So. In the field of psychology, there's this phenomenon called "cognitive dissonance." In simple terms, cognitive dissonance is when someone holds two contradictory ideas simultaneously without recognizing the contradiction. It's a mental block, of sorts, that keeps us from noticing or properly evaluating logical incongruities in our own belief systems.
Now, every human post-Fall has been subject to cognitive dissonance, but I think it's a particular problem in postmodern society. Throw in a slipshod or nonexistent education in the field of logic, and the vigorously pluralistic message preached from every media outlet in the West, and you've got a steaming hot, high-octane cup of Doctrinal Issues, Man, just waiting to give you the jitters.
And boy, are we ever jittery about it.
For those of you who don't know about this brouhaha with Rob Bell in the last month, first, welcome to the internet, and second, let me give you a quick rundown. Since Bell appeared on the scene several years ago with his wildly popular Nooma videos, he's come across as a basically likeable, incredibly compelling brother with some distressingly squishy positions on a few doctrines, and the typical Evangelical response to him has been equal parts brow-furrowing and eye-rolling, with the occasional rebuke thrown in.
But a few weeks ago, he released a promo video for his new book. And that's when the proverbial excrement hit the air-conditioning, to borrow Kurt Vonnegut's phrase. As is typical for Bell, he asked a very provocative series of questions that led a lot of people to believe that he had embraced Universalism. The release of the book a couple weeks later basically served to confirm that suspicion. (If you want more detail about that business, the Google search bar is right up there at the top of the page; knock yourself out.)
But between the release of the video and now, no real consensus has emerged on how to refer to and think of him and other Universalists. Do we embrace a sort of agnosticism about their salvation? Do we think of them as unsaved, and seek to evangelize accordingly? Do we affirm their salvation and correct their doctrinal errors from inside the family, so to speak?
In other words, is it possible that a person can hold a heterodox position on this sort of issue and still be saved? Can a person's doctrine be as orthodox as St. Paul's, with one massive, glaring exception?
Can cognitive dissonance save us?
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Lent, Day 10: Toward Doctrinal Discernment
I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm going to talk about Rob Bell, just like every other freakin' person in the evangelical world right now. Seriously. And on a BLOG, too! Oh, the humanity! But here I go, wading into the ridiculous fray of potential quadrupling of Google hits, and trolls, and really sweet-tempered "evangelical universalists" persistently nice-ing people to death in the comments section, and whatever other nonsense has been going on in the blogosphere the last couple of weeks.
But really, I'm only going to talk about Rob Bell in a kind of broad, referential way, as a starting point for what I think is another really important discussion for modern evangelical life. (That's a hint to trolls and argumentative universalists to take a hike, and to cage-stage Calvinists that there's not gonna be any ammo for you here. Hasta luego, Blog Crazies.)
The question is this: is there a point when we stop referring to someone as a brother or sister in Christ? When? Under what circumstances? Once we've reached that point, how universal or extensive, then, do we make that declaration -- to whom else do we apply it? What's the next step in addressing that person? That group? That movement?
So, for the next few days, Lord willing, I'm going to talk about what I think is a good strategy for thinking about and addressing people whose theological positions on certain issues are problematic or borderline unorthodox, without either being a total jerk or turning what ought to be serious doctrinal discussions into sloppy hug-fests where everyone feels good but nobody knows what the devil anyone actually believes about anything or if that even matters.
Stay tuned!
But really, I'm only going to talk about Rob Bell in a kind of broad, referential way, as a starting point for what I think is another really important discussion for modern evangelical life. (That's a hint to trolls and argumentative universalists to take a hike, and to cage-stage Calvinists that there's not gonna be any ammo for you here. Hasta luego, Blog Crazies.)
The question is this: is there a point when we stop referring to someone as a brother or sister in Christ? When? Under what circumstances? Once we've reached that point, how universal or extensive, then, do we make that declaration -- to whom else do we apply it? What's the next step in addressing that person? That group? That movement?
So, for the next few days, Lord willing, I'm going to talk about what I think is a good strategy for thinking about and addressing people whose theological positions on certain issues are problematic or borderline unorthodox, without either being a total jerk or turning what ought to be serious doctrinal discussions into sloppy hug-fests where everyone feels good but nobody knows what the devil anyone actually believes about anything or if that even matters.
Stay tuned!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Lent, Day 8: General and Special Revelation, Part 4
(Check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.)
The first category of special revelation is God's specific acts in history on behalf of and toward certain people, which reveal much more about his character and will than general revelation. These acts are broadly visible – even to those who are not the select recipients of the actions – objective, and historical. For example, God makes a covenant with Abram, binding himself by an oath to give Abram a land, a people, an inheritance, revealing himself as faithful and powerful. God acts miraculously to rescue Joseph from the schemes of his jealous brothers (Genesis 37:1ff), thereby saving his chosen people from a terrible famine, revealing his sovereignty and his purposes of election. He preserves his people through their enslavement in Egypt and punishes their captors, revealing his faithfulness, power, and wrath as he leads them out from slavery in the book of Exodus.
The second category of special revelation is that of internal or subjectively-experienced communication. These acts are visible or accessible only to the recipients, and encompass dreams and visions. These acts vary widely in intent. Certain visions and dreams communicate some hidden reality about the unseen spiritual realm, as in Jacob's vision of angels ascending and descending between earth and heaven. Sometimes they are prophetic in nature, communicating future events as they will unfold. Portions of the book of Revelation fit this sub-category, and most of the prophetic books of the Old Testament contain at least one account of a prophetic vision or dream. At times they are God's chosen means of giving specific instruction or direction, as when God speaks to Joseph in a dream to tell him to flee to Egypt with the child Jesus. Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones, reveals God as one who breathes life into that which was dead – an essential component of his nature as a God who saves!
The third category of special revelation is direct divine speech, which we may subdivide into two further categories: that of audible communication of the voice of God, and that of the Scriptures, which are God's word in written form. We see the first example of this in the early chapters of Genesis, both before and after the Fall: God walks and talks with Adam in the garden before sin enters the world, and later confronts him and his wife Eve with their rebellion. God speaks audibly to many others as well: the boy Samuel, Saul on the road to Damascus, Peter on the rooftop. God also, incredibly, makes his exact words known to all who would care to “take up and read,” as Augustine was urged, through the Scriptures which he has preserved for his people!
The final category of special revelation we might call the final revelation or the telos of God's revelation: Jesus Christ himself, God in the flesh. The author of Hebrews says that God has spoken to us in these final days “through his Son.” John the Evangelist tells us that “the Word,” Jesus Christ, “became flesh and dwelt among us.” That is to say, God's ultimate communication of himself, through whom all things were created, came to earth “in the likeness of sinful flesh” (Romans 8:3). Jesus himself said that whoever has seen him has seen the Father – in other words, Jesus is the final and ultimate “revealer” of God the Father!
In the final accounting, those who misinterpreted God's revelation of himself, those whom God has not caused to understand general revelation rightly and who have not received the saving knowledge of God through special revelation, will beg for a “de-revelation” – a concealment of God's judgment and wrath! In his vision of the coming judgment, the Apostle John sees the reprobate fleeing, “calling to the mountains and rocks, 'Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb...'” (Revelation 6:16). But we, whom God in his mysterious purposes of grace has chosen, can, with all God's people, cry out for that day when we will look at last upon our saving King with unveiled faces: even so, come, Lord Jesus!
The first category of special revelation is God's specific acts in history on behalf of and toward certain people, which reveal much more about his character and will than general revelation. These acts are broadly visible – even to those who are not the select recipients of the actions – objective, and historical. For example, God makes a covenant with Abram, binding himself by an oath to give Abram a land, a people, an inheritance, revealing himself as faithful and powerful. God acts miraculously to rescue Joseph from the schemes of his jealous brothers (Genesis 37:1ff), thereby saving his chosen people from a terrible famine, revealing his sovereignty and his purposes of election. He preserves his people through their enslavement in Egypt and punishes their captors, revealing his faithfulness, power, and wrath as he leads them out from slavery in the book of Exodus.
The second category of special revelation is that of internal or subjectively-experienced communication. These acts are visible or accessible only to the recipients, and encompass dreams and visions. These acts vary widely in intent. Certain visions and dreams communicate some hidden reality about the unseen spiritual realm, as in Jacob's vision of angels ascending and descending between earth and heaven. Sometimes they are prophetic in nature, communicating future events as they will unfold. Portions of the book of Revelation fit this sub-category, and most of the prophetic books of the Old Testament contain at least one account of a prophetic vision or dream. At times they are God's chosen means of giving specific instruction or direction, as when God speaks to Joseph in a dream to tell him to flee to Egypt with the child Jesus. Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones, reveals God as one who breathes life into that which was dead – an essential component of his nature as a God who saves!
The third category of special revelation is direct divine speech, which we may subdivide into two further categories: that of audible communication of the voice of God, and that of the Scriptures, which are God's word in written form. We see the first example of this in the early chapters of Genesis, both before and after the Fall: God walks and talks with Adam in the garden before sin enters the world, and later confronts him and his wife Eve with their rebellion. God speaks audibly to many others as well: the boy Samuel, Saul on the road to Damascus, Peter on the rooftop. God also, incredibly, makes his exact words known to all who would care to “take up and read,” as Augustine was urged, through the Scriptures which he has preserved for his people!
The final category of special revelation we might call the final revelation or the telos of God's revelation: Jesus Christ himself, God in the flesh. The author of Hebrews says that God has spoken to us in these final days “through his Son.” John the Evangelist tells us that “the Word,” Jesus Christ, “became flesh and dwelt among us.” That is to say, God's ultimate communication of himself, through whom all things were created, came to earth “in the likeness of sinful flesh” (Romans 8:3). Jesus himself said that whoever has seen him has seen the Father – in other words, Jesus is the final and ultimate “revealer” of God the Father!
In the final accounting, those who misinterpreted God's revelation of himself, those whom God has not caused to understand general revelation rightly and who have not received the saving knowledge of God through special revelation, will beg for a “de-revelation” – a concealment of God's judgment and wrath! In his vision of the coming judgment, the Apostle John sees the reprobate fleeing, “calling to the mountains and rocks, 'Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb...'” (Revelation 6:16). But we, whom God in his mysterious purposes of grace has chosen, can, with all God's people, cry out for that day when we will look at last upon our saving King with unveiled faces: even so, come, Lord Jesus!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Lent, Day 7: General and Special Revelation, Part 3
(Yesterday we looked at two further modes of general revelation. Today, we move to discussing special revelation, its definition and varieties.)
And yet, from the reprobate, the prophet Isaiah says, God hides himself. (45:15) In what way can Scripture say that God hides himself from those he guides so meticulously? To Israel, God says, “I did not speak in secret, in a land of darkness, I did not say to the offspring of Jacob, 'Seek me in vain.'” (v. 19) In other words, some elements of God's purpose and character are revealed only to his particular people, while those elements remain hidden to the unbelieving and the reprobate.
