Don’t Like Unlimited Atonement? Take It Up With Jesus.

I’ve always struggled with the end of Matthew 22:1-14: the Parable of the Marriage Feast. I think it’s great that when the master’s acquaintances dishonor him by refusing the invitation to the feast, the master invites anyone else who might be willing to attend so that the wedding hall could be filled with guests. To me, that’s very much a view of unlimited atonement. However, at the end of the parable, the master throws some guy out for not having on the proper wedding garment - something I had always been taught that each guest personally brings with them. I’ve heard some preachers imply that the garment represents faith or good works or divine election, depending which one of those “vices” appeals most to your theological leanings. But I came across something a while back that changed how I read the last part of this parable.

This ”wedding garment” (sometimes called a Kuftan) is an outer robe that was worn at formal functions. Everyone wore this garment, whether they owned one or not. It was a symbol of equality: once everyone had theirs on, status and prestige disappeared and all respect was paid to the bridegroom alone. But the most important thing about this wedding garment was that it was provided by the host family to everyone who attended. Wealthy families (the kind that would’ve staged this feast) had a closet of them solely for the purpose of giving them out to their guests.

Now, that should change things for you. The master in the story sees a man in the main room (not in the foyer where the garments were given out) without his wedding garment on. He says, “Friend, how did you come in here (the main hall) without your wedding garment (Kuftan)?” In other words, you were offered a Kuftan when you entered…and the only reason you wouldn’t have it on now is if you purposefully chose to reject it. And that obstinate behavior is what caused the master to throw the guest out of the party.

You see, according to the context of first century Judaism, everyone would have received a wedding garment. There was no need to earn it, nor was it given to only a select or arbitrary few. Anyone and everyone received the garment regardless of socio-economic background or cultural status. And once everyone was together wearing their robes, egalitarianism reigned in the house of the master. And that’s exactly what Jesus was trying to say. Everyone gets a robe…unless they refuse to wear it. And even then, the master in this story offered the guest a second chance to reconsider before he threw him out – but the guest did not respond.

God’s not looking to throw anyone out of the party. In fact, you really have to want to get thrown out. And in this way, the marriage feast parable is fairly explicit in teaching unlimited atonement. To read beyond or dismiss this contextual clue is irresponsible. Personally, I’m thankful it’s in there. I’ve been stubborn enough at times to resist the wedding garment only to be drawn back to the king when he entreats me to return to the Kuftan closet and put it on. In this parable, the wedding garment is not a sign of judgment. It’s availability to all guests is a sign of God’s mercy and grace to anyone and everyone who wants to attend the feast.

What Can We Know About Heaven and Hell?

I’ve heard a lot of sermons on heaven and hell. Too many I think. But I have noticed something interesting in the last few years: the detailed accuracy with which people describe both eternal places. Preachers seem to know everything about heaven and hell. Particularly hell. And that strikes me as strange for a couple of reasons.

First, the New Testament language about heaven is pretty vague. Certainly not up to our Western standards of rational detailed analysis. Most heavenly images are taken from Revelation which is clearly a book of symbols and Jewish apocalyptic imagery. Plus we have various experts describing heaven in detail for us, even down to what kind of house we get and what types of jobs will be waiting for us. Honestly, despite the popularity of Randy Alcorn’s book, most of that is conjecture. Peacefulness, joy, and comfort certainly describe it, but most people understand that golden streets and crystal seas are illustrations for something truly indescribable. People are okay with a preacher saying, “I don’t know everything about heaven, but I know it’s gonna be good!”

What’s more fascinating is the painstaking detail in which hell is described. Eternal torment involving fire, pain, and torture. According to most evangelial views of hell, people have the rest of eternity to sit around on fire and think about the bad things they did. Okay, that’s a little sarcastic there, but honestly hell is used more often in altar calls than heaven is. Some people, just in my questioning of the standard image of hell are getting nervous reading this right now. But what’s so strange about that is just how ambiguous the Bible is about the afterlife. People are satisfied to know that God has prepared somewhere for them in heaven and that puts their lack of detail at ease. But hell is a different story. In fact, the more detailed you can be, the better chance of scaring someone into salvation.

