“It’s the Most Wonderful Time…”

A few weeks ago, Beth and I decorated the house for Christmas. Though I used to be a “Scrooge” in younger days, I now enjoy the Christmas season. It is a lot of work to decorate your house, however. What’s more, last year we had packed very well anticipating a move to a pastorate somewhere else. Of course, we were delightfully surprised when an opportunity opened up locally for us to stay, but we did have to  unpack Christmas decorations a little more than normal. I spend more time than I like to in the attic. I hate the attic. I spent my time there singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” hoping that the song would have some sort of reverse psychological effect on my surroundings. It didn’t. I still hate the attic. But I made it through once again.

The girls “helped” us decorate. I believe only one ornament was broken – a new record! A few hours into the endeavor our youngest daughter, Annagale, got into trouble and was banished to her room for a while. When she came out, she apologized to her mom for the grievance, as is normally the case. But this time, something unique happened. Beth told Annagale, “I forgive you” and Annagale responded by throwing her arms around her mother and saying loudly: “Awww! I love you too, Mom!” I was walking through the room and stopped mid-stride. Never before had I heard such an excellent example of the interconnection between love and forgiveness. Beth said I forgive you, but Annagale heard I love you.

I was reminded that all forgiveness whether human or divine flows from a point of relationship. Certainly forgiveness can be granted to someone without relationship just based on the willingness to forgive in the name of Christ. But more importantly, I realized that what I had just heard was a great example of my belief that God’s forgiveness at the cross was merely a result of his larger emphasis to show us how much he loved us. I posted about that here and here. Tony Barlett wrote a phrase in an article I read a few weeks back that I found significant. He said the cross was (and still is) “equal parts forgiveness and disclosure.” Beautiful way to describe the cross…but I would take it even further. All elements of forgiveness in the cross are an outward manifestation of God’s self-disclosing love. Annagale experienced this with her mother. She innately understood that forgiveness is only granted out of love. So, she merely skipped the result and affirmed the root of Beth’s forgiveness toward her: the deep love of a parent for their child.

Hopefully, Advent represents a time in a Christian’s life when we can reflect upon God’s self-revelation of love. After all, God did die for us. I hope that when you hear God say “I forgive you” you will ultimately hear the cry of desperation “I love you!” behind it that compels him to forgive.

Merry Christmas to everyone. 25,000 views and 1,000 comments later, I’m going to take a blogging break for a week or two. I’ll come back and tell you about a missions program that has dramatically transformed our church and invite you to join in for 2009.

See you in the New Year!

Sam

The Sin of Sin-Consciousness

I realize I don’t talk about sin very often. I used to talk about it all the time. I was what you would call “sin-conscious” – I had an unhealthy preoccupation with the ways I may be offending God or “trampling the blood of Christ underfoot.” Of course, some of my gravest errors in that regard involved pointing out the sins of others. All the for the sake of the Kingdom, right? Geez…

The Wesleyan/Pentecostal tradition has always had a rough time deciding what exactly we should do about sin – I suppose the common answer has been: “Get rid of it!” But that’s left a lot of folks frustrated with fighting the same battles over and over again. I’m a strong-willed guy, so the majority of my life has been spent trying to “will” myself into sanctification. That made me a very unhappy person..and it promoted pride in my heart. Wesley talked of “radical amputation,” the holiness movement described “tarrying” until sanctification occurred in an instant, while some in the early Pentecostal tradition like David Wesley Myland spoke of a gradual move towards sanctification. Though I like Myland’s take, it makes me think, “What if that view makes people not take sin seriously?” Furthermore, Myland’s theology concerning the Baptism in the Holy Spirit as a gradual thing really irritates me.

So what have I settled on? Nothing new really, although maybe a shift in perspective. I still believe the Baptism in the Holy Spirit is a secondary definable event in the Christian’s life. But sanctification (and the eradication of sin) is a much slower process. I normally describe it as relational holiness: holiness that results from closeness to God and (specifically)  participation with the Holy Spirit. But I am quick to point out that in areas where you can perform “radical amputation,” you should. I try to life my life in a way that pleases the Lord and my personal level of holiness includes not watching R-rated movies, for example. And that’s merely a personal choice – not something I think is for everyone. But a deeper understanding of how to overcome sin is found in the definition of “repentance.”