In fact, God's partial concealment of himself is not the only “problem” with general revelation as a category. Two others intrude on our ability to rightly understand God through his revelation to all people. First, on an objective level: from natural disasters, pestilence, and disease to human evil to poisonous plants and thorny ground, we experience the testimony of creation and God's providential care commingled with systemic and persistent trouble post-fall. Creation, the Scriptures tell us, “groans and suffers in pain” awaiting the day of consummation (Romans 8:22). In addition, our subjective ability to perceive it and respond rightly has been destroyed by sin. We have “eyes to see, but see not [...] ears to hear, but hear not” (Ezekiel 12:2). These so-called “noetic” effects of the Fall blind us to the universal messages of God's creation and providence, as well as our consciences and innate sense of the divine. Atheists and idolaters stand before stunning vistas, relish quotidian joys, and do good to their fellow-men, yet give no glory to the God to which these testimonies point.
Obviously, more is needed; general revelation alone cannot save. And that much-needed unique revelation of God's purpose and character is usually called “special revelation” – the acts of God whereby he reveals himself to certain people at certain times and places, with the intent of communicating all that is required for salvation. The category of special revelation is quite broad in its scope, and can be divided into four categories: external or historical events, internal or subjectively-experienced communication, divine speech, and the Incarnation of Christ.
Special revelation also has an eschatological quality. While we see specific and frequent examples of special revelation in the Old Testament, the prophets of old envision a coming day when the character of that revelation will change and grow – when God's revelation of himself will become even more “special,” so to speak, even more potent and intimate. And although God has fully revealed himself through Christ Jesus in those “latter days” of which the prophets spoke, we still await the consummation when we will no longer see “through a glass darkly” but rather “face to face.”
Tomorrow we'll wrap up this series with a more detailed look at the modes of special revelation.
And yet, from the reprobate, the prophet Isaiah says, God hides himself. (45:15) In what way can Scripture say that God hides himself from those he guides so meticulously? To Israel, God says, “I did not speak in secret, in a land of darkness, I did not say to the offspring of Jacob, 'Seek me in vain.'” (v. 19) In other words, some elements of God's purpose and character are revealed only to his particular people, while those elements remain hidden to the unbelieving and the reprobate.
In fact, God's partial concealment of himself is not the only “problem” with general revelation as a category. Two others intrude on our ability to rightly understand God through his revelation to all people. First, on an objective level: from natural disasters, pestilence, and disease to human evil to poisonous plants and thorny ground, we experience the testimony of creation and God's providential care commingled with systemic and persistent trouble post-fall. Creation, the Scriptures tell us, “groans and suffers in pain” awaiting the day of consummation (Romans 8:22). In addition, our subjective ability to perceive it and respond rightly has been destroyed by sin. We have “eyes to see, but see not [...] ears to hear, but hear not” (Ezekiel 12:2). These so-called “noetic” effects of the Fall blind us to the universal messages of God's creation and providence, as well as our consciences and innate sense of the divine. Atheists and idolaters stand before stunning vistas, relish quotidian joys, and do good to their fellow-men, yet give no glory to the God to which these testimonies point.
Obviously, more is needed; general revelation alone cannot save. And that much-needed unique revelation of God's purpose and character is usually called “special revelation” – the acts of God whereby he reveals himself to certain people at certain times and places, with the intent of communicating all that is required for salvation. The category of special revelation is quite broad in its scope, and can be divided into four categories: external or historical events, internal or subjectively-experienced communication, divine speech, and the Incarnation of Christ.
Special revelation also has an eschatological quality. While we see specific and frequent examples of special revelation in the Old Testament, the prophets of old envision a coming day when the character of that revelation will change and grow – when God's revelation of himself will become even more “special,” so to speak, even more potent and intimate. And although God has fully revealed himself through Christ Jesus in those “latter days” of which the prophets spoke, we still await the consummation when we will no longer see “through a glass darkly” but rather “face to face.”
Tomorrow we'll wrap up this series with a more detailed look at the modes of special revelation.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Lent, Day 6: General and Special Revelation, Part 2
(Yesterday I introduced the idea of General and Special Revelation, and talked about the first kind of general revelation, that of God's testimony to us in the things we can experience with our senses. Today we turn to inward modes of general revelation -- the conscience and sense of the divine.)
Just a few verses later, in Romans 2:12-16, Paul introduces us to the second method of general revelation. “For when Gentiles […] do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves,” Paul says. “They show that the word of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness.” In other words, the human conscience, with its innate sense of right and wrong, reveals something about God. What, exactly, does it reveal? A moral code, of course, but also a coming day of judgment: “that day when […] God judges the secrets of men.” Unfortunately, although the consciences of men urge them to adhere to a moral code, they give faulty feedback: “Their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them.”
Moreover, in addition to an innate sense of right and wrong, man has an innate sense of the divine. From the remotest antiquity to the modern age man has, to paraphrase Flannery O'Connor, a God-haunted history, replete with deities of every imaginable type, from Lucretius's intangible pantheon to the bloodthirsty demon-gods of animism. Paul, standing before the Athenian altar to an unknown god, examines this knowledge of the divine. “I perceive,” he says, “that you are very religious.” (Acts 17:22) Throughout the Old Testament, indeed, no atheistic nation exists; each has its own gods, its own cult and rituals, its own rules for approaching its gods.
The third method or mode of general revelation is God's providence, or the ways in which he cares for and guides the lives of all people. Jesus himself tells the crowds, in teaching them to do good to both friends and enemies, that the Father “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:45) In an impromptu sermon in Lystra, Paul and Barnabas explain God's providence: “He did not leave himself without witness, for he did good by giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons.” (Acts 14:16-17).
And God's providence is not merely the vaguely benevolent oversight envisioned by the deist. In the same breath, Paul adds that God's providential care extends to “satisfying your hearts with food and gladness.” (v. 17) The source, therefore, of ordinary joys and daily bread, even for the unbeliever, is the “living God who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them.” (v. 15) The ordering of world events and leaders also falls under the category of providential care. God casts down nations and kings, political and religious leaders (Psalm 56:7, Ezra 6:12, Lamentations 2:6). “The shields of earth” are in his control and he is exalted over them (Psalm 47:9). He raises up kings (1 Kings 11) and spiritual leaders (1 Samuel 2:35). He establishes the bounds of human authority and makes kings and politicians his servants (Romans 13:4).
Tomorrow we'll take a look at the category of special revelation.
Just a few verses later, in Romans 2:12-16, Paul introduces us to the second method of general revelation. “For when Gentiles […] do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves,” Paul says. “They show that the word of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness.” In other words, the human conscience, with its innate sense of right and wrong, reveals something about God. What, exactly, does it reveal? A moral code, of course, but also a coming day of judgment: “that day when […] God judges the secrets of men.” Unfortunately, although the consciences of men urge them to adhere to a moral code, they give faulty feedback: “Their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them.”
Moreover, in addition to an innate sense of right and wrong, man has an innate sense of the divine. From the remotest antiquity to the modern age man has, to paraphrase Flannery O'Connor, a God-haunted history, replete with deities of every imaginable type, from Lucretius's intangible pantheon to the bloodthirsty demon-gods of animism. Paul, standing before the Athenian altar to an unknown god, examines this knowledge of the divine. “I perceive,” he says, “that you are very religious.” (Acts 17:22) Throughout the Old Testament, indeed, no atheistic nation exists; each has its own gods, its own cult and rituals, its own rules for approaching its gods.
The third method or mode of general revelation is God's providence, or the ways in which he cares for and guides the lives of all people. Jesus himself tells the crowds, in teaching them to do good to both friends and enemies, that the Father “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:45) In an impromptu sermon in Lystra, Paul and Barnabas explain God's providence: “He did not leave himself without witness, for he did good by giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons.” (Acts 14:16-17).
And God's providence is not merely the vaguely benevolent oversight envisioned by the deist. In the same breath, Paul adds that God's providential care extends to “satisfying your hearts with food and gladness.” (v. 17) The source, therefore, of ordinary joys and daily bread, even for the unbeliever, is the “living God who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them.” (v. 15) The ordering of world events and leaders also falls under the category of providential care. God casts down nations and kings, political and religious leaders (Psalm 56:7, Ezra 6:12, Lamentations 2:6). “The shields of earth” are in his control and he is exalted over them (Psalm 47:9). He raises up kings (1 Kings 11) and spiritual leaders (1 Samuel 2:35). He establishes the bounds of human authority and makes kings and politicians his servants (Romans 13:4).
Tomorrow we'll take a look at the category of special revelation.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Lent, Day 5: General and Special Revelation, Part 1
Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers through the prophets,
but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son...
Hebrews 1:1-2
“You would not have called to me if I had not been calling to you,” said the Lion.
– C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
Revelation is any act of God in revealing himself to people, thereby communicating himself to them. This implies, of course, that something of God would be hidden did he not reveal it. Scripture is clear, though, that all humanity knows something of God, that inherent in human experience is the realization that God exists and works in the world. This kind of revelation we call “general revelation:” when these acts of revelation apply to or are witnessed by all people. Special revelation, on the other hand, occurs when God reveals specific information about his character and will, communicating those details necessary for salvation. Both are part of God's character as creator: one who speaks the world into being and then communicates with his creation.
Broadly, we can divide general revelation into three categories: empirical, innate, and providential. Probably the type of revelation most commonly understood to be “general revelation” is that of God's revelation of himself in his creation – his revelation, that is, by empirical or observable evidence. David pictures creation as a herald of God's glory and handiwork in Psalm 19; the heavens “declare,” the expanse of sky “proclaims,” day “pours out speech,” night “reveals knowledge.” And not only to God's people do these elements of creation unceasingly communicate information about their creator! No, David insists: “There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world.” (v. 3-4)
Romans 1:18ff, in which Paul defends God's justice in judging sinners by demonstrating their rejection of God, and the consequences of this rejection, gives us a little more insight into further content of this revelation. “For what can be known about God is plain to them,” Paul argues, “because God has shown it to them […] in the things that have been made.” (Romans 1:19-20) What has God shown them through his creation? Paul explains: “His invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature.” To whom does this making-visible of God's “invisible attributes” apply? To all men, “since the creation of the world,” even those who will ultimately misuse and misinterpret this revelation and turn to idolatry and immorality – even, in short, the reprobate.
Tomorrow: God reveals himself through the human conscience and his providential care of mankind.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Stop It. Just Stop It.
OK, I have officially had enough.
Back in September, Tullian Tchividjian's church made the move to one service, from their previous format of one "traditional" and one "contemporary" service. He wrote an initial post about their kickoff week and a little of the background behind their decision. At the end of the post, what he didn't write but might as well have was "Cue Psalms-only, Western-musical-tradition-obsessed, Regulative Principal types: pontificate away, fellas."
Here are just a few of the many comments that made me want to throw stuff at my computer:
Can we please just take a second (after we've all picked our jaws up off the floor) to evaluate the assumptions behind these claims?
1. Modern styled music is something to be dreaded, avoided, and pushed back.
2. The choice of music and style is primarily about my felt needs (oh, the irony).
3. Our only choices are the lovely, rich, comforting old hymns and an overwrought seeker-sensitive rock concert style (complete with "moaning and twitching"?!?).
4. If a long-standing traditional style is denigrated or underappreciated, that's a theological issue akin to people's rejection of the Gospel.