But really, hell is even more ambiguous than heaven. The Old Testament uses the word sheol to describe the afterlife – a word that means “grave” and little more. The Jews were relatively unconcerned about the afterlife, fully content to focus on what they could do in the present life to honor God. The New Testament seems to be more exact. But a closer look shows that there’s still much to debate. Jesus describes some ideas about it, but never really gives us details. He compares it to a local garbage dump (Gehenna) and talks about worms. And there’s more. The Greek word (aiōnios) generally used to describe the fire of hell is translated in as “eternal” – a period of time.  But in other places, the same word is used to describe an act of permanence of destruction – a state of quality. So, traditionalists say that it means eternal fire while conditionalists say it means permanent destruction (death) of the wicked. But the truth is that aiōnios and its Hebrew counterpart (olam) speak of things that all come to an end: the Passover, Caleb’s inheritance, Solomon’s Temple, and Gehazi’s leprosy. It’s just not that simple – the word means both. Similarly, traditionalists say that “gnashing of teeth” describes the torment of sinners in hell. But the ancient use found in the Old Testament assigned “gnashing of teeth” to someone about to destroy another – in the conditionalist’s case: God. So what does that mean to us today?  Honestly, it doesn’t tell us much.  And that’s the point I’m making. The same verses are used by people who believe different things about hell. And, surprisingly, I’m okay with that.

Why can we leave the details of heaven alone yet be compelled to extract every detail about hell? Because hell helps preachers out. Descriptions of hell illicit responses from people and, if used just right, can increase altar call numbers. But in doing that, I think we miss the point. When I told someone the other night that the gospel is not about them not going to hell, they looked at me strangely. They simply had never thought that there might be something beyond “fire insurance” and a list of do’s and don’ts to the gospel. The Bible shrouds the afterlife in ambiguity for a very important reason: so we won’t be tempted to bribe people into the Kingdom of God using either heaven or hell. If that’s what made you decide to be a Christian, then great. But intimacy with God lies beyond such ”survival of the fittest” techniques of evangelism. The gospel is about falling in love with a God who has already declared his unconquerable love for you.

An Eastern Family in a Western World

The Bible is an Eastern book. It has Eastern culture, economics, social stigmas, literary style, etc., at its core. I believe that without this contextual “lens,” the ultimate meaning of the Bible at best is less impacting than in Jesus’ time.

However, some aspects of the Bible’s Eastern flavor seem to find their way into our lives without searching for it. Two of them are 1) the Eastern understanding of family roles and 2) the Oriental emphasis on shame and honor. It’s significant to me that there are technically two types of “shame” in Eastern societies. One is negative and the other is positive. The negative one condemns inappropriate behavior and the positive one helps individuals “save face” when confronted with a difficult situation. For example, with the persistent friend in Luke 11:5-8, Westerners assume that the friend banging on the door late at night has commited a cultural taboo. But actually, it’s the man who refuses to open the door and provide food for a town visitor that would have infuriated Jesus’ listeners. He violated basic Oriental cultural standards of hospitality.

Though these Eastern ideas don’t make it into our Bible interpretation very often (which means we usually miss the intended point), the Christian family can easily adopt these Eastern cultural norms for their own simply by reading the Bible together. My family did. We were different than other families I knew just based on emphasis of lifestyle. Though it certainly had to do with our Christianity, it also stemmed from living like an Eastern family in a Western world. Just by studying scripture, my brother and I absorbed Eastern understandings of right and wrong. We valued time, honor, authority, family rank, and so on without really understanding that the cultural emphasis for these concepts came straight outta scripture (not Compton). When I went out with friends or on a date at age 16, I fully understood that my family’s name and honor were on the line with each decision I made. I understood “losing face” without knowing what to call it. That was a greater deterrent than any punishment that may have followed an infraction. My other friends often saw themselves as individuals apart from their families – doing their own thing. I saw myself as part of a larger picture. Honestly, it made my decisions look weird to my friends.