Repentance can sometimes be a “change of mind” where a believer decides to make a lifestyle change. The decision is made; the action stops. But more often, repentance is a process of moving toward a life of transformation, not simply transforming one single area of life. That means repentance should be understood as a “positive” word, not a “negative” one. Repentance is not moving away from sin as much as it is moving towards God. The closer you get to God, the less hold sin will have over your life. And sin’s ultimate crux of power is when we focus on it rather than focusing on walking on the Spirit. That’s like trying to ignore an 800 pound gorilla in the room while continually talking about the fact there’s an 800 pound gorilla in the room! It’s not possible. And sin-fixated Christians have the same problem.

So, how does the eradication of sin take place in the life of a believer? In two ways – I’ll give you an illustration for each. The first happens at conversion. I would describe it this way: when the weather changes and you see a leaf  falling from a tree, when did that leaf die? The leaf itself died weeks (maybe months) before it ever fell to the ground. In some areas, holiness happens this way. The life of sin is cut off at conversion, yet it takes time for the manifestations of that sin to fall away from our lives. The second way holiness occurs is found in this illustration of sanctification: when does a snake molt its skin? Only when there is new skin underneath. Sanctification in the believer’s life happens as new mindsets, life decisions, and spiritual growth forces the old “skin” of sin to molt under the pressure of continued spiritual formation. But something has to replace what was there before. And that’s why repentance can’t just be turning away from sin – relational holiness occurs as we repent towards God.

I don’t talk that much about sin because for those agressively pursuing life in the Spirit, sin takes care of itself. Holiness results from drawing near to God rather than recoiling from sin. As we draw near to our Creator, we find that the “sin that so easily ensnared us” 6 months ago is no longer a problem. Some sin areas persist for years, but the process is the same: repent towards God and, slowly, a life of holiness will emerge.

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 3

Let’s turn to the pastoral implications of Reformed theology. At the beginning, even Calvin underestimated just how many people would react strongly against his theology. His first draft of the Institutes barely developed a full understanding of predestination. The practical implications of his views came under such severe attack that by his third revision, his defense of those topics comprised the majority of the Insititutes. And as we’ve seen, plenty of people in history have rejected that view of God. Interestingly, some of the most important Reformed theologians have found that the only way to adopt predestination is to believe that God predestines everyone for salvation except a few reprobates – basically, what amounts to universalism. So what makes Reformed theologians so uneasy? The practical/pastoral implications of their theological system.

The pastoral obstacles in Calvinism are staggering. Though the Reformed belief system in a theological setting seems somewhat reasonable, in a popular/church setting, it quickly gets misconstrued and misinterpreted. Calvinists usually roll their eyes at those who misinterpret Reformed doctrine, but who’s to blame for this? The average Christian attempting to make sense of life’s tragedies or Reformists who assume that most people are simply unable to understand the mysteries of God? As a pastor, I have serious problems with that. To dismiss the average Christians’ concern over God’s nature is to dimiss someone made in the image of God. Any system that refuses to address life’s questions in a way that most accurately meets the needs of average Christians is not practical. It’s theoretical – useless to a caring pastor. Calvinism’s inability to translate into a feasable model for practical Christianity is its main drawback.

In a popular setting, Reformed answers to tragedy and misfortune sound terribly inhumane. Secularists constantly bring this up with good reason. Why would anyone choose to believe that God would ordain miscarriages to allow a time of spiritual reflection for a mother?  The implications are there. Though I personally don’t know why miscarraiges happen, my lack of an answer would never compel me to blindly adopt an explanation that assaults the character of God or crushes the spirit of another human, no matter how neat and tidy it may seem.  Christians lose the respect of others when we say things like the accidental death of a two year old can do more for Jesus than that child’s life could have. We see more popularized versions of this idea in congregational prayers that end all requests with “if it be thy will” or in church marqee signs that say: “Drive Carefully. Cars aren’t the only things recalled by their Maker.”