5. The culture is changing, so we have to reject change by holding our ground with traditional styles of music.
6. Anything other than a Western classical style represents "dumbing down" of worship.
7. The goal of modern styles of music is that we won't be challenged by worship.
Seriously, people. Stop it. Stop making arguments against your brothers and sisters in Christ based entirely on logical fallacies.* Stop claiming some special knowledge about how public worship gatherings are supposed to look. Stop insisting that Western classical musical from 400 to 150 years ago is the pinnacle of all human achievement. It's not just silly, it's xenophobic and exclusionary. (Notice that I didn't say that using Western classical music, or even preferring it, is xenophobic and exclusionary -- insisting on its superiority [even its spiritual superiority] over all other types of music is.)
We sing theologically rich songs at Sojourn, songs that are full of Scriptural truth. We often sing hymns -- in fact, I would guess that a majority of our songs have a hymn structure (i.e., a particular meter in each verse). Four of the five songs we did this past week were hymns. Two were traditional hymns, two were written more recently. One of the modern hymns was based on a Puritan prayer from the outstanding Valley of Vision. We sing a fair number of Psalms (I can think of a dozen or so) and are always up for singing more. Why, then, do people continue to insist that, because we use guitars and drums, we're contributing to theological shallowness in the church?
Church music ministers need to be students of their culture and their congregation as well as of the Scriptures. And, furthermore, it's absolutely possible to obey the commands of the Scriptures without having to use only piano and organ or orchestral arrangements or Western classical style (thank God -- if not, boy, would overseas missionaries be in trouble). It's even possible to adhere to the Regulative Principle and still -- gasp! -- use guitars. Maybe piano, organ, and classical style are what's best for your particular congregation. But why then does everyone else have to agree that it's better?
If we want to talk about what styles of music best carry theological content in a coherent way, I'm happy to have that conversation (and no, I don't think all musical styles are equally suited for public worship, just on a practical level, but I also think that particular knife cuts both ways). If we want to talk about reverence and decency, I'm up for that too. Attitudes toward our collective history? Yeah, definitely, let's talk about that.
But if folks are going to approach this conversation with an attitude of snobbery towards everyone who doesn't have their "special knowledge" about the superiority of the Western classical tradition, a traditional hymnnodic structure, and the Fill-In-The-Blank Psalter... Well, I'll just turn off my computer and have a little chat with the doorknob instead, thanks. ;-)
*In that list, you'll see a false dilemma (either good thing A or hideously unimaginable thing B must be true), a package deal fallacy (modern music goes together with shallow content and theological inferiority, therefore if you use modern music you're embracing shallow content and theological inferiority), an appeal to fear (this thing is so dreadful that I hope Jesus comes back before it happens, an appeal to emotion (hymns are comforting; if you want to get rid of hymns you are getting rid of my comfort waaaaaaah), cherrypicking (here is the worst example of how churches can do this, never mind all the good examples), confirmation bias (I believe it will be like X, therefore I will experience as X), tons of bare assertion fallacy (NO IT'S THIS WAY DON'T ARGUE IT IS SO!), and plenty of equivocation (what exactly do these folks mean by "traditional" or "classical" or "hymns" or "contemporary" or "modern"?).
Back in September, Tullian Tchividjian's church made the move to one service, from their previous format of one "traditional" and one "contemporary" service. He wrote an initial post about their kickoff week and a little of the background behind their decision. At the end of the post, what he didn't write but might as well have was "Cue Psalms-only, Western-musical-tradition-obsessed, Regulative Principal types: pontificate away, fellas."
Here are just a few of the many comments that made me want to throw stuff at my computer:
I foresee a time, probably when the current minister of music retires, when the two services will be blended. My hope is that Jesus will return before that happens.
Even the best expressions of blended worship represent a level of compromise
I’m having difficulty understanding why churches insist on dumbing down something intended primarily for God so that we aren’t challenged by it.
Granted, classical music is not as appreciated in today’s society as it has been in the past, but then again, neither is the Gospel.
Hymns like “A Mighty Fortress” and “O God Our Help in Ages Past” ministered to me and soothed the hurt I felt inside. Trading all that for the moaning and twitching of contemporary worship, the loud praise band and flashing lights, is a thought too horrific to contemplate.
Can we please just take a second (after we've all picked our jaws up off the floor) to evaluate the assumptions behind these claims?
1. Modern styled music is something to be dreaded, avoided, and pushed back.
2. The choice of music and style is primarily about my felt needs (oh, the irony).
3. Our only choices are the lovely, rich, comforting old hymns and an overwrought seeker-sensitive rock concert style (complete with "moaning and twitching"?!?).
4. If a long-standing traditional style is denigrated or underappreciated, that's a theological issue akin to people's rejection of the Gospel.
5. The culture is changing, so we have to reject change by holding our ground with traditional styles of music.
6. Anything other than a Western classical style represents "dumbing down" of worship.
7. The goal of modern styles of music is that we won't be challenged by worship.
Seriously, people. Stop it. Stop making arguments against your brothers and sisters in Christ based entirely on logical fallacies.* Stop claiming some special knowledge about how public worship gatherings are supposed to look. Stop insisting that Western classical musical from 400 to 150 years ago is the pinnacle of all human achievement. It's not just silly, it's xenophobic and exclusionary. (Notice that I didn't say that using Western classical music, or even preferring it, is xenophobic and exclusionary -- insisting on its superiority [even its spiritual superiority] over all other types of music is.)
We sing theologically rich songs at Sojourn, songs that are full of Scriptural truth. We often sing hymns -- in fact, I would guess that a majority of our songs have a hymn structure (i.e., a particular meter in each verse). Four of the five songs we did this past week were hymns. Two were traditional hymns, two were written more recently. One of the modern hymns was based on a Puritan prayer from the outstanding Valley of Vision. We sing a fair number of Psalms (I can think of a dozen or so) and are always up for singing more. Why, then, do people continue to insist that, because we use guitars and drums, we're contributing to theological shallowness in the church?
Church music ministers need to be students of their culture and their congregation as well as of the Scriptures. And, furthermore, it's absolutely possible to obey the commands of the Scriptures without having to use only piano and organ or orchestral arrangements or Western classical style (thank God -- if not, boy, would overseas missionaries be in trouble). It's even possible to adhere to the Regulative Principle and still -- gasp! -- use guitars. Maybe piano, organ, and classical style are what's best for your particular congregation. But why then does everyone else have to agree that it's better?
If we want to talk about what styles of music best carry theological content in a coherent way, I'm happy to have that conversation (and no, I don't think all musical styles are equally suited for public worship, just on a practical level, but I also think that particular knife cuts both ways). If we want to talk about reverence and decency, I'm up for that too. Attitudes toward our collective history? Yeah, definitely, let's talk about that.
But if folks are going to approach this conversation with an attitude of snobbery towards everyone who doesn't have their "special knowledge" about the superiority of the Western classical tradition, a traditional hymnnodic structure, and the Fill-In-The-Blank Psalter... Well, I'll just turn off my computer and have a little chat with the doorknob instead, thanks. ;-)
*In that list, you'll see a false dilemma (either good thing A or hideously unimaginable thing B must be true), a package deal fallacy (modern music goes together with shallow content and theological inferiority, therefore if you use modern music you're embracing shallow content and theological inferiority), an appeal to fear (this thing is so dreadful that I hope Jesus comes back before it happens, an appeal to emotion (hymns are comforting; if you want to get rid of hymns you are getting rid of my comfort waaaaaaah), cherrypicking (here is the worst example of how churches can do this, never mind all the good examples), confirmation bias (I believe it will be like X, therefore I will experience as X), tons of bare assertion fallacy (NO IT'S THIS WAY DON'T ARGUE IT IS SO!), and plenty of equivocation (what exactly do these folks mean by "traditional" or "classical" or "hymns" or "contemporary" or "modern"?).
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Whate'er My God Ordains Is Right
It's a rare song that contains both well-crafted poetry and beautifully-presented truth. These lyrics are worthy of your full attention, friends, and I encourage you to read them carefully and rejoice in God whose mysterious will works out for our good!
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
His holy will abideth;
I will be still whate’er He doth;
And follow where He guideth;
He is my God; though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall:
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
He never will deceive me;
He leads me by the proper path:
I know He will not leave me.
I take, content, what He hath sent;
His hand can turn my griefs away,
And patiently I wait His day.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
His loving thought attends me;
No poison can be in the cup
That my Physician sends me.
My God is true; each morn anew
I’ll trust His grace unending,
My life to Him commending.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
He is my Friend and Father;
He suffers naught to do me harm,
Though many storms may gather,
Now I may know both joy and woe,
Some day I shall see clearly
That He hath loved me dearly.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
Though now this cup, in drinking,
May bitter seem to my faint heart,
I take it, all unshrinking.
My God is true; each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,
And pain and sorrow shall depart.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
Here shall my stand be taken;
Though sorrow, need, or death be mine,
Yet I am not forsaken.
My Father’s care is round me there;
He holds me that I shall not fall:
And so to Him I leave it all.
-- Samuel Rodigast, 1676
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
His holy will abideth;
I will be still whate’er He doth;
And follow where He guideth;
He is my God; though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall:
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
He never will deceive me;
He leads me by the proper path:
I know He will not leave me.
I take, content, what He hath sent;
His hand can turn my griefs away,
And patiently I wait His day.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
His loving thought attends me;
No poison can be in the cup
That my Physician sends me.
My God is true; each morn anew
I’ll trust His grace unending,
My life to Him commending.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
He is my Friend and Father;
He suffers naught to do me harm,
Though many storms may gather,
Now I may know both joy and woe,
Some day I shall see clearly
That He hath loved me dearly.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
Though now this cup, in drinking,
May bitter seem to my faint heart,
I take it, all unshrinking.
My God is true; each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,
And pain and sorrow shall depart.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
Here shall my stand be taken;
Though sorrow, need, or death be mine,
Yet I am not forsaken.
My Father’s care is round me there;
He holds me that I shall not fall:
And so to Him I leave it all.
-- Samuel Rodigast, 1676
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Titus 2 is for Single Girls, Part 1
In my observation, when a pastor preaches on Titus 2, this is what often happens (caution: hyperbole ahead):
At Sojourn we're blessed to have pastors who handle God's word... well, a lot better than that, and I could address the problems with each one of those paragraphs, but I'm only going to deal with the last one, because I think it's the place where even the most well-intentioned, careful, Gospel-centered teaching can kind of go off the rails.
What do we do with single women in the church? In the case of Titus 2, I think what we often imply is that her calling is on hold until she gets married, and even then that her calling hasn't reached its ultimate fulfillment until she starts having kids. Then, we seem to say, you're really living out your calling, sister.
How do we make sense of the biblical teaching that seems to speak primarily to married women with children, when all around us -- both in the Scriptures and in the Church -- are unmarried, childless women?
I think the key is to begin to see the connection between calling and identity. Calling, in the Scriptures, is a function of identity -- sometimes a current identity; more often what we might call a prophetic identity, a declaration of a new identity given by God to the person he's calling. So when we see passages that call us to a certain set of actions or attitudes, I think it's important to ask what identity is behind those actions.
For example, God calls all Christians to care for the poor and the alien. What identity is behind this? Ultimately, we are a people whom God has rescued from the ultimate poverty and alienation, and we paint a picture of the Gospel when we reach out to the poor and alien.
