice in faovr of God's mercy; trusting that God will make it right while we allow sin to reign.
This sounds all well and good, as we in fact do need to make those cognitive moves to arrive at a place where we can truly forgive others. But the problem with the logic that got us there is that it assumes a singular potential sequence of cause and effect from cognitive to active. That is to say, that no other possible option from point A exists except to arrive at point Z. It assumes a rational validity that only goes in one possible direction. Your "worldview" is changed and therefore you will inevitably act in this specific way, regardless of decision or action.
There is, as I'm sure you've guessed, a better option in this reading of Luke 17 in my estimation: that faith here functions volitionally, not cognitively. When the disciples ask for more faith, they are not assuming that through some complex system of metaphysical leaps they will arrive at a place where they will understand forgiveness and so act accordingly, but are asking for the ability to decide to forgive. They understand faith as a volitional action that in some cases, such as the one under consideration, will violate our sense of justice and righteousness. Faith is, in some cases, a decision to act against our beliefs.
Jesus' response in verses 6-10 demonstrate that this faith is not a magical power (as we sometimes assume), but is the expected posture of those who follow Him. "The slave does not expect a reward from his master for doing his job, does he? So you too, when you have done everything commanded of you, should say 'we are only slaves doing our duty.'" This faith is not a change in perspective (although that does happen as a result of faith), but is the decision to act obediently.
Specifically, it is the decision to forgive even though the perpetrator persists. Faith is intrinsically the posture of forgiveness exhibited by those who are simply the slaves of the kingdom of heaven. This then implies humility...
The second sense of faith that I want to look at is the way it functions in Luke 17 1-10. In verses 1-4 Jesus instructs his disciples to forgive the repentant and be forgiven without limit. The disciples response to this admonition is: "Lord, increase our faith!" (vs. 5). This seems an illogical request to the way we think of faith- why is faith the critical component of forgiveness?
If we are determined to maintain an understanding of faith that is purely cognitive, then we must construct an impressive network of patterns and cause/effect sequences to arrive at a point where we can understand the disciples' response. We would need to assume that the way we understand reality determines our action absolutely. That construction assumes a cognitive authority that is imputable for action; that there is no action that can transgress what we think of as real. So in that sense, we would say that the disciples have a readily accessible understanding of the world which says that you cannot forgive a person that much because it will violate some universal principle of retibutive justice. And so a new paradigm must be employed that eschews justice in faovr of God's mercy; trusting that God will make it right while we allow sin to reign.
This sounds all well and good, as we in fact do need to make those cognitive moves to arrive at a place where we can truly forgive others. But the problem with the logic that got us there is that it assumes a singular potential sequence of cause and effect from cognitive to active. That is to say, that no other possible option from point A exists except to arrive at point Z. It assumes a rational validity that only goes in one possible direction. Your "worldview" is changed and therefore you will inevitably act in this specific way, regardless of decision or action.
There is, as I'm sure you've guessed, a better option in this reading of Luke 17 in my estimation: that faith here functions volitionally, not cognitively. When the disciples ask for more faith, they are not assuming that through some complex system of metaphysical leaps they will arrive at a place where they will understand forgiveness and so act accordingly, but are asking for the ability to decide to forgive. They understand faith as a volitional action that in some cases, such as the one under consideration, will violate our sense of justice and righteousness. Faith is, in some cases, a decision to act against our beliefs.
Jesus' response in verses 6-10 demonstrate that this faith is not a magical power (as we sometimes assume), but is the expected posture of those who follow Him. "The slave does not expect a reward from his master for doing his job, does he? So you too, when you have done everything commanded of you, should say 'we are only slaves doing our duty.'" This faith is not a change in perspective (although that does happen as a result of faith), but is the decision to act obediently.
Specifically, it is the decision to forgive even though the perpetrator persists. Faith is intrinsically the posture of forgiveness exhibited by those who are simply the slaves of the kingdom of heaven. This then implies humility...
Where The NT Gets Its Ideas About Faith
So a while back I was working on what it is to be faithful according to the bible. While it is common knowledge that faith and belief are different words with different meanings in English, most people are unsure about what the bible means by the word "faith."