Sometimes, those same cultural understandings, though appropriate for a family unit with children, become burdensome later in life if parents still enforce them on their adult children. But that doesn’t invalidate their usefulness during the parenting years. In fact, they may be vital to helping a child understand the impact his/her decisions have on others. Some of those “Eastern” family practices are still used with my two daughters now. Others aren’t. But I know this much: families with an Eastern understanding of honor are aware of one another. They respect each other more. And that makes them treat one another better, something all families could use a little more of.

Aggressively Pursuing a Life of Peace

We have some life mottos around our house that guide our life decisions. Often times, these mottos aren’t always obvious to everyone. They hold a higher value on spiritual things than material things. They place more importance on relational harmony than personal gain. It also keeps us from bowing to the peer pressure that young couples face, like trying to “keep up with the Joneses.”

The first and probably most important motto comes from the verse “Seek peace and pursue it” (Psalm 34:14, 1 Peter 3:11). Romans 12:18 relays a similar idea: “Do all that you can to live at peace with all men.” We call it aggressive peace. Beth and I make decisions around the idea that in every situation, there is a peaceful and overall beneficial decision that keeps balance among our family members. If at all possible, we choose that “peaceful” solution. That’s how we make vacation plans, buy new appliances, choose schools, choose television shows or movies, etc. You get the idea. If there is a choice that leads to unrest, strife, anger, impatience, and irritation, we usually opt for something else.

Now that may sound obvious to you. But there’s a subtle difference. We don’t wait for peaceful decisions to come to us. We make peace happen for our children and for each other. We’re aggressive about pursuing peace. We fight for it. We plan for it. We do whatever it takes to maintain it. A lot of people have financial goals or material goals – and we do as well. But all of that comes from our overall peace goal. What lies behind “peace” for us? Questions like, “Which choice promotes the most security for our children?” “Which choice creates ease of life and rest for our retirement?” “How can we peacefully discipline our children?” And most importantly, “Which choice honors God and draws us to him, not away from him?”

But not only do we not wait for these options for peace to come our way. We take it a step further: we “agressively pursue” them. Beth and I discuss questions like, “What makes for a peaceful marriage?” or “What brings peace to our children?” or “What does financial peace look like?” Then we take agressive measures to implement those details into our lives. For example, with finances, we list a second round of details. Financial peace means ultimately means no financial stress: little debt, no collections calls, solid retirement plans, college saving for children now rather than later, choosing economical and sensible cars and houses, and not living paycheck to paycheck if possible. Then we aggressively make those our goals.

I guess pursuing peace as a lifestyle can only be done by someone who believes they have the ability to make their life what they want. I believe all of us can do that. But it takes a lot of thought and premeditation. And often times our decisions are not the most conventional choice. We’re not experts at this and sometimes lose our focus. And plans can certainly change. But the key is to at least have some plan in place and be willing to adjust it accordingly when life throws a curve ball. Personally, living a life of peace is a way to honor God with what he’s given us – a way to proactively reflect his image in us. Taking the initiative to make life good is not anti-Christian at all. It actually reflects the productive nature of God and his willingness to be involved in every aspect of our life. In the end, life truly is what you make of it. Our goal is to make a life of peace for each other and for our children.

Reconciling Faith and Science: Are They Compatible?

Based on the limited amount of research I’ve recently completed for my Sunday school class, I plan to post about the relationship between faith and science over the next two months (along with other topics). I hope the information is interesting to you and helps those struggling with this topic find some answers.

I must confess that this is new territory for me, personally. I was raised in a conservative, Southern, evangelical home. The only model I knew (at least for the origins of life) was the creationist model (before you turn your nose up at that idea, realize that presently 44% of Americans believe this way. That’s roughly half of the nation) . I took chemistry, biology, and physics in high school but I found little relevance to my faith. The conservative Christian model has often taught that science and faith are basically enemies. But eventually, I began to notice that there were a large number of scientists who embraced Christianity and had strong personal devotional lives. Of course, that’s the opposite of what I had assumed. I thought that science eradicated all faith in God for the sake of rationalism and logic. And for some scientists, that’s true. But for many, it’s not. Several surveys state otherwise. One survey found that while 80% of the general public believes in God, only 33% of scientists do. U.S. News and World Report described this information as “A Huge God Gap…” However, a similar survey in the 1920s found that 33% believed in God back then, too. Another survey including social scientists upped that number to almost 66%. Among those surveyed, biologists are least likely to believe. A recent University of Chicago survey found that 76% of doctors believe in God and 60% believe in an afterlife. If possible compatibility between faith and science did not exist, then rest assured that number would be zero.