What about Titus 2? What is God telling all women about who we are (or are becoming by grace) through these instructions to married women with kids? I'll address that in Part 2 tomorrow.
Married guys, MAN UP and lead your families! No! Just shut up and do it!
Married ladies, you need to be mentoring younger married ladies and teaching them what you've learned. We love you, and we know it's tough to be married to us horrible, horrible men. Don't be discouraged even though we keep telling you that you have the hardest and most-critical-not-to-screw-up job in the world and that you're basically 100% responsible for your both your husband's fidelity and his self-esteem.
Single dudes, have some self control, and get married! And quit watching porn and playing video games! And get a job! And move out of your parents' basement! And you suck! And there's basically no hope for you! UGH SINGLE DUDES UGH.
Single ladies... uh... I dunno. Be patient I guess? Maybe? Yeah, I got nothin'.
At Sojourn we're blessed to have pastors who handle God's word... well, a lot better than that, and I could address the problems with each one of those paragraphs, but I'm only going to deal with the last one, because I think it's the place where even the most well-intentioned, careful, Gospel-centered teaching can kind of go off the rails.
What do we do with single women in the church? In the case of Titus 2, I think what we often imply is that her calling is on hold until she gets married, and even then that her calling hasn't reached its ultimate fulfillment until she starts having kids. Then, we seem to say, you're really living out your calling, sister.
How do we make sense of the biblical teaching that seems to speak primarily to married women with children, when all around us -- both in the Scriptures and in the Church -- are unmarried, childless women?
I think the key is to begin to see the connection between calling and identity. Calling, in the Scriptures, is a function of identity -- sometimes a current identity; more often what we might call a prophetic identity, a declaration of a new identity given by God to the person he's calling. So when we see passages that call us to a certain set of actions or attitudes, I think it's important to ask what identity is behind those actions.
For example, God calls all Christians to care for the poor and the alien. What identity is behind this? Ultimately, we are a people whom God has rescued from the ultimate poverty and alienation, and we paint a picture of the Gospel when we reach out to the poor and alien.
What about Titus 2? What is God telling all women about who we are (or are becoming by grace) through these instructions to married women with kids? I'll address that in Part 2 tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
More Thoughts On Fiction and Entertainment
(see this post and comments section for the first part.)
OK. I've asserted that it may be not only permissible, but also beneficial, for Christians to watch movies or read books without an explicitly Christian worldview -- even books or movies whose themes oppose a Christian worldview, or that are anti-gospel.
Let me add one more assertion: I think it is the height of folly to judge a book or a movie based on what it omits rather than what it affirms. Again, the Twilight books demonstrate how this happens. Edward and Bella, the two main characters, refrain from sexual intercourse until they are married, at Edward's insistence (leaving aside for the moment that he does so because he fears he will be unable, in a state of arousal, to keep control of his desire to kill Bella. And that she, knowing this, keeps pushing him to have sex with her). I can't tell you how many times I heard, from the girls at my school or from Christian parents of my acquaintance, "Well, it can't be that bad; at least they stay pure until they're married! It's a good example to teenage girls!"
Do I dare insult your intelligence, dear reader, by pointing out the folly of ignoring an onslaught of insipid prose both describing irreparably twisted relationships and suborning heresy because the two main characters narrowly and for the wrong reasons avoid one form of immorality? By all means, read insipid prose describing twisted relationships and suborning heresy if you identify them all as such. But don't pretend that it's "not so bad" as you stretch out on your blanket in the park for a sunny afternoon's passive absorption of insipid prose, twisted relationships, and heresy.
I'd much rather my students come to class and say, "Miss Roberts, we watched Massive Gory Shoot-Em-Up: Part IV on Friday night and, geez, it was so wrong! I couldn't believe how Studly McHotness treated women! And the way women threw themselves all over him even though he was a total dirtbag... ew. I thought it would be cool, but I just couldn't get into it," than, "I went shopping at the Christian bookstore and bought this great new book -- I'm A Christian Princess! It's all about how God is the king of everything and that makes Christian girls princesses, so we should make sure that everyone treats us like princesses! Isn't that right?"
Christians cannot avoid evil, and we must not pretend it doesn't exist. Whether non-Christian media, and its depiction of evil, hardens our consciences toward the real thing or trains us to address the real thing depends on how we approach it.
I think the first step is to ensure that we and the young people in our care are absolutely crammed full of Bible. God's Word contains everything we need for godly lives, but if we don't know it, it's of no use to us. Why are there so many stories in the Bible? I think it's so that, when our life stories start to run along the same lines, we'll know the outcome of certain actions. We don't have to come up with an object lesson to teach young men not to ogle naked chicks. We just have to send them to the story of David and Bathsheba!
Beyond the Scriptures, God has given humanity two priceless teaching tools: a colorful and checkered history, and an irrepressible urge to write stories. In these we see an affirmation, whether intended or not, that God's word is true.
As N.D. Wilson puts it, my goal is for my students to learn to recoil from sin, to see in the Scriptures and in fiction and history a tiny taste of the fires of Hell. I want my boys to be so familiar with Lady Folly and Becky Sharp and the Green Knight's wife and Anne Boleyn and Mata Hari that they learn down to a fundamental, instinctive level to stay the heck away from the house of the seductress. I want my girls to know Mr. Rochester and the Highwayman and Count Vronsky and John Wilmot well enough to recognize the sort of twisted romantic obsession that drives women to forsake -- or nearly lose their lives to keep -- their most dearly-held principles.
This sort of education will, ideally, have two results. First, it will enable them to recognize good and evil in fiction. A young man who recoils from Mata Hari will have no trouble recoiling from Our Mrs. Reynolds. A young woman who learns to despise the Highwayman instinctively will hardly be fooled by the endearments of the be-sparkled Edward Cullen.
Following on from number one, this sort of education enables them to recognize good and evil when they encounter it in real life. Again paraphrasing N.D. Wilson, I want my students to know that if the Fool follows the Seductress to her house on page 4, on page 10 he's going to get way more than he bargained for. I want them to know that judgment follows sin as surely as B follows A, and I don't want them to have to learn it the hard way.
OK. I've asserted that it may be not only permissible, but also beneficial, for Christians to watch movies or read books without an explicitly Christian worldview -- even books or movies whose themes oppose a Christian worldview, or that are anti-gospel.
Let me add one more assertion: I think it is the height of folly to judge a book or a movie based on what it omits rather than what it affirms. Again, the Twilight books demonstrate how this happens. Edward and Bella, the two main characters, refrain from sexual intercourse until they are married, at Edward's insistence (leaving aside for the moment that he does so because he fears he will be unable, in a state of arousal, to keep control of his desire to kill Bella. And that she, knowing this, keeps pushing him to have sex with her). I can't tell you how many times I heard, from the girls at my school or from Christian parents of my acquaintance, "Well, it can't be that bad; at least they stay pure until they're married! It's a good example to teenage girls!"
Do I dare insult your intelligence, dear reader, by pointing out the folly of ignoring an onslaught of insipid prose both describing irreparably twisted relationships and suborning heresy because the two main characters narrowly and for the wrong reasons avoid one form of immorality? By all means, read insipid prose describing twisted relationships and suborning heresy if you identify them all as such. But don't pretend that it's "not so bad" as you stretch out on your blanket in the park for a sunny afternoon's passive absorption of insipid prose, twisted relationships, and heresy.
I'd much rather my students come to class and say, "Miss Roberts, we watched Massive Gory Shoot-Em-Up: Part IV on Friday night and, geez, it was so wrong! I couldn't believe how Studly McHotness treated women! And the way women threw themselves all over him even though he was a total dirtbag... ew. I thought it would be cool, but I just couldn't get into it," than, "I went shopping at the Christian bookstore and bought this great new book -- I'm A Christian Princess! It's all about how God is the king of everything and that makes Christian girls princesses, so we should make sure that everyone treats us like princesses! Isn't that right?"
Christians cannot avoid evil, and we must not pretend it doesn't exist. Whether non-Christian media, and its depiction of evil, hardens our consciences toward the real thing or trains us to address the real thing depends on how we approach it.
I think the first step is to ensure that we and the young people in our care are absolutely crammed full of Bible. God's Word contains everything we need for godly lives, but if we don't know it, it's of no use to us. Why are there so many stories in the Bible? I think it's so that, when our life stories start to run along the same lines, we'll know the outcome of certain actions. We don't have to come up with an object lesson to teach young men not to ogle naked chicks. We just have to send them to the story of David and Bathsheba!
Beyond the Scriptures, God has given humanity two priceless teaching tools: a colorful and checkered history, and an irrepressible urge to write stories. In these we see an affirmation, whether intended or not, that God's word is true.
As N.D. Wilson puts it, my goal is for my students to learn to recoil from sin, to see in the Scriptures and in fiction and history a tiny taste of the fires of Hell. I want my boys to be so familiar with Lady Folly and Becky Sharp and the Green Knight's wife and Anne Boleyn and Mata Hari that they learn down to a fundamental, instinctive level to stay the heck away from the house of the seductress. I want my girls to know Mr. Rochester and the Highwayman and Count Vronsky and John Wilmot well enough to recognize the sort of twisted romantic obsession that drives women to forsake -- or nearly lose their lives to keep -- their most dearly-held principles.
This sort of education will, ideally, have two results. First, it will enable them to recognize good and evil in fiction. A young man who recoils from Mata Hari will have no trouble recoiling from Our Mrs. Reynolds. A young woman who learns to despise the Highwayman instinctively will hardly be fooled by the endearments of the be-sparkled Edward Cullen.
Following on from number one, this sort of education enables them to recognize good and evil when they encounter it in real life. Again paraphrasing N.D. Wilson, I want my students to know that if the Fool follows the Seductress to her house on page 4, on page 10 he's going to get way more than he bargained for. I want them to know that judgment follows sin as surely as B follows A, and I don't want them to have to learn it the hard way.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Seven Links
(via Problogger)
1. My first post. Well, this is a really thrilling way to start off, let me tell you. Or something. When I first started "It's a Blog" more than five (!!!) years ago, I did so with the purpose of keeping in touch with and praying for the kids I worked with in summer camping ministry. The very first post was a kickoff of sorts, to welcome and encourage them to talk to God with their brains turned on.
2. A post I enjoyed writing a lot. SO MUCH! This is what cranks me up, people: theology. A friend of mine emailed me a couple of links to articles about the sovereignty of God, and I wrote this post in response. Seriously, loved, loved writing it. I got to use all my fancy seminary education AND the phrase "some pretty sexy contortionism" to describe someone's lousy exegesis of an Old Testament passage. Yeah, buddy.
3. A post with a great discussion. I'm going to go with "series" rather than "post." The "Q & A" series I did almost two years ago! Sunriiiiise, Sunset! Sunriiiiise, Sunset! Ahem. That series had a few really insightful and interesting comments and it provoked a couple of really good off-blog discussions too.
4. A post on someone else's blog I wish I'd written. Again, I'm going to do a series -- Timmy Brister (who, as I've said before, is constantly writing stuff I wish I'd written) did an extensive series on his blog a couple years bad titled "Blue-Collar Theology" that I not only wish I'd written, I wish anyone had written it thirty years ago! The modern church's neglect of the importance of the ordinary Christian life is scandalous and its exaltation of "career ministry" is as Vatican I as it gets. Timmy presents a compelling case, and a pretty comprehensive syllabus, for the theological education of the average pew-sitter.