More importantly, Reformed solutions to tragedy rarely help relieve and emotional suffering. Make no mistake – people who receive answers like, “God is in control of everything” and “This is all part of God’s plan” continue to have questions. They just put those questions on hold until one day “all things” will be revealed. Sorry people, though this sounds spiritually valid, it makes absolutely no sense. Similarly, popular notions of Calvinistic thinking affect the efficacy of prayer. Prayer becomes merely a spiritual discipline with little bearing on life circumstances.

If we take Calvinistic theology to its logical consequences on a practical level, we end up with questions like: why do you protect your children from harm? Or, why do you lock your doors at night? If all events are ordained, you would think people would do better to assist the hand of God in such matters. I actually had someone tell me that exposing children to hazzardous consequences actually helps them learn proper boundaries. That’s fine to believe that but if you start on that slippery slope, which hazzards are appropriate: a fall down the stairs, a hot stove, or drowning in a swimming pool? Are pain and heartache God’s choice means of correction for adults as well? Once again, Calvinists are rolling their eyes at me. They would claim such objections to Reformed theology take the theological system beyond its intent. Exactly. If that’s the case, then theology has no practical value and Calvinism is something trivial to tinker with – like a model airplane or a doll collection.

All that to say this. The popular lesson derived by common Christians from Reformed theology is this: God doesn’t care and I am powerless to affect my circumstances for the better in any way. Calvinism breeds passive resignation in life. Most people walk away thinking “why try?”

Also, as a “charismatic” Christian, Reformed theology has always carried cessationist tendencies. The primacy of the Word is protected against prophetic inspiration. I simply cannot under any circumstances agree to that. People desperately need power to confront the obstacles they face in life. I’m not sure how Reformed “charismatics” can justify their adherence to a doctrine that flatly disputes their own spiritual experiences.

Presently, there is a movement back to Reformed doctrine (mostly riding on the wings of John Piper). Choosing to reject ”seeker-friendly,” superficial models of Christianity, mosaic and emergent traditions are looking for spiritual depth. Many are returning back to Reformed theology. But for a generation that has questioned and created new roles for itself in the Christian world, I find their willingness to settle for Calvinistic views of God to be unsettling. Piper isn’t even apart of your generation. For a generation marked by creativity, that’s not very creative, is it? There are other choices.

Those Christians and secularists who reject Reformed doctrine are not rejecting a system. They are rejecting the view of God that system requires. Pastoral objections abound to Reformed theology because it’s not what theologians assert that is important. It’s what people take from it to interpret their world that determines the validity of any theological system. Pastors understand this and see the merit of it.

I’d rather not have an answer to some questions than find encouragement in a wrong one.

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 2

So, from my first post, it’s easy to see that Reformed theology doesn’t have everything wrapped up any more than other doctrinal systems. Yet as Chris said in his comment, there seems to be a feeling that Reformists base their conclusions on “scripture alone” and they have more scriptural support than any other group. After all, they are the majority tradition, right?

Could this be because they keep telling you that’s the case? Let’s cover some philosophical and historical ground here…

Actually, Reformed theology leans very heavily on classical (Greek) philosophical foundations that have little to do with the Bible. These philosophical foundations describe the character of God in a particular way. Philosophers and theologians have always struggled to define appropriate attributes for God to possess. Xenophanes despised the Greek gods’ inappropriate behavior and proposed a criterion of “decency”: traits that he believed deity should possess.  God should never behave as human do.

Plato’s version of God is perfect, needing nothing, and is sufficient in every way unto itself.  God maintains his state of perfection by experiencing no “joy or sorrow” – nor does he love since he needs no relationships.  Because of God’s perfection, he “mingles not with man.”  Plato also takes a deterministic slant to the cosmic order stating that all human affairs are predetermined, yet how this happens is a divine mystery (I heard that before).  Even God is subject to fate – “Not even God can fight against necessity.” Aristotle believed there must be an “unmoved mover” who is the first cause of all motion in the universe.  In order to remain unmoved and independent of all forces, God must also remain completely separate from the world. 

Augustine, the father of Latin theology, emphasized Hellenistic traits of God as well.  He maintained the traditional divine attributes the Greek philosophers did: “Whatever is changeable is not the most high God…that is truly real which remains immutable.”  Therefore, neither God’s knowledge nor his will ever changes.  Along with these beliefs, Augustine adopted the concept of foreordination or predestination – humans cannot thwart God’s will for “the will of the omnipotent is always undefeated.”  Scriptures showing God changing his mind were written for “babes” and do not reflect God’s true nature.  Augustine also believed that natural events on earth were designed by God at the beginning of time and hidden within the natural order of life (sound familiar?).  With Augustine’s endorsement of these philosophical attributes, the transcendent, unknowable and inaccessible nature of God became permanently etched into Western theology. 