In earlier blogs I have pointed out that the bible never once uses the word "belief" in English, and that is because there is no Greek word for the English concept of "belief." Instead, the bible uses the word for "faith"-pistis. But since there is no word for "belief" as we understand it in Greek, we are unable to definitively say which the bible means by pistis: does it mean "faith" or "belief?"
Part of what informs this dilemma for us is an assumption that we make without even realizing that it is up for debate: we look beyond the bible to discover the meaning of the words the bible uses. Where does the bible, especially the New Testament, get it's understanding of terms and theological concepts? From the Old Testament. You see, the idea of faith didn't plop into the minds of the New Testament writers from nowhere. Paul didn't make the term up.
"But hold on," you might say. "The Old Testament is written in Hebrew, whereas the New Testament is written in Greek. How can we figure out what a Greek word in the New Testament means by looking at the meaning of the Hebrew word that is translated the same way in English? The answer is quite simple, actually. By Paul's day, the Old Testament had been translated into Greek. It is called the "Septuagint." Paul quotes the Septuagint almost exclusively when referring to the Old Testament, and so we can therefore safely understand that Paul and other New Testament writers are using the terms such as pistis in the same way the Septuagint is using them.
So when we are trying to sort out something as messy and convoluted as the three language (four if you consider Latin a player in this game) pile-up of figuring out what the bible means by pistis, we need to look at the Old Testament. How does it use that word?
In order to make my case, I am going to start with the most basic understanding of faith in the Septuagint: the appropriate state of marriage. This understanding is most obviously used in the writings of the prophets, and since he gets so little attention from theologians, I will use the book of Malachi as my example.
Malachi begins with YHWH's categorical declaration of love for his people. When challenged on his love, he articulates what he means by love. Central to that articulation is the idea of covenant faithfulness as in a marriage. YHWH declares that Israel's calamity is the result of their faithlessness to him by virtue of the unfaithfulness of the leaders to their wives (spouses). This is the first and primary way the bible uses the word faith: as the way of being in covenant with YHWH. This covenant is compared to a marriage, yet in a profound twist, it is the status of the actual marriage that indicates to YHWH the status of the covenantal marriage to YHWH's self to Israel.
This understanding begins to illuminate what the New Testament means by pistis. We are faithful to Jesus in the same way that we are faithful to our spouse. This is the foundation of how the bible understands Faith.
In earlier blogs I have pointed out that the bible never once uses the word "belief" in English, and that is because there is no Greek word for the English concept of "belief." Instead, the bible uses the word for "faith"-pistis. But since there is no word for "belief" as we understand it in Greek, we are unable to definitively say which the bible means by pistis: does it mean "faith" or "belief?"
Part of what informs this dilemma for us is an assumption that we make without even realizing that it is up for debate: we look beyond the bible to discover the meaning of the words the bible uses. Where does the bible, especially the New Testament, get it's understanding of terms and theological concepts? From the Old Testament. You see, the idea of faith didn't plop into the minds of the New Testament writers from nowhere. Paul didn't make the term up.
"But hold on," you might say. "The Old Testament is written in Hebrew, whereas the New Testament is written in Greek. How can we figure out what a Greek word in the New Testament means by looking at the meaning of the Hebrew word that is translated the same way in English? The answer is quite simple, actually. By Paul's day, the Old Testament had been translated into Greek. It is called the "Septuagint." Paul quotes the Septuagint almost exclusively when referring to the Old Testament, and so we can therefore safely understand that Paul and other New Testament writers are using the terms such as pistis in the same way the Septuagint is using them.
So when we are trying to sort out something as messy and convoluted as the three language (four if you consider Latin a player in this game) pile-up of figuring out what the bible means by pistis, we need to look at the Old Testament. How does it use that word?
In order to make my case, I am going to start with the most basic understanding of faith in the Septuagint: the appropriate state of marriage. This understanding is most obviously used in the writings of the prophets, and since he gets so little attention from theologians, I will use the book of Malachi as my example.