5. My most helpful post. Well, it has the word "helpful" in the title, doesn't it?
6. A post with a title I'm proud of. AND it's about Christian hip-hop! Coincidentally (ha), Shai Linne, whom I mention in this post, and his lovely new bride Blair were in Louisville this past weekend. I was blessed to be able to meet them both. Shai helped lead worship at the evening services, and gave the dopest benediction ever, reducing the (usually dangerously high) honky levels in our young suburban congregation by 100%.
7. A post I wish more people had read. I am SO not the only person who grew up in the church who struggled with legalism, and I wish this one had gotten a little more mileage.
So, friends, any thoughts? Feel free to post them here or on the posts I've linked! Thanks for reading!
1. My first post. Well, this is a really thrilling way to start off, let me tell you. Or something. When I first started "It's a Blog" more than five (!!!) years ago, I did so with the purpose of keeping in touch with and praying for the kids I worked with in summer camping ministry. The very first post was a kickoff of sorts, to welcome and encourage them to talk to God with their brains turned on.
2. A post I enjoyed writing a lot. SO MUCH! This is what cranks me up, people: theology. A friend of mine emailed me a couple of links to articles about the sovereignty of God, and I wrote this post in response. Seriously, loved, loved writing it. I got to use all my fancy seminary education AND the phrase "some pretty sexy contortionism" to describe someone's lousy exegesis of an Old Testament passage. Yeah, buddy.
3. A post with a great discussion. I'm going to go with "series" rather than "post." The "Q & A" series I did almost two years ago! Sunriiiiise, Sunset! Sunriiiiise, Sunset! Ahem. That series had a few really insightful and interesting comments and it provoked a couple of really good off-blog discussions too.
4. A post on someone else's blog I wish I'd written. Again, I'm going to do a series -- Timmy Brister (who, as I've said before, is constantly writing stuff I wish I'd written) did an extensive series on his blog a couple years bad titled "Blue-Collar Theology" that I not only wish I'd written, I wish anyone had written it thirty years ago! The modern church's neglect of the importance of the ordinary Christian life is scandalous and its exaltation of "career ministry" is as Vatican I as it gets. Timmy presents a compelling case, and a pretty comprehensive syllabus, for the theological education of the average pew-sitter.
5. My most helpful post. Well, it has the word "helpful" in the title, doesn't it?
6. A post with a title I'm proud of. AND it's about Christian hip-hop! Coincidentally (ha), Shai Linne, whom I mention in this post, and his lovely new bride Blair were in Louisville this past weekend. I was blessed to be able to meet them both. Shai helped lead worship at the evening services, and gave the dopest benediction ever, reducing the (usually dangerously high) honky levels in our young suburban congregation by 100%.
7. A post I wish more people had read. I am SO not the only person who grew up in the church who struggled with legalism, and I wish this one had gotten a little more mileage.
So, friends, any thoughts? Feel free to post them here or on the posts I've linked! Thanks for reading!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Fiction, Truth, and the Gospel
One of my students last year wrote her final paper on why Christians should exercise discernment in their media involvement. We had a lot of loooooong conversations about discernment, and she really had to work hard to address a common objection about fiction in general -- the "it's just a story, it's not real" objection.
Just taking Twilight as a case study... one of my issues with Twilight is that young girls don't need someone telling them that that's how love is supposed to be -- that there's a guy out there who's perfect in every way, who's your soulmate without whom your life is utterly meaningless, and that its ok if that guy wants to hurt you as long as he has self control. And that when a guy ignores you and barely speaks to you except with apparent hatred, it means that he's just seething with lust. And that it's ok to string a decent guy along until you decide that you do want to be with your perfect sparkly soulmate after all. Teenage girls already are so prone to thinking all that. It's already programmed into their little texting, MTV (do kids even watch MTV anymore?), Jersey Shore, Bieber-obsessed worldview. They don't need an adult to confirm it, they need lots of adults to correct it!
I have some pretty big issues with the weirdo Mormon theology that's EVERYWHERE in the books, but the relationship stuff is my major practical concern. I don't really have much of an issue with adults reading them, since they're more experienced and discerning, and can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. But girls who are 13, 14, 15, when they're just left to read the books on their own with no one talking to them about the issues it brings up? Not so much.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not the type to go, "ZOMG it haz teh witchez/magic/fantasy BURNNNNN IT!" I mean, I did read all the Harry Potter books. ;)
But I do think as Christians we have a responsibility to ask questions. And the question isn't, "Does this movie/book/whatever depict a world without evil or darkness or moral complexity -- a nice, shiny, clean, Precious Moments world where everything turns out just dandy?"
We need to ask questions like, "Does it portray evil as evil and good as good, or does it pretty up evil or trick us into thinking something evil is really not so bad? Does it show the reality of the battle between good and evil? Is it realistic that sometimes evil seems to triumph? Does it show human character honestly -- that we're all messed up by sin and make mistakes, even the heroes of the story?" Again, that's worldview stuff we're talking about here. "How does the author view life? humanity? love? sex? relationships? purpose?"
For example: I think American Beauty is a absolutely brilliant movie, and that Christians ought to watch it (if their consciences permit, of course). It's rated R, it depicts adultery, drug use, deception, violence and lots of other truly evil stuff. But it also shows, vividly and poignantly, the meaninglessness of a life apart from Christ.
Stories are powerful. We're shaped by them and they impact us in a way that just straight teaching might not. So we have to be discerning, even about fiction -- maybe even especially about fiction, because it can affect us without our even being aware of it. I think about how I feel after I watch a movie -- even the fluffiest, silliest, most blatantly unrealistic romantic comedy can change my mood. It can make me feel dissatisfied with my life, frustrated that I'm still single, annoyed that some sexy leading man hasn't come and swept me off my feet (well... yet... ;p). Stuff like that affects our hearts.
I mentioned American Beauty. It's really good, but what keeps it from being "capital-G Good," is that it offers a counterfeit solution to the problem it presents. It says, "Life is ultimately meaningless. If you can find meaning in the meaninglessness, you're one of the lucky ones." We know as Christians that that's not true, that true meaning and purpose and hope are available, and found in Christ. But just like American Beauty, every story -- from comic strips to epic novels to TV shows -- offers some kind of "answer" to the life's problems.
Only Christians can offer the real solution, the Grand Story into which all of our little stories can be fitted by the Great Author of the universe. But a book, a movie, a TV show, whatever -- all these things are only good inasmuch as they can point their readers toward God's truth. Stories have the power to prime human hearts to see the emptiness of life apart from Christ, like American Beauty, or the reality of the battle between good and evil, like Harry Potter, or the brokenness of a fallen world and our often-futile attempts to fix it, like Sherlock Holmes, or the inherent beauty and preciousness of human life, like Children of Men.
Ultimately, we have the freedom in Christ to read, watch, or listen to just about anything. And we have a responsibility to use that freedom wisely. So, read Twilight or watch Mad Men or listen to Katy Perry or whatever. But do it with your eyes and ears wide open, and do it like a Christian.
Just taking Twilight as a case study... one of my issues with Twilight is that young girls don't need someone telling them that that's how love is supposed to be -- that there's a guy out there who's perfect in every way, who's your soulmate without whom your life is utterly meaningless, and that its ok if that guy wants to hurt you as long as he has self control. And that when a guy ignores you and barely speaks to you except with apparent hatred, it means that he's just seething with lust. And that it's ok to string a decent guy along until you decide that you do want to be with your perfect sparkly soulmate after all. Teenage girls already are so prone to thinking all that. It's already programmed into their little texting, MTV (do kids even watch MTV anymore?), Jersey Shore, Bieber-obsessed worldview. They don't need an adult to confirm it, they need lots of adults to correct it!
I have some pretty big issues with the weirdo Mormon theology that's EVERYWHERE in the books, but the relationship stuff is my major practical concern. I don't really have much of an issue with adults reading them, since they're more experienced and discerning, and can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. But girls who are 13, 14, 15, when they're just left to read the books on their own with no one talking to them about the issues it brings up? Not so much.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not the type to go, "ZOMG it haz teh witchez/magic/fantasy BURNNNNN IT!" I mean, I did read all the Harry Potter books. ;)
But I do think as Christians we have a responsibility to ask questions. And the question isn't, "Does this movie/book/whatever depict a world without evil or darkness or moral complexity -- a nice, shiny, clean, Precious Moments world where everything turns out just dandy?"
We need to ask questions like, "Does it portray evil as evil and good as good, or does it pretty up evil or trick us into thinking something evil is really not so bad? Does it show the reality of the battle between good and evil? Is it realistic that sometimes evil seems to triumph? Does it show human character honestly -- that we're all messed up by sin and make mistakes, even the heroes of the story?" Again, that's worldview stuff we're talking about here. "How does the author view life? humanity? love? sex? relationships? purpose?"
For example: I think American Beauty is a absolutely brilliant movie, and that Christians ought to watch it (if their consciences permit, of course). It's rated R, it depicts adultery, drug use, deception, violence and lots of other truly evil stuff. But it also shows, vividly and poignantly, the meaninglessness of a life apart from Christ.
Stories are powerful. We're shaped by them and they impact us in a way that just straight teaching might not. So we have to be discerning, even about fiction -- maybe even especially about fiction, because it can affect us without our even being aware of it. I think about how I feel after I watch a movie -- even the fluffiest, silliest, most blatantly unrealistic romantic comedy can change my mood. It can make me feel dissatisfied with my life, frustrated that I'm still single, annoyed that some sexy leading man hasn't come and swept me off my feet (well... yet... ;p). Stuff like that affects our hearts.
I mentioned American Beauty. It's really good, but what keeps it from being "capital-G Good," is that it offers a counterfeit solution to the problem it presents. It says, "Life is ultimately meaningless. If you can find meaning in the meaninglessness, you're one of the lucky ones." We know as Christians that that's not true, that true meaning and purpose and hope are available, and found in Christ. But just like American Beauty, every story -- from comic strips to epic novels to TV shows -- offers some kind of "answer" to the life's problems.
Only Christians can offer the real solution, the Grand Story into which all of our little stories can be fitted by the Great Author of the universe. But a book, a movie, a TV show, whatever -- all these things are only good inasmuch as they can point their readers toward God's truth. Stories have the power to prime human hearts to see the emptiness of life apart from Christ, like American Beauty, or the reality of the battle between good and evil, like Harry Potter, or the brokenness of a fallen world and our often-futile attempts to fix it, like Sherlock Holmes, or the inherent beauty and preciousness of human life, like Children of Men.
Ultimately, we have the freedom in Christ to read, watch, or listen to just about anything. And we have a responsibility to use that freedom wisely. So, read Twilight or watch Mad Men or listen to Katy Perry or whatever. But do it with your eyes and ears wide open, and do it like a Christian.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Some Actual Thoughts For A Change
Currently on my bedside table are the following: alarm clock, lamp, water glass, and two books. One book is Bridget Jones's Diary and the other is John Owen's The Mortification of Sin. I fully expect to wake up some morning to find that the two have spontaneously combusted in the night.