However, my approach to science really began to change for me as I continued to study historical theology. That may sound strange to you, so let me explain. As a young adult, I assumed Christian doctrine appeared on the scene fully formed without complications. But the reality is that it took centuries to hash out the details of the faith. I also began to notice how “human” an undertaking theology was. Church history is full of people making horrible mistakes, treating each other badly, making doctrinal blunders that wouldn’t be corrected for years. People have been starting crazy cults since the inception of Christianity. Faith healers have been around that long, too. Even the “pillars” of the faith are not immune to their own humanness. John Wesley’s wife used to beat him up and throw him out of the house. John Calvin had a rival named Servetus beheaded for not towing the line in Geneva. And our culture has constantly pointed out the mistakes of runaway fringe sects, bombed abortion clinics, and the Crusades. That human element makes Christianity look “unscientific” – for many, that’s synonymous with unimportant.

Like theology I also assumed that science had emerged fully formed and placed in our high school textbooks. But as I studied historical theology, I noticed that up until the Enlightenment, science and theology were not held apart at all. In fact, scientists were also theologians, philosophers, medical experts, herbalists, and occultists of the day. The idea of holding any of these disciplines apart did not exist until recent history. What I found was that science was just as human: riddled with stories of prejudice, subjectivity, and inaccuracy - just like theology or any other area of study. Why? Because humans are involved. And no matter what is said otherwise, humans are incapable of complete objectivity. They believe. They have opinions. They have life histories. And all of these things determine much about how we approach the world.  

I know you have been told differently. We are told science is objective. Certain. Definite. Scietific naturalism teaches us that technical aspects of science are superior to all other forms of knowledge. And once science approves a theory, that theory rarely comes under fire and is never overturned. After all, there’s data, proof, evidence! But the history of science is full of the opposite: squabbling scientists believing strongly in their position despite large amounts of data to the contrary. Even when a scientific theory is overturned by new evidence, many scientists throughout history have had trouble adapting. Why? Because they are human. Somehow, we believe that though other areas of our life are riddled with the weaknesses of emotion and faith, scientific research is somehow capable of being performed in an intellectual vacuum. No outside influences affect the science lab. So, before determining the compatiblity of science and religion, I need to spend time telling you some stories – stories about the “human” element of science. Because until we can agree that our humanness affects everything we do, we won’t be able to see how faith and science are compatible. In the following two posts, I am going to challenge the paradigm you were taught in high school – that science is always an objective process and theology is not. Enjoy the next two posts about the “human side” of science…

What Constitutes “Good” Parenting?, Part 2

My last post reminded me of a couple of biblical examples that spoke volumes to me about the subject of Christian parenting.

The story of Eli and his sons is the first one (1 Samuel 2:20-36). Eli’s sons were priests and spent the majority of their time abusing their privileges in self-serving ways. No one would consider them “nice, well-mannered young men.” They were first class jerks. This passage often makes it into parenting seminars as an example of a gluttonous, lazy, and personally undisciplined father and the havoc that his lack of restraint causes. The inference is clear: Eli’s sons were horrible because Eli was a bad father. I can’t tell you the number of parents I’ve seen who, upon hearing about the inappropriate behavior of their children, are washed over with guilt for the actions of their offspring. And it doesn’t matter the age – the child could be forty years old and still the parents feel they are to blame in some way. The church reinforces those stereotypes, as if the personal humiliation isn’t enough on its own.

But here’s another biblical example we don’t talk about that much: the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 8). Do you know about his kids? They were just as bad as Eli’s – possibly worse! In fact, their injustice and willingness to take bribes is what casued the Israelites to want Saul for a king. That may explain why Samuel was so against it. Even as Saul is being appointed over Israel (12:1-4), Samuel is still carrying on about his sons still being available to judge Israel – as if they are a better choice than Saul. By all “Christianese” standards, Samuel is what a parent should be: a mighty man of God, modeling service and sacrifice to God on a daily basis. Someone to be admired and imitated. Yet, his sons reject his example, despite his efforts to influence them for the better. By chapter 12, it’s obvious that Samuel thinks a king is a bad idea – but more importantly, he’s so blind to his own children’s behavior that he actually thinks they are still qualified to govern Israel.