Now, stick with me here – I’m going somewhere. When the Reformers attempted to develop a new system of theology apart from Catholicism, they merely fell back on the same familiar philosophical assumptions Augustine had found so useful.  This also included philosophical attributes of God like immutability and simplicity.  So, while making slight changes, the Reformers only reinforced the inherited view of God’s unavailability.

Calvin was even more structured in his understanding of God’s nature and interaction with creation.  He also characterizes God as immutable, simple, impassible and self-existent.  Echoing Luther’s view of sovereignty, Calvin stated that God does not will something because it is good; rather, an event in life is good simply because God willed its occurrence.  The mysteries of God’s will should remain a mystery: “Let us then willingly leave to God the knowledge of himself.”

Understandably, Calvin’s opponents had trouble reconciling his belief that “nothing takes place by chance” with the idea of God as a loving father.  But Calvin helps us understand his line of reasoning: the perils and tragedies of life’s existence at that time would have been intolerable if all events in life happened as a result of arbitrary chance.  Submitting to God, the Christian could at least believe that the miseries of life were intended for his own good. So, Calvin’s view of God was a product of his environment, not ours.

Okay, what does all that mean? It means that though Reformed theology is well developed (and that promotes security), it sacrifices the practical elements of God’s goodness. Rather than accepting God because he is good, we are told to accept God’s goodness simply because He wills it. Though Reformists say that they are the majority tradition, historically the majority of people have rejected at least part of their concept of God.

Here are a few quotes from across the spectrum to illustrate. Commoners during the Reformation turned to folk magic to bridge the gap between themselves and a remote view of God. In 1594, Lutheran inspectors in Germany reported that “the use of spells is so widespread among the people here that not a man or woman begins…or refrains from doing anything…without employing some particular blessing, incantation, spell, or other such heathenish means…” They weren’t exactly “leaning on the everlasting arms,” were they? Enlightenment philosophers wholly rejected the same view of God as well. Since God had already distanced himself from humanity, the rationalists merely pushed him further out of the frame into a state of inactivity. They finished the job classical theism had started centuries before. Voltaire questioned the character of a deterministic God and his foreordination of a disastrous earthquake in Lisbon in 1775. The philosophes’ underlying motivation became liberating the Western mindset from what Voltaire called a “religion that believes in a cruel God.”  

In the 1840s, Andrew Jackson Davis, prior to his conversion to Spiritualism, struggled with his Christian upbringing.  A member of the Presbyterian church, he rejected the “God clothed in Calvinist attributes, also in His eternal decrees of election and reprobation and also in many other points of faith ascribing unamiable qualities to the Deity.”  Protestant Liberalism was also a reaction to this view of God. Lyman Abbot, looking back upon his Puritan upbringing, loathed the view of God as a “kind of awful omnipotent police justice” and himself as “a scared culprit who knows he is liable to punishment but does not clearly know why.”  In the twentieth century, Carl Jung, the son of a Reformed pastor, had experienced the demoralizing aspects of Western Christianity.  He wrote, “I am aware of my unconventional way of thinking and understand that it gives the impression that I am not a Christian.  But I regard myself as a Christian…but I am at the same time convinced that…the present situation seems to me to be intolerable; therefore I think that a fundamental further development of Christianity is absolutely necessary.”

Now, we can pretend all these people are stupid and delusional and rebellious…or we can really look at what they are saying. People from Christian, occult, and secular traditions are all hinting at the same thing: the Reformed view of God is unacceptable. Though they disagreed on basically everything else, they certainly agreed on that! Maybe a theological system that implicitly undermines the character of God isn’t the best way to go.

Next, practical implications for everyday Christians.