I started reading The Mortification of Sin well over a year ago, before it got shuffled around somehow and pushed to the bottom of a pile and sadly neglected. (Side note: I started reading it while sitting at an airport bar waiting for a flight. Picture me with a beer in one hand and a Puritan Paperback in the other. Classic experience.) I picked it up again recently and have been amazed and blessed by Owen's strongly-worded caution to those who bear the name of Christ not to deal lightly with our besetting sins.
Chapters 10 ("Seeing Sin For What It Is") and 11 ("A Tender Conscience and a Watchful Heart") are particularly rich and full of godly counsel. Here, a segment from chapter 11 that merits being quoted at length:
As is typical with those dear old Puritans, the counsel Owen urges on his readers is emotionally stirring, grounded in the Gospel, and intensely practical. Incidentally, I find this to be a great weakness in a lot of modern devotional writing, which tends toward one or two of those three characteristics. Consider this snippet:
Or this remarkable reflection on the transcendence of God:
It's definitely kicking my butt. And I'm just now over halfway through. Eep!
I started reading The Mortification of Sin well over a year ago, before it got shuffled around somehow and pushed to the bottom of a pile and sadly neglected. (Side note: I started reading it while sitting at an airport bar waiting for a flight. Picture me with a beer in one hand and a Puritan Paperback in the other. Classic experience.) I picked it up again recently and have been amazed and blessed by Owen's strongly-worded caution to those who bear the name of Christ not to deal lightly with our besetting sins.
Chapters 10 ("Seeing Sin For What It Is") and 11 ("A Tender Conscience and a Watchful Heart") are particularly rich and full of godly counsel. Here, a segment from chapter 11 that merits being quoted at length:
Look on Him whom you have pierced, and let it trouble you. Say to your soul, 'What have I done? What love, what mercy, what blood, what grace have I despised and trampled on? Is this how I pay back the Father for His love? Is this how I thank the Son for His blood? Is this how I respond to the Holy Spirit for His grace? Have I defiled the heart that Christ died to wash, and the Holy Spirit has chosen to dwell in? [...] Do I count fellowship with Him of so little value that, for this vile [sin's] sake, I have hardly left him any room in my heart?'
As is typical with those dear old Puritans, the counsel Owen urges on his readers is emotionally stirring, grounded in the Gospel, and intensely practical. Incidentally, I find this to be a great weakness in a lot of modern devotional writing, which tends toward one or two of those three characteristics. Consider this snippet:
Do you find corruption beginning to entangle your thoughts? Rise up with all your strength against it, as if it had already started to overcome you! Consider what an unclean thought desires: it desires to have you immerse yourself in folly and filth! Ask envy what it aims at: murder and destruction are its natural conclusion! Set yourself against it as if it had already surrounded you in wickedness!
Or this remarkable reflection on the transcendence of God:
Labour to limit your pride with these considerations: What do you know about God? How little a portion of His majesty! How immense He is in His nature! Can you look without terror into the abyss of eternity? Can you bear the rays of His glorious Being? I consider these meditations of great value in our walking with God, so far as they are consistent with our filial boldness in seeking Him at the throne of grace through our Lord Jesus Christ. [...] To Moses was revealed the most glorious attributes that He can reveal in the covenant of grace, but even these are but the 'back parts' of God!
It's definitely kicking my butt. And I'm just now over halfway through. Eep!
Monday, May 24, 2010
From Sunday's Sermon
A paraphrase of Puritan pastor Thomas Brooks, regarding a person believing himself righteous based on being less sinful than the person next to him: When you are in Hell, suffering God's wrath for all eternity, will it comfort you to know that you are better than the person next to you? Gotta love those straight-shootin' Puritans.
There was apparently a time when people who worked on large wheat farms were taught to escape a sudden oncoming bush fire this way: they were to burn the area around them, stamp out the fire, and try to get down into the dirt as much as possible. This way the fire would go around and over them but would have no fuel where they were laying, leaving them unharmed once it passed. In the same way, we cling to the cross of Christ because it is the only place where God's wrath has already been poured out and spent. When the day of judgment comes and God's wrath falls, we will be safe in Christ.
There was apparently a time when people who worked on large wheat farms were taught to escape a sudden oncoming bush fire this way: they were to burn the area around them, stamp out the fire, and try to get down into the dirt as much as possible. This way the fire would go around and over them but would have no fuel where they were laying, leaving them unharmed once it passed. In the same way, we cling to the cross of Christ because it is the only place where God's wrath has already been poured out and spent. When the day of judgment comes and God's wrath falls, we will be safe in Christ.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
In Which I Am Reminded of An Important Truth
(Incidentally, doesn't that sound like the beginning of a chapter in Winnie the Pooh? If it said "Pooh is" or "Piglet is" instead of "I am" especially. Or if it ended with "Important Truth About Hunny.")
I was reminded recently of something very important, which I either didn't realize or had forgotten. A dear friend sent me a brief text with just a couple of sentences addressing something I'd been angsting about -- honest words that stung a little, to tell you the truth. It wasn't a sermon or a long conversation, just something I really needed to be reminded of about my affections. Which I'll come back to.
I'm a pretty cerebral kinda gal. Being cerebral is one of those characteristics that's a lot like the Girl with the Curl from the nursery rhyme: when it's good, it's very, very good, but when it's bad, it's horrid. The good part is that I love to think deeply and ponder and muse and learn and wonder and teach my students to do the same. The horrid part is when I get so far inside my head that I can't escape, and what ends up happening is that I live an almost parallel life, some self-narrated alternate reality in my head until I'm so wrapped up in it that everything about real life seems less real and far, far more disappointing.
So back to the affections. Jonathan Edwards wrote of the affections that they "are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul." Wait, what? Are you trying to tell me that my affections are exercises of my will? To be used sensibly and thoughtfully, not merely letting them light wherever they want, but to be directed and applied in a godly way? Far out.
In that self-narrated alternate reality that's constantly competing for my attentions, I have allowed my affections to be directed toward things and circumstances and people thoughtlessly. Rather than choosing to set my mind on -- to direct my affections toward -- "things above" as the Scriptures say, I have too often chosen to allow my affections to be cast about by my mood, my temperament, my situation, and countless other factors.
I needed (and am very grateful for) the reminder that my deepest affections belong only to God.
I was reminded recently of something very important, which I either didn't realize or had forgotten. A dear friend sent me a brief text with just a couple of sentences addressing something I'd been angsting about -- honest words that stung a little, to tell you the truth. It wasn't a sermon or a long conversation, just something I really needed to be reminded of about my affections. Which I'll come back to.
I'm a pretty cerebral kinda gal. Being cerebral is one of those characteristics that's a lot like the Girl with the Curl from the nursery rhyme: when it's good, it's very, very good, but when it's bad, it's horrid. The good part is that I love to think deeply and ponder and muse and learn and wonder and teach my students to do the same. The horrid part is when I get so far inside my head that I can't escape, and what ends up happening is that I live an almost parallel life, some self-narrated alternate reality in my head until I'm so wrapped up in it that everything about real life seems less real and far, far more disappointing.
So back to the affections. Jonathan Edwards wrote of the affections that they "are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul." Wait, what? Are you trying to tell me that my affections are exercises of my will? To be used sensibly and thoughtfully, not merely letting them light wherever they want, but to be directed and applied in a godly way? Far out.
In that self-narrated alternate reality that's constantly competing for my attentions, I have allowed my affections to be directed toward things and circumstances and people thoughtlessly. Rather than choosing to set my mind on -- to direct my affections toward -- "things above" as the Scriptures say, I have too often chosen to allow my affections to be cast about by my mood, my temperament, my situation, and countless other factors.
I needed (and am very grateful for) the reminder that my deepest affections belong only to God.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Links!
I'm going to be extra-American and gush for just a second about Mikey Lynch -- I think his blog, Christian Reflections, is one of the most quietly impactful blogs going right now in Theology Land. Mikey doesn't feel compelled to make a bunch of high-falutin' theological points or write a sermon for every post, but in the meantime he's evaluating and making connections in an incredibly smart way. Just about everything he writes I wish I had written instead, that jerk.
Anyway, take a look at his series on Crowded House, which is full of alternately fascinating, funny, and important insights. Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. Check back for more of his thoughts -- I know there will be a Part 4!
Anyway, take a look at his series on Crowded House, which is full of alternately fascinating, funny, and important insights. Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. Check back for more of his thoughts -- I know there will be a Part 4!
Friday, April 9, 2010
Oh My Gosh I Think I Figured It Out.
Kinda.
On Sojourn's discussion/message board, The City (think Facebook + old-school chat room + newspaper classified ads + online church directory), a few discussions of late have just caught fire -- one about John Piper inviting Rick Warren to speak at a conference, one about Dallas Willard and whether or not he's orthodox, and one about The Shack that only died finally because the "listen, it's fiction and it speaks to people's pain" crowd bowed out of the conversation.
And ohmygoodness, I think I've nailed down what those three discussions have in common AND why stuff like that tends to be tinder just waiting to be set off.
What they have in common is what I'm going to call the "Driscoll" factor -- high profile, prophetic, controversial. The reason Mark Driscoll chaps people's hides is that he's got a prophetic ministry, calling to folks from the front lines, being a bold voice in just a few areas. The reason I love and appreciate him is that the Church needs men like that who are willing to take a whole lot of flak because they're passionate about seeing the gospel applied in places that we want to ignore. We desperately need Driscoll and guys like him to shake us up about our self-righteousness, our confusion about sexuality, our immaturity.
When it comes to the discussions I mentioned above, the Driscoll Factor means that they draw people on both sides who are passionate, even outspoken and fiery, about that particular issue. So, with The Shack, for example. On one side you have people who say, "Look, not everyone resonates with the Puritans or a systematic theology text. This book can speak to people in their pain, and that's a good thing." What's at stake, to them, is the faith of their wounded brothers and sisters. It's an issue of love. On the other side are the folks who say, "We have to protect the body of Christ from error. Letting heresy slip under the radar because it's in a work of fiction is not okay." What's at stake to these folks is the Gospel, and it's an issue of Truth.
God bless my brothers and sisters at Sojourn, because a conversation like that could so easily have spiraled into name-calling and judgment-pronouncing, but the tone stayed civil and gracious.
And it occurs to me that we desperately need both those voices in the church. We need people to stand up for the hurting, to encourage us not to snuff out the smoldering wick, to remind us of grace, to display mercy and demand mercy from us, as people who have received so much mercy from our loving Father. Without them, we'd be a bunch of loveless, cranky pharisees nit-picking each other's theology until we all spontaneously combusted. We need folks who will thoughtfully defend the Rick Warrens and Dallas Willards and C.S. Lewises of the church for the sake of adorning the Gospel with love.
And we need people to stand up for the truth, to encourage us not to settle for mediocre theology or a watered-down gospel, to remind us of reality, to display integrity and demand integrity from us, as people who have received the very counsel of God in his word. Without them, we'd be a bunch of hippy-dippy weirdos, wallowing in our feel-good love fests while the blinding glory of the gospel slipped through our fingers. We need people who will boldy stand up for the gospel and not back down from exposing error no matter what.
The reason these kinds of discussions get so fiery is because you've got people from both ends of the continuum calling to each other, often without realizing that they're all contributing to the life and health of the church just by having the conversation in a gracious, godly way.