Okay, Sam, so what’s your point? Well, it’s essentially what I said in the earlier post. Good parenting is not about cause and effect or “if you do A, you’ll get B.” It’s not a formula. Parents have to believe that our parenting makes a difference. Otherwise, it’s an overwhelming task. But for Eli and for Samuel, regardless of personal devotion to God, the spiritual formation of any child goes beyond what even the best parents can do. Ultimately each person has to recognize the pursuit of God in their life and be willing to respond. I can do my best to create an atmosphere where the Holy Spirit can draw my children into relationship. But in the end, each child’s response is their solely their own. And that’s not a bad thing. God pursues relationship with our children regardless of our behavior, simply because that’s what he wants. And his desire for their salvation far outweighs any hopes I may have for my children. So I model my Christianity, not because it’s important for them to see it. I model it because my Christianity is important to me. And as God pursues them, one day their Christianity will be important to them as well.

Empowered Humility

My understanding of humility growing up was probably similar to yours. It involved shunning accolades, making sure I gave honor to God, declaring my unworthiness for salvation, and the like. I felt as though the compliments of others were poison darts filled with pride that would pierce my spiritual armor. The only way to defeat it? Deflect them with a good case of the “awww…shucks” and a hearty soli Deo gloria.

Now, I understand that perspective as a form of false humility – attempting to create within myself a facade of good-natured humility when really I craved the approval of others. I was not authentic. I said the correct things but relished in the attention/compliments of others. I now understand humility as something drastically different. Most people’s view of humility involves a resignation to some form of inactivity/timidity for the sake of “preferring others better than oneself.” And though that has a place in the Christian walk, it’s not the whole story. Empowered humility is really the defining mark of a Christian. In Romans 12, we find a recipe for Christian behavior. From the outset, Paul spends his time using action verbs – examples of behavior that are anything but idle. Even the verbs describing the willingness to put others’ interests in front of our own are intense, purposeful, and focused. It reminds me of the time-honored industrious phrase, “If you’re waiting on me, you’re backing up…” Verse 21 describes it best: “overcome evil by doing good.”  

You know, God is good, too. Tucked within the definition of “good” in any solid Greek lexicon is the idea of being productive. God’s actions are what ultimately declare his goodness. God looked at all he created and said it was good – it was active, dynamic, and teeming with life…just like him. We are made in his divine image – in Christ, we possess that same ability to be “good”: productive, active, constructive, energetic, and vigorous. But our common understanding of humility seems to state the opposite as if humility or meekness involves inactivity. To me, empowered humility involves taking the initiative under the direction of  God. Humble people see the desires and wishes of their Maker and move to make them a reality. Humility is not standing in a corner. It’s submitting ourselves to God and following him into active battle. It’s placing your life in the hands of another to fight for their cause with your life.

Empowered humility also involves attentiveness to the Holy Spirit and a willingness to put aside our own agendas and live an active life under guidance of the Spirit. There are countless examples of this in the Bible – active heroes and heroines who caught the vision of their Maker and moved forward to advance God’s vision: Noah, Abraham, Deborah, David, Nathan, Daniel, Hosea, the Apostles, Priscilla and Aquilla, Phoebe…the list goes on and on. And don’t forget the certainty and strength of Jesus – humble resolve in the face of persecution, need, and death. We know these names because they acted with the certainty of God, not because they were “shrinking violets” and emotional “doormats.” They were not weak. They were strong. But they weren’t strong for their own purposes. They were strong for God.  Forward-motion humility, empowered by the Holy Spirit. If you’ve been waiting for God to move, you’re backing up…

Preaching the Synoptic Gospels

I finally finshed up my reading on faith and science. That was certainly a lot to think about. I’ll post about those ideas in the next few weeks as I get my thoughts together for my Sunday school series.