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 1

Reformed systematic theology is a beautiful thing: clear, congruent, and tidy. It makes theologians drool all over themselves. Yet, systematization rarely reflects the full intentions of God or his creation. I want to point out a few inconsistencies in scriptural application among Reformed doctrine. The basics of Reformed doctrine are found in five points (TULIP): Total depravity, Unconditional election, Limited atonement, Irresistible grace, and Perseverance of the saints. Summarized, it looks this way: humanity, because of the fall, is utterly incapable of saving itself. God in his sovereign will elects certain individuals and God gives faith to these individuals for repentance. Christ’s atonement redeems only the elect and secures them for salvation. The grace that God extends to the elect is irresistible. Those saints who are elected by God for salvation are kept by this grace and endure until the end. If you missed it, read the background for these posts here.

Does scripture support this approach to God and humanity? I don’t really think it does, at least not any more than any other doctrinal approach. Rarely does it tie up all loose ends in the Bible, contrary to Reformed opinions. The loose ends are found in what scriptures implicitly assume rather than in some black and white approach to scripture. Take the creation account for example: the origins of Calvinistic depravity. If total depravity is one of the consequences of Original Sin, we would surely expect to find some mention of it in the Genesis account. Yet, we find none. There are other curses listed: physical death (Gen. 3:19), “thorns and thistles” to make farming difficult (v.18), and pain in childbearing (v.16). These curses are trivial (sorry ladies) compared to what would be the most destructive curse of all: loss of ability to respond to God. Also, though there was initial innocence in Adam and Eve, that does not denote moral perfection – something to be lost in the fall. Similarly, God said the all he created was “good”, not perfect.

Also, passages describing sin “from the womb” are found in prophetic passages and the Psalms. As I’ve discussed elsewhere, passages like Psalm 58:3 and Isaiah 48:8 use exaggeration as a literary tool to promote repentance and reflection, not for systematically exploring the Western theological notions of human depravity. Sorry Augustine, God was not writing for your benefit when he inspired the book of Isaiah. He inspired the words of Isaiah for the Israelites who heard them. The understanding of biblical literary techniques like those employed in the prophets didn’t arrive on the Western theological scene until the early 1800s, so it’s rather difficult to assume that Calvin and company had that interpretive method available to them. And doctrinal bias keeps hyper-Reformists from acknowledging this today. In the NT, Ephesians 2:1 can be understood only in light of the OT understanding that those who are “dead in their sins” simple means people who will certainly die. Check out Exodus 12:33 and 2 Samuel 19:28. The meaning is that they were as good as dead. If the original context makes sense, why divorce it for doctrinal purposes?

So, what about that whole “election” thing? Confusing huh? Yep. God certainly “elected” Israel in Deuteronomy 7 and He did choose Jacob over Esau (Romans 9:11-13). Yet, to apply particular historical moments of election in these texts to a universal plan for individual salvation is to read into it. God showed us how he dealt with Israel in order to reveal the extent to which he would go to offer salvation to everyone. This is called corporate election. God “elects” – desires, chooses and hopes for – all humanity’s salvation. Everyone that wants to can get in. But like the parable of the feast, just because you invite someone doesn’t mean they will accept the invitation.

Reformists often butcher other passages like Jesus’s prayer not for the world, “but for those you [the Father] have given me, for they are yours” (John 17:9). The context of that prayer was for the strengthening of the disciples for the days ahead, not for cosmic salvific purpose. Some disciples passed the test while others, like Peter, failed. Yet Jesus took the time to restore Peter around a camp fire – just like the one around which Peter had denied him days before. Paul’s verses about God “choosing us in him before the creation of the world” and “predestining us to be adopted as his sons” (Eph. 1:4,5) certainly can apply to corporate election. Plus other verses like John 3:16, 2 Peter 3:9, and even OT scriptures like Ezekiel 18:23 speak of God’s desire for universal election. That doesn’t mean everyone will choose God, but he did make it a possibility.

Secret counsel verses like the famous Deuteronomy 29:29 certainly warn that the mystery of election is not fully available to humans and that speculation should be kept to a minimum. So, who’s speculating the most about election? I think it’s the Calvinists. This scripture, used for their own purposes sharply rebukes the speculation for which they use it. It’s kind of like an obsessed end times date setter quoting Jesus’s passage that “no one knows the day but the Father…” Most Calvinists take their doctrinal positions too seriously to see the irony of their misuse. More importantly, that scripture was given in a historical setting to a specific group of people. To yank it out and use it as proof of divine mysteries is to deny its original context.