We need each other!
On Sojourn's discussion/message board, The City (think Facebook + old-school chat room + newspaper classified ads + online church directory), a few discussions of late have just caught fire -- one about John Piper inviting Rick Warren to speak at a conference, one about Dallas Willard and whether or not he's orthodox, and one about The Shack that only died finally because the "listen, it's fiction and it speaks to people's pain" crowd bowed out of the conversation.
And ohmygoodness, I think I've nailed down what those three discussions have in common AND why stuff like that tends to be tinder just waiting to be set off.
What they have in common is what I'm going to call the "Driscoll" factor -- high profile, prophetic, controversial. The reason Mark Driscoll chaps people's hides is that he's got a prophetic ministry, calling to folks from the front lines, being a bold voice in just a few areas. The reason I love and appreciate him is that the Church needs men like that who are willing to take a whole lot of flak because they're passionate about seeing the gospel applied in places that we want to ignore. We desperately need Driscoll and guys like him to shake us up about our self-righteousness, our confusion about sexuality, our immaturity.
When it comes to the discussions I mentioned above, the Driscoll Factor means that they draw people on both sides who are passionate, even outspoken and fiery, about that particular issue. So, with The Shack, for example. On one side you have people who say, "Look, not everyone resonates with the Puritans or a systematic theology text. This book can speak to people in their pain, and that's a good thing." What's at stake, to them, is the faith of their wounded brothers and sisters. It's an issue of love. On the other side are the folks who say, "We have to protect the body of Christ from error. Letting heresy slip under the radar because it's in a work of fiction is not okay." What's at stake to these folks is the Gospel, and it's an issue of Truth.
God bless my brothers and sisters at Sojourn, because a conversation like that could so easily have spiraled into name-calling and judgment-pronouncing, but the tone stayed civil and gracious.
And it occurs to me that we desperately need both those voices in the church. We need people to stand up for the hurting, to encourage us not to snuff out the smoldering wick, to remind us of grace, to display mercy and demand mercy from us, as people who have received so much mercy from our loving Father. Without them, we'd be a bunch of loveless, cranky pharisees nit-picking each other's theology until we all spontaneously combusted. We need folks who will thoughtfully defend the Rick Warrens and Dallas Willards and C.S. Lewises of the church for the sake of adorning the Gospel with love.
And we need people to stand up for the truth, to encourage us not to settle for mediocre theology or a watered-down gospel, to remind us of reality, to display integrity and demand integrity from us, as people who have received the very counsel of God in his word. Without them, we'd be a bunch of hippy-dippy weirdos, wallowing in our feel-good love fests while the blinding glory of the gospel slipped through our fingers. We need people who will boldy stand up for the gospel and not back down from exposing error no matter what.
The reason these kinds of discussions get so fiery is because you've got people from both ends of the continuum calling to each other, often without realizing that they're all contributing to the life and health of the church just by having the conversation in a gracious, godly way.
We need each other!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Greatest Hits: What CAN I Do, Then?
(Originally Posted September 18, 2007)
Since I won't be writing much while I'm on Spring break this week, I'll be posting some of my previous favorite articles, slightly edited in this case. I'll be back at it on Monday, March 29th.
Much as we claim to hate them, there's something kind of appealing about the simplicity of rules, isn't there? Do Not Feed The Lions. 45 MPH. Keep Off The Grass. Simple. There are people whose careers have been dedicated to figuring out rules for other peoples lives: advice columnists abound. There's even a book called The Rules. Heck, there's an entire genre -- the "self-help" genre -- that's dedicated to giving people rules for everything.
So here's the quandary: as believers, our lives are no longer defined by our adherence to the law. God's word makes it perfectly clear that we cannot live up to the standards God has set. That's the bad news. But the good news is that the Eternal God came into time and space in flesh and obeyed God's law, to the letter, in our stead. We are free from the penalty of the law and from its curse.
But... I like rules. I would love it if someone would just tell me exactly how I'm supposed to behave.
So, rather than striving for Christlikeness, for actions defined and bounded by grace and characterized by love, I make myself a little rulebook. Don't look at x. Don't say x. Don't think about x. Don't do x. This much of x is all right, but this much is too much. No flirting. No R-rated movies. No romance novels. No ice cream.
With all that running through my mind, is it any wonder that I stopped today and wondered, "Well, what CAN I do, then?"
You might be surprised --or, if you're alive, you might NOT be surprised -- at how difficult it is to figure out how to act when all you have to go on are injunctions and prohibitions. It's like a professor who gives a writing assignment, and when you ask for help he tells you, "It shouldn't be written in Swahili and it can't be about the 17th century Spanish monarchy." Not helpful.
In my daily interactions, I've discovered that the Law of Christ is harder than rules. Far from being an easier way to live, Christian freedom is much more complicated and mentally taxing than legalism. It requires that I search God's word. It requires prayer. It requires discernment, and accountability, and community. It results in mistakes, sometimes mistakes I don't even realize until later. But it also produces humility, maturity, wisdom, deep friendships, equanimity, contentment, and joy. It causes me to trust the Lord, because there's not always crystal-clear dictation in Scripture for the minutiae of life (by which I mean, there's no 3 Corinthians 8:14 that says, "And to my single sisters I say, not I but the Lord, that thou shalt behave thusly toward handsome young men..." Although, wouldn't that be kinda awesome? Anyway).
"This side of heaven," as my dad says, I'll never have it all figured out. I'll continue to fail in how I strive to be like Christ. But I praise God that he is already at work, never sleeping, always faithful, until I am conformed to the image of his Son.
Since I won't be writing much while I'm on Spring break this week, I'll be posting some of my previous favorite articles, slightly edited in this case. I'll be back at it on Monday, March 29th.
Much as we claim to hate them, there's something kind of appealing about the simplicity of rules, isn't there? Do Not Feed The Lions. 45 MPH. Keep Off The Grass. Simple. There are people whose careers have been dedicated to figuring out rules for other peoples lives: advice columnists abound. There's even a book called The Rules. Heck, there's an entire genre -- the "self-help" genre -- that's dedicated to giving people rules for everything.
So here's the quandary: as believers, our lives are no longer defined by our adherence to the law. God's word makes it perfectly clear that we cannot live up to the standards God has set. That's the bad news. But the good news is that the Eternal God came into time and space in flesh and obeyed God's law, to the letter, in our stead. We are free from the penalty of the law and from its curse.
But... I like rules. I would love it if someone would just tell me exactly how I'm supposed to behave.
So, rather than striving for Christlikeness, for actions defined and bounded by grace and characterized by love, I make myself a little rulebook. Don't look at x. Don't say x. Don't think about x. Don't do x. This much of x is all right, but this much is too much. No flirting. No R-rated movies. No romance novels. No ice cream.
With all that running through my mind, is it any wonder that I stopped today and wondered, "Well, what CAN I do, then?"
You might be surprised --or, if you're alive, you might NOT be surprised -- at how difficult it is to figure out how to act when all you have to go on are injunctions and prohibitions. It's like a professor who gives a writing assignment, and when you ask for help he tells you, "It shouldn't be written in Swahili and it can't be about the 17th century Spanish monarchy." Not helpful.
In my daily interactions, I've discovered that the Law of Christ is harder than rules. Far from being an easier way to live, Christian freedom is much more complicated and mentally taxing than legalism. It requires that I search God's word. It requires prayer. It requires discernment, and accountability, and community. It results in mistakes, sometimes mistakes I don't even realize until later. But it also produces humility, maturity, wisdom, deep friendships, equanimity, contentment, and joy. It causes me to trust the Lord, because there's not always crystal-clear dictation in Scripture for the minutiae of life (by which I mean, there's no 3 Corinthians 8:14 that says, "And to my single sisters I say, not I but the Lord, that thou shalt behave thusly toward handsome young men..." Although, wouldn't that be kinda awesome? Anyway).
"This side of heaven," as my dad says, I'll never have it all figured out. I'll continue to fail in how I strive to be like Christ. But I praise God that he is already at work, never sleeping, always faithful, until I am conformed to the image of his Son.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Greatest Hits: Does God Change his Mind?
(Originally posted July 31, 2009)
Since I won't be writing much while I'm on Spring break this week, I'll be posting some of my previous articles. I'll be back at it on Monday, March 29th.
An email from my favorite theologically minded friend started this post. Recently, Craig Blomberg, a well-known New Testament scholar whose work on the historical accuracy and reliability of the Gospels has been of great help to many a student, pastor, and layman, wrote an article explaining why he is a "Calminian" -- a jokey riff on the "Why I Am/ Am Not a Calvinist" books of recent years. Blomberg is basically trying to put himself clearly outside the Reformed mindset once and for all. I've read a few expressions of disappointment, and an article agreeing with his position, which is basically what I'm going to attempt to respond to today.
First of all, let me point out that Craig Blomberg is way smarter than I am. I don't pretend that I can tangle with him intellectually. Despite that, I still think he's wrong. Second, let me point out that Craig Blomberg is also a brother in Christ, in spite of what I think are his mistakes on this front. I'm not denigrating his faith or his commitment to the body of Christ, nor am I trying to write off his contribution to the Christian community. One of his books sits on my shelf, and it's staying there! *does not throw baby out with bathwater*
At one point in his article, Blomberg refers to the story of Joseph's brothers coming to him in Egypt for help during the great famine. Joseph's famous line, "You intended it for evil, but God intended it for good," Blomberg insists, is not a declaration of God's sovereignty, but a mere statement of fact. He says: "Two separate agents, two separate wills, at cross purposes with each other, neither described as logically or chronologically prior to the other. Neither is said to cause the other; they occur simultaneously." What's really happening, he says, is that both wills operate at the same time, without one being over the other.
Well, hold up. Joseph says to his brothers, "You sold me into slavery out of a wicked intention, but God's power trumped your evil desires!" In fact, God's purposes to preserve his people included the brothers' evil plans and actions. God is so powerful that he can even use human evil -- the condition of our fallen nature! -- to accomplish his purposes. That's comprehensive sovereignty! Blomberg's a great guy, but he just does NOT want to be in the "God is totally sovereign" camp AT ALL. (Plus, calling himself a "Calminian" is cute, but the fact is that there isn't a responsible Arminian on the planet who wouldn't totally acknowledge God's sovereignty in human history. So he's really a Cal-Open Theist-ian. Which isn't quite as cute.)
Moving on to broader arguments about God's sovereignty, I often encounter people who point to the word "relent" in the Scriptures and say, "See? That means that God goes back on his word! If he really is completely sovereign over everything, how can he appear to be influenced by the prayers of his people?" I used to use this argument myself! Well, yes, "relent" means that he will not do what he said he would do, out of a gracious desire to preserve and defend his people. But a couple things:
1) This DOES NOT MEAN that God changes his mind or that he's fickle or doesn't know what he's ultimately going to do. The problem with the argument here is that, while they're trying to just draw a line around the Reformed understanding of God's sovereignty, they END UP basing their whole view on the idea that God actually changes his mind. Listen up: this is where guys like Greg Boyd and Clark Pinnock got started, and where they end up is saying that God takes risks, that he doesn't even KNOW the outcome of certain events, and that in some cases WE have more sovereignty over circumstances than the creator of the universe. That's a pretty stupid place to end up and still call yourself a Christian. It's just like how the Mormons use the theories of 19th century German liberal philosophers (especially the evolutionary view of history -- that all history moves from the simple to the complex and that doctrines aren't revealed but evolve over time) to convince people that the Book of Mormon is true. That argument might convince people, but you're cutting off the branch you're sitting on!