So, I finally get to read something I am interested in for a few weeks. I immediately pulled Brad Young’s latest book, Meet the Rabbis off the shelf – I’ve been dying to read it for months. It reminded me about how much I love the “Jerusalem School” of Synoptic  interpretation. That is something I’ve never really posted about so I thought I’d do that here. I first encountered this movement while studying the historical background of the New Testament in graduate school. It was marvelous. I thought my brain was going to explode. The context of first century Judaism is one of the most (if not the most) important aspects of Synoptic interpretation. Since the early 80s, the Jerusalem School has used rabbinical tradition and Jewish cultural context to frame the words of Jesus (It began with the work of David Flusser, Robert Lindsey, and Shmuel Safrai at Hebrew University). In its rabbinical context, Jesus’ words reveal precise interpretation – something lost in our generalized, Westernized approach to scripture. For me, they do what Robert Alter and Simon Bar-Efrat have done for the Old Testament. If you are preaching the gospels and have not digested their research, chances are good you may be missing a significant part of its meaning – particularly the parables. And that doesn’t have to do with our ability to interpret a text, but rather our inability to fully interpret without the original rabbinical references. All the Greek in the world won’t help you unearth those Hebraisms that inform that original interpretation.

Though not all of the books below originated in the “Jerusalem School,” here’s a good list to start with when learning about Synoptic context and rabbinical tradition:

Brad Young, The Parables: Jewish Tradition and Christian Interpretation

Kenneth Bailey, Poet and Peasant/Through Peasant Eyes

David Bivin and Roy Blizzard, Understanding the Difficult Words of Jesus

David Daube,  The New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism

Julius Scott, Jewish Backgrounds of the New Testament

Marvin Wilson, Our Father Abraham

David Flusser, The Sage of Galilee

David Instone-Brewer, Traditions of the Rabbis from the Era of the New Testment: Prayer and Agriculture

Oskar Skarsaune, In the Shadow of the Temple: Jewish Influences on Early Christianity

 Do yourself a favor and read everything Young and Bailey have written.

Here’s a thought: a lot of folks are worried about “postfoundationalist” interpretation of the Bible – that there is no “framework” in which to firmly place Jesus’ teachings. But it seems that Jesus made sure that his words would not be interpreted too far from his original intent. He didn’t choose archaeology or geography to anchor his teachings. He chose literature – rabbinic literature to be exact. And the literature/oral tradition with which Jesus interacted (the Mishnah, Tosefta, and Tannaitic Midrashim, etc.) has been painstakingly preserved by its followers. So, the “reference” points of the gospels are as strong today as when they were spoken by Jesus himself. Curious about the “framework” from which Jesus taught? Check out the books above.

“Change We Can Believe In,” Part 1

Change We Can Believe In

June 28^th, 2009

John 1:14-18

When Mike came to the office two Thursdays ago, I told him that I wasn’t sure what I planned to talk about this morning. He suggested something about new beginnings or change. I had actually been thinking about something similar to that, but until last Sunday I wasn’t sure what angle to take in speaking to you. But I wrote the initial notes to this sermon while I heard Mike speak in the traditional service last week. Mike was preaching from the same place that Leigh Ann had been just two weeks before. And though that’s not a bad thing, it is different. Change is a part of being human. Life is in a constant state of flux. One season of life ends as another one is beginning. Nothing stays still for long. Life is sometimes quick and ruthless with our feelings – we often have little time to adjust to much less navigate the twists and turns that come our way. But that’s because life encompasses something bigger than that change we feel.

Now, when we talk about change it can be approached from two main perspectives. One way is to emphasize the need for change – the idea that God has entered our heart to bring us to a place that is different that we we’ve been before. In that way change is not only good, it’s godly. But the second perspective is the one I’d like to address this morning. And that is when we feel like we’ve seen too much change. When enough things in life have shifted so that we feel off-balance. Uncertain. Maybe even fearful. For even though change can be positive, too much of it can also threaten our security. I think that’s part of human nature. In the counseling I’ve done, I’ve noticed that people don’t always choose the best option available to them. Rather, they choose the familiar option – the one they know will make them feel secure. Too much change sends us clamoring for something familiar to hold on to. This morning I want to talk about coping with change…and finding our identity and self-worth in God, not in our circumstances.