Finally, can people fall away from God? Jacob Arminius (for who Arminian theology is named) didn’t elaborate on it too much. He said it was out for debate. Unfortunately, he died before exploring the topic more fully. Obviously free-will doesn’t end after you accept Christ. So I suppose you can fall away…but I suspect you have to really, really work at it. Love is only love when it’s freely given, not coerced or “tricked” by some cosmic form of compatibilism.

Lot of loose ends here for Calvinists. Of course, they have nice, neat answers for all of these questions. But honestly that scares me more than comforts me. All theology is speculative – including Calvinism. Why adopt one inconclusive theological viewpoint when you can adopt another inconclusive one that at least allows God’s loving character to shine through?

So there you are. Next post, philosophical and historical issues.

Come On, Just how Bad is Calvinism?, Introduction

I received a great comment from from a guy named Chris here. I asked him if he would like for me to respond publicly or privately to his questions/doubts about Reformed doctrine. He said he would like to see them in a public format. So, for the next three posts I will convey some problems I have with Calvinism and what impact I feel such an approach to scripture has upon believers. I’ll divide it up into three sections: scriptural, philosophical, and practical, respectively.

I will say up front that I know plenty of Calvinists who are really great Christians that deeply love the Lord. I also admire their hunger for the Word and precision in scriptural debate. I have yet to fully comprehend just how they integrate their beliefs into an understanding of God that appropriately reflects God’s nature. Maybe I am intellectually or spiritually unable to grasp Reformed concepts. I have had some Reformists who have hinted at such. If that’s the case, then please overlook my short-sightedness.

Also, I will approach this mainly as a pastoral endeavor. If something makes perfect theological sense yet fails to meet the basic needs of everyday Christians, then I’m going to question it’s practical validity. As such, I will not cover every scripture that Reformists generally use for proof texting their position. And, as fair warning, if you are reading this post and decide to give me every scripture to back the Calvinist position in the comment section, I’m not going to answer them all…but you can sure bet I’ll make fun of you for ignoring my opening remarks here. Calvinists have that much in common with the Latter Day Saints – they certainly have all their answers together. I, admittedly, do not. If you want me to expound upon a particular point I’ll be happy to oblige.

As a pastor, though I am concerned with correct theological method, I am much more interested in how that theology helps the average Christian connect to God. I will say this up front: I believe Reformed interpretations of scripture and the nature of God have inhibited that spiritual connection throughout much of Western history.

Next post, scriptural issues…

Why I Can Listen to Devil Music

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will never forget opening Michael Haynes’s book The God of Rock: A Christian Perspective on Rock Music. It expounded the evils of rock and roll and all the abuses that came with it. It was a veritable encyclopedia of every rock band that existed with Haynes carefully detailing the godless lyrics of each one. Sometimes he would include album covers, too. Heck, I didn’t even know who the Scorpions were until I read this book, though I must say the Rainbow album covers were the best. It was a treasure chest of evil…and my brother and I read that book over and over.

I’m somewhat of a strange fellow. My co-workers remind me of this on a daily basis. Maybe a little eccentric. And nowhere does this come out more than in my musical tastes. I listen to some strange stuff – here’s a general list here. I grew up believing that music often carried a “spiritual fingerprint” found not only in the lyrics but in the execution of music. Everything from drums to vocal delivery conveyed a spiritual point. As a twelve year old, I took that overboard, looking for hidden signs of evil in lyrics and guitar solos. But to some degree, I still feel that is true – I don’t listen to overly-suggestive, violent, or occult-based music. At the same time, a lot of that belief diminished once I began to explore other people’s musical past.

I began to see that a song, though seemingly benign, could hold negative sway over someone based on the context in which they heard that music. Christians are particularly susceptible to this idea with reference to their former lives before Christ. A Led Zeppelin album isn’t evil because of Bonham’s drumming – it’s bad because they smoked pot every time they listened to it. Same with sexual promiscuity or anything else for that matter. Often that music will connect you with a former part of your life you’d rather just forget. Now, that’s a good reason to stay away from it.