2) Check out this article. There's some uncool argumentation happening here, and this isn't the only place I've heard this line of reasoning, not by a long shot. You ever hear of "weasel words"? They're little words or phrases that a speaker or writer slips in, sometimes without even knowing it himself, that unfairly denigrate the other position -- it's like straw man + ad hominem all at once. The one that popped out to me was "real relationship." Yates and others imply that, unless God limits his own foreknowledge or sovereignty in some way, it's impossible for him to enter into "real relationship" with his creation. This is nonsense. We don't get to make up the rules for how God interacts with us based on our experiences with each other. The scriptures are full of the truths of God bringing the dead back to life both literally and figuratively. But does that one-sided interaction, that ultimate demonstration of total sovereignty, mean that God has some kind of counterfeit relationship with those he raises to life? Did Jesus have a more or less "real relationship" with Lazarus when he raised him, single-handed, from death?
3) There's also some plain old ridiculousness that gets shoveled around. To quote Yates, who is taking up a common anti-sovereignty argument: "The statements that Yahweh will harden the Pharaoh’s heart at the beginning of this process (cf. Exod 4:21; 7:3) are an expression that Yahweh’s purposes will ultimately prevail in this struggle but not that he dictates or determines the Pharaoh’s responses." Uh... what? What part of "I will harden his heart" is the tough part to interpret? "I will" meaning it's gonna happen... right? And "harden his heart" meaning that's what he's gonna do... Yup. You have to do some pretty sexy contortionism to get around the plain meaning of that sucker.
4) The kicker is the "only a really sovereign God could accomplish his purposes in a universe where he has limited his sovereignty," also known as the "it's true because it ain't" argument. A God who can accomplish his purposes in such a give-and-take, unresolved universe that anti-sovereignty folks try to set up, is truly sovereign? Huh? So only a God who is truly sovereign and omniscient could operate in a universe where some things are outside his sovereignty and beyond his omniscience? Yeah, that makes sense. What's the purpose of prayer if the God we're praying to has chosen this event to be one of the hands-off parts of world history? How are we to know the difference? Or does he wait until we pray and then decide to re-institute the sovereignty he's chosen to put on hold?
Unlike Blomberg and lots of other people who use these kinds of arguments, I'm happy to live knowing that my choices are BOTH really choices that I really make with my time-bound will and mind AND are mysteriously part of God's plan. It's called paradox, and we have to embrace it, largely because our finite brains can't fathom the depths of God's will. Let's not try to eliminate paradox by making God more like us. That's a pretty dumb Bible study method. Dig?
Since I won't be writing much while I'm on Spring break this week, I'll be posting some of my previous articles. I'll be back at it on Monday, March 29th.
An email from my favorite theologically minded friend started this post. Recently, Craig Blomberg, a well-known New Testament scholar whose work on the historical accuracy and reliability of the Gospels has been of great help to many a student, pastor, and layman, wrote an article explaining why he is a "Calminian" -- a jokey riff on the "Why I Am/ Am Not a Calvinist" books of recent years. Blomberg is basically trying to put himself clearly outside the Reformed mindset once and for all. I've read a few expressions of disappointment, and an article agreeing with his position, which is basically what I'm going to attempt to respond to today.
First of all, let me point out that Craig Blomberg is way smarter than I am. I don't pretend that I can tangle with him intellectually. Despite that, I still think he's wrong. Second, let me point out that Craig Blomberg is also a brother in Christ, in spite of what I think are his mistakes on this front. I'm not denigrating his faith or his commitment to the body of Christ, nor am I trying to write off his contribution to the Christian community. One of his books sits on my shelf, and it's staying there! *does not throw baby out with bathwater*
At one point in his article, Blomberg refers to the story of Joseph's brothers coming to him in Egypt for help during the great famine. Joseph's famous line, "You intended it for evil, but God intended it for good," Blomberg insists, is not a declaration of God's sovereignty, but a mere statement of fact. He says: "Two separate agents, two separate wills, at cross purposes with each other, neither described as logically or chronologically prior to the other. Neither is said to cause the other; they occur simultaneously." What's really happening, he says, is that both wills operate at the same time, without one being over the other.
Well, hold up. Joseph says to his brothers, "You sold me into slavery out of a wicked intention, but God's power trumped your evil desires!" In fact, God's purposes to preserve his people included the brothers' evil plans and actions. God is so powerful that he can even use human evil -- the condition of our fallen nature! -- to accomplish his purposes. That's comprehensive sovereignty! Blomberg's a great guy, but he just does NOT want to be in the "God is totally sovereign" camp AT ALL. (Plus, calling himself a "Calminian" is cute, but the fact is that there isn't a responsible Arminian on the planet who wouldn't totally acknowledge God's sovereignty in human history. So he's really a Cal-Open Theist-ian. Which isn't quite as cute.)
Moving on to broader arguments about God's sovereignty, I often encounter people who point to the word "relent" in the Scriptures and say, "See? That means that God goes back on his word! If he really is completely sovereign over everything, how can he appear to be influenced by the prayers of his people?" I used to use this argument myself! Well, yes, "relent" means that he will not do what he said he would do, out of a gracious desire to preserve and defend his people. But a couple things:
1) This DOES NOT MEAN that God changes his mind or that he's fickle or doesn't know what he's ultimately going to do. The problem with the argument here is that, while they're trying to just draw a line around the Reformed understanding of God's sovereignty, they END UP basing their whole view on the idea that God actually changes his mind. Listen up: this is where guys like Greg Boyd and Clark Pinnock got started, and where they end up is saying that God takes risks, that he doesn't even KNOW the outcome of certain events, and that in some cases WE have more sovereignty over circumstances than the creator of the universe. That's a pretty stupid place to end up and still call yourself a Christian. It's just like how the Mormons use the theories of 19th century German liberal philosophers (especially the evolutionary view of history -- that all history moves from the simple to the complex and that doctrines aren't revealed but evolve over time) to convince people that the Book of Mormon is true. That argument might convince people, but you're cutting off the branch you're sitting on!
2) Check out this article. There's some uncool argumentation happening here, and this isn't the only place I've heard this line of reasoning, not by a long shot. You ever hear of "weasel words"? They're little words or phrases that a speaker or writer slips in, sometimes without even knowing it himself, that unfairly denigrate the other position -- it's like straw man + ad hominem all at once. The one that popped out to me was "real relationship." Yates and others imply that, unless God limits his own foreknowledge or sovereignty in some way, it's impossible for him to enter into "real relationship" with his creation. This is nonsense. We don't get to make up the rules for how God interacts with us based on our experiences with each other. The scriptures are full of the truths of God bringing the dead back to life both literally and figuratively. But does that one-sided interaction, that ultimate demonstration of total sovereignty, mean that God has some kind of counterfeit relationship with those he raises to life? Did Jesus have a more or less "real relationship" with Lazarus when he raised him, single-handed, from death?
3) There's also some plain old ridiculousness that gets shoveled around. To quote Yates, who is taking up a common anti-sovereignty argument: "The statements that Yahweh will harden the Pharaoh’s heart at the beginning of this process (cf. Exod 4:21; 7:3) are an expression that Yahweh’s purposes will ultimately prevail in this struggle but not that he dictates or determines the Pharaoh’s responses." Uh... what? What part of "I will harden his heart" is the tough part to interpret? "I will" meaning it's gonna happen... right? And "harden his heart" meaning that's what he's gonna do... Yup. You have to do some pretty sexy contortionism to get around the plain meaning of that sucker.
4) The kicker is the "only a really sovereign God could accomplish his purposes in a universe where he has limited his sovereignty," also known as the "it's true because it ain't" argument. A God who can accomplish his purposes in such a give-and-take, unresolved universe that anti-sovereignty folks try to set up, is truly sovereign? Huh? So only a God who is truly sovereign and omniscient could operate in a universe where some things are outside his sovereignty and beyond his omniscience? Yeah, that makes sense. What's the purpose of prayer if the God we're praying to has chosen this event to be one of the hands-off parts of world history? How are we to know the difference? Or does he wait until we pray and then decide to re-institute the sovereignty he's chosen to put on hold?
Unlike Blomberg and lots of other people who use these kinds of arguments, I'm happy to live knowing that my choices are BOTH really choices that I really make with my time-bound will and mind AND are mysteriously part of God's plan. It's called paradox, and we have to embrace it, largely because our finite brains can't fathom the depths of God's will. Let's not try to eliminate paradox by making God more like us. That's a pretty dumb Bible study method. Dig?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
From "The Valley of Vision"
Jehovah God,
Thou Creator, Upholder, Proprietor of all things,
I cannot escape from thy presence or control,
nor do I desire to do so.
My privilege is to be under the agency
of omnipotence, righteousness, wisdom, patience, mercy, grace.
Thou art love with more than parental affection;
I admire thy heart, adore thy wisdom,
stand in awe of thy power, abase myself before thy purity.
It is the discovery of thy goodness alone that can banish my fear,
allure me into thy presence,
help me to bewail and confess my sins.
When I review my past guilt
and am conscious of my present unworthiness,
I tremble to come to thee,
I whose foundation is in the dust,
I who have condemned thy goodness,
defied thy power,
trampled upon thy love,
rendered myself unworthy of eternal death.
But my recovery cannot spring from any cause in me;
I can destroy but cannot save myself.
Yet thou hast laid help on One that is mighty,
for there is mercy with thee,
and exceeding riches in thy kindness through Jesus.
May I always feel my need of him.
Let thy restored joy be my strength;
May it keep me from lusting after the world,
bear up heart and mind in loss of comforts,
enliven me in the valley of death,
work in me the image of the heavenly,
and give me to enjoy the first fruits of spirituality,
such as the angels and departed saints know.
Thou Creator, Upholder, Proprietor of all things,
I cannot escape from thy presence or control,
nor do I desire to do so.
My privilege is to be under the agency
of omnipotence, righteousness, wisdom, patience, mercy, grace.
Thou art love with more than parental affection;
I admire thy heart, adore thy wisdom,
stand in awe of thy power, abase myself before thy purity.
It is the discovery of thy goodness alone that can banish my fear,
allure me into thy presence,
help me to bewail and confess my sins.
When I review my past guilt
and am conscious of my present unworthiness,
I tremble to come to thee,
I whose foundation is in the dust,
I who have condemned thy goodness,
defied thy power,
trampled upon thy love,
rendered myself unworthy of eternal death.
But my recovery cannot spring from any cause in me;
I can destroy but cannot save myself.
Yet thou hast laid help on One that is mighty,
for there is mercy with thee,
and exceeding riches in thy kindness through Jesus.
May I always feel my need of him.
Let thy restored joy be my strength;
May it keep me from lusting after the world,
bear up heart and mind in loss of comforts,
enliven me in the valley of death,
work in me the image of the heavenly,
and give me to enjoy the first fruits of spirituality,
such as the angels and departed saints know.
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