Malachi begins with YHWH's categorical declaration of love for his people. When challenged on his love, he articulates what he means by love. Central to that articulation is the idea of covenant faithfulness as in a marriage. YHWH declares that Israel's calamity is the result of their faithlessness to him by virtue of the unfaithfulness of the leaders to their wives (spouses). This is the first and primary way the bible uses the word faith: as the way of being in covenant with YHWH. This covenant is compared to a marriage, yet in a profound twist, it is the status of the actual marriage that indicates to YHWH the status of the covenantal marriage to YHWH's self to Israel.
This understanding begins to illuminate what the New Testament means by pistis. We are faithful to Jesus in the same way that we are faithful to our spouse. This is the foundation of how the bible understands Faith.
Jacob I have loved, but Esau...
Two primary ideas have been derived from this bit of scripture. The first, famously, is that people are "predestined" on an individual basis for either heaven or hell. While this idea has lost popularity in public circles, it maintains a high degree of acceptance in the hallowed halls of academic theology, particularly within the Calvinistic traditions.
The second, related to the first, ascribes that same principle of selection to people groups as well as individuals. However, most scholars who purport this reading also, and by necessity if they are Christians, adhere to the notion of "dispensation," by which is meant that in various "epochs" or eras, God has chosen different people. This notion derives itself from some combination of anti-semitism, manifest destiny, and Christian supersessionism, becoming in a circuitous fashion the doctrine by which each of these notions are supported. We tend to do that: create doctrine out of our prejudices and then use that doctrine to support our prejudices.
These ideas come from a particular reading of Romans 9 which understand Paul's argument to be that the Jews have been rejected as God's people due to their unbelief in Jesus and complicency with Roman efforts to execute him. However, such a reading of Romans 9 fails to consider what is meant by the passage Paul is quoting: Malachi 1:3.
Malachi 1 begins the prophecy of destruction against Edom. But before the (in)famous declaration of selection between Jacob and Esau, verse 2 begins with a declaration of love by YHWH towards his people- "I have loved you, declares YHWH." But verse one finishes with a rebuttal- "But you have said: 'How have you loved us?'"
It is within the context of God's declaration of love and the bitter questioning of a people in distress that the famous proof text for predestination is offered. God's selection in this case is not arbitrary- the passage goes on to explain how God's love is not being received because the people are not acting in love. It seems to paint an unusual picture of God's interaction with God's people that hinges more entirely on the action of the people than on the love of God. See, the text contends that God's love is ever present, but that it is ignored by people who do not love in return. The verse in 1 John 4 that reads "We love because he first loved us" compels us to maintain the initial act of love as originating from God, but in Malachi and elsewhere we find the pivot point to be the response of love.
What is often overlooked or just plain ignored is the fact that in Malachi 1 Jacob represents the nation of Israel and Esau represents the nation of Edom. The text is not referring to individuals. It is referring to nations whose identities are tied to etiological characters who share a common ancestor; both nations are children of Abraham. Yet the text is clearly of the persuasion that the coming judgement on Edom (!) is not a result of a lack of God's love, but of the failure on the part of the people to return God's love appropriately.
This observation dispels two misconceptions. The first is the idea that God picks certain people and rejects others. Based on research of the alleged passages that support this claim, I contend that that claim is not consistent with the bible. Instead, I think it is a symptom of the same inclination that leads us to construct doctrines out of/that support our prejudices. It is easier to treat a person unlovingly if you can believe that you were selected for love but she was not. The same is true of gospel proclamation: if you can convince yourself that God picks some and not others, then you have a harder time convincing yourself to tell them about how they might or might not be picked. I have heard several times that the doctrine of predestination does not remove the need for telling others about Jesus, because we do not know who is picked and who is not. But even though that would be true, it still removes incentive to call others into the world redeeming life of Jesus.
Finally, the notion of dispensational supersessionism mis reads Romans 9 because it has not read Malachi 1 to be an exposition on what it is to love within the context of judgement. Instead, driven by the desire to become the biggest, best, most loved, favored, etc, nation, it has ignored Paul's adamant assertion that Christ becomes the means by which the people of God is enlarged, not reduced. Jesus, the Messiah of Israel, did not come to cut Israel as a nation off (I know you're thinking of Romans 11, but read that passage carefully- it does not say that the tree was cut off, but only some branches) but to become the means for covenant participation for the rest of the world. Christ does not remove Israel from the covenant, but rather includes the gentiles in the covenant.
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