I’ve had people ask me, “How can you listen to that?” The answer is that I have no point of reference that “colors” the music for me. I have never been in a drunken stupor while listening to the Allman Brothers’ “Whipping Post” (my current selection at the moment). And that makes all the difference. I’ve never been high while listening to David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane. I listen to the music without that context. Do I limit the amount of music I listen to that has offensive or violent content? Sure. But what I find remarkable about those who question my music choices is that they will often sit down and take in 2.5 hours of a slasher movie thinking nothing of it. That’s something I could never do.

So, I suppose the key is to be led by God’s Spirit. People have different levels of sensitivity. And what may “convict” one person may be alright for another. But I know this much: for every person declaring the evils of music, movies, and the like, you’re bound to find a ten-year-old boy riffling through the pages of a book looking for something he may have missed.

Blog Update

I changed things around today. I updated the blogroll, including Christian Century and First Things blogs as well as a couple of additions from the non-violent atonement movement (Michael Hardin and Tony Bartlett). No, I don’t agree with everything written there – but good reading nonetheless.

I separated out some theology resources and (as a Methodist) introduced a section of blogs, news, and sites about the Methodist Church. Finally, rather than having a huge list of books I can’t seem to update, I just whittled it down to the handful of books I personally wish every lay person would read and a list of theologians, preachers and authors that I constantly find myself referring to.

So there – hope that’s a little easier to navigate.

Tim Tebow, Astrology, and Traffic Jams

Christians can come across as self-absorbed. I’m certainly capable of that. We seem to easily forget the people around us, theologizing life’s occurrences into something more than they are. You can hear it every day: “I got stuck in a traffic jam today for three hours. I just looked to heaven and said, ‘Lord, I know I’m here for a reason – what are you trying to teach me through this?’” Or this one: “The lady in the check-out line in front of me took forever! I just prayed under my breath: God, I know you’re trying to teach me patience through this.”

Though some of you scholars out there may be interested in the absorption of the Hellenistic concept of paideia into our Christian understanding of natural theology’s use of secondary causes, the larger issue here is our inability as Americanized Christians to look past our own predicament. We forget that there are others in the same traffic jam or check-out line experiencing the same inconvenience as us. For some reason we feel that placing those other people (many of whom may be Christians as well) in a divinely-inspired traffic jam so we can have a little extra “quiet time” is appropriate. But in all honesty, it takes megalomania to a new level.

It reminds me of a song by Rufus Wainwright, an exceedingly talented (and exceedingly gay) musician. In “Pretty Things” Rufus says “everything’s a sign of my astrology.” In other words, life’s occurrences mean little more to me that how they directly affect my circumstances. Different way of putting it – but the same result. We see “signs” in life as God’s intervention to teach us about something God wants us to improve. Now, if you see life’s positive blessings as God’s work, people will crucify you as a “prosperity gospel” pundit. But as long as you see God’s interactions as negative commentary on a pathetic spiritual life, that’s considered okay. But that’s just as unbalanced. God doesn’t cause traffic jams to promote humility. Neither does God cause good situations for Christians at the expense of others around them.

The place in American culture you can see this most often is in interviews with sports figures. Cross-reference Oral Hershiser’s mid-80s comments that his Christianity makes him a better athlete or Reggie White giving glory to God for winning the Super Bowl. Psychological motivation? Sure. Accurate view of God’s actions in the world? Hardly. The latest example of this is Florida Gators quarterback Tim Tebow. Amazing athlete, crummy theology. Tebow likes to give honor and glory to God for winning football games while the Christians on the opposing teams quietly head to the lockeroom. But after a loss, you’ll find Tebow apologizing for not playing his best: “You will never see any player in the entire country who will play harder than I will play the rest of the season. And you will not see someone push the rest of the team as hard as I will push everybody for the rest of the season, and you will never see a team play harder than we will the rest of the season.” God is nowhere to be found.