We’ve heard a lot about change over the past year: politics, financial markets, national and international conflicts. We can start with the campaign slogan for Barack Obama in last year’s presidential election: “Change We Can Believe In.” That’s an unusual saying, isn’t it? It encompasses the belief that in changing our circumstances, life gains meaning. This, of course, isn’t any old change – it’s change for the better. That idea is very much a part of the fabric of our society – the idea that we can pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and make our circumstances bend to our will. And I think a healthy work ethic is important. But there’s another side to that equation. What if things don’t improve after change comes? Well, most of the time, people begin to feel that they have done something wrong. That they aren’t worthy of the success and progress they long for. Somewhere along the line we have been given the impression that our value and worth is tied to our circumstances. We’ll come back to that idea in a minute.

I was thinking the other day about how many opportunities for change exist in our lifetime. What makes the first year of marriage so difficult is the struggle to adapt to that new spouse’s paradigm. We spend hours learning the mindset and emotional clues of the person we love. Eventually, we think we may have them figured out a little bit. We become comfortable with them and peace effortlessly floats into our home, right? And then you have children. People told me that my perspective would change and that I would actually get a clue about life when I had children. Of course, they we being condescending…but they were right, too. Nothing makes us put our own wants and desires on hold like raising a family. At no time must we juggle the impossible schedules of several individuals like when our home is full of children. Children are great – but they also keep us on our toes and require us to plan and think far into the future…when really we’d rather be thinking about well, at least for guys, sports. At other times we are thrown into national and international conflicts that threaten to disrupt everyday life. Those of you who have served in our military understand probably more than anyone what it means to serve, honor, and protect something greater than yourself at a moment’s notice.

A God of Discrimination and Nepotism

Mother’s Day has come and gone. Father’s Day is just around the bend. So, in honor of those celebrations, I thought I’d delve into some theological “musings” surrounding God and parenthood.

I read and interesting passage in the Bible the other day: Genesis 49. What struck me was the unusual words of Jacob as he says goodbye to all his sons. All the remarks are “colorful” but the remarks said about Joseph stand out above the rest. After giving mixed reviews of the other sons, Jacob gushes over Joseph and blesses him to the “heights of the eternal hills.” In the last moments before his death, his favoritism for Joseph was so great that he couldn’t even see it anymore.  That’s what got everyone in trouble in the first place. And the other sons had to sit around and politely listen to Jacob’s unchecked favoritism and put on a good smile for the old man. Over the top to say the least – nevermind how it made the other sons feel.

How it made the other sons feel. That’s the part the stuck out to me. We don’t think about the feelings of Jacob’s other sons too much, though we go out of our way to make sure we preach about their deceptions, mistakes, and fits of rage. But they also experienced the actions of a parent that would infuriate even the most docile of siblings: favoritism. Every parent tries to fight it, but often (to no avail) we end up “choosing” one sibling or family member over the others through our words, gifts, time, and consideration. That’s nothing new. Every family deals with it. Personally, I’ve been on both sides of that coin. You probably have, too. How do you think Joseph’s brother’s felt? The guy could do nothing wrong. Jacob favored Rachel and her two children over their own mothers and them. Things got bad when Joseph started to believe his own press in the form of dreams and visions. The Bible cleans this up a little for us, but honestly, it’s just a downright ugly scene. I’ll be honest: I’d get rid of Joseph, too.

But here’s what’s so great about that passage. What seems to be the most irritating human trait in our own families is critical for the world’s salvation in God’s family. God discriminates, favors, shows prejudice, partiality, and unashamedly proclaims his one-sided bias towards us. In fact, he would do anything for us – like a parent in love with a child that can do no wrong. In humans, it’s obnoxious. In God, it’s beautiful. All parents are hard-wired this way. I love my children in moments of incredible disrespect, fits of anger, and moments of extreme freak out.

God’s greater than that. He loves beyond what any normal parent could ever do. This is driven home by the fact that we can’t seem to love other children like our own. But his love is extended with that same intensity to all of us. We are all his – and that’s the point. God discriminates blatantly on a infinitely expansive level. Right now, we all stand in the center of his deeply personal bias towards us. Now that’s  a God I can worship.