I’ll be happy to cut Tebow some slack – he’s only 21 and things are real black and white at that age. But what concerns me more is the number of seasoned Christians falling into the same trap. You are certainly welcome to live in that paradigm – you’ll be surrounded by a host of evangelicals who feel the same way. But to those watching you who live outside that self-confirming view of life, you’re bound to look self-absorbed by seeing everything as a “sign of your astrology.” For the record, pantheists sound just as ridiculous…

Michael Phelps and the Lost Secret of Christianity

Christianity, above all else, is a mystical religion. People often forget that, seeing it as a series of intellectual turns that formulated a robust and orthodox group of doctrines. In our overly-cerebral modern era, Christianity has only been viewed as legitimate as its ability to saddle up to the parameters established by rationalism. Christianity was deemed above all a “reasonable faith.” But with deconstructionism, post-modern mentalities, and the “enthusiasm” of the Pentecostal global phenomenon invading the twentieth century, all of that “respectability” died (thank God). In the process, Christianity recovered its long-lost mystical strain…the one essential to the early church and critical to a deeper relational theology. And that’s the lost secret of Christianity: not us living for Christ, but Christ living through us.

So how do I describe the shift in from living for Christ to allowing Christ to live through me? Good question. Try this illustration.

Suppose you want to be an Olympic swimmer. You watch swimmers at the pool all the time and like what you see. So, in your first effort to reach stardom, you buy several instructional videos and check out books from the library. In an attempt to mimick swimming technique, you watch countless hours of Michael Phelps. You listen to every press conference and can practically answer the reporters for him. Then after you have learned all the terminology and understand how to perform each swimming style, you try out for the Olympic team. The problem is: you’ve never been in the water. Oh yeah, and you’re not Michael Phelps. How do you think tryouts will go?

Second time around, you hire Michael Phelps as your personal coach. He spends hours with you by telephone and over dinner recounting stories of Olympic glory. Obviously, he’s very good at what he does and is naturally talented, so you listen to everything he says. He recommends sports philosophy books for you to read and tells you to join an a team of weightlifters to hold you accountable. After listening to Mike and following his instructions, you jump in the pool again, taking Michael’s place as the leader of Team USA. Oh yeah, but you’re not Michael Phelps. What follows is your own personal YouTube video.

Finally, with the Olympics just around the corner, you tell Michael that this just isn’t working. So he suggests a final and radical idea. He tells you, “Okay, just unzip your skin and let me step inside you and swim through you.” You say, “Do what?” He says, “You heard me – I’ll swim through you. It won’t be quite the same since you aren’t as naturally athletic as me but you’ll have all my wisdom to race with the best.” So, you agree. Mike, with his natural intuition and athletic confidence swims using your body. At your first race, things go remarkably well. All you have to do is let him play through you and the medals keep coming. However, in one race you tense up because you think Michael has a bad start. But by limiting his mobility, you guarantee that he won’t win…actually he finishes 7th. As you get out of the pool, he he tells you, “Look! I know what I’m doing - just relax and let me go where I want to go!” “Oh, sorry,” you say. And the other races go fairly well.

What three scenarios did I describe? The first one is representative of Old Testament law. In this scenario, all conformity to rules and instruction is external. Obviously, not much of it remains with you, once you actually “start the race.” There’s no first hand experience – just information. The second scenario is a common form of Christian legalism. You have someone who you think is better than you (a pastor, Christian friend, or even Jesus) “coach” you to do the right thing. You spend a lot of time practicing. The problem is that you have no internal motivation, only the motivation of someone who can make you feel guilty for not meeting their standards of perfection. And, once again, when you race, you do so only on the merits of your friend or pastor, not your own.

The final scenario describes the lost secret of Christianity. Whether you’re reading the promises in Ezekiel 11:19 or 36:26 or the first ten verses of John 15, the message is the same. Formerly a list of rules, the good news of the gospel is that rather than telling you how to live the Christian life, Jesus wants to actually live through you by the Holy Spirit. He lives a holy life in you. He loves your spouse unconditionally in you. He works hard at your job in you. He mentors your children in you. Your role is to let him. No longer are we working from the outside-in (like most religious systems do). We are now working from the inside-out. We are to “dance” so close with him that his moves become our moves. Authentic Christianity is much more like a “divine waltz” than an instructional vido or a set of disciplines the keep your from messing up.

Maybe that’s a new idea for you. You’re used to working for God rather than living in him. You use personal guilt and fear as a motivator. That may work for a time, but spiritual burnout is not far behind. But the person who can let Christ live through them finds the lost secret of the Christian